A DIFFERENT KIND OF HOME

I thought about it a little more recently as I stroll through the park,

So sad it is for some of them as they are hard working and lost everything.

For others, there are no excuses only bad choices or criminal doing,

Some get lost in the cracks as the help that is for them needed does not care.

We have homeless heroes, how is it possible when they gave their all,

Some are sick and hurt as they lost more than their material life.

A different kind of home they now have, not what they remember,

Let me describe it to you, some of us are a paycheck away, maybe a day.

The roof over their head may be a clear sky or a rainy night,

The walls around them are not the same as they often change.

A couch wherever they sit, a bed wherever they rest their head,

Television sets, that which is taken in by their wishing eyes.

A shower for granted taken each day, when will a shower come their way,

gone now is the refrigerator that was, like an animal they search now.

A different kind of home not that they can call their own, they roam,

Circumstances of why, many reasons you see, sadness wears many feet.

Keith Garrett

A BRIDGE I CROSS

Far it reaches through my time,

My travel across it a neverending journey.

Obstacles are sometimes in my way,

I’ll hurdle over or push out of my way.

Moving along searching, always searching,

For just a little more of things not to hurt me.

Not ever knowing what’s ahead,

Stop I will not until the end.

Keith Garrett

DRINK FROM THE FOUNTAIN

Fact or a fantasy, like the wishing, neverending thought that we can

Climb up and follow that mysterious rainbow to a magical land.

A four leaf clover, that search for the little green grass of hope,

Wish upon a star, will It get you far, blow out the candles,

Did you get that which you closed your eyes for?

Drink from the fountain, first, you must search the world,

Reality or a myth, could this be true, did god place upon this earth

The fountain of life, Is It possible somewhere hidden contains a fountain so true.

How can this be a possibility fore It Is said that all will someday die,

If so true then god put It In a place where no man would ever venture to.

Keith Garrett

THE VIGILANTE

A peaceful man, calm was he with a smile so bright,

Until they took his wife then his daughter’s life.

His world was turned inside out, nothing will be the same,

His name is known within the business world, the nights are his.

A man who did have a family, now he takes the lives of them who take,

His life is much different now, days of a regular citizen, nights of vengeance.

He now lives within himself, with the pain he inflicts upon the evil that brings pain,

He is the vigilante, a good man who had enough of bad people in a crazy world.

Keith Garrett

STAGECOACH

Come with me, take a ride back in time,

The old West where stagecoaches traveled by.

See the dust in the distance, watch them ride,

From many places, from here and there.

Climb aboard, passengers of a lost time,

Drive on! driver, a journey through the years.

Big wheels and horses that take you to anywhere,

A dangerous ride back in a place where bandits hide.

Indians and highwaymen survive by the gun or knife,

Outlaws or desperate men steal and take a life.

A stagecoach ride may be peaceful somehow,

If along a safe road or beyond beautiful hills in an old western time.

Keith Garrett

I BECOME REAL

I am fantasy, I come to life in dreams in the night,

I am not real, a made up story created from a pen.

A cartoon, monster, fables, or nursery rhymes,

I become real with the Imagination from a mind.

Superheroes and Frankenstein do not walk the streets,

Magic spells, wizards, and wooden boys are not really seen.

I become real when the world is a scary place to see,

All things that are Impossible are me when you believe,

I become real when what you pretend does never end.

Keith Garrett

FLIGHT OF A DRAGON

With speed like the wind, to the sky, it soars,

So massive this beast, listen to the sound as it roars.

Legend or myth, this monster of fire,

Just the sight of it is hard not to admire.

Of long ago these stories are told,

FLIGHT OF A DRAGON, in a time of old.

Where did they come from,? these creatures so wild,

Born down below or in the mind of a child.

Sometimes in your thoughts, look up in the air,

Flight of a dragon, maybe still there.

Keith Garrett

ABOVE THE WAVE

Out on the horizon, beneath the sinking sun, It rolls In,

They all come to watch, they come to ride the wild surf.

For the true surfer, It comes from within, at one with the wave,

Shooting the tube, living on the edge, free to glide across the water.

From Australia, the split, surfers’ paradise, they battle the rolling storm,

To Hawaii, Waimea Bay, North Shore, Pipeline, or Hanalei Bay, the wave.

Above the wave where dreams’ are made, surf the open waterway,

Around the world beyond the shores of Peru to New Zealand, ride.

Above the wave, beneath the wide open sky, forever ride,

Touch the water and listen to the sound of the crashing waves.

Keith Garrett

CHILD WITHIN

Run and run until the day was done, fun in the sun,

Not a care, chasing butterflies within the wind.

A book that’s numbered beginning with one until it’s done,

I played in the sun, playing and laughing with children no more.

A child within an adult that would one day find a way out,

Child within, the older we get always seeking a part we once were.

Our faces do change, lines appear in the light, older by night,

Hair turns color as the seasons turn into years, eyes show more.

One less fear, a new one is here, another tear, dried with the years,

I see where I’ve been, we all walk our ongoing road, we have a child within.

Keith Garrett

A WORLD OF NAMES

They call him every day gay, so what’s in a name,

Does he not have a heart and personality?

Screamed out in the street, less than the color black is he,

Is he not a man, what makes any color better than you.

A boy was he, love of the dance but many names of unkind,

Names that would not serve the world in any decent way.

Called names and beaten because he was shy, tell me why,

Because he was shy, the bully is nothing in these eyes.

Too heavy or too thin, judgment from those who are weak,

Hurtful words from blackened hearts, those with not much to say.

I began to learn that life is too short to hate the world away.

Keith Garrett