Homesick Gypsy

Homesick Gypsy
©Meesa Caudill
Sitting in this fluorescent hell,
windows open, feeling the breeze-
daydreaming of the moment
when I can finally be free.
Needing the wind from a car window
blowing through my hair,
I need to feel the rush
of driving to the middle of nowhere.
My gypsy soul is homesick,
the road is calling my name-
I need to see the world
that's beyond this window pane.

I'm a homesick gypsy,
I need to be on the road.
This homesick gypsy
with nowhere to go.
Lord help this homesick gypsy
find her way home.

My daddy was a trucker so
I was born with diesel in my veins.
I can't be still in one place too long,
Lord, release me from these chains.
Put me in a car, in a plane, or
the train going down the tracks.
I'm so ready to get out of here
and never have to look back.
My gypsy soul is aching
to see the world with my own eyes.
I need to experience everything there is-
no tears, no regrets, no goodbyes.

I'm a homesick gypsy,
I need to be on the road.
This homesick gypsy
with nowhere to go.
Lord help this homesick gypsy
find her way home.

Dreams of Alabama

Dreams of Alabama
© Meesa Caudill

It's been a long time since she's seen him-
since she wanted so badly for him to stay-
she lets her mind drift back a few years
to that warm, breezy night in May.
He was the only one she could see
in the bar's soft neon glow,
the world disappeared, no one else existed-
and for the night time moved so slow.
Such a short time she spent with him
but it made her want forever-
she never believed in love at first sight
until their precious time together.

She dreamed of Alabama starry nights
while lying in his embrace.
For just one night she imagined her life
surrounded by Southern grace.
Now her mind drifts off to Alabama-
but her memories have begun to fade,
life could have been so perfect
if her Alabama would have stayed.

It's been years since she's seen his face
and his dark chocolate brown eyes.
She gets a message that hes looking for her
and she begins to feel the butterflies.
The years apart have made her a cynic
so she puts the butterflies to rest,
but she can't stop the longing in her soul
and that aching in her chest.
She finds herself getting lost in daydreams,
trying to remember his dimpled grin.
Her thoughts get lost in Alabama
and she imagines what could have been.

She dreams of Alabama starry nights
and again lying in his embrace.
For just one more night she'll imagine her life
surrounded by Southern grace.
Now her mind drifts off to Alabama-
but her memories have begun to fade,
life could have been so perfect
if her Alabama would have stayed.

Gypsy Thoughts

My gypsy soul is getting restless-
I've been in a coma for thirty-one years.
My heart longs to get out of this town-
forget the past, the pain, the tears.
Let's follow some railroad tracks
just to see where they go.
Let's get into my car and drive non-stop
listening to the radio and the wind blow.
We don't need a suitcase
some duffle bags will have to do-
let's pack some stuff and get out of this state,
leaving behind all we've been through.
Maybe we could hop on a Greyhound bus
choosing our destination with a dart-
follow the lines drawn out on a map...
follow our dreams, and our hearts.
Let's get out of here and find ourselves
somewhere outside of this big little town-
let fate and destiny be our guide,
and stop letting our fears hold us down...
Come on, baby, run away with me-
let's make our own place in this world.
Say you'll be my gypsy man-
and run away with this gypsy girl.

Caged Bird Singing

Trapped.
Confined.
Suffocated.
Imprisoned.

Caged.


Do you ever get the urge to just run away from everything? To just sell or throw away everything you own and take off in whichever direction you choose just to see where the road goes?

I want to run away. Run away from this dead-end job. Run away from the boredom of Lexington. Run away from the norm. Run away from the things that haunt me. Run away from this life and start a new one.

I've been wracking my brain for what seems like forever- trying to figure out what is missing from my life and how to turn my life into what I want it to be. No conclusions have been come to and I'm still at a loss. I still have no idea where I want to be and what I want to be doing with my life. I'll be 31 years old in two weeks and I have nothing to show for my time on this planet. No family. No career. No adventures. I have been walking around like a zombie since I came into this world and I yearn to LIVE.

How do you do that when you're flat broke and drive a piece of shit car that you can't even depend on to take you across town? Does being poor confine us to a life of dreary days with nothing to look forward to? Whether I live the life of a gypsy for six months or not- I know one thing... I've got to do something, anything, before I lose my mind.


I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
Maya Angelou


"The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hill for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom."

That Alabama Boy

From across the bar I see him ordering a drink alone...
'Wonder what he's drinking- is it beer or Patron?'
He glances at me with bright smiling eyes-
dark chocolate brown- youthful, yet wise.
He grins at me with a beautiful smile-
I introduce myself, and we talk for a while.
He's from the south- has an accent to make you melt-
he's never been 'up north', lives below the Bible Belt.
A gentleman, of course- set in his Southern ways...
tells me he's only going to be here working for a few days.
My heart drops a bit because I want to know him more-
his favorite color, favorite song, what does he smile and cry for...
He spoke in a voice so syrupy sweet-
his dimples, eyes, and dark hair made my knees get weak.
He was dressed so casual- loose-fitting jeans and a white tee, 
matched with bright white sneaks- a weakness for me.
His tan skin so bronze, his smile so bright-
he was tall, southern and mysterious- causing lust at first sight.
His laugh was contagious, addictive and real...
'Are these butterflies that I'm starting to feel?'
Everyone there disappeared- no one else existed to me...
'Why am I so drawn to this man when I know we could never be?"
I knew nothing about him yet felt like I'd known him forever-
I was hypnotized by his smile, his laugh... he was witty and clever.
He made me dizzy, my world began to spin that night at the bar.
I didn't need any alcohol- this buzz was better by far!
But I also came to realize that the ones that inspire poetry don't last.
They cause a fleeting passion, a deep infatuation, and then they pass.
None of us understand their reason- why we meet those who start the fires-
maybe it's so that we remember the heat that fuels us with desire.
To prepare us for the next real thing that may be just around the bend-
but no matter what, no matter where- the butterflies must end.
I've learned to hate it when a man inspires me to write...
they always end in poetic tragedy- I always lose my knight.
But that southern boy won't be forgotten- I'm glad I got the chance
to meet him while he was here and to catch his smiling glance.