Mostly Me

Well, I made an account, that's a start isn't it? I find entertainment in writing things down so if you were expecting the Pablo Picasso of photo shop then go attack a brilliant landscape, or close-up professional...I can guarantee you'll find them a whole lot more interesting than me. I like to write (as I just said) primarily poetry. I write a lot of it, but I'm just trying to have fun...at this point I haven't posted a single other thing, so there's no poems yet. (well there wasn't when I wrote this) I'll write a short, likely terrible one right now! Ice Breaker Cracking the ice, as snow dogs mush To push me into the enormous puddle of arctic frigid and as my legs crack together in the water, and as my numb body submerges, I can't help but wish I lived in a warmer climate.

[graham-geiger]

Maybe I'm a fish

I wonder what it's like To have a deeper reflection-- Looking to the water's depth And seeing past the picture On its surface.

[graham-geiger]

Alive inside a question

To be alive inside a question Is a curious thing As the words trickle out But you can't say a thing With a certainty that lasts And the last thing you want Is to find that you're lost In the ellipsis before a question mark.

[graham-geiger]

Toy Sword

Sharpened a stick And called it a sword But never once used it To slash at another An ornament only To feather the wind And feel the wonderment Of a journey played out Inside ones own head

[graham-geiger]

Yearning

They stood (jittering in place)

their hands waving circles together

loose through the air

watching intently

as if something delicate

were resting in their palms,

and if they stopped

it might fall and break--

shattered to pieces

like a glass ball.

[graham-geiger]

When You Look Away

It seems to me that we

at times

are just a simple greetings card

with words that’s meaning’s

just to please

but silent so you hear us breathe--

that we are there

although unsure

if quietly

we’re being judged,

but when you look away from us

you’ll hear the sound of dancing.

[graham-geiger]

Unattached (The Motions)

My hair is tangled

(little care to what I wear)

walking with nothing in particular

that moves me.

The pavement is solid

and the cars use low beams

during the day.

I can’t say I feel it’s interesting

but exhaust and fresh air

both feel the same

running across my skin

and a world if not a bit delusional

would scare me to no end.

It’s fair to be ignorant

for who wants to dwell

on a beating from 3 years ago

or the obituaries on the radio.

I’m not afraid of the world;

I’m not afraid of tragedy;

I’m not conceited enough

to know what justice is.

And perhaps that’s why

I’m unattached:

I wont pretend when I understand.

[mikefrawley]

I’ve heard that awareness of being unaware is the first step to awakening, and that may well be true, but eventually you must be fearless enough to take that second step if you would be free.

That Second Step  (via mikefrawley)

I’ve had a strong first step for a long time now.  I think I’m better suited to helping other people than myself.  It’s a strange predicament to be in.

[graham-geiger]

A More Courageous Me

If I were a more courageous me

perhaps my words would shine with strength

like no-one ever knew the like

and smite the troubles souls will drink

when they have no will to fight.

If I were a more courageous me

perhaps I’d know eternity

and leave the time to pass me by

like so many false clocks drawn

then spin my finger and tick and tock

as I am not a pawn.

If I were a more courageous me

perhaps my heart would choose a path

to follow like many branching veins

and hop from one onto the next

as frantic men might jump on trains.

If I were a more courageous me

I think i’d struggle that much more

and I would still be vincible

within this quaking hapless world

but still I’d like to see the day

I wear a flag as if a cape

and say that I’m a conqueror:

a more courageous me. 

[graham-geiger]

A Man Now Made of Stone

A chisel to a stone face It never seemed so cold as then as if never to frown and never to grin without the slightest move from brow it seemed a piece of art had left it's personality somewhere under the oceans lapping waves and now a golem was walking instead with clods of mud at the edge and no feeling in its toes.

[graham-geiger]

A Smile is Real

A smile is therapeutic

a smile is gentle truth

of love and great affection

abstained from feeling blue.

A smile gives you a face

that makes you feel at home

a place to be your best

where you are not alone.

A smile is more than magic

a smile will exceed fate

a smile lives deep inside you

a smile is never fake,

but often times it’s faked

but that is not a smile

If it doesn’t lift with heart

it collapses and it dies.

[graham-geiger]

Private (But not really)

Sometimes I’m afraid of talking

wrapped in a robe of words

with nothing underneath

and if life is a stage

I showed up in a cloud of dust

without any underwear on.

It’s okay, I’ve got tinted shades for most of you.

You don’t need to see anything

that censorship should have its way with

but if you don’t mind

could you put down the binoculars?

[graham-geiger]

This account is pretty much dead.  I apologize for that I’ve found in recent date my humble poetic hobby gives me writers block whenever I come to this page but I felt like writing something here again.  It probably wont be reoccurring though.

[graham-geiger]

If The Wind Turns Pages

Perhaps I’m not without the wind

as natural in a forest as a leaflet

written on thin paper I descend and

I can’t be certain if the trees can read

or the chipmunks perceive what I happen to be

but I’m here

and I wonder what to make of the other leaves.

They float delicately in the breeze and pile on me

and make me wish that I could be that free

but the journey hasn’t written me

I’ve stained with far more over-laying ink

than any would care to read.

It’s funny that I really don’t mind

If they don’t read me then that’s just fine

but maybe I’ll read them for awhile;

maybe there’s another leaflet in this pile

and all the while they’ve been reading me.

Perhaps that’s happening even now.

It’s quite a pleasant fantasy

to be a book they can’t put down.

[graham-geiger]

How a Thinker Juggles

The mind is not where you escape

it's the only place you're free

to think of things most dastardly

and people who will never be

and worlds divided only by

coherent thoughts there-lacking

stacked with old pieces of chalk

with art from chalk-brush smacking.

Inside your head the rules are only partially intact

you may in-fact think of things you would never dare enact

or ideas so impossible the world would ridicule

since you leave your mind to wander you must be an utter fool

but it couldn't be much further from the truth I am afraid

if no-one would ever think like this progress would fade away.

It's the application you see.

it's the way a thinker juggles.

If they never learn to think

how will they overcome their struggles?

[graham-geiger]

Boards and Siding

It's hot

it's dingy

it's boring

it's bland

this life

feels as tasteless

as wind through my hands

and I breath it all in

and I sigh

and I wait

and I don't understand

what I'm trying to make.

[graham-geiger]

I'd like to smell your face

I find faces quite quizzical.

A map of lined wrinkles

if you know where to look;

A peculiar twitch riding along them,

and a distant stare watching each:

taking in the reflection.

How much can I really see?

What is there that divides

those lips from those eye brows,

those cheeks from that mind?

Even the bleakest expression

buckles somewhere--

falling apart into a beautiful vagueness

that inspires a future engagement

just to know what it means.

Oh, the freedom expressed

in those unknown mannerisms.

It's like telling the different flowers

in a bouquet by smell alone.

[graham-geiger]

Step away from the light

Spread like ashes cast astray

you'll never see the light of day

for you burn too brightly

and quickly you find

to the rays of the sun

you have been blind.