EIGHTEEN WHEELS

Leaving out of North Dakota, heading for Odessa Town,

Hopped up into my ole’ truck, eighteen wheels under my butt.

Hauling a load of lumber and steel,

Me and my music box, my hands on the steering wheel.

I’m headin’ for the heat of Texas,

It’s gonna be a long, long, road, don’t you know.

I turned up some good ole’ country tunes,

Time to put the hammer down.

This life I chose, on the road it’s to anywhere I roam,

Just a simple Kansas farm boy, one day I’ll go back home.

Eighteen wheels, rollin’ down the highway,

Eighteen wheels, doin’ it my way.

Just a good ole’ boy with places to be,

A country heart, and I got things to see,

Eighteen wheels and I’m runnin’ free.

Keith Garrett

BORN, DIE, FORGOTTEN

It is an amazing thing to be born, a gift of life,

Mind and heart together tell a life’s tale.

Created we are by another two we learn to love,

We grow to be men and women, childhood a memory.

As we age, sickness, injury, maybe an accident will take us,

Guaranteed, something will end our time in this crazy place.

What bothers me is that eventually we will be forgotten,

There will at some moment be no one who thinks of or remembers me.

Keith Garrett

FINDING FREEDOM

The search for freedom and a fight to keep it,

After thousands of years more is taken away today.

It’s all up for sale, we can barely walk in the hills anymore,

Dirt, water, and even air are not ours without a dollar.

We are not as free as we believe, we are allowed to do as they say,

All wars are not about freedom, most are of corruption and money.

Finding freedom when so much has changed is becoming rare,

We are losing it from every direction, before our eyes, and behind our backs.

The enemy appears to be us, look to our neighbor more than across the sea,

Look around people, we are losing our rights, finding freedom between what is seen.

Keith Garrett

FOR THIS RANCH, WILL YOU DIE?

This place of beauty has stood here for generations,

Built by a great, great, Grandfather a long time ago.

Times have changed in this world around a ranch,

The fight to keep what is yours has been since time began.

You battle, climb the hill with sweat and tears, for this ranch,

Family before you have sacrificed in ways you can’t understand,

What does your heritage mean to you? will you die if they try to take your home?

For this ranch, will you die? will you shed a tear for those who bled before your time?

Keith Garrett

SUBCONSCIOUS

The inner mind has its own set of rules,

Physically you are the one in charge.

There’s a whole new game playing inside your brain,

Another part of your world that’s in control.

Your thoughts may be what you believe to be,

It tells you how to feel, it controls the wheel.

Our subconscious makes up the fantasy dreams,

What is thought while we are awake is so real.

It tells us lies at times, it makes us believe,

Impending doom, the fear that’s not real.

The subconscious mind holds secrets that we’ll

Not understand nor ever uncover,

We may find the solution but the cause remains hidden in time.

Keith Garrett

STORIES ARE TOLD

Traditions of storytelling from thousands of years,

Around campfires and in homes in times of old.

Thought up from Imaginations 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

SHE LIVED IN THE WOODS

Hidden from sunlight, beneath the tall aging trees,

Deep in the woods, alone lived she.

A different kind of world, quiet except for the creatures that be,

A woman so aged, seems that she’d been here for eternity.

So far below that which grows, the falling rain can barely touch,

In a rickety old cabin, she had not much.

Only sounds of the woods kept her company,

In a dark, lost, existence, she lived to be so old,

Not of loneliness.

Many things did she to occupy her moments of a life meant to be,

Never a face shown to her, only memories of childhood dreams.

She lived in the woods, somewhere you see,

An old, old, woman gone and not missed but who was she?

Keith Garrett

SIX GUN SAM

Travels the land, on his own he stands,

Gun for hire, if the price is right, he’ll kill any man.

A lonely road for a heartless soul,

You get what you get when sin is your gold.

He passes through most any town,

He’s six gun Sam, someday a stranger will shoot him down,

Lay him in the ground.

A sad life indeed, he’s got no family,

Not a friend to his name, when he dies, no man will stand at his side.

Who will remember six gun Sam,

The man who died with a gun in his hand.

Keith Garrett

BETWEEN WHAT IS AND WHAT IS NOT

The universe exists all around us but do aliens really exist,

We can see the sun resting in the sky, no pot of gold over a rainbow.

Mountains formed, standing above so tall, not a bigfoot between the trees,

The moon is for us a reality, no face or a man lives up there alone.

Ireland and green grass are for real, across the sea they do appear,

leprechaun’s I have never seen, four leaf clovers bring luck in a dream.

Castles of old stand on many lands, stories of them for centuries are told,

Magical spells and fire breathing dragons, were they ever seen or felt.

Between what is and what is not are fables and tall tales handed down,

Fantasies and all that is real live in our minds or before us we see.

Keith Garrett

MYSTICAL DREAMS OF SHORES UNSEEN

About a land so far across the sea, stories of knights from days lost,

Castles of stone standing through centuries of tales told, those who know.

Kings and Queens ever since this Island was discovered back in a dream,

Magical wizards are fables of men said to them as a child long ago.

Those dressed in armor, a King by the name of Arthur and a sword,

A legendary table of round sat Knights so long ago on shores unseen.

Princes and Princesses dancing at parties of royalty in a far off land,

Common men and women lived together and begged for food, a hand.

Woods of old England, warriors, and Knights with bows and swords,

Mystical dreams of times, of shores unseen, a book of tales.

Along the river, lakes of swans gliding across the mirrored glass,

Over the hills where the whispering winds watch the grass dance.

In the English night sky, through the known expected fog of the land,

A rising moon shines its glowing light upon the trees, upon these shores.

Seasons of many centuries witnessed by a people with voices of sound,

Sir Lancelot dressed for battle riding high upon a dark horse into forever.

Dragons of fantasy flying through the sky, wings spread, soaring,

Breath of fire it is told they possess, demons brought to life in a dream.

Legends of many moons long since past, ghosts of heroes wander in mist,

Mystical dreams of shores unseen, songs sung in green meadows,

A beautiful sound from voices such a long time ago.

Keith Garrett