You would not know me, my face, my name a mystery,

The voice that becomes a stranger to you would not be known.

Pass me by without a thought, no emotion or care, a stare,

There would for you be no memory of me, no late night dream.

If i wasn’t me would you wish to see, hear, or smile at me,

Would you be in want of a kiss without pain, a touch with no scare.?

Would a second thought be a possibility if i was a different me,

If i wasn’t me would you not forget me, would i still be a something.

Keith Garrett

A different era, nineteenth century woman, what does she see,

On a trip far away, she’ll travel across a country never before seen.

On a locomotive made of steel, roaring and whistling down the track,

A window seat will be the perfect spot for this adventure to a new land.

The things she would see along the way would be wonderful and a bit scary,

Across the land of wilderness, what’s out there, an Indian village at peace.

Wagon trains of travelers headed for that land of hope where they might prosper,

She sees towns that once were, slowly died and moved on to where life again was.

Passed by towns that were booming with life, men and women seeking their fortune,

She passed by towns where familes worked the land, came together during hard times.

So much did she see, this woman from another century, she traveled a train.

Keith Garrett

THIS MOUNTAIN I MUST CLIMB

From out of the dark, now stepping into the light,

To leave this hiding place of seclusion to find where i’m suppose to be.

Seems like a long way up, back to that place of peace,

At this moment down in the valley of no life, no sanity.

No ladder, nor a rope with which to climb back to the top,

Just my hands and feet will get me through, get me up there.

The will is in me, yes! i must persevere, stop i will not do,

Obstacles are part of my dilemma but a solution figured.

Push forward, move ahead, and keep on going although

Pain and fatigue try to be the conquerer.

Defeat will not be heard of, it is not an option,

This mountain i must climb, then on with my life go i.

Keith Garrett

There was a time when you were a child, remember when,

Children playing simple games back in a world of wishes and magic.

A bottle, do you recall that magic bottle from where bubbles appeared,

Close your eyes and blow through that circle of dreams, watch their form.

Bubbles, see the colors inside, small and big are they as you see them float,

Away they go to somewhere, disappearing with the wind, vanished bubbles.

As a child it is and was such a creative, wonderful, experience of magic,

Did you believe, try to see that each one had a different gift to be held.

Blowing in the wind were dreams, wishes, possible things, everything,

Magic bubbles, once upon a time in a childs dreaming eyes.

Keith Garrett

We chase, search out and run as fast as we can,

While we sleep the greatest things can happen,

Run do we very fast, jump so very high to touch the sky,

Jump on the roof top, flips in the air, slow motion if you please.

Always for me money floating down a stream, a pile in the street,

Just as it is grabbed by my hand disappears does it as i become awake.

We all have been there when a monster chases us and then we are elsewhere,

Dreams are always so mixed up, at times tiring as we are in places of mystery.

Floating in the air, suddenly in a bubble we drift onward to where nothing makes sense,

Catch a dream, hold on tight and bring it back home with you tonight, any night.

Catch a dream, dream to be all that you hope to be, dream the perfect scene.

Keith Garrett

Created within me Is the answer to the beginning of time,

Is there a start or finish, an ending or beginning to what’s mine.?

In many a direction I must be,

Everything travels through my darkness, who knows what their Is to see.

Older than anything, how long have I really existed,

Where did I come from, Is the answer a mystery never to be discovered.?

All things that live within my space,

Rotating forever, will they always be In this place.?

I am the universe, not knowing what I really am,

With no air or much light, not a visitor from your land.

I’ll stay here, whom can say just how long,

Perhaps till an end comes to my time.

Keith Garrett

With my hand stretched to the sky i can’not touch the stars so high,

Nor the clouds, a falling star, or the sun going down.

The wind, i can’not grab hold, a bird in flight,

A dream in the night, never a yesterday.

Beyond my reach is not my dreams,

It is not that which i pray for.

The hand of god i can’not touch, in my heart i can surely take hold,

It is not hope, nor faith, it is not a tomorrow.

Beyond my reach are many things,

Beyond my reach is not everything.

Keith Garrett

Listen to me lord, here i stand in the rain,

I’m soaked with pain, the hurt that haunts another.

My eyes hold many tears as it is you that can ease her sorrow,

Give this angel of mine the strength and faith to make it through.

The rain does not stop, the burning water that touches my flesh,

That which she feels i feel, Lord please! give me her pain.

As it rests in my mind and spirit i ask of you to take it from me,

It is you O’ lord that are stronger than i, help me to help her.

The time has come for me to give, isn’t love about sacrifice,

Straight from my heart, Lord what is it that i might do.?

I sit here with tears in my heart as she cries for a mother,

Lord i put my hand in yours, give her my hand today.

Keith Garrett

He wanders the streets, a taste for food, a thirst for drink,

Cold to the bones, waiting for a warm place to sleep.

Asking for that which comforts his pain,

Pride and self respect are put aside.

A human being, a man with a story,

A beggar today without any glory,

Taking what he wants, no morals or remorse.

Criminal thoughts, a good man not,

Working for nothing, he does not care.

He steals anything, he has no heart,

A thief many times over, a quitter of sorts.

A beggar, a thief, so many differences of course.

Keith Garrett

The devils eyes have a face that lies,

It smiles at you with promises so false.

Giving you gifts of sinful things,

Changing your appearance, a picture of greed and evil.

It taunts you into believing that bad is good,

Material belongings are most precious, love not kind.

Stand and be recognized, a face that lies,

Don’t stare in the eyes of what does not cry.

Accept not a wish, not a gift from a demon spirit,

Give not of yourself, in an instance he’ll own your soul.

A face that lies has many by his side,

They walk as you walk, do not be fooled, this is no heavenly stroll to the sky.

Keith Garrett