A WAND OF MAGIC

In hand, a wand would make me a magic man,

Not even a word and crime would disappear.

I could stop time, rid the world of trash or pollution,

Take away the sick waters of rivers and oceans.

Murder on our land would be stopped with a hand,

The ill would be no more, cancer but a memory.

I could run fast or jump high,

A tear would be one less for all of mankind.

The cruel slaughter of creatures in the world,

With a wave from my hand, this would end.

A wand of magic need not be that of evil,

For love and good, the hand that holds this wand.

A wand of magic is not to be real,

We can wish, hope, and pray that it all goes away.

               Keith Garrett                                                     

A traveling locomotive on a course bound for nowhere.

Never does it stop; a sound heard echoing in the night.

Where it started is a story unknown; where it’s headed,

No ending be told.

Dark and quiet except for the whistling in the night and

The rumbling train.

To look into the windows there’s not a thing, a person to see.

When again it comes back around, then a closer peek there will be.

The dead train becomes its name, no way to stop it, why that name?

It disappears, and then it’s seen roaring down some railroad tracks.

Never a face, no one walking around, no engineer guiding this train.

The lights flash from the darkness when it sees me watching.

A first stop it will make since last year’s fatal day.

I’m taking a trip, my ticket in hand,

All aboard! yells the conductor, the dead train takes me away.

Keith Garrett

       UNDER THE BRIDGE

It’s a bad path you take when under the bridge you go,

Let there be no slip or fall; it’ll be the end of you.

He’s so ugly and mean, a shade of green,

Hungers for the flesh, a taste he seeks.

His teeth so sharp, a foul smell to his breath,

Eyes like saucers, horns on his head.

Hands so big, his nails razor sharp,

Feet of a monster, toes that curl up.

A sound he makes, so disgusting to the ear,

It will make your skin crawl; out comes the fear.

Bones all around as he’s eaten many who cross his ground,

Under the bridge, this horrible troll lives.

                                Keith Garrett

  UNDER A FULL MOON

Beware on this night as you stroll along,

It’s cold and dark; the screeching cry echoes.

Through the hills, into the misty night woods,

He’s out there under a full moon, angrily searching.

If you see his shadow beyond the trees,

Then run, as fast and far as it may be too late.

The smell of your fear lingers in the air,

His thirst for the blood, for the flesh most wanted.

The howling under the moon will be a life-saving clue,

Your path is studied; your only escape is behind locked doors.

Your only safety may be the rising sun as dawn approaches,

On this moon-risen night he becomes the beast.

He feels no remorse, no heart to be found,

Under a full moon he stalks the living.

He is a killer in the moonlight,

Under a full moon he is not kind.

                       Keith Garrett

       HORRIBLE HOUSE

There’s a horrible house with horrible things,

It’s deep in a forest where there live horrible people.

Horrible thoughts from horrible minds,

Horrible deeds, horrible crimes.

Don’t go to the door, you’ll never escape,

If you see their horrible faces, your screams will echo into the night.

A horrible place, horrible for you to discover,

What horrible things they’ll do for dinner.

Stay away from this horrible house,

Horrible things will surely happen to you.

The horrible house has had many visitors,

They walked through the forest and did not escape

Those horrible faces in that horrible house.

Keith Garrett

They once were living beings; they wandered the world.

Something has changed for some of them, and they are angry.

An Autumn night has brought them back; cold is the night.

They seek what all humans have: a life force; much anger is here.

On this Halloween night, from midnight until dawn, it is you they hunt.

To exchange body and soul with them, to again live is what they desire.

When ghosts are angry, when they witness that which is not good on earth,e

They come and take from you those who do not deserve a mortal life.

Keith Garrett

On a cold Autumn night, something was coming that wasn’t right.

A breeze in the air- what was coming on this night was a smell of fright.

A curse on Halloween in a land of many frightened people.

Lock your doors and make sure that all windows are tightly closed.

What’s blowing in the wind is deadlier than anything before.

A smell that kills is toxic to all who may inhale on a Halloween night.

Keith Garrett

          I AWAIT MIDNIGHT

I sit and wait for the clock to strike twelve,

So that I may leave this cage I’m trapped in.

Out into the night is where all hell lives in pain,

Escape do I from a place of my own torment to

Seek out what has destroyed my spirit and soul.

It’s out there somewhere hiding in the night,

This thing that haunts me hides in a dark, dark world.

I await midnight for reasons not known in my mind,

To go out there and find this monster, this stalker

That makes not a sound, has no body, but hurts me

In many ways.

Why do I seek it out, this Invisible force,

It laughs at what it does; it finds me.

              Keith Garrett

It appears in the sky, high above on an October night.

Windy is the scene as a howl in the night scares you green.

So far away, its color stares you in the face; the full moon rises high,

From out in space, a moon that can terrorize your earthly space.

What happens to a man when he looks to the sky? A moon makes him cry.

A werewolf kills many; he runs wild until the morning’s bloody light.

Many myths, folklore, and stories of creatures that come to life,

Imagination and nightmares will scare and haunt you on a moonlit night.

Is it true? Does a full moon turn all living things crazy throughout the night?

The full moon is rising; watch out for this horrifying October time.

Keith Garrett

THE CREEPY MAN NEXT DOOR

I remember when he moved in, a most ridiculous laugh,

A long beak for a nose, eyes which seemed to glow.

Such a strange walk as he maneuvers from side to side,

A head without hair, bowing as he wanders everywhere.

When he opens his mouth, nothing of intelligence comes out,

He’s not what he appears to be, that which most will see,

Are we the only ones who know of the evil that is he?

You can smell the hatred that comes from his breath,

Violence lives within his eyes, a stare so sinister he wears.

Sneaky as a criminal mind may be, hidden is the psycho from society,

The creepy man next door, he lurks about in the dark of night.

                            Keith Garrett