WHAT HAPPENED TO HARRY BLAKE     Keith Garrett

 He drove to the mountains, to Stoney woods,


 He wanted to run, to get away from his life,


 To a big house where he would not be bothered


 Or found by the outside world.


 Stormy weather was approaching as he headed up 
 The mountain,

 If he hurried then he could make it before it hit.


 Alone he would be as he pulled up to this big house


 That stood all alone among tall trees,


 He got his things and went inside where dusty furniture 
 Sat in the dark.

 It was cold but there was a big, old, fireplace.


 Harry gathered some wood and started a nice fire


 That kept this creepy place lit for the night,


 Harry didn't know it but someone or something was there, 
 Watching.

 Alone on the 31st of October, Halloween in Stoney Woods,

 It was late, the fire fading, sleep took him away.

 At mornings light, Harry was gone, where did he go?

 On October 31st every year the fire burns in a dark 
 House.
 Up on a mountain in Stoney Woods you can hear the echoing

 Voice of Harry Blake, never seen again.

                   WELCOME TO GRANDMAS

 High upon a hill sits this house of darkness,

 Hiding beyond hundred year old trees that sway in the 
 Wind.
 To stumble upon it is a deadly thing but to enter will 
 Be a house of hell,
 Out of gas in the dead of night, clouds cover the moon.

 A group of friends with no idea what awaits,

 This house can not be seen from below as nothing else 
 Is around.
 Their curiosity to walk up the path has no reason,

 Fear of being stranded or of what may lie ahead.

 Picture grandma dressed in clothes of comfort, an apron,

 Her hair up in a bun, baking cookies, pies, and other 
 Treats.
 There may be a warm hello at the door but grandma has a 
 Surprise for you,
 You're staying the night, one hell of a night! 

 The door opens and there's an excited greeting for these 
 Poor Stranded strangers,
 She welcomes them and Invites them to have dinner and  
 Stay The night.
 What a night it will be, the wind is howling as a storm 
 Settles over this town,
 After dinner grandma shows them to their rooms, there's
 A Warm fire glowing.
 As everyone gets ready for bed and a stormy night,

 An echo of a scream is heard through the darkened 
 House.
 Nothing to be found as all search around,

 A light from the kitchen for those to see. 

 There stands the sweet old lady preparing tomorrows 
 Feast,
 Through the rain driven night, behind the thunder that  
 Hides The hellish screams.
 It is she whom is called grandma who smiles with delight,

 No longer are they here at this old house, Grandma likes 
 To Feast on Halloween.
                              Keith Garrett

                   SEASON OF THE WITCH
                                                                                                                   
       Keith Garrett
 Late October, the days grow short and the nights even 
 Longer,
 There's a chill that falls over the land this season,
 Fear lives.
 A small town in Massachusetts where the winds of cold 
 Grow,
 An evil hides here in this quiet place, the woods of 
 Darkness.
 An old house, hundreds of years standing, death to those 
 Who wonder,
 What lives here, who lives here if at all human is black  
 Magic, So evil.
 The people of this town are well aware of the strange  
 Night Happenings,
 Now it's October, it's that time of year again, they  
 Conjure Witches.
 The owls are heard at night, they wait in the trees, they
 Can See,
 Bats fly through the fog filled skies searching for blood 
 On This night.
 On Halloween night all the doors in this unusual little  
 Town Will be locked,
 Fore they draw you into their hell, be not the weak, they 
 Feel and hear.
 Spells on poor souls that take the life from them, evil  
 Grows Stronger,
 Cauldrons filled with a power, substance of  magical  
 Force, A potion.
 Season of the witch, season of doom for the mortal man,

 He can not resist temptation, he can not pull himself 
 Away From the witch.
 Deep in the woods where trees so tall cover a house of  
 Satanic Ritual,
 Tonight they ready themselves in this place made of wood 
 And Brick so old.
 The moon rises, a full moon of orange and yellow, night 
 Of The witch,
 through a window is seen to an eye fear as they have 
 Faces,  Many years.
 On a Fall night spells are cast out into the wind, they 
 Take Bodies and minds,
 Old and ugly are these daughters of the devil, tenants of
 Hell.
 Season of the witch comes to life in dark woods in a town 
 Of Fear,
 Twelve O' clock becomes the hour of the witch, from the  
 Light of the moon,
 They appear in the sky, they fly hunting for the breath  
 Of Life So that they may again live to haunt Halloween.
               

                        Keith Garrett

                    WHAT'S IN THE DARK?


 Don't open the door!, Don't turn off the lights,
 Not tonight,

 It comes from anywhere and everywhere, It comes 
 Without light.

 It sees you, It can hear you breathe, afraid! so 
 Afraid on this night,

 From a long time ago it is what was hiding under your 
 Bed, in the dark.

 Peeking in your window as you covered your face, shaking 
 In your bed,

 You thought you could hide, foolish as you started to  
  Cry, It's alive!

 The thing that worried you, thoughts from your mind, in 
 Your closet, hiding,

 So young as it overpowered that childish Imagination 
 Locked inside.

 Can you hear it, do you feel it as you're certain it 
 Watches with eyes,

 Forget did you to close that closet door, do you believe 
 It opens more?

 Down the hall, what do you hear, yours is the only open 
 Door near,

 Has it followed you into today, are you afraid from 
 Yesterday?

 What's in the dark, does it stay under your bed, is it 
 In your window?

 Does it hide in the closet, could it be coming for you 
 Down the hall?

 What's in the dark as you remember, has it followed you 
 From yesterday?

 Will it ever, ever leave your Halloween, will it ever, 
 Ever leave your today?

                   Keith Garrett

               WITHOUT A CONSCIENCE


 He lurks in the darkness, within the shadows,


 A gruesome figure of a man, quietly waiting.


 Watches does he on an October night,


 Stalking his prey till morning's  sunrise.


 He kills with no warning, no fear or remorse,


 Without a conscience, he'll stop your heart.


 On a windy, Fall night, leaves falling 
 From the trees,

 If the moon is full and bright, his shadow may
 Be seen.

 Without a conscience, he'll take your life,


 What kind of man walks in the darkness


 Seeking blood on a Halloween night?


 Listen for the foot steps but stay in the light,


 Don't go out alone, not on this, his special night.


                Keith Garrett

                "THE MEANING OF LIFE
                        AND
              THE WORLD ACCORDING TO ME"
 Does God have a plan, what Is his plan, could this 
 Be his experiment,     
 From our first breath until our last breath there Is 
 Life in between.
 The mystery of why we are here Is perhaps overthought, 
 What is this life,       
 We walk and dream In this short existence known to us 
 As forever.
 The meaning of life appears very simple and not so 
 Confusing dear one,           
 Sit back and listen as I give my heart felt thoughts 
 Of where we are and why.
 Watch the trees, see them dance against the unseen 
 But softly felt breeze,          
 Do you believe what has been put before you and me, 
 Understand the gift.
 Love and laughter, pain and sorrow, must be a feeling 
 For all to know,             
 All that lives Is born to die, from the beginning of time 
 We age and say goodbye.
 See the mountain and walk Its' path, step by step, time 
 Will pass into tomorrow,            
 The sky travels, It Is the clouds that guide the way, see 
 All things that are dreamed.
 The ocean will be, after on this Earth you and I are but  
 A memory, hear the ocean,
 Put your feet Into the sandy beach, feel the sand, walk 
 Along the timeless shore.
 Touch another's heart with the love and care that Is 
 Possessed by you, Reach out,
 Let go of the tears of many years with a forgiving smile 
 That lasts a lifetime.
 If we see the sunrise, will we see the sunset again the 
 Same day,            
 Are we blind, do we take for granted the beauty of our 
 World?
 When It rains do we cry about that which falls down upon  
 Us, do we wonder why,          
 Listen for the sound, take In the drops of life that take 
 Us way on down the road.
 The meaning of life and the world according to me Is from  
 Inside all that this man may see,
          
 God has laid these truly wonderous things before us, to  
 See, to dream all that can be.
           

                Keith Garrett

                     THE LITTLE MAN


 On a blustery, cold, evening in early Fall as darkness 
 Comes early

 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 n 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 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                    

                  THE OTHER ME
 To my eyes I could not believe,

 Not sure if I saw him staring at me.

 From a distance I thought I saw another me,

 That's crazy, just my Imagination.

 Then I saw him on the other side of the street,

 A strange smile, scary he seemed.

 Following him to get a closer look,

 Faster he moved, faster than me.

 He turned and let me see his face,

 Stranger eyes but a shock came over me.

 He spoke these words loud and clear,

 I'm the other you, see what lies inside.

 I'm the other you, what frightens you so,

 There was no catching this one who knows who I am.

 He's the other me, I don't like him to be,

 There's nothing I can do, he knows all about me.

 He's not so good, not what I am, why do I chase him,

 Let him run, I'll leave and go another way.

 Now he tries to find me, I'm smarter than he,

 I've escaped from his hands, he's the other me.

                    Keith Garrett 

    Keith Garrett   PORFINIFIGUS

 Where he comes from nobody knows, he does live,


 A myth, a fable, only a child believes, one who 
 Has seen.

 Along the river bank of a small Eastern town in Maine,


 A place of play for a boy named Luke, this is no dream.


 Many fantastic tales he does tell, who will listen 
 This time?

 Described to others as a type of elf, an ugly troll.


 Many late afternoons is when Luke visits the river,


 Today it is a bit windy, he will appear once more.


 He speaks to Luke in whispers, I am Porfinifigus,


 I am created from your thoughts and fear.


 Why do you find me here each day, are you real?


 I told you that i live in you, you gave me a name.


 There are wishes that you ask for, I can hear you,


 With every wish there comes a curse.


 I have many things to wish for, will they be mine?


 For everything you receive, something I will take.


 I wish for all things in this town be mine,

 Foolish boy, everything in this town be no more.

       SHE LIVED IN THE WOODS


 Hidden from sunlight, beneath the tall ageing 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