Friday, March 30, 2007

Art and Poetry by Earl McClellan

The War Within
By Earl McClellan

Precious Father, tell me please
What I’m doing wrong.
I read the Word, I go to church
And I think my faith is strong

But there’s still an emptiness
Deep inside my troubled heart.
I’ve given You every piece of me
Well maybe only part….

That’s it, aint it Lord?
I’m holding back on You
And that’s why Father God
My whole world’s come unglued

I want to end these words to You
And just holler out Amen
But I haven’t asked forgiveness Lord
An if not now, then when?

You know my heart
And the war within
I know You died on the cross for me
To wash away my sin

But I never hear Your silent voice
Nor visited by the Holy Ghost
Forgive me Father for my complaints
I know I sound like most

I love you Father
And I have no other God
I’ve been this way for 50 years
My heart, my Soul, my bod.

I wont look back My Lord
For there’s nothing there.
It’s You all I trust and have my faith
And fall to my knees in prayer

Set Me Free
By Earl McClellan

Mortar and shells were everywhere
My God, nowhere to be found
I got your six was commonly heard
But better keep your head and helmet down

My M.O.S. was passing mail out to the grunts
And it should have been a breeze
But watching my bro shot out of the sky 
Dropped me to my knees

I was 6x3 with barely
A whisker on my chin
So far away from my Mama’s hug
And the stoop ball I used to play and win

How do you older guys handle this
You’re 21 with tons of pose
And what’s that stuff you keep sniffing
Up both sides of your nose?

Sure, I’m game for anything
That’ll make me a braver man
Ooh wee, that’s nice but…
I still don’t understand

Why am I here and has it been worth the toll?
My veins and my heart
Are filled with apathy
And I haven’t a clue which way to go

My tour is up, I’m going home
To the friendly folks at last
So unexpected from “our country tis of thee”
I’m being cursed and someone spit on me

Uncle Sam what have you done
No one wants to hire me
I’m totally confused
To the point I’ve returned
To the thing that set me free

How Much is That Doggie
by Earl McClellan

Come my dear
Let me comfort thee
For there’s no one left
But you and me.

Take my hand
Don’t cry no more
I’ll get your wrap
We’ll walk the shore.

Remember how
We used to talk
And the three of us
Would take our walk

And she would
Always run ahead
Our steps would quicken
Our faces turn red

She brought such joy
Into our life
I miss her too
My dear sweet wife

The rain has stopped
I won’t be long
You’ll sing again
I’ll buy a song

Now look it here
Ain’t she so cute
So much like Starr
And broke to book

It was a very
Trying trial
I’m full my dear
I love your smile

It’s so very nice
To have the norm again
The pain will ease
Our hearts will mend

Now lets be fair
Don’t have to shout
You win my dear

I’ll let the puppy out

by Earl McClellan

I should not give
The way I feel
In the age I live

Or to wonder
How it would be
To not be surrounded
By apathy

To rewind the clock
Would be so nifty
To shed the nineties
Put on the fifties

When children sang
From sea to shining sea
Use to mean
So much to me

To hear the playgrounds
Sing with glee
“For purple mountains

Oh, the life
I’ve lead
Makes me want
To hang my head

For I became
A product of time
A penny for your thoughts
Now it’s a dime

Perhaps this life
I live
Has made me
Much too sensitive

To ease the pain
We talked it out
Now we kill
Now we shout

Well we certainly
can't change
so we adapt a bit
we re-arrange

It's too confusion
I need a different map
If I could, I would

Do You Know What I Mea-naa
by Earl McClellan

I wake up every morning put mv chair by the bars and listen intently for the passing of cars
Nothing, no sound or no smell and hasn't been for years
just the cries of the convicts with their tears and their fears
Twenty six if you're counting or perhaps thirty five, all these souls to their maker lucky me left alive
The word lucky is not said with distaste and it's not said for kicks
it's said cause my life has been blessed by Minutes Before Six
You say you haven't heard of this site well that's truly your loss
check it out look it up and say hi to Dina she's Minutes Before Six’s boss
I've wondered for days what MB6 could possibly mean
perhaps it could be apostage rush drop or dinner with a very unruly teen
Well Mr. News Man time to out this dilemma to bed
grab a pen and your check book and quit scratching your head
Send a nice healthy sum to MB6 and Ms. Dina
don't bring out my Italian side
if you know what I mea-naa

Pride and Pain
By Earl McClellan

Some were honest, some were scoundrels
Some were full of hell
They came from castles, they came from shacks
And some came straight from jail

These were the folks that settled our land
Our country tis of thee
They brought their corn, their pumpkin pies
And staked their claims for free

The strong survived the natives slain
And that's what made their life
They toted guns and brutal strength
And took away the knives

It wasn't fair but then it seldom is
Our pilgrims had their way
They cleared the land and built their homes
And declared Thanksgiving Day

My heart is full of pride and pain
For the history that happened then
For you see although I'm an American
I'm also one quarter Indian

If Only
By Earl McClellan

I crave the morning sunshine
which never will I see
The sound and smell of fallen leaves
The weeping Willow tree

The falling snow
The biting hail
The brave young lad
Who brings the mail

A summer night, a babbling brook
New York's finest, a fleeing crook
So many things I long to feel
A Christmas tree, a turkey meal

But alas this cannot be
I cannot feel I cannot see
And you're probably wondering why
I'll never hear a baby cry

Or understand the whys or war
Or venture through a grocery store
Nor witness a lover's sigh
A hurried breakfast, a kiss good-bye

Or how about a crescent moon
The eclipse of the sun in the dead of noon
The finish line, the touchdown pass
Or the serenity of a midnight mass

On and on I could go
What it would be like 
to know...

But since you're thoroughly confused
And I for once am amused
I'll enlighten you, my friend
And bring this satire to an end

And vow to never
write again
I'm out of ink
For I'm a pen 

Earl McClellan 151845
Lakeland Correctional Facility
141 First Street
Coldwater, MI 49036