CAULDRON OF DESTRUCTION

A big black pot, boiling over an open fire in the dark of night,

They conjure a spell on this night, but does it work already?

Into it, a lying tongue since the dawn of man, smell fills the air,

A hand that represents the false handshake of politics in our land.

Smiling eyes that look to you until your back is turned, change to evil,

Broken promises throughout the world at the expense of the innocent ones.

Fill it up! Toss in some more, how about the greed of man that will stink till dawn,

The look of hate, we’ve seen it everywhere, a little of this goes a long way.

Watch as it boils, cooks in the dark beneath a full moon, there’s more to do,

Go ahead! Add some selfishness; there’s so much to go around.

Cauldron of destruction has been ready, boiling for years upon years,

Have a cup, what harm can it do, we’ve had it before, there’s a spell on you.

       Keith Garrett

 WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT?

A different world exists as the scenes change from light to dark,

What comes to life when darkness takes over your life.

This world becomes a different and frightening place,

Shadows appear much more as your mind plays tricks on you.

Sounds are imagined and multiply minute by minute in your mind,

You can feel that someone is there, close by, but where are they hiding?

Is there an opposite world, a world of evil and fear that sleeps in
Between,

Do we not see what seeks us out, or does it peek in the windows?

When light fades.

What happens when the lights go out? Is it so simple that only?

Darkness lives,

A knock at the door becomes so much more; the wind outside
Brings fear inside.

Keith Garrett

            WHO ARE YOU?

It’s late October, and Fall has made its presence,

The wind blows through the emptying trees, fewer leaves.

Evening is approaching as the sun is falling,

Walking through the park with my shadow following me.

Behind the tree, over my shoulder, it is you I see,

Fear rushes through me, as you’ve been watching.

My footsteps are faster, my heart pounds like a drum,

No longer are you there; I am scared. Are you for real?

Run, do I for home, safe behind a locked door,

I forgot about you as I relax all alone.

You stare through my window, this I do not know,

I am not scared, but you will soon change this.

The wind is loud on this thirty-first of October,

My eyes peek out to see the night; your face meets mine.

Horror fills my soul, who are you! Who are you!

Again you are gone as I search all around.

I drift off to sleep upstairs in my bed,

Dreaming, I can hear myself ask the words, ” Who are you!

My eyes open in mind-numbing fear; it is you!

Who are you! The last words I hear are, ” Do you really
Want to know?
Keith Garrett

WHEN YOU CAN’T ESCAPE YOUR DREAMS

When you drift off to sleep, a world of dreams and make-believe,

Control them; you cannot, as your mind shows you unusual scenes.

Happy or funny, they seem to make not much sense; what are they,

Horrible! Scary visions sometimes repeated throughout a lifetime.

Lucky, feeling relief from some dreams, wishing you could stay in others,

The ones you are about to start having will be dreams of many screams.

You fall asleep, notice your fear as you try to awaken, but dead asleep,

What are you thinking? Are you in control? I don’t think so; you are scared.

Notice that you aren’t waking up as you slip deeper into a most terrible story,

It’s after you! Can you see it? Everything is dark, so what chases you is where?

When you can’t escape your dreams, what will you do? Run faster, no place to go,

You can’t wake up anymore because you’ve been away too long, lost in the dark.

As you begin screaming in your own mind, no one can hear you, no sound,

What laughs at you, what are your greatest fears, forever after you while you sleep.

              Keith Garrett

            VOICES IN THE WIND

Listen to it, can you hear the wind through the trees?

The falling leaves, branches scratching against the windows.

Lying in my bed, slowly drifting off to sleep, the sounds are here,

It’s dark in my room, only the light from the moon shines through.

The window I close as it is growing cold, drifting clouds bring
In the gloom,

With my head on my pillow, blankets so warm, thoughts are alive.

Whispering, is it my imagination, was I in a dream state, I could only hope,

I heard it again; I thought it was the blowing wind against the trees.

It started, voices upon voices speaking to me as the wind sounds,

Help me! it hurts! let me in! The words “I can’t breathe” won’t let me sleep.

Why is it that these voices are listened to by my ears, nervous with fear,

What do they want, why don’t they leave me alone in my harmless home,

Voices in the wind, is it me, or are there really voices in the wind?

                                Keith Garrett

       THESE FOOTPRINTS

Outside on a fall morning, a cool, breezy day, clouds drifting,

Working in the garden next to our bedroom window, I stopped.

My husband, along with our son, lives here peacefully in this home,

Just now, where I was planting, I noticed a fresh set of footprints.

Boots of a large person, a chill up my spine as there was somebody here,

The thought of sleeping in our bed and a stranger outside our window.

My husband didn’t think much of it, saying that I was only paranoid,

I couldn’t stop thinking about it as I lay awake the next night looking
At the window.

I checked the next morning; the footprints were gone. What happened to them,

I walked around the yard; nothing. There, under the kitchen window,
the same footprints.

The police, my husband, no one was listening to me. Who was doing this to me?

That night I went into the garage, looking for my suitcase. Behind it, I
Could not believe,

A dirty pair of boots. I went to turn; he was there, a glare in his eyes,
A knife in his hand,

                     MY HUSBAND!

                          Keith Garrett

           " THE TALL MAN"

He comes from another world, a planet of hell,

Here to steal the bodies of this world for slaves.

I saw him one day; he scared the hell out of me,

At a funeral home, I was in the bushes, hiding.

The tall man, dressed in a black suit with eyes of death,

He knows I am there, a smirk of desire on his face, I fear.

No soul, no conscience is possessed by a being of evil,

The tall man is everything wicked, destruction of a race.

              Keith Garrett

                      THE LITTLE MAN

On a blustery, cold evening in early Fall as darkness comes soon

And we were having dinner, I thought I heard some laughter.

Everyone’s backs were to the window except for mine,

I thought I saw something, an image of a man, I’m not sure.

There was a cold shiver up and down my spine, but why,

My family was settling in for the night, for me, not this night.

I don’t know why I didn’t say anything or why I felt this way,

Out the window, I decided to peek, and there he was standing in the yard.

The little man, a long beard, dressed in a black robe with a cane in his hand,

He knows I’m there, he smiles and disappears, he wants something.

No longer do I feel the fear, as soon he will surely reappear,

The little man comes again, standing in the darkness, in the wind.

He motions to me to come with him; I can’t resist as he takes my hand,

The little man takes me away; he is not of this world, never am I seen again.

            Keith Garrett

        STORIES ARE TOLD

Traditions of storytelling from thousands of years,

Around campfires and in homes in times of old.

Thought up from imagination or a small tale that grows,

Fables told by a Grandfather to a child in countries of old.

A bedtime adventure from a book to send you off to dream,

Around the world many have listened, stories across the sea.

Stories are told that touch one’s soul,” listen, child,” they
Never grow too old,

Generation to Generation, within cultures of different beliefs,
A tale that speaks.
Keith Garrett

          FALL

Summer will go away, with it the miserable heated days,

The sun will find its way, settling down earlier than yesterday.

A cooler breeze will drift down from the mountains, Fall,

Colors of change are among those that show another season,

Watch as leaves float to the ground, color is all around.

Fog will roll in from oceans across many coastal sands,

Crisp mornings are a favorite, most beautiful sight,

Fall and all that visits with it, feel it from within.

                               Keith Garrett