It was Danny O'Keefe who sang about Charlie's blues. I remember this from childhood hours, the radio softly speaking at night through bedtime. Sleep was simple; so were attitudes, and the sunlight sent its flames across my SoCal mind.
Poetry hadn't reached me yet; a prosaic style kidded around with me, knowing it would perish in the near-future's embrace, burning like a wilderness. I claimed my stake then and fed society's sharks without realizing it, finding them to be eating from depths of concealed dishonor.
I grew to acclaim the Man who took my confidence to shores of damnation, where common seagulls warned of what may occur: a high that is jostled by spiritual means which ram the brains of a youthful song.
copyright 2009 Tom Mutchler
note: the pic is me at 16, I'm a lot older now :-)