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Best Poems Written by Joe Dinki

Below are the all-time best Joe Dinki poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Godly Men

GODLY MEN

I speak thy name so often, you’d think I’d know the spell; but so help me, I swear I do; I
saw it this sullen
Mourning standing in the cue – the gaunt brother of commerce’s inclusion aching with
regret; I could smell it on his breath – Lord, the world devoid of love drains my brothers
blue – they seek you in such vacant places – they see you where they are, not: a subtle
telling sub-plot of longing and regret; oh how they adorn such phases: the raincoat, the
cup of coffee, the last great event of yearning; the wrong turn not taken; for all is
gone, forsaken – in the void that seeks consume them one, two or three. 
This is the last remark that can be spoken on the subject, for to lend it power is to doom
those brothers bold who beat thy rhythm true – those saints who ply a trade unique – to
stare at Godly men’s best intentions and render them oblique.

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The First Paradox (Pair of Socks)

Curiosity  can  stew.
O’er the surface brew,
Through gravel and the dew,
A noble idea will stumble
Over table, kiln and shrew,
to knock upon the door of life,
And join the chosen few.

But who shall shell such feats,
to take those steps so true?
Why, God’s love and common
Sense my friend.

Be ye willing,
Be ye true…

For feet covered bold in love,
Will take you through and through,
Past the haughty and the naughty,
Over the hills and far away,.

A pair of socks is God 's offering to you;
to track your kingdom come,
to blend your toes as one,
to comfort new,
The deeds you do,
To meld our souls undone.

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I'M Stupid

I'm a shopping cart,
a free form squeaker of the
truth.
I'm a black top parking lot
on the surface of a dream.
I'm a thin veneer cross the 
chest of drawers that hides
your dirty magazines.
I'm the crust on summer's dusk.
The ring around the collar grit.
The decay of cowboy comics;
A 10 cent glider's path.
The harbinger of new math.
A washing machine's tumble.
The gray skies ominous rumble.
A bad haircut on spring break.
The Vietnam war,
the Superbowl,
The lounge singer in the
businessman's maw.
I'm stupid,
a friggin mess,
farting and tap dancing the
Gettysburg address.

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World Peace In 20 Lines Or Less.

Comfort is relative,
so is beauty,
for that matter
movement,
joy,
sex,
love.
Close your eyes,
drop your disguise
the one your parents
gave you.
Alone,
you are a string of
bones,
no other thought
can save you.

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A Street Light's Prayer

A Streetlight’s Prayer

How shall the torrent of light from
Other men’s redemption spent be divided, shared?
Can I be spared from such a valid question seeking
illumination?
What measure shall I take this night for day; timeless
In lesser stances set to shield all in swift decay – what shall
Our evenings last breath yield?
Grant us nightly in this sodium dot municipality’s system timings?
For in lungs deep recesses lurk the brightest idea.
Yes, I concede this value timing blue; how succinct is all that seems to fall from
splendor, the way my brother’s mark their time; oh, how I ache to know their boundaries,
The toll their souls must pass; I long of finding that seam
Within their dreams that turns our current inside- out; how unrelenting it all seems—how
they stave the waves of circumstance driven down by lesser demons;
 How shall I embrace them all? 
Will time run against the grain upon which sleek causation seeks to slip me up? 
This is all His doing, is it not?
What others bring and lay upon his feats of commerce,
Of movement, of joy!
Yes, for better be is all ado;
This is my truest hope for you: For I see it all now so
Clearly as the flares, which line the highway: how great this has all been…
How great this will – if eye only let it – be.

Details | Joe Dinki Poem

Almost

Almost

I will this bleakness sorrow's brow to fold,
I cannot carry numbers forth this day
Or any other
or too sumit more than this remorseful word: Almost,
A term that sums the sun’s decay, the stars in disarray;
No more to me, they say, than syntax is rendered mute 
Under this cover of the night. 
The source of all this finery, this canopy display, such
Reverberations flow, such confusion in the know, we
Bite our lips and stare at stones that float above our heads;
We clench our throats and dodge a bullet to find comfort
In a can of milk, a woman’s smile,
We dart the planes of circumstance, we walk a crooked mile,
In wonder of the doing,
In all, our nature’s ruined – by mocking every best intention.
All our aching, all our sounds to fill the void.
I shout: Almost!
It echoes far from skies above,
In hope and bail fulls above;
I sense it in the air,
Thick it falls from mourning,
Love—grasp all you seek and share it –
It is almost everywhere.

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The Length and Breath of Time

The Length and Breath of Time

Yes, you linger so succinct my fellow of graying hue;
Like a ember coal is you as you fumble for a cigarette;
Eyes burning down to the filter; the very best of your
Soul is unbound with time, but you lie unaware in longing and regret. How shall we entrain
you? We who seek your solace, your collar stayed conformity to watch it fade and falter.
You stand upon the altar of time with folly pinching your
Belongings – how dare the Jester diminish the gifts he gave you?
A home, a shell of leather on your feet, a small itching on the back of time that all is
filtered through sublime; breathe it in my friend. It is coming to an end.
There’s a furnace deep within you where all acts do
linger fueled bright.
You stoke it day and night, yet no fire lights the
Architecture of the soul’s encasement, for it is billeted elsewhere, beyond the realm your
secrets have devised.
This should come as no surprise,
You can quench the fire, and scatter through the ashes
But find no answers there,
Another day,
Another week,
Another year…
Pull back that iron door,
Bite your tongue and curse the darkness
To light that flame once more…

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Love

Love

Oh, oblique and renewed in obscurity my
heart pleas for closure, for the finale of this
grand event for which it beats
through a sterling needle upon which eye
do spin through mornings bright with
circumstance – in glory, eye have stood before
the altar, before the sturdy pillars of truth and
valor; before the dreams of my brothers who pulled
that temple down to look the void and ask response,
to lean and stare down within its lead lined walls to see
What words be borne, emerging in warnings,
in folly, in all that is held sacred in the absence of
such validation, the world gone by route escapes them;
Yet I will seek to travel there,
weary,
To kiss the stars display, forever.
I will sever those binds this day,
I will search the rocks and trees in awe,
Wander full and lonely amid the season’s
Valid dread, for that one true moment,
That nexus of all understanding:
Love. Oh, yes how small a word,
How illusive a bubble on the surface that
Merely reflects the prism glare of a million sums;
Each empty vacant stare received,
Each thin and callow Christmas Eve;
All renewed there upon this surface glimmer;
Enough to share…Yes, it is there touch it
If you dare.

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Sleep Tight

Sleep Tight

Shuffle now accordingly off to bed you go, 
you asked so long ago to change the cards 
I dealt you; but God responded with stagger in the void…this was all foretold,
This was all a scheming pattern new; a dream was
All you had…like concrete hard untrue; crack it with the
Sky, hold it in your trembling sweaty hands, 
this timing now is due, 
Brother, that is what
I call you, all equal parts
Desire and sweat and sinew, 
for all is young but old this way: You stepped from a car, a
child – the stars danced
In disarray, yet the space 
set so finely between those facets
Held every dream in place; 
such beauty darts a flush red 
scheme tonight across your face;
what bounty held between the brightness in your eyes?
Shuffle now, no bother for the mourning;
Ruthless is the Devil, but clueless are 
his keepers here among us; they are clever
present, they are all in a heap
Beneath your bed – Shhhh! 
Sleep tight oh Brother, sleep tight.

Details | Joe Dinki Poem

Comfort

Comfort

Oh, Lord, is this how it will be? Placid as a frozen lake – savvy as the silver serpent
that moves beneath it surface? 
Must I be the same?
This is simple lucid dreaming is it not?
To come upon a clothing store in age and consent but offered no service? 
Where amid these shackled hours and entrapped hearts are the conditions for surrender
mapped out?
 I ask you – oh, god-head – make reveal those who would remand the closure of the day, to
render wholeness one big puzzle; I’ve no sleep this mourning, my body’s mortality was
ticking all night; so as to calm its sacramental rite, I tugged at its extremities to seek
an answer there, I poked deep for my soul but it came up mostly air. So, oh Lord now I beg
you, I will close mine eyes and pray; fall upon one knee and ask forgiveness stay; oh how
you have answered – a thunderous, silent display upon my eyelids back, from the veins of
angel’s blood I sense the course my soul is taking, in solace, deep beneath the cask of
flesh and sinew to a place of comfort, lord I see, I knew it all along:
Your being has been me…