Laying down, first moments of life, the child smiles,

Magic to their eyes as the mobile turns round and round.

Everything that is seen full of wonder and the beginning dreams,

That ride in the stroller, a voyage beyond the yard world known.

Stories told from a colorful picture book, wow! is this all real,?

Butterflies of beauty float outside our window, fly butterfly.

Cartoons are not a fantasy, they are not pretend to the child,

A shiny coin, hidden treasure, a box of crackerjacks holds a prize.

Life is forever to the innocent child, never, never land is out there,

The innocence of a child lives a short span in a world of reality.

Keith Garrett

She lived near the shore of a beautiful lake surrounded by hills,

Her small house was nicely built many years before, she was young.

Once married as now this old woman is mostly alone in her happy home,

She is known as a scary, mean, old woman who by rumors would eat children.

In this massive and peaceful lake lived a giant serpent that wanders the water,

Scared by those whom have never seen before but the stories have grown with yrars.

Where it came from is but a mystery, it has lived here for years, once young as today old,

The old woman and the serpent have much in common as they have shared this place.

Never have they know each other but only of one another as they kept the peace for years,

One late afternoon as the sun was setting and the old woman was gathering wood for fire,

The serpent came upon the shore, speaking in such a manner his words to here were this.

I thought you were mean and scary just as all the rest do, you are an old woman of peace,

The old woman replied back, just as i was afraid of you, a terrible old serpent that kills.

The day arrived when the towns people came to torment the old woman and destroy the serpent,

The serpent spoke, she is but an old woman of kindness, a life lived has she, leave her now in peace,

In return the old woman replied, leave this aging serpent to wander the water, together we are free.

Keith Garrett

In so many ways it occurs, serious or a little less,

From a child who takes a piece of candy at a store.

You broke the law, but not in a bad way one might say,

Whether or not it’s a bad law, your morals are the same.

Breaking the law is what it is, you can’not rationalize,

A piece of candy, all the way up the ladder a thief is seen.

Did i say seen? breaking the law is done in many different ways,

Petty theft, robbing a bank, those whom run our world, higher stakes.

Criminal activity runs crazy throughout this state, not shocked are you,

Behind closed doors while we sleep, in broad daylight we don’t always see.

The bigger question remains, who gets to break the law, what laws are ignored,?

For those with money, breaking the law can be quite a game, the law should be for all.

Keith Garrett

The world that I’ve known has been left behind, not much left,

Destroyed by men who lead countries, those of great ignorance.

They all wanted to rule the world, well! there’s little now to rule,

The mighty dollar is worth not much at this point in time, listen why.

We as humans took for granted a world, a life given by god, we gave up,

Technology and discovery would be of value if it was used for good and right.

We abused it, bombs and chemicals were created for power, us against them,

Our world was being poisoned long before these weapons of mass destruction were born.

Animals being poisoned with substances that would cause an epidemic of illness,

My home in a cave is now my only peace, Back to basics, back to where we once were.

I have only that which is needed to barely survive in this new world created by man,

There has not been a soul seen by me at this time, I’m in charge now, i make decisions.

Starting over doing the right things is where i need to begin, my home in a cave, a fire is made.

Keith Garrett

FOR THIS LIFE

From a breath first taken, this is my life,

What has been a gift comes with scars and sacrifice.

We have a life, our roads chosen take us in unknown directions,

For this life we accept the mystery and wonder.

They live and breathe from here and there just the same,

Many to us are strangers, walking with names.

For this life she smiles at the mornings light,

A tear in her heart but she does not cry.

He has many dreams to imagine as hope still survives,

He moves with the wind, he feels inside, for this life.

You are passion and energy combined,

In constant motion it is you who lives for this life.

Keith Garrett

Their Is a place, It takes a lot to get there, a search everyone must make,

There’s a place, It might be so far from where you stand or closer than thought.

A place where dreams are made rests deep Inside the heart, desire to succeed,

They are made with hard work and sacrifice, up late Into the night, weary eyes.

Running every morning before the sunrise catches up with you, make that dream come true,

Climbing the mountain until the pain disappears Into a numbing nightmare of fight.

Rowing across the channel against the ferocious water, It’s up to you to make It back to shore,

You can do It!, this Is a place where dreams are made, battle through what tries your mind.

Through the jungle you make you way, nothing stops a man whom dreams of a better place,

Don’t give up, say this to yourself as you struggle for that fifty, fifty chance to make It a dream.

You are the men, the women whom run when the bell rings, sirens take you beyond the danger,

Remember, It was all of you whom passed the test so that a life may be saved, you had a dream.

Do you carry a gun,? a badge worn everyday from sun till sun, this was your dream my friend,

To win each day Is to go home and walk through that door with a kiss for a a family, you survived,

A place where dreams are made, Inside the human soul, the spirit of those whom never choose to lose.

Keith Garrett

What is it that lives beyond the light of day,

Lurks, wanders in the dark, exists in the night.

Search for food, a task that’s taken much for granted,

While we slumber in silence, eyes in the night survive.

Many are they that fly, quietly on the prowl this night,

Over fences there are the ones that move carefully, slowly.

Crawling along the ground, there’s a fight to see the morning light,

Scraps of food, nourishment for a chance to do it all over again.

So many eyes in the night, traveling along, the hunter or the hunted,

Big over the small, stronger defeats the weak, faster may just escape,

Eyes in the night, for many could be a scary sight, on this dark night.

Keith Garrett

Outside on her deck, a slight sea breeze passes by,

Early morning before the sun is to bright, seagulls in flight.

An easel is in place, paints of many color are ready for fascinating displays,

When she paints the world comes alive with creations hard to describe.

All possibilities are in her hand, with every stroke from a brush she commands,

She lets herself go away, stepping into every scene, visiting places as if in a dream.

From where she stands there is in front of her a beautiful scene, a painting to be,

A sandy shore, the ocean that spreads far and wide, waves rolling, never stopping,

The sun in the sky, clouds drifting by, when she paints anything may come to life.

Keith Garrett

From your window at home, in the night sky do you see,

The stars that shine bright from heaven down to thee.

Do you imagine life in a beautiful place, can you see,

Can you hear what’s awake, the creatures of the night.

Do memories fill your pretty head with what is now gone,

A ghost walks your home from here until dawn.

When you’re working in your garden do you look around,

Do you remember me when i once walked the grounds.

Is there a song or a thought that sits in that heart,

When you’re alone do you ever think of me, do you feel.

When you’re alone then i am there, listen for my voice,

When you’re alone i am everywhere.

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