I was born, I was alive in a new world to me,

I thought that I had not much as I grew, I did not see.

Always asking why me or why don’t I have more,

I survived a terrible thing in this life, I am alive!

My life has been given to me, a gift extended beyond that day,

So much more than some as I believed I had nothing, ungrateful perhaps.

I missed the gift, It took many years and roads traveled to see,

So much has been given to me, I understand more as I have watched

Many times the sun rise and set, It is a gift to live and breathe.

Keith Garrett

Follows me it does, to everywhere as I can’ not run from it,

Memories are ours as we travel through the days given.

I believe the past has a great impression on our future,

These things we carry with us in an emotional way.

I have never left the past behind, I have tried going back,

Some of it still rests in dust and cobwebs, an empty shell.

Some of whom we are has been left behind, we can’not recover it,

I suppose there is a part we must let go of, the rest is here now.

We can walk backwards but not so fast as to see where we have been,

We are not suppose to go back only forward as we have our collection of then,

Keith Garrett

He lived a life of dreams, the world was a strange place,

A boy so different to others, he learned to run away.

A simple mind, called stupid for the way he saw things,

A girl he would befriend, under a big Oak tree they would swing.

A simple mind, a heart so pure belonged to this thinking man,

He saw all things in such a simple manner, a gentle soul.

Time would take him full circle back to where he started,

He would love, lose, and then love again, a girl on a swing.

A child of his own, married did he this love from childhood,

He had everything to share, sickness would take his love away,

A simple mind, a heart so pure would burry his wife under that Oak tree of before.

Keith Garrett

A child, running and playing, you were seven in nineteen thirty nine,

A different world, another time, a boy with a father and mother,

Your family of brothers and sisters, you were so young, full of life.

Before we met you made your way throughout this big world,

In nineteen sixty nine I was seven, I was so young and so were you,

A life ahead of me was to be as I like you would run and play each day.

It’s kind of funny, you were thirty when I was just born, a young man,

I was just starting out, some day I would grow to be like you, this was to be,

I became a little older than you at fifty three, forty six years apart now for you and me.

Keith Garrett

In a world of technology, cell phones, and the computer,

Texting is at the fingertips of all people, communication is there.

This world, people everywhere are running in all directions,

Fast pace, much to fast as we need to slow down and see things,

With all these things we still miss what’s out there as it passes by.

They are all to busy, I don’t think so as a second it takes to say hello,

Good night if not by phone, then a message so fast, to busy the fool.

In this world today it is sad but true, when they don’t want to they don’t contact you,

Many excuses are spilled from their lips, a moment it takes to say I love you too.

Keith Garrett

They have changed in a most different way, a new today,

Left behind are all material belongings, reminders of a life.

In a material world they live on in memories and thoughts,

Kept close in many hearts, they remain alive in pictures created.

They are not really gone, merely frozen in time, a dimension close by,

Reach out to them in your dreams, close your eyes and hold them inside.

Take hold of their hands, feel them again if only in a different way,

They are not really gone, they live on and on beyond what we know.

Keith Garrett

We look to the sky where mystery is a constant story,

Within the sky are many unusual things created.

Wind and rain have lived since our time began,

Within the sky are many years experienced by man.

It is assumed that the world above is only up high,

Within the sky are we all as it does touch the ground.

We live within the sky, walk among the not seen clouds,

All around, many mysteries are ours to be found.

Keith Garrett

You do it again and again, how can you be a friend?

You have done these things before, over and over I see.

You stole my money and said you do not know why,

The wounds heal after time goes by but again it happens, tell me why.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry family or friend, I have heard that tune before,

What’s worse than that i’ll tell you now, is when it’s never said at all.

From many mouths, from place to place and town to town, words come out,

Things are done and things are said, again and again to know end,

Don’t tell me you’re sorry, I have heard it all before, don’t bother me anymore.

Keith Garrett

Knock! knock! knock! at your door, who can it be? not sure,

Unforms worn to show their identity, a disguise this may be.

When they are not whom they appear to be, what might happen is scary,

Do not just open your door, be sure before you become no more.

When there is a knock, a face of a stranger appears on the other side,

A smile of sincerity or perhaps an evil one who preys on the trusting.

When there is a knock, think twice before you gladly open your door,

Friend or foe, it is hard to know anymore as they approach from out there.

Keith Garrett

When a man who works for the CIA makes 1,000,000,000,

Drug money to buy guns for a war that makes many people rich.

What crimes are committed here in our government agencies,

Crack cocaine distributed throughout the city of Los Angeles for sale.

From the FBI, CIA, and other orginizations there is abuse and corruption,

There is no law when those whom make the laws and enforce them break them.

Who do we trust when we know we can not trust our countries leaders,

It all makes sense as not a thing makes any sense when corruption is a disease.

A man, a journalist sacrificed everything for what he believed in, he lost all,

Gary Webb did accuse a higher power of wrong doing, their knowledge of crimes.

He lost his wife, backs of co-workers were turned on him, wrong were many,

Never again as a journalist, mysteriously died alone, two bullets…. I wonder?

When power is abused the world remains forever a scary place to be.

Keith Garrett