Oldies But Goodies... / Kaleidoscope poem

I used to write a lot of poetry in high school and my early college days. I thought I would treat everybody to what I think are some of my better writings. Perhaps the inspiration is part Edgar Allen Poe (I love 'The Poet' oatmeal stout from New Holland Brewing Company, by the way...'Cabin Fever' is another good one!), and part inspiration might seem to come from Ted Nugent. In actuality, both are part true. The poems I have written come from both a time when I was more 'in tune with' the darker times in my life. I never 'embraced it' so-to-speak, but rather I was able to project it into my writing, without actually 'being' angry. It's a different, I think more effective way to decide to deal with things that might otherwise show up in our actions. I think what sums it up is saying that I harnessed that energy and used it to come up with some beautifully, curiously dark but engaging at the same time. That segways into the 'Nuge' side of my writings. To pull them together, I interjected my passion and respect for the outdoors into the poems. Although I have moved on and have many more brighter times in my life and am very happy for everything I have - and look forward to each positive opportunity and experience in my life - I am still able to write, thankfully, in much of the way that I share with you now. I hope you enjoy my postings, and that they make you come back often in hopes that some more of my 'oldies but goodies' have made their way to these pages. Like New Holland's oatmeal stout, these readings are both dark and complex; you can only enjoy a little at a time; but you remember them, and on special occasions find yourself wanting more. Read on, and enjoy, my literary friends. The first of many...

(All of my poems are handwritten on lined notebook paper. Some have dates but many do not, however most if not all were written in the 1990s, the last of them being written in the year 2000.)

Kaleidoscope (C) 1995 Land of the Free - All Rights Reserved.
Written by Leo
January 12, 1995

The waves crash on my throbbing head,
The wayward guests are always dead.
A moron beast lashes at his son,
The world is just an endless pun.
A lonely boy sits on his hands
Just waiting for a ravage land.
The billowing clouds still look like me
I wonder where my mind will be.
Who gives us all these rancid dreams?
It's in the woods we cannot plead.
A whisper of wind carries five more souls.
The dog goes to the fish and rolls.
A day will come for which to scorn
I will not be the one to mourn.
And on one crazy night you'll see
Just why no one listens to me.
The clouds are black, they look for you.
I'm in a room without a view.
My dresser flips right upside down.
It's just a sign of whom to crown.
The woods hold something mysterious;
He's in there, I feel the dreariness.
The river flows through, the rain won't stop
The land is mud, and sticks and thoughts.
The air is brown, the corn is crop,
To be where I am no one else is brought...
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(They get much lighter in content from here on, I promise...) :)