I’m just
Not yet ready
To go and solve
This puzzle
For the sake
Of opening pathways
In a game
With myriad doors

Unlatching
Perpetual locks
By pinching
At thinnest needles
Discovering
What lies secret
Behind keyholes
Clinched from fear

Jimmying
Tiny bolts
Which build up
Harsh resistance
As they tell me
Bonds stay permanent
Though I try
And remove their hold

Imposing
Limited access
On truths
I dare to question
Like arrogance
Barring knowledge
From players
Willing to lose

Establishing
Basic rules
Which change
As values lessen
Among winners left
Unnoticed
When their score
Begin its drop

Plummeting
While they wait
For a board
That’s now predicted
As an unfair
Right of passage
Determining
Sudden death

Where decisions
Branch like cracks
Between floorboards
Always shifting
Opening rifts
To nowhere
And swallowing people
Whole

Much how
Life Insists
Parameters
Keep us running
And trapped
Inside this corridor
For points which add
From sin

And chance
To choose our fate
By rooting hard
For goodness
Despite those laws
Indifferent
Or standards
Most provoke

Leaving
Portals blocked
And surrendering
Safest exits
Hoping faith
Can triumph
And conquer
Contests rigged.

– J. Pigno

All I’ll ever be
Is money
And their problem
Though my family
Argues otherwise
Despite
Such wasted
Space

With alms
I sadly take
At the table
Of these burdens
Crossing knives
Intently
While envisioning
How they cut

Letting
Blood redeem
Those debts
Incurred when drinking
Thick charity
As it wobbles
In my hands
So weak from nerves

Fidgeting
Nearly sick
Shaking my leg
Discretely
Above these
Wooden floorboards
Atop this seat
Which bends

On legs
Withstanding weight
Of a thousand
Senseless reasons
Running through
My memory
Where sacrifice
Hurts me more

Accepting
Love resists
That image of
Truest failure
Regardless
Of this feasting
For a cause
They’ve nearly lost –

A future
Worth belief
From prayers
To find my solace
As I pace
Alone toward answers
Too sad
For making sense

Letting words
Destroy
What purpose
Drives these feelings
Proving
Happy endings
Don’t come for
Lazy hearts.

– J. Pigno

We all should
Be so damn
Lucky
To die for the eyes
Of many

Taking
What is not granted
Often
As an exit
Preferred

Passing
While we are seen
In front
Of a world
Held captive

Where crowds
Go begging
That encore
As the ambulance
Hurries away

Like bare
And suggestive
Ends
Surrendering fate
As we challenge

What modesty
Hides
From the public
When tragedy
Falsely assumes

Happiness
Staying intact
Is remaining
Alive
For a reason

Rather
Than suffering
Agony
So the fallacy
Washes away

Clenching our chest
Out of grief
That we leave
Some dreams
Behind us

But excited
To meet such closure
Cause the halo
Waited
Too long

Hating God
For His game
And the ways
He chooses
To punish

Leaving
With crowds
Still cheering
Yet hopeful
Each loser
Wins.

– J. Pigno

God
I’m disappointed
But that doesnt mean
Ungrateful
When the anger
Casts its shadow
Over miracles
You made known

Through quiet
Introspection
Like light between
These phases
Of clouds which
Cover heavens
Hanging low
Above our heads

As angels
In our midst
Both big and small
With halos
Bear crosses
Barely witnessed
Carried daily
On their backs

Never
Asking why
But marching forth
Regardless
To claim how
Simple worship
Is often
Feeling pain

Aware
Such healing hurts
And believing
Every action
Is weight
To counterbalance
What evil lifts
Deceived

Forgetting
Feathers drift
And fail to keep us
Grounded
Where bricks
And other burdens
Allow our hearts
To see

Acknowledging
Each deed
Or stone
Applied as pressure
Moves one side
Toward greatness
To measure
Lessons learned

Convincing
Secret saints
Who suffer lives
So simple
Their scars don’t go
Unnoticed
But rather
Tip that scale.

– J. Pigno

Adults
Can’t help themselves
Any more
Than a child flounders
At neglect
Of abusive persons
Who believe tough love
Is not wrong

Like hatchlings
Perched in their nest
Begging for worms
Without answers
But silent chagrin
Of these parents
Insisting they forage
Alone

Impossible to even fix
Or imagine God
Has His reasons
With a knowledge
That’s long been
Determined
Since we’ve fallen far
From that tree

Yet close enough
To still grow
And break through ground
That’s left arid
By droughts
Of meaningful hardship
For life which begs
As a seed

Sprouting
Wings for a branch
And soaring high
Amidst canopies
Left unexplored
By their forebears
Too scared
To venture so tall

Among
Such towering peaks
And above
What limits restrain them
As they abandon
Homes within forests
Obscuring truth
From their sun

Learning
Flying is proof
How damage
Not always repeated
Assures their place
Throughout heavens
Better than dreams
Could have hoped

Letting pasts
Remain low
Grounded deep
Beneath timber
Under woods
That have no bearing
When accepting roots
Are a curse.

– J. Pigno

Get up and write
You son of a bitch
As if your life
Depends on it
Without fear
Or explanations
But purpose
To cleanse this soul

Venting
Demons held
From lies
And faulty questions
Too stupid
To seem simple
Like the reasons
People break

When voices
Grow insane
But cracks
Are worth exploring
What instants
Feel perpetual
Through circles
Chasing hope

As I search this day
Confused
Seeking prayers
Gone missing
Yet losing faith
To stubbornness
Or excuses
Built on time

Insisting
Choice is real
To conjure grief
So needless
In a fearful state
Unending
Like truths
I can’t ignore

With eyes
Toward endless space
Or the death
Between these margins
Mocking
Monsters waiting
Where hurt
Is an empty line

Between
This senseless phrase
And the need
To keep repeating
Such trauma cut
From impulse
Like statues
Deep in stone

For the worst words
I may claim
Are better
Than saying nothing

Biting tongues
Not gifted
But cursed
With an act of God.

– J. Pigno

Deception
Cuts these tails
To let such blood
Run rampant
Between subjects
Barely speaking
As if truth
Is always wrong

Clinched
Inside these prongs
From destinies
Thick as metal
Confined
Within each tether
Like victims
Of our tests

Bound
To final breaths
When wound
Around those fingers
Of forks
And pointed phrases
Exchanged
Through heated speech

On flesh
Of captured mice
Split
Like hairs unsettled
From wounds
Or open gashes
With damage
Clipped by words

Being
Just too real
For experiments
Meaning nothing
Argued as
Important
But lethal
As this space

Distance
Drawn of hate
With constructs
Of our masters
Which have us
Running circles
Along wheels
That stay in place

Cages
Making homes
Of frantic creatures
Begging
For wrong
And harsh instruction
Through windows
Nearly cracked

As they pounce
And worry sick
When blaming
Fellow inmates
Scared
Without accepting
Denial
Hurts them most.

– J. Pigno