I’ve choked on dreams
Never known
And the joy which sits
Undigested
Inside this cell
Called existence
Where prisoners keep
Eating well

Like happier times
Feeling full
Though hardly blessed
From experience
Through nauseous days
Still repeating
Until poison truths
Get thrown up

When honest knives
Going down
Chew organs whole
Tearing bellies
Having stomachs hold
Heavy metals
By swallowing hurt
We can taste

Still surviving
Trying too hard
By ignoring pain
Nearly constant
Always fearing food
Seeming threatened
As our death ensues
Every meal

But meaningless now
Breaking bread
Or sharing scraps
Purely futile
While God Himself
Appears gluttonous
If enjoying saints
Being starved

Until iron guts
Spill their wills
Now poetic words
Become bile
With abdominal cramps
Almost sacred
Letting ulcers speak
Once again.

• J. Pigno

I recall
The last perfect picture
Which sits all alone
On my dresser

Taken back when
Our experience
Was something enjoyed
Not endured,

As time spent now
Seems encumbered
By these heavier days
Still before us

Where each memory
Wanes ever slowly
Like their innocence lost
While we age

And sickness reigns
Over thoughts
Soon tainted again
Feeling symptoms,

Letting sadness
Stifle such purity
Since that suffering
Mocks all belief –

One true moment
Framed long ago
In Florida’s sun
Seeing castles,

Forgetting how fake
An appearance
Could hardly wreck
What was real,

This genuine hope
Finally found
Between two old souls
Growing jaded

But kids at heart
Needing happiness
Just one last chance
Will provide.

Perhaps promises
Never can break
If intention stays
Despite fading,

Deliberately sworn
Over snapshots
Always waiting again
For your tears.

• J. Pigno

This time of year
Brings a chill
Which chances fate
Growing colder
Like the days gone dark
Even faster
And that threat
Of perpetual night

With our memories
Rattled again
By each failing sun
Become frigid
Behind empty clouds
Almost shapeless
Until desperate eyes
Slowly stare

At what sky
Bears monstrous forms
Soon resembling pain
Still existing
High above those trees
Dimly glowing
Holding snowflakes
Hiding such fears

Now lit once more
Over gifts
Through glittering orbs
Feigning meaning
While appearing bright
Almost always
To distract from lies
Underneath

Where death sells life
Feeling tied
Around ribbons torn
Being opened
Between branches hot
Catching fire
Getting so damn burnt
Every time

If unwrapping bows
Keeping knots
Losing random truths
Never spoken
Turning teardrops
Into these holidays
Most probably wrong
Though we try.

• J. Pigno

I believe
It’s just a bad gamble
To spend one’s time
By a purpose

Which shows no proof
Of existing
When suffering wins
Every day –

Now the constant
Greater than death
Through survival
Failed after trying

While acknowledging
Faith never matters
If hope means
Helping ourselves

Since God alone
Never cares
Or perhaps can’t show
How He’s fighting

Behind these scenes
Growing darker
Where easy ways out
Have appeal,

Like an illness
Taking us down
And eating what’s left
We remember

Though starved inside
For such beauty
Only art somehow
Still provides.

That true poetry
Never will cease
As long as breath
May imbue me

With feelings pain
Does encourage
Through experience
Humans endure.

All vocations
Must disappoint
Holding empty roles
People squander.

Their ambition kills
Real intention
Rolling dice
On passionless dreams.

• J. Pigno

Learning to love
What you are
Is a space
That’s held
For real beauty

Where daring makes
All the difference
Letting value
Prove
We can fly –

Not hate that holds
Meaning back
And divides
With fear
Unintended

When surrendering truth
Too substantial
Like loss
Which twists
How we dream,

By preventing change
Always bold
Through greatness
Claimed
After falling,

Nearly silent now
Before leaping
But soon
Will soar
Being said.

Their heavy codes
Never cared
For leaving
Ground
If agreeing.

Defiance shows
Better promise
Out there
Among stars
Sitting high –

Still flying
Despite bitter men
Pitting lies
Against
Honest brightness,

Scared of those
Become weightless
So nothing
Can keep us
Tied down.

• J. Pigno

This geek gave up
And got old
As he realized
Nothing is
Sacred

When the things
Which seemed
So important
Just didn’t bring joy
Anymore

Like they had
In youth
Feeling new
With friends who stood
Right beside him

Now alone
At home
Rarely leaving
Since learning that love
Meant defeat –

Another sad wish
Coming true
Few adults
Had warned
Were consuming

Where others
Ignored
Growing empty
By working again
Skipping breaks,

Seeking happier days
Never spent
Always missing
What’s fun
For us losers

Like toys unwrapped
Being vintage
Or playing
Those games
Really long.

I’m still that kid
Deep inside
But obscured
Through age
Trailing sickness,

Telling my wife
Watching movies
Reminds me
How special
It was.

• J. Pigno

Yes, I’m afraid
You’re right –
There is no pride
In my talents,

Or worth which means
Making money
For those who dare
Never work

Yet cannot feel
Besides words
Still eluding dreams
Within limits

Of tangible lives
Better suited
To hearts that can’t
Take the blame.

Such hope will kill
Every line
Demanding pain
Speak its passions,

Suffering verse
Losing blessings
By walking away
When they hurt

And spitting on God
As some must
While praying inside
His forgiveness

May allow more ink
Spilling over
Beneath such veins
Fear has split –

Feigning belief
Barely known
And awaiting death
Turning pages

Any average soul
Keeps withstanding
Fighting what’s fake
Through one voice.

Our reality hits
Pretty hard
Where poetry stands
Against reason –

Another bad phrase
So inspired
But purposeless now
Like this gift.

• J. Pigno

Our minds
Make detailed maps
Where fear
Finds emptier spaces
And lingering thoughts
Drawing pictures
In place of truth
Telling tales

Like something real
When it’s not
Or narratives sought
Feeling needed
When believing lies
Better suited
To ignoring pain
We suppress

If pursuing dreams
Never lost
But denied deep down
Merely waiting
For another excuse
Barely noticed
Under rituals held
Without choice

Taking joy from days
Spent obsessed
With meaningless chores
Missing answers
Revolving around
Simple pleasures
Whose questions posed
Trigger doubt

Just opening doors
Always there
Beneath this skin
Nearly cracking
At banging one’s head
Against faces
So unique
Yet similarly scarred

That reflect their hope
Long denied
Still believing scenes
Which keep playing
Like film reels looped
Now distorted
By a focus
The present has maimed.

• J. Pigno

My parents would
Visit Las Vegas
When I was young
During Christmas
To see such things
Barely noticed
But now in this mind
Appear strange,

Like grey arcades
Needing light
With sounds so faint
Leaving echoes
Letting liminal space
Draw its contrast
Between innocence
And jaded adults –

Hearing children cry
Waiting still
Down abandoned halls
Staying hidden
Among sad machines
Lacking power
Or that neon glow
Far away

Where grown-ups bet
Bitter dreams
Leading broken lives
Unfulfilling
As kids brought there
Went unnoticed
While playing alone
In those rooms,

Watching moms and dads
Wasting cash
Missing better times
Spent together
Swearing someday soon
After growing
Their souls would hate
What they viewed

Before smokey dens
Called them back
Beating buffet lines
Feeling hungry
Keeping so much more
Than expected
Winning lots
But losing all faith.

• J. Pigno

We can never escape
Fitting lyrics
Which have issued
Their timeless apology

To perpetual youth
Still unsettled
By a world undone
Now for good –

Generations stacked
With bereavement
And rebellion
Mourned like intention

Of those artists left
Who attempted
At offering truth
While they could,

As each song
Stays eerily relevant
In decades wrong
We keep choosing

When treating fate
More expendable
Than our failing discs
Spinning round,

Since playing low
Though repeating
That needle’s noise
Become static

Against louder screams
Drowning voices
Only deafened regimes
Cannot hear.

I’m forever
An angry young man
Catching vinyl notes
Between heartbeats,

Dancing where walls
Split connections
Envisioning hope
Barely there –

These guitar riffs
Capturing feelings
Crafted so raw
Though meticulous,

Another sad song
Proving anthems
Predict stories
Real once again.

• J. Pigno