"Derailed Train of Thought"
by
Charlie Youmans
Can’t write
The wrong
Number to call
Me tomorrow
Is another day
In and day out
Of sight out of mind
If I hold you
Are the one I love
To see you again some time
And again I think it
Drives me crazy
About you
Can You Dig It?
by
Charlie Youmans
Walking along down fog covered beaches
Listening to waves crash, ocean entices, beseeches
Walking through forests of ancient pine trees
I can hear River running to join with the Sea
Living in cities of concrete and steel
Locked doors and windows, I hate how it feels
I know that I’ll always need room to expand
My chest and my lungs and breathe in the land
I’d rather dodge rattlesnakes, pumas and bears
Than taxis and buses and whores with their wares
I’d rather have lightening and pouring down rain
Than find myself having to run for a train
I need freedom to roam where no one has been
To leave nothing but footprints and wander again
A city to me is a jail with no bars
Unable at night to look up and see stars
No concrete sidewalks just pine needles and sand
No briefcase no cell phone just a fly rod in my hand
And if you should try to pave over my home
You’re wife and your children will be left all alone
Can you dig it?
Well, Did I?
by
Charlie Youmans
You were always there with a helping hand
To prop me up when I could not stand
You showed me right when I’d done wrong
You taught me how to sing life’s song
You said no matter what I choose to do
Just do it well, I’ll be proud of you
You told me that winning is not everything
Just grab the bell firmly and then make it ring!
I’ve tried to live my life like yours
Unafraid of opening doors
That led to places I’d never been
That led to folks I now call friend
I can only hope that I’ve done it right
And hope one day that I just might
See you again and we can talk
And you can tell me if I walked the walk
Well, Dad?
Did I?
"Diamond Lil"
by
Charlie Youmans
She shuffled along the streets of our town,
in her long gray coat, with her head bent down
in her hand an old satchel made out of leather
you’d see her out walking in all kinds of weather.
She stood on the corner and held out her hand
Begging for spare change, for hours she’d stand.
People would point at her, giggle and snicker
for she’d stagger a little – she had a problem with liquor.
She’s as rich as the Pope – that’s what they said
someone’ll be rich the day that she’s dead.
She hoards all her money in a strongbox at home
and counts it with greed when she’s there all alone.
Diamond Lil, that’s how she was known
A vagabond Queen with a wooden box throne
She’s gone now I’m sure to bag lady Heaven
Where Happy Hour’s all night and don’t end at seven.
She died without fortune, family, or friend
No one to say words over her at the end
Some say just forget her, but I never will
I’ll just hoist my glass to Old Diamond Lil.
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