1969


   I was a child in 1969, I had not a clue of the world,


   I knew of certain things, those of which I lived through.


   Riding my bike and a deadly Halloween night, that's 
   Right,

  I remember all that I did as a kid, a lifetime ago and a 
  Family.

  Vietnam was a reality and I was protected by my childish 
  World,

  Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid, Clint Eastwood was 
  The man.

   Raindrops keep falling on my head, Simon and Garfunkel 
   Were grand,

   Scooby Doo and all of the colorful cartoons that I knew, I 
   Think of you.

  Baseball with the miracle mets, Bill Russell, and the 
  Champion Celtics,

  Joe Namath with his Guarantee, the Jets beat the Colts, 
  Charles Manson, And history.

  The Innocence of the Brady Bunch, walk on the moon, 
  Led Zeppelin and a tune,

  1969 was the year when love and innocence were mixed 
   With My day.

                              Keith Garrett

                                   1943 NICKEL


  A nickel I came upon, old is its age,


  Dirty and worn, 1943 had a name.


  When it was made, which first pocket did hold,


  A celebrity of movies or a farmer tired at night.


  Could it have been the great Joe Dimaggio, 


  As time went by, possibly a singer or olympian.


  A little boy had a nickel in his pocket, grew did he,


  A famous writer he became, a 1943 nickel, where could 
  It be?

  Beyond seventy years this silver looking coin has 
  Traveled,

  Today it rests with me, who held onto it in 1943?

      Keith Garrett

                                 FACES OF CLOWNS'


  Disguises are worn, they hide a world of fear,


  Hidden with colors' of false smiles or frozen frowns'.


  We laugh and we dance, juggle our thoughts' and
  Emotions,

  Our world Is a cage, a circus of freaks' and 
  Entertainment.

  We challenge our own mortality, on a high wire we dance,


  Shot through a cannon to where we may land, life In 
  Hand.

  Faces of clowns', dressed In costumes, they seem secure,


  Acts put on for children, are they not the young that  
  Have Tears.

  We dress In our own costumes, put on a face that we
  Choose,

  Is what appears' real only a magicians' magic, a trick of 
  Sorts.

  Whatever expression we wear, whatever makeup we're  
  Made Of,

  Faces of clowns', we all live with faces of clowns'.


                                 Keith Garrett                                                        

                                  A WORLD OF SICKNESS

  As the world grows older we see that with it the 
  World grows crowded,

  So many people cover the lands stretching far and  
  Wide, The world does not grow,

  This is a beautiful place that has been given to us all 
  But Together we are losing.

  Survival may be harder than it was hundreds of years 
  Ago As we can not sleep wherever,

  We can't just wake from sleep and shoot our breakfast, 
  The creek is not always there.

  To camp beneath any given tree is now frowned upon as 
   Our Society changes towards the rich,

  Desperation and anger are greater than ever before, this  
  We Hear each day from words spoken.

  Protests over many issues that do not change, only the 
  Mistrust For those high above, grow,

  Deceived daily are we, sometimes by the people we may 
  Know But Scarier those who control.

   Lies, broken promises, pay-offs from hand to hand, 
   Between Powerful people and government man,

  The fight to own but in the end they'll take from you 
   Your Home, We are violated as they spy, fear grows.

  A world of sickness lives as we struggle to keep our health 
   And Sanity, Never ending traffic brings hell,

   A world of sickness forever grows, because the more  
   Human Form, the bigger The tumor becomes strong.

                              AND THEN THERE WERE NONE



   A fight for survival, mans quest for power to rule,



   Fear and ignorance but money will be the tool.



  Inventors of destruction, builders of a  force,



  The enemy is our brother, traitor to the land.



   Which side are we on, who is on our side,



   Conflict and hatred, how many must have to die?



   And then there were none, not much left to say,



   Put the bombs away, we may have another day.


                             Keith Garrett

                                A MAN WITH AN AX

  Wood needs to be chopped, it sits waiting, many 
  types and sizes,

  Fall is in the air, chillier the air turns, work must be 
  Done.

  A job it is to chop enough wood to warm a home for 
 The Winter,

  Must be done, perhaps no fun as it is an accomplishment 
  To be proud.

  Stack it in a pile, carry it piece by piece, chopped and 
  Split Wood for a fire,

   A smell, can you take it in, smell the aroma as it's 
   Cut, Stronger it grows.

   A man with an ax gets this job done, he sweats from 
   Morning Till the setting sun,

   Swinging an ax, working as the cold moves closer,

   The wood pile will rise higher.

   A man with an ax is strong and determined,

  He will succeed because he knows of its need,

   When it's done, a Winter of warmth,

  When the setting sun, he knows the job is done. 

                              Keith Garrett

                           A TRIP TO ANYWHERE


  I'm searching for loose change, standing by the 
  Car wash,
  I'm happy just waiting for a ride.

  Here it comes, sir! does the bus stop at 82nd street?

  My pink Cadillac is a stolen car, I just gave it a name.

  This hard land does not make me a lucky man,

  My wife and I were once the honeymooners, now 
  Trouble in paradise.
  So young and in love, we were two for the road,

  The wish I have is to be back in your arms.

  "Don't look back" says a man with sad eyes,

  I used to be a man at the top, now I have restless 
  Nights,
  The bus stops here where I rendezvous with her,

  Give the girl a kiss and stare over the rise of the sun.

  We go to a place and watch a T.V. movie,

  "I'm always here when you need me "she says"

  We watched seven angels, It started to rain,

  There was a great thunder crack.

  Some of us have hearts of stone, not us,

  Bring on the night, when the lights go out, so peaceful,

  Shut out the light.

                             Keith Garrett

                              A HORSE CALLED STORM


  Jet black, tall and strong, he stands in the morning 
  Light,

  Out in the grassland roams this free spirit.


  Never ridden, not a man calls him theirs,


  Answers to not a soul does this horse left alone.


  His name is storm, dark as the night,


  Moves like lightning, sounds like thunder.


  Fierce and at times mean is this beast,


  Untamed by man, natural and free.


  He is friends with each day, land where he runs,


  A horse called storm, standing in the sun.

                                  Keith Garrett

                                EYES IN THE NIGHT


   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                       

                                      EXPRESSIONS


  There are those with looks of a fear unexplained,


  Scared of something,the world does not understand.


  Laughing in the park, a man, and woman,


  Happy are their faces as seen from the street.


  Crying all alone under a tree, tears of life,


  Sadness spills out of a heart so broken.


   Anger sits in the soul of a human being with hurt,


   Upset at the loss of loves rejection.


   Many faces of this life worn, expressions learned,


   Expressions so true, those of me, those of you.


                                         Keith Garrett