A shouting man
Can’t hear
What his dreams
Are trying to
Whisper

With those fears
He often argues
At loud volumes
In each
Thought,

Always thankful
There is noise
Finding quiet
Much too
Dangerous

Where belief
Disrupts intention
Since deliberate
Peace
Should fail

By engaging
Certain whims
Like raw feelings
Based
On nothing

But disaster
Known as static
Banging drums
While God
Still talks –

Seeking help
For gnawing pain
Caused from sound
Which nearly
Itches

Between boundaries
Deemed essential
Failing lies
That plug
Both ears,

Still believing
Yells can change
What these senses
Find
Most heinous

Never learning
Daily silence
Holds our heaven
Hushed
So close.

– J. Pigno

Uncertainty
Fuels obsession
Which sees me
Losing my
Grip

As I wake up
Into disaster
On mornings
Found
Out of place

Where death
By fear
Still reigns
Becoming God
In our silence

Left worrying
Locked
Without answers
Behind doors
That kept us safe,

Now jailed
Between these walls
Waiting things out
For some
Reason

As if life itself
Should gain purpose
To continue
Beyond
This point

When normal
Remains obscene
While leaders
Appear
Every minute

So tomorrow
Might prove
Convincing
Though failure
Eludes their choice –

Still denying
Fate can’t change
Watching news
Show those
Not breathing

Stopping time
From advancing
Forward
Since together
We grieve all hope.

– J. Pigno

Let’s give it
What we have
Even though that’s
Not real much
When faced with
Imminent danger
Which our eyes
Still strain to see

While deciding
What comes next
Learning quickly
Loss is fated
Since revealing
Better natures
Once believed
Just certain luck

Through the lens
Called human grief
Despite grasping
Choices matter
Taking action
Besides praying
God should save
Who matters most

For in fact
Faith never lasts
Staking safety
Upon riches
Finding poor men
Line those hallways
Grinning warmly
As they cough

Knowing death
Means true relief
Seeking solace
Outside bodies
Made of flesh
Decaying daily
Falling victim
Breathing germs

Where resistance
Empties hope
Taking torment
Missing respite
Chasing answers
Within workdays
Thinking wallets
Offer cures

So instead
Remain unknown
Keeping humble
Doing favors
Turning chances
Into changes
Loving always
Ceasing hate

Shedding fear
Before each end
Kissing hands
Whose fingers tremble
Shining light
Beyond thick darkness
Gently proving
Life endures.

– J. Pigno

Long have I
Been removed
As God’s
Unholy witness
Who received
His strange
Dictation
Through verse
Not claimed
My own –

Wandering
Daily mists
Within these dreams
Forsaken
When gardens
Gray
And sulking
Pervade
What sleep
Stays fogged,

While soon
Such visions tell
Of gates
Where ivy
Tether
An entrance
To that channel
Among
Old headstones
Bare

Like rare
Yet sacred dreams
Which share
Bare answers
Scattered
Between each
Vivid passage
With words
Whose worth
Feels wrong.

New graveyards
Follow suit
During evenings
Fate becomes me
Minding tongues
No mouth can
Utter
Seeking ways
Those phrases
Speak

Upon pages
Missing seams
Failing gifts
Once deemed
Effective
Yielding proof
Most prophets
Stutter
Using language
True
But flawed

Showing signs
All lines
Deceive
Without faith
Behind their meaning
Haunting daylight
Still so lucky
It should come
Despite
This test,

Since our sun
Demands we pray
Even if
Tomorrow
Kills us
Still agreeing
Death forever
Is believing
At high
Cost –

Never learning
Faith redeems
Doubting hearts
Relieved
By poets
Fearing judgment
They must suffer
For forgiveness
Art may
Grant,

Though I gather
Every term
Lifts me higher
Now
Towards heaven
Granting solace
Outside coffins
Lining nightmares
Pens
Will write.

– J. Pigno

This time
The tomb
Stays closed,

Since God
Himself
Has perished

Upon
What cross
We’ve chosen

Where death
Is a permanent
State –

From sin
Once seen
As need

Within
These bodies
Willing

To find
Such answers
Desperate

While fear
Has trumped
Our soul,

Inside
Poor flesh
So weak

Where pleasure
Chased
Like demons

Fills
Those holes
Regardless

With gifts
Whose grins
Can kill.

My heart
Just doesn’t
Bleed

Anymore
All life
Should suffer

Knowing illness
Proves
How nature

Doesn’t care
If Easter
Waits,

Wishing somehow
Christ
Could save

Before breath
Escapes
Each body

Begging heaven
Come
That Sunday

Being cancelled
Now
For good.

– J. Pigno

Artists
Always had it
Right

By keeping
A constant
Distance

From the world
Whose vision
Had differed
In ways which
Rattled
Their soul –

While they sought
What muse
Made sense
Despite
Such rumbling
Stomachs,

Starving
Only in
Pockets

For riches
Deeper
Than change.

Since coins
Did seem
Absurd
When poets’
Words
Could nourish

Like food
That offered
Solace
And appeared
As God
Through tongues,

Not wallets
Filled
With cash

But spirits
Spilled
On canvas

Where chords
Still echoed
Loudly
Across this
Place
Too dull –

Telling us
Hate must
Pass
Cause flesh
Will fade
Forever

Instead
Believing our
Senses

Expressing
Life gone
Wrong.

– J. Pigno

So what of this
Lonely end
I keep hearing
Will happen
Real soon?

Perhaps
Its our awesome
Blessing
Where peace
Is an airless breath.

Like a letdown
Easily faced
Despite
Such life
Left willing

Inside us
Fighting for answers
Tired
We’ve waited
Too long

With lingering fears
Unfair
Which prey
On sympathies
Rattled

By minds
Still wishing
Daily
Their time may
Eventually pass,

As they face
Those visions scared
Knowing somehow
Dreams
Don’t happen

While ignoring
Germs inside them
In that moment
Faith
Should come

Long enough
When prayers unheard
Become chills
And fevers
Holy

Proving hope
Beyond God’s heaven
Aren’t cures
But further
Ills

Where existence
Loses steam
More than lungs
Who’ve found
Sick pleasure

Sucking smoke
Through empty vessels
Till machines
Make torture
Last

Watching worlds
Fall at His feet
Seeing kingdoms
Cough up
Chances

Choosing sin
Upon destruction
Learning death
Was love
Enough.

– J. Pigno

This drum
Which will not cease
Is the death
I long to suffer
From heartbeats
Out of rhythm
That fear
Has proven strong

With its pacing
Missing cues
As discordant waves
Develop
Throwing fits
Inside my body
So innate
Disruption builds

Though unnoticed
During days
Voices drown
Pain’s poor percussion
Screaming poems
Over dangers
While I’ve little
Left to say

Despite anguish
Breaking through
Speaking volumes
By obsession
Yielding music
Much less scary
When in fact
Fate often lurks

Behind ballads
Softly played
Amid memories
Hushed and muddled
Waiting daily
For disaster
Dancing blindly
Losing breath

Telling God
His song resounds
Even if these lyrics
Struggle
To convey
My deepest hardship
Read aloud
But still unheard.

– J. Pigno

This is
Actually real –

Our thirst
For fear
Has vanished

To embrace
What strain
Inevitable
Should begin
God’s gorgeous
End

On behalf
Of life’s good name
Whose own nature
Aches
With trauma
Which will soothe
Each soul
Worth mending
After time
Itself
May cease

Knowing crowds
Had lost their
Way
Long before
True judgment
Lingered
Looming far
Beyond perception
Clouded daily
By these
Needs

While defeat
Collects
Such hate
When success
Is far more
Dangerous

Like disaster
We have
Witnessed
Trading sins
Now claiming
Breath

Since “deserved”
Remains that
Word
Best expressed
As coming
judgment

Where diseases
So well
Hidden
Show death’s work
By fevers’
Hands

Still invisible
Though they
Rage
Inside bodies
Frail
Yet gasping

Proving fate
Neglects
All efforts

If existence
Must conclude.

– J. Pigno

Our Earth
Has lost its
Tolerance
For the threat
Of material wealth

Which sees
No life as sacred
On grounds
Success
Is earned

Now offered
By fate’s hand
Through God
Whose love
Gives shelter

By means
Once thought
Inherent
To this flesh
Where family dwells

Deep inside us
Though we slave
Over tasks
Not even
Crucial

But inflicted
Through decisions
While pursuing
Needs
Like crumbs

Soon forgetting
Biggest feasts
Lack cuisine
Consumed
From begging

If compiled
Over decades
Tilling soil
Left
At home

Being kind
When others waste
Finding sun
Behind
Old wisdoms

Kissing clouds
Despite disaster
Saving beasts
With souls
So pure

Knowing torture
Still persists
Watching humans
Chase
Their captors

Burning moments
Claiming feelings
Lack what value
Cash
Should have

Thinking flames
Were never hell
Outside times
I always
Questioned

Had resembled
Heaven’s judgment
Come tomorrow’s
Faith
Long gone.

– J. Pigno