NO ONE'S REALLY GONE

Before we were us, we did not suffer; what did we breathe?

A short life is all there is; does a lifetime seem so long? We are gone.

Is the earth all there is? Beyond, we do not know if life exists,

Around us is all that exists; beyond the night sky, could there be life?

While we are here, we experience many sides to a life not really understood,

Emotions of all kinds, they travel with us daily as the sun goes down.

We start a baby just born; there comes a day when in ways a baby again,

Time takes from us our youthful ways; it can steal our thoughts, we decay,

No one’s really gone; energy and spirit travel on to a new beginning, another song.

                               Keith Garrett

    MANY THOUGHTS

Have you ever been to Matamoros Banks, sad eyes?

Once I got in my pink Cadillac and drove there to rendezvous
With a woman named Leah.

When I got there she was playing the guitar and singing something
Called Terry’s song,
She was born in the U.S.A. and said I wanna be with you.

I told her, “My love will not let you down”

She said, “Let’s be friends skin to skin.” “That’s all I’m thinking about”

I told her, ” I’ve met too many women with hearts of stone”

Later we went to a place called the Lions Den where the bands are.

We listened to a song called the Seaside Bar Song,

When we left there, we were robbed, believe it or not; we were held up
without a gun.
The big payback was we didn’t have any cash, and there was a man who was
Quite the hitter,

He killed one of the men and said for his help there is a code of silence.

The promise was kept, and we went on our way to a motel called Loose Ends,

There were 57 channels and nothin’ on so we rented a movie called Part Man,
Part monkey.
Later that night I couldn’t sleep, and I thought about growin’ up, telling
An old friend, Janey, “don’t you lose heart”

I thought about a girl who said, “You can look, but you can’t touch”

A place my friends and I went to called Trouble River,

I remember partying with my brothers under the bridge and my father dying
From the fever.
Keith Garrett

               SPURS

On boots they jingle, western wear for the cowboy,

Listen for them as they approach; they have a sound.

Spurs that spin, dress up a western look,

Worn by the cowboy, cool as he moves.

On a ranch, somewhere in a western town,

A boot with spurs, clicking as the sun goes down.

Take off your boots and rest for the night,

Jingling, clicking spurs again at morning’s light.

                          Keith Garrett

              SHADOW RIDERS

Men crumble; their sins they can not hide, they run,

From the expressions on their faces, aging lines of haunt.

One of them runs, the other chases; they both run together,

One tries to hide his guilt and pain; the other chases after forgetting.

Shadow riders, at different times they are the rider, the other prey,

They are from a time of civil unrest; they kill and then die in a place for them.

It takes its toll, the hunt, and the run, tears from men dry up in the sun,

Nothing more to be said, two dying men soon would be dead, blood on their hands,

One’s knife in the desert sand, a gun left on a deserted land,

Walk in a different direction, shadow riders are never seen again.

                                          Keith Garrett

               PHOTO ALBUM,

Open it up, only empty pages are before you,

One by one, we add a picture, a scene from time,

Frozen within pages of a book, hidden with each turn.

It can not hold all that we see, not enough room for our history,

A photo album to pass along, share memories of life and family.

Not a movie, piece by piece, a glimpse of an adventure of life,

Turn the pages and find that with the passing time a book fills.

We become frozen in time, memories that we leave behind,

Expressions shared in pictures, we close the book on a simple time.

                                      Keith Garrett

      LORD OF KINGS

Rulers of many lands, they were different but greedy the same,

Treasures valued beyond the real purpose of a living man.

Since the birth of man and the rising sun, war is never done,

Blood spilled with time, lies and guilt, death seems but a crime.

Some Kings sit upon thrones of deceit and evil deeds,

I wonder if there ever was one who thought more about the common good?

The Lord of Kings is a mysterious one, creator of all things great and kind,

Master of Earthly scenes, creator of the universe, that which men build and destroy.

                        Keith Garrett

       GOD IS IN THE RAIN

Clouds form; they turn dark with storm,

Drops fall from the sky, cold and warm.

More and more as they touch treetops,

Drip by drip they trickle down to the ground.

Into the rivers, flowing into the oceans as one,

Drops of rain cover lakes, slowly filling with time.

From the mountains the water makes its way down,

Soaking the hills to create life, within the flowers and grass.

Let the rain fall; God is in the rain, in the drops that are upon you,

God is in the rain as it comes down; God soaks this world with life.

                      Keith Garrett

           A LIST OF THINGS TO BE

Never an astronaut, dancing slowly upon the moon,

Flying in a jet across the sky, no, never did I ever fly.

A football star throwing the ball far, a dream that won’t be,

Under the lights, a victory on a Super Bowl night.

What is it like to be a movie star pretending to be many things,

Known everywhere, this is not what I was born to be.

An Olympic star, a racer of cars, I wanted to be, but that’s not me,

A great writer, a hero of sorts would be something I might be.

A rescuer of the down and out, a conqueror of homelessness,

I may not be an Einstein of genius, I am good enough for me,

A list of things to be, how much can one man need?

                   Keith Garrett

            A BEGGAR, A THIEF

He wanders the streets, a taste for food, a thirst for drink,

Cold to the bones, waiting for a warm place to sleep.

Asking for that which comforts his pain,

Pride and self-respect are put aside.

A human being, a man with a story,

A beggar today without any glory,

Taking what he wants, no morals or remorse.

Criminal thoughts, a good man not,

Working for nothing, he does not care.

He steals anything; he has no heart,

A thief many times over, a quitter of sorts.

A beggar, a thief, so many differences of course.

               Keith Garrett, 

 ON MY WAY TO THE COUNTRY

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, I’m on my way to the country where the Sinaloa Cowboys live,

I came from the streets of Philadelphia, my hometown.

I’m visiting a friend there who did straight time in prison,

A stolen car and spare parts made him the new timer.

When you’re alone and trapped sometimes you need to be tougher than the rest,

Walk like a man, in there people wear two faces.

The promise he made to me was to walk the line,

“He said,” my best was never good enough, “I told him,” whatever you need you’ve got it.

When I arrived he had sad eyes, something was missing in him,

We walked down to the river doing the E. Street shuffle.

In school he was the wrestler, working on a dream,

He wanted to be one step up, he was strong like he had two hearts.

I believe with every wish there’s a price,

One day I’ll get my beautiful reward.

We watched Wild Billy’s circus story,

Listened to some songs called the New York City Serenade

And when the Saints go marching in.

               Keith Garrett