On the shore, sounds of the ocean are heard,
You can hear crashing of the waves, close your eyes.
In the afternoon, a Summer breeze, it whispers to me,
A windy day, Just listen! to the sounds that come your way.
A cricket on a warm, humid night, silence visits but there is life,
Just listen! you can hear whatever visits your wanting mind.
Keith Garrett
Much to young to vote, they could make a better choice,
Not yet ready to drive although they may be the better one.
Not yet of age to drink but then who really is the right age,
When you’re thirteen they call you a teenager, you’ve only aged.
No one likes thirty, fifty, or sixty five, at least you’re still alive,
Listen to the child as they are disregarded in their playful world.
They have much to say if you don’t shut them up and put them to bed,
Ideas come from their minds as words are spoken from lips not heard.
Until they are scarred and brain washed, full of hate and regret,
Until they are older they are not listened to, a child with a thought.
Listen to the child, pure thoughts of wisdom before they grow up,
Listen to the child, there’s more to lose than you know.
Keith Garrett
Behind windows and doors that wait to be broken,
She holds a fist full of stones, always is she throwing.
As her life goes by they gather with stones of their own,
She preaches to the world behind her mask of many,
She is not seen but a hypocrite with a mouth of words phony.
She lives in a glass house built just for her, pretending always,
A false smile, two faces with a third never seen, few know of how mean,
Sad to say that I do know of her name, hides behind the book with a face.
Keith Garrett
I saw my father fifty two years ago, today I saw,
When I was one he was so real, I don’t remember.
I saw my father today from an old movie made,
Although he is not here, he was very real.
From many days ago I did see him move in motion,
Today after almost forty six years I watched him dance.
From nineteen sixty three, fifty two years ago on a screen,
The last time I saw him real was nineteen sixty nine,
From nineteen sixty three I saw him dance with life happily.
Keith Garrett
We are alive, on the same path, a day all will die,
One day to oblivion we will be, before that let’s see.
A journey to an eternal place but we live from day to day,
Feeling good, happy as we awake to the morning light.
We are born, it’s a wonderful gift as we slowly sicken from that day,
Don’t get me wrong fore life holds many beautiful scenes I agree.
None of us are really sick just a touch of cancer that steals our day,
A touch of Cancer, It seeks us out in different ways, in the world always.
Keith Garrett
May i be not always for you to see, if i should go away,
Do you think of me now or would i be remembered then.?
Today is a perfect day as the sun watches my traveled road,
My thoughts are many as the wind makes its journey around me.
What might change if tomorrow i say goodbye and disappear,
Each day will awake and each night will surely sleep, this without me.
Will you miss a poem or a smile meant only for you, a kiss once given,
If i leave here tomorrow will you seek me out, search this land.
Hand in hand would you walk along the oceans shore line,
Would you take me back to where your heart rests alone.?
Would you take hold, a woman such as you and not let me go,
If i leave here tomorrow then behind my heart would rest with you.
Keith Garrett
As I sit here thinking of this life of mine,
A gift given and can be taken from me.
Not only will I one day disappear but in between
Many obstacles to go around or jump over.
This life of mine is such a strange game to play,
Trying to win, losing is part of this road we’re on.
A combination of ups and downs, a mystery ride,
This life of mine is hard to describe as I travel through.
Keith Garrett
A sailor talks of far away lands and the ports where he would like to be,
He relates to all in a salty drawl, his love for the roll of the sea.
Let’s hear him boast of powers so great, let’s hear of his deeds so bold,
Let’s hear him tell of seas of hell, and the treasures he’s bought and sold.
Let’s hear his yarn of the south sea Isles, his romance on balis shores,
Or the girl he had with eyes so sad in the land of the sliding doors.
And let me tell you what you never hear, of the loneliness that tortures his soul,
When the sun’s last light gives into night, he’s a dreamer, not a sailor so bold.
Yes, a sailor dreams when the sun goes down, and the wind lies slack on the sea,
Of the heavenly bliss of a woman’s kiss, and the home where he longs to be.
There a lamp burns low thru the lonely night, there a heart waits patiently,
There tears are shed as a prayer is said for a sailor who dreams at sea.
To live his past let no man wish for there is more than the tales he told,
Though his laugh is long and his heart is strong, inside he wrestles his soul.
Leon Russell Garrett
Our father
Happy father’s day
What ever happened to us as this is where we are,
What has brought us to this place in time, we are dying.
We are all strangers as the one standing next to me means nothing,
Nothing to each other from the beginning of time as war is always made.
When you come right down to it then the reasons are so silly, a childish game,
A game of death just the same, we’ll take that hill, storm the beaches, why.?
There’s a number of men and women that must be sacrificed to win this game,
Everyone’s afraid, why are we all running around with guns, watching the blood run.?
The bodies of lost men are scattered throughout time, in many lands they rest alone,
The scared faces of young men with guns put in their hands, how many wonder why.
We shoot and kill those we do not even know, we change and become animals on the loose,
The soul of mankind is filled with greed and evil, wars never ending, quest for power.
Keith Garrett
Anger, so much mistrust for the world, he’s angry,
That which he can’not control, bothers him so.
Nothing wrong with letting it out, control is what it’s about,
Angry at that which has passed, let this go, an angry man knows.
Feeling at times the universe has let him down, the fire rages,
Inside he feels the water boil, what to do when there’s no place to run.
He pounds his fists against the stone wall, thoughts of vengeance stir,
Get even is one of many stories made from a mans angry mind.
An angry man does not see the road clearly, thinking is altered,
Eats him up inside, wasted energy but how is he to do it right.?
He has been wronged, he is an angry man and needs a smart plan,
An angry man he can be, can an angry man soon find his peace.
Keith Garrett
