BAD  THINGS

I am everywhere and all the time,

Sometimes maybe a nightmare for you, a violent crime.

A car accident of horror, families’ loss of life,

A plane crash in the ocean on an October night.

I am a house on fire, a tragedy of fright,

Murder in the woods or a lightning strike.

Anger and bad thoughts are what I’m about,

You can’t hide from me because I am all around,

Bad things with two legs, bad things without sound.

I’m always on the news, I have a story to tell,

I’m a fight in the park, a lost soul never found.

Trick or treat on a Halloween night,

A knock on a door, bad things you might find.

        Keith Garrett 

                CATS  EYES

Does it have nine lives, cats’ eyes,

On All Hallows’ Eve, a black cat hides and watches.

With eyes all a glow, it stalks you,

Legend has it that on this night, stay from its path.

Cursed with evil from a feline’s contact,

Strolls in silence through this dark October night.

With an angry hiss, teeth shown with a warning,

Strike it will, suddenly with speed, claws upon you.

Cat’s eyes under a full moon, you’ll maybe find,

Swiftly disappears into a windy Fall night.

               Keith Garrett

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           DREAM STATE

I know I’m lying here alive, half dead,

Horror and fantasy fill my head, never to stop.

I’m chased through the woods by a man with no face,

Hatchet in his hand for all eternity.

Always a different story, pictures in my mind,

I can’t wake up, I don’t know why.

Pushed from a rooftop on a never-ending fall,

About to hit the ground, monsters reach for the sky.

Up the stairs they walk me, I see the hangman’s noose,

Around my neck, the noose tightens as I drop in fear.

Demons that fly chase me from the sky,

Wicked sounds they make as I scream in the night.

Am I in a coma or bad dreams from my bed,

Could I be in hell, am I really dead?

My dream state does not end, a living hell,

In a cage full of snakes as psychotic souls laugh with delight.

Is this only but a dream state? Keith Garrett

           PIECES OF TIME

Our time as humans, animals, anything living loses time,

All created things age with time; there are many quotes about time.

Time does get older, but never does it go away, never backwards,

A clock, a watch, the ancient sundial that watched our day pass,

An hourglass of sand, those which remind us always of our time.

Pieces of time, a memory thought of with long lost friends, older now,

Pictures on a mantle, photographs and picture albums, dust -covered.

Antiques, old relics lost with time, discovered within aging places,

Pieces of time, an old remembered house, friends that rest inside.

                                         Keith Garrett

      LISTEN TO THE DRUMBEAT 

Thump, thump, hear the sound that makes the world go around,

Feel the pounding of its rhythm, the drum beats hard, the heart beats fast.

Listen to the drumbeat that lives inside, listen to music, the drumbeat cries,

Boom, boom, echoes through the sky, thunder is the drum, it beats out loud.

Wait for the rumbling as the shaking earth trembles with an awesome fear,

Bang, bang, listen as the sleeping child’s heart comes to life in the dark of night.

Bombs and gunfire sing through the war-beaten land, thump, thump,

The drum beats slow, the drum beats fast, a mother’s terror as her son dies.

The dancing boxer, hard hit as he is dropped to the floor, beat of his heart,

Thump, thump, boom, boom, goes his heart like the drumbeat so slow.

Listen to the drumbeat, to the sound of wandering feet, like a drum,

A first breath of life, a slower and slower beat of the fading, going away.

                 Keith Garrett     

LITTLE HOUSE ON THE LAKE Keith Garrett

Down on the lake lives a very unusual little old man,

He lives in his little house that sits near the water.

He possesses a strange power and a hobby,

Dolls are his passion as he makes them every year for Halloween.

He chooses the faces of those that live here and of those who might pass on through,

He seems friendly enough as he works around his little house,

Goes into town with a smile and a hello.

He’s not known very well, but he likes it that way,

There’s something hidden behind this little old man’s show of pleasantry,

Evil and black magic is a game for him.

One night a year these little dolls with faces of many live,

They walk the night, these monsters of doom.

They hunt for the one whose face they now wear; they steal from them,

What is needed for themselves to become human.

They will no longer be a doll but not of good,

Each Halloween they become more and more.

Beware the little old man who lives in his little house on the lake.

            WELCOME TO GRANDMA'S

High upon a hill sits this house of darkness,

Hiding beyond hundred-year-old trees that sway in the wind.

To stumble upon it is a deadly thing, but to enter will be a
House of hell.
Out of gas in the dead of night, clouds cover the moon.

A group of friends with no idea what waits,

This house cannot be seen from below, as nothing else is around.

Their curiosity to walk up the path has no reason,

Fear of being stranded or of what may lie ahead.

Picture grandma dressed in clothes of comfort, an apron,

Her hair up in a bun, baking cookies, pies, and other treats.

There may be a warm hello at the door, but grandma has a surprise for you,

You’re staying the night, one hell of a night!

The door opens, and there’s an excited greeting for these poor stranded
Strangers,
She welcomes them and invites them to have dinner and stay the night.

What a night it will be; the wind is howling as a storm settles over this town,

After dinner, Grandma shows them to their rooms; there’s a warm fire glowing.

As everyone gets ready for bed and a stormy night,

An echo of a scream is heard through the darkened house.

Nothing to be found as all search around,

A light from the kitchen for those to see.

There stands the sweet old lady preparing tomorrow’s feast,

Through the rain-driven night, behind the thunder that hides the hellish screams.

It is she who is called Grandma, who smiles with delight,

No longer are they here at this old house; Grandma likes to feast on Halloween.

                  Keith Garrett

        SEASON OF THE WITCH

Late October, the days grow short and the nights even longer,

There’s a chill that falls over the land this season; fear lives.

A small town in Massachusetts where the winds of cold grow,

An evil hides here in this quiet place, the woods of darkness.

An old house, hundreds of years standing, death to those who wonder,

What lives here, who lives here, if at all human is black magic, so evil.

The people of this town are well aware of the strange night happenings,

Now it’s October, it’s that time of year again, they conjure witches.

The owls are heard at night, they wait in the trees, they can see,

Bats fly through the fog-filled skies searching for blood on this night.

On Halloween night all the doors in this unusual little town will be locked,

For they draw you into their hell; be not the weak, they feel and hear.

Spells on poor souls that take the life from them, evil grows stronger,

Cauldron’s filled with a power, substance of magical force, a potion.

Season of the witch, season of doom for the mortal man,

He cannot resist temptation; he cannot pull himself away from the witch.

Deep in the woods where trees so tall cover a house of satanic ritual,

Tonight they ready themselves in this place made of wood and brick so old.

The moon rises, a full moon of orange and yellow, night of the witch,

through a window is seen to an eye fear as they have faces, many years.

On a Fall night, spells are cast out into the wind; they take bodies and minds,

Old and ugly are these daughters of the devil, tenants of hell.

Season of the witch comes to life in dark woods in a town of fear,

Twelve o’clock becomes the hour of the witch, from the light of the moon.

They appear in the sky, they fly hunting for the breath of life so that they

May again live to haunt Halloween.

                        Keith Garrett

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         WHAT'S IN THE DARK?

Don’t open the door! Don’t turn off the lights, not tonight,

It comes from anywhere and everywhere, it comes without light.

It sees you, it can hear you breathe, afraid! So afraid on this night,

For a long time, it was what was hiding under your bed in the dark.

Peeking in your window as you covered your face, shaking in your bed,

You thought you could hide, foolish as you started to cry; it’s alive!

The thing that worried you, thoughts from your mind, in your closet, hiding,

So young as it overpowered that childish Imagination locked inside.

Can you hear it, do you feel it as you’re certain it watches with eyes,

Forget did you to close that closet door, do you believe it opens more.?\par

Down the hall, what do you hear? Yours is the only open door near,

Has it followed you into today, are you afraid from yesterday?

What’s in the dark, does it stay under your bed, is it in your window,

Does it hide in the closet? Could it be coming for you down the hall?

What’s in the dark as you remember, has it followed you from yesterday,

Will it ever, ever leave your Halloween, will it ever, ever leave your today?

                                      Keith Garrett

             porfinifigus

Where he comes from nobody knows, he does live,

A myth, a fable, only a child believes, one who has seen.

Along the river bank of a small Eastern town in Maine,

A place of play for a boy named Luke, this is no dream.

Many fantastic tales he does tell; who will listen this time?

Described to others as a type of elf, an ugly troll.

Many late afternoons are when Luke visits the river,

Today it is a bit windy; he will appear once more.

He speaks to Luke in whispers: I am Porfinifigus,

I am created from your thoughts and fear.

Why do you find me here each day? Are you real?

I told you that I live in you; you gave me a name.

There are wishes that you ask for; I can hear you,

With every wish there comes a curse.

I have many things to wish for; will they be mine?

For everything you receive, something I will take.

I wish for all things in this town to be mine,

Foolish boy, everything in this town be no more.

Keith Garrett