Best Thinkable Poems
WHY ARE CHURCH DOORS LOCKED?
I have been a member for many years. I attend when ever I can. I pray and pay.
I guess, I took it for granted, but not anymore. I must stand up for all that want to know. For all that need to know. No! I am not a hero, but I would like to know.
There was a time in my youth, when it was un-thinkable to lock a church door. Did congress pass a law, while I was sleeping? Should I call the sheriff? Why didn’t the pastor tell me? Does he know? Did he lock the front door, side door, and even the back door? Does God know, the doors at the church are locked? Saints, we are in big trouble.
Okay! Let’s get serious. Are you trying to keep something locked out? Are you trying to keep something locked in? This could be a sin. There are two individuals in the congregation that I can ask. They certainly must know answer. After all, their name is Brother Lock and Brother Smith. Yes! The Lock Smith Brothers.
Now if the Devil is locked up, when I leave church, I’m okay with that. You say, I should not worry about this. Well! It is now at the top my list. I want to know more. It’s time to stop church crime.
Dr. "G"
in the middle of the atmosphere guided by the brightness of the fog that was and will be a
transformation assumes. The attraction of mental concepts consume the being who is armed
with a wonderful hyperdermic filled with scriptures imprint. Everlasting stains made and
confined to the lines of creative guidance. projective influence unfolds leaving the spine
chilled at the mad brilliance of thoughts un-leashed. The ending result of injection leads to
oohs, aahs, tears, smiles and beautiful migranes of astonishment. a flow is possesed as if
indulgence was beneath the oceans blanket. within the pupils the effect of potency can be
seen, the one behind it smirks at the steps closer to immortality. Waste not time with useless
delays, send the accolades, I live in the Paragraph.
The temperature drops and within the midst of the artic influence an extension of the hand is
revealed, with chilling details manuvers are set in motion as the un-thinkable is thought of
and created. Behold an alien tattooist bringing outer world concepts to life, or so it may
seem. conversations on clouds, tears bottled within the ocean, a promise of the dolphins
secret. Coincedences that are yet to exist, similiar to that of a god of sorts unto the
following. Relax and breathe as thy minds eye breeds intoxication like fantasies heated
within a spoon resulting in nouns that suffocate the lines, verbs that bite and amazing
sentences that may never end. thy soul is the literature, I am of the story and it is of me, in
honesty it must surely be known that, I live in the paragraph.
Under the Iroko tree I sat and pondered
As riotous thoughts held me hostage
Making the thinkable and unthinkable
Engage in brainstorming scuffle
Under the Iroko tree as I sat and pondered
The gentle breeze caressed my tired skin
Wrestling my heavy eyelids into a deep sleep
And face to face I came with the Creator of the universe
"How are you my son? He inquired
"I am fine sir" I murmured
"I am sending you to the lost sheep of Nigeria"
" Tell them they have disappointed me"
" How is that sir? I ventured
" I endowed them with unimaginable wealth"
" Of course Nigeria is the giant of Africa Sir"
" Giant of Africa with the brain of a lilliputian"
" Lord I do not understand that part"
" I gave them unprecedented Commonwealth for all Nigerians"
"Thank you lord for your generosity"
" But it ended in the pockets of a few while the deprived bother me with prayers"
" I gave them unity in diversity"
"Lord we are eternally grateful for that"
" But it has become a source of weakness as they do not value its strength"
" what message do I take to Nigerians?
" Tell their leaders that the beauty of life depends on how happy their citizens are because of them"
The past wasn't really the best
Even though my heart chose those paths
It's true what they say about the present
On a certain day you'll be granted with a present
I think it's one of the best gifts I've gotten so far
I came upon a boy with some charm
Funny,nice and don't mean no harm
Each new day is unpredictable
Even though sometimes I don't talk to you, your still thinkable
I don't see any complaints on you yet
I'm happy of what I was able to get
Now as the days go by
I see myself still with you ahead of time
When they met, their pairing unlikely.
From two worlds, stories differed slightly.
Into the forest ahead they go
He observes her, rosy cheeks aglow.
The pair ensconced in equal lushness,
where the Redwoods grow, the moss touchless.
Streaks of fresh sunlight mismatched in strength
cast upon their shoulders from great length.
Today she is his and he is hers,
no aches in their hearts remain uncured.
Unspoken words dance between their lips,
Looks exchanged, his touch on her hips.
Butterflies linger, often they do.
She smiles, eyes soften, her hope renewed.
Their start described as remarkable.
When face-to-face, their love thinkable.
The cat disrupt her thinkable moments, by
attention thou needed. She took the torso
and kept it hold from the breast by
all used ways, and kept her stand for
apart the opening window, in somnolent
in love instant glaceing is helplessness
in nightfall terrain moonily lasts sky,
standing for in deeds’ anxious sudden flow
up fictions points then’ sinew not really
she moved away from the window
Then! — put-down above rugs in blue
as faithful cat roommate, busing in breach
And ratified herself, at joined her kitchen
Baking feed.
Now by! Blank went, her young mind
And freed from images, in stages love —
In head a new channel, while, the nowadays.
The cat disrupts her thinkable moment, by
attention thou need, she took the torso
and kept it hold from the breast by
used all ways, and kept the stand for
apart the opening window in somnolent
in love instant glaceing the helplessness
terrain in nightfall moonily lasts sky,
after, stands for in deeds’ surge panache
up fictions points then’ sinew really not
her moved away from the window
thus, put-down above rugs in blue
as faithful roommate, busing in breach
And ratified self, at troughs enjoins kitchen
baking feed. Now blank having, his mind
And freedom from images in love stages —
Anew think channels while the nowadays.
If I can run away now… one more time
Yet alive… is why perhaps I can never hide
I am myself at an end road to find
Landed as always into a situation never to like
I’m better by myself
I’m also better if I’m learnt to be with
I’m the worst if I am no one else
Than best perhaps with someone no one believes
What is something new I can tell myself every time
Do we really need something fresh… or refresh?
What is something old to never fail to remind?
Is there really one every worst for that one every best?
There has got to be an endless outcome
Thinkable and unfathomable alike
Minds known are impossible to run
To only feel so alive each time when my mind died
One last time... to run away
As always to only find a situation I’d never like
I can only remain silent because words won’t say
Why I am alive but choose rather to hide
The leaves fall in the consciousness
unable to find the spot where to begin.
The wind blows in the midst of meditation
without knowing when to cease.
Because it seems easy
as sitting on the comfortable chair pondering,
because it feels being chased
while running and thinking at the same time
with the passing time,
the rain falls in the concept of a flood of thoughts.
If you let your imagination go to the farthermost edge
while walking in the plain, it looks vast and boundless.
Or otherwise you look at it from the vision of a smaller window.
As you walk in the plain whether it is limited or limitless,
you will come to the riverside one day or you may see the plateau
floating in the foggy air one morning, and when you roam in the plain
as your thoughts lead you to the way, the sun shines on you,
you will tread upon moonbeams, the stars tumble all about your feet.
When you consider the place where you lie down
and close your eyes, pillowing the cycle of thinking
as a beginning and an end, the cycle of thinking processes stops.
The tears, as well, fall on cheeks at that moment
to flush the thoughts into a marsh of the unthinkable.
A tear drops become a bloom of flower by the marshland
where no one thought it there to be thinkable.
POEM 33 MY BROKEN HEART
SHE BROKEN MY HEART ON A UNUSUAL DAY!!!
,
SHE DID SMETHING UNDER THINKABLE I DID NOT COMPLETED MY PRAY!!!
SHE WAS AFRAID I MIGHT LEVE HER FOR ANOTHER WOMAN.
SHE LEFT ME OUT IN THE COLD ALL ALONG....
I LOVE THIS WOMAN WITH ALL MY HEART & SHE DO ME THIS WAY!!!
I WAS CRAZY FOR HER YES!!! YOU CAN CALL ME MAD OUT OF MY MIND!!!
I WAS DEEP IN LOVE WITH THIS WOMAN LOST EVEYTHING I HAD,
BY: MY JERRY BIG PAPA WELLS
When my walls I face
Or round my room pace,
My gaze windows meet
And my two eyes greet …
The same as all doors
But stigma do bear;
Better on all fours
In my finest wear
Through all types of doors
And face foes’ teeth and claws
Than through a window
Asking Barking Bingo!
On the spot ‘Burglar’
After valuable,
Save Room’s Regular
And it thinkable:
One’s door key mislaid;
Dodging The Not-Paid …
Windows then Garlic
Doors, Alcoholic;
Not of the same smell,
One your doom could spell.
There is something simpler in life
Always there is… only to be
As often as we intend to strive
As often we forget what there is to see
Simple is nerving and uncertain
Isn’t complication uncertain as before?
Life’s a full circle yet we do not return
And with so much… have we learn to restore?
And earnestly I wanted to reset myself
Only to discover I haven’t a default
Having learnt to override that withheld
Did simplicity just become complicated for result?
How did I forget something so simple?
And why the need to remember an ever were?
When its choices thinkable to dribble
Did I only see what promises to be unsure?
There is something complex in life
Always there is … I shall see
As often as I live to strive
As often we forget simplicity to be
What to do about those under the table?
When those paying them are unable,
And have gone back to their scrabble.
Should we be worried they might become unstable,
When a constable is to us unreachable.
If an amnesty was the solution most suitable,
Would they deem that call trustable?
Doing nothing would runs risks considerable,
As desperate people become unreasonable,
And could make decisions that were once to them unthinkable.
Have we any room in our hearts for those now playing scrabble,
To see their actions as forgivable,
When they made some legitimate businesses unprofitable.
Then there are the businesses who took money under the table,
That is never counted as taxable,
And now can't be counted when loss of income is considerable,
Requiring a handout from those who deem it despicable.
Maybe compassion is the only thing thinkable,
With crumbs no longer falling from the table,
And we can leave accountability,
To a time when the situation is more favourable,
And our actions more reasonable,
With those now playing scrabble,
Or making a living under the table,
More likely to be amiable,
To a life that is sustainable.
"Let Go"
Let Go...
How does one satisfy this un-thinkable, sensation longing so deep within one's soul?
Caged inside your thoughts, surrounded and buried by the inner thoughts like that of a child running scared...
"Let Go"
No, no don't do this, don't do that, how dare you...Freedom what a high price to pay. Land of the free, home of the brave
"Let Go"
Realizing, recognizing, no comprising. Would you say the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak ...
"Let Go"
Grow, control, set goals stop being pushed to & fro easily lead that's... NO Head. Why not let go if you want to fly...
"Let Go"
Take your wings fly spread wide like an Eagle give up the weights that weight the spirit down
No limits just believe, make adjustments NOT excuses
"LET GO"
By Deborah Vines 2/23/2019
Life is a circle.
Situations are a mixture.
A circle of thinkable and unthinkable
opportunities gets you jumping irrelevantly.
The slipy nature of happiness goes in haste;
you want to stop, but it passes out.
A one is tired, a one is confused, a one is mad;
situations are lurking; you cannot depend on
your intentions sought.
We became so permanent in our
temporariness just because of emotions.
You cannot ever imagine that either
practicality is tough or accepting of emotions.
To be balanced is hard. That is why we slip in the circle.
We hurt, we break; instead of that,
magic is that we are living; we are living beauty.