ACROSS THE DESERT I TRAVEL


  My  challenge this day, a trek across the always 
  Dangerous desert,

  Pack my things, just myself and a backpack complete 
  With all I need.

  Dressed In jeans, hiking boots, long sleeved shirt, 
  And hat, I am ready,

  Early morning as the rising sun stares down upon me, 
  Time to move.

  Such a feeling to seem alone In the world, step by step 
  Through the quiet

  Morning while nature does Its own thing, I am 
  Watched as I walk.

   Across the desert I travel with a breeze swirling 
  Around what surrounds,

  The heat of the day has not yet arrived as I continue
  My quest through the desert land.

  So much beautiful and unusual plant life, animals 
  Seen from a distance,

  The sun Is moving, day Is disappearing with shadows 
  Forming upon the land.

   I'll soon make camp with the animals of the night, a 
   Fire so bright, warm with light,

  When the morning comes then I will continue my 
  Journey until I am done.

  Across the desert I travel.


                                            Keith Garrett 

                                   THE WRESTLER


   Broken down, a man aging In appearance and spirit,


   A lonely road Is wandered by this wanting warrior.


  His pain Is out there, It Is of the heart, love lives In 
  The ring,

  The world does not need him, what he needs Is no 
  Longer there.

  Tears run down an old but regretting face, see him as 
  He searches,

  Loneliness Is a prison of unwanting sorrow, his fight 
  Has an end.

  Scars of yesterdays' blood are a reminder to a once 
  Young soul,

  The only thing of value left for a man Is one final 
  Goodbye dance.

  He Is the wrestler, battles within him are now done, 
  Darkness lingers,

  He walks In the sand, he sees the sinking sun, his day 
  Is almost done.

  He struggles to the ropes as he rises one more time
  Through the pain,

  A tear, a smile, through the air, fade to black, he Is 
  The wrestler.

                                   Keith Garrett

                              A VIEW WORTH SEEING



  Fortunate if you are to see through the darkness,


  For granted do not take the gift of light, always night.


  Scenes and visions from the mind are wonderful at 
  times,

  To open your eyes and nothing rests in your sight, 
  A fright.

  A view worth seeing comes to the grateful eyes day 
  Or night,

  The morning light with the birds beautiful in your 
  Sight.

  Wherever you go a picture of color awaits, always 
  Changing,

   Each day a different view, open your eyes to a view 
  Worth seeing.
                                                Keith Garrett

                                "THE RIDER"


  He'll ride In the morning, through the day 
  Travels the road,

  High upon the hills a shadow beneath the 
  Clouds, He rides.

  Into the wind, the rain blowing against his face, 
  He rides,

  The snow falls as through the mountain passes 
  He is moving.

  A man with no name, throughout the land, 
  Maybe a glimpse,

  He's known only as the rider, carrying whatever 
  For hire.

  This horse he rides, with colors of solid black 
  And white spots,

  A demon creature, wicked with speed like the wind.


  Brown and black hat worn on his head, gives a 
  Mysterious appearance,

  A coat so long for cover and warmth, shields him 
  From weather, the rider.

  Boots on his feet of dark, broken In pattern, can be 
  Noticed in the stirrups,

  This man of the land, rides and rides, just he and his 
  Faithful companion.

  Like a ghost so quiet,  he roams the wild wilderness 
  Of life,

  He's known as the rider, Into the night he rides.


                                             Keith Garrett

                             "A STRANGER"


  Cobwebs and tumbleweeds, traces of life and the past,


  A forgotten road not so often traveled, not anymore.


  Where do they go, the ones we once knew and walked 
  With,

  More and more they become ghosts, faded faces from 
  Yesterday.

  Time slips away slowly, Into my tomorrow, where my 
  Memories are found,

  Friends' are now strangers, strangers are now my friends.'

  There once lived a woman who I did not know, she lived 
  Her life without me.
           
  In her there was not a thought of me, for me she had no 
  Meaning,

  This stranger that I had not met would someday be the love 
  A man could not forget.

  Like the wind forever blowing, she has drifted, a stranger 
  I never knew,

  Where did you go,! where did you go,! A stranger I love, a 
  Woman I'll never know.

                                          Keith Garrett   

                               A WAND OF MAGIC

  In hand, a wand would make me a magic man,


   Not even a word and crime would disappear.


  I could stop time, rid the world of trash or pollution,


  Take away the sick waters of rivers and oceans.


  Murder on our land would be stopped with a hand,


  The ill would be no more, cancer but a memory.


  I could run fast or jump high,


  A tear would be one less for all of mankind.


  The cruel slaughter of creatures in the world,


  With a wave from my hand, this would end.


  A wand of magic, need not be that of evil,


   For love and good, the hand that holds this wand.


   A wand of magic is not to be real,


  We can wish, hope, and pray, that it all goes away.

               Keith Garrett                                                     

                         SINGERS OF A LOST TIME


  Chubby Checker had the peppermint twist,

  Chuck Berry sang out Maybelline.

  Jerry Lee Lewis screaming great balls of fire,

  It was Buddy Holly and Peggy Sue.

  Johnny Cash, his song walk the line,

  Elvis Presley belting out Jail house rock.

  Rick Nelson was the Travelin' man,

  The big bopper with his Chantilly Lace.

  Richie Valenz yelling out La, Bamba,

  Nancy Sinatra and a tune of boots.

  Petula Clark going downtown,

  Patsy Cline singing softly with crazy.

  Janis Joplin giving a piece of my heart,

  Grace Slick chasing white rabbit.

  Pat Boone echoing out April love,

  Little Richard pounding out long tall sally.

  Jim Morrison feeling rider on the storm,

  Jimmi Hendrix in a world of purple haze.

  Robert Plant on his stairway to heaven,

  Eric Clapton, after midnight or wonderful tonight.

  Singers of a lost time, they come to mind.

                            Keith Garrett 

                             A BEGGER, A THIEF


  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 begger today without any glory.


  Taking what he wants, no morals or remorse,


  Criminal thought's, 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 begger, a thief, so many differences of course.


                                       Keith Garrett 

                           DO YOU   REMEMBER ?


              Back in time, many years ago on my mind,


             Drive-in movies as a child, riding your bike,


             Playing cards gave you the sound of a motor.


        Baseball cards and the wonderful world of Disney,


     Spiro-graph, collecting bottles for money, Bito- honey.


    When the Ice cream man drove by you lost your mind,


        Pinball machines, a five cent cone, cartoon shows.


  The wizard of Oz and Peter Pan, Sheriff John was the man,


     Bozo the clown and merry- go rounds, candy and gum.


  I recall the candy man, raindrops keep falling on my head,


  Ferris wheels, fireworks, and a Mcdonald's hamburger so fun,


  Playing with my long lost friends until the setting sun.

    Keith Garrett

                             FROM MY OWN EYES'


  There are many things' that I can see,
  The blue sky above and the light that the sun 
  Brings,




  I see those who wander all around,
  They have no home, they don't make a sound.





  I see those whom are only concerned with their own,
 They have not a care for others' around.






  The trees that I see move from the wind passing through,
   I see the birds' fly fore this they can do.






  What Is It I see when I'm looking at you,
   Is my future still to come, for us things' we may do.


                                           Keith Garrett