He mumbled
Below short breaths
How people will
Call him a loser,

Since killing bugs
Professionally
Just didn’t mean shit
In this world –

An unfortunate view
Many held
About those whose role
Seemed revolting
And appeared absurd
When comparing
Much fancier jobs
Against pests

Which crawled on floors
Where they worked
Trailing daring paths
Behind humans
Whose privileged lives
Never bothered
Noticing ants
Underneath,

Like the man
Still chasing that roach
Or enduring weeks
Trapping vermin
Soon telling me
Even his family
Had mocked such feats
Every day.

Yet strangely,
He lifted one sleeve
Now showing tattoos
That depicted
Christ our Lord
Shedding teardrops
Alongside words
Spelling fate,

Feeling somehow
I’d also believe
That story once shared
Of his car crash
Swearing death itself
Revealed heaven
After passing away
Long ago –

True experience
Blessing deep gifts
No judgmental soul
Can appreciate,

Attaching worth
Without knowing
Significance waits
Beyond flesh.

Like insects
We often cause fear,

Inspiring pain
More than passion,

So divinity chose
An exterminator
To reveal
Better places exist.

• J. Pigno

They’ll only
Think of the children
When it suits those needs
More pressing –

Banking profits
Turned from exposure
To a lethal germ
Called school.

Education
Isn’t their goal
But imposing guilt
Through standards
And broken homes
Made possible
By suggesting work
Brings success,

Since returning now
Appears “safe”
Despite this plague
Running rampant
Crossing anyone
Daring such vengeance
While ignoring facts
Which scream

Over every mouth
Trading views
Hearing leaders’ laws
In denial
Letting imminent threats
Approach youngsters
Whose single choice
Must comply

Where politics
Failing both ways
Face angry mobs
Claiming virtues
Supersede
All absent morals
Still clearly defined
Seeking cash –

Lacking masks
Yet pushing beliefs
Missing measured truths
Speaking volumes
About dangerous lies
Purely ignorant
Swearing normalcy
Always returns.

Our teachers are caught
Between devils
Telling them hell
Seems appropriate –

Fearing for jobs
Getting harder,

Losing faith
Better efforts can work.

Even innocents
Remain expendable
If potential growth
Never mattered.

Kids hate class
With good reason
Because systems failed
Long ago.

• J. Pigno

My legacy
Isn’t these words
But the hope within
Still dreaming
Which reveals
That child dwelling
Deep inside this soul
Who dares

To speak what truths
Men lack
Even if their jobs
Hold meaning
Or successes claimed
From money
Find fulfillment
Seeming less

Than those answers
Earned through fame
Since achieving goals
More urgent
Where our basic needs
Prove futile
Learning every heart
Needs care

While engaging
Fated paths
Between dotted lines
We scribble
Along journeys lost
When growing
Over pages drawn
By hate

Tracing borders
Nearing death
Knowing boredom kills
All passion
If believing age
Our wisdom
Despite seeing youth
Build strength

Outside endless days
With fear
Besides learning joy
Is freedom
Finding God Himself
Existing
Beyond labor waged
For naught

Where intentions
Make us whole
But commitment
Murders pleasure
Wasting precious time
Obsessing
Chasing failures
Deemed mature

Feeling right
Yet oddly sad
Missing precious scenes
In color
Trading innocence
Optimistic
Getting old
Like shades of gray.

• J. Pigno

My teachers
Never spoke of poets
Whose histories
Withered in secret
Like breeding grounds
Breaking tradition
Obscuring truths
They’d neglect

Until that day
I discovered
Many muses dwell
Amid shadows
Left purposely draped
For no reason
Across this stage
Feigning words

Where feelings hide
Between pictures
Each conjured verse
Claims to show us
Yet tells through lines
Often staggered
Through cadence heard
By default –

An inherent beat
Being played
Across lengthy tales
Failing senses
Besides our gift
Speaking rhythms
Spilling fancy lies
Over verbs

Where among old dreams
We remain
Still scouring books
Finding meaning
Or a purpose held
Tracing legends
Whose mysterious ways
Seem divine

Since magic thrives
Beneath dust
Even time itself
Has forgotten
While idling strength
Soon diminished
When modern eyes
Seeks its cures

But guiding fools
All the same
In desperate need
Lacking vision
Believing art
Their cruel mistress
Still dangling love
Above fate,

Once observed
Yet hardly defined
Like liturgies lost
Wasting worship
On wishes made
Begging fortunes
From inspired fears
Going wrong.

• J. Pigno

Here is to
The promise we kept
After sleepless nights
Unraveled
Over dialogues held
Sitting vigil
During times we’d feared
Wouldn’t end

In that distant past
Which loomed
And casted doubts
Like shadows
From being wrong
Before meeting
Until we realized
Love was more –

Never chance
But fated encounters
Amid daydreams lost
Feeling empty
While nervous prayers
Wrote stories
Between kindred hearts
Soon tied

Always lonely
Longing for hope
Leaving tiny threads
Across decades
With devotions real
Though discouraged
By assuming pain
Wrote our plot,

Not God
Whose heavenly book
Triumphs luck
Through intentional wisdom
Proving symbols shown
Signal graces
Beyond this flesh
We endure.

I vow now
Nodding at fate
How every breath
Becomes special
Sharing room here
Besides my partner
Once believed
An airless wish –

Yielding oxygen
Promising life
Building faith
Through certain affection
As married souls
Define meaning
Where embers heal
Keeping warm,

Still undeserved
Though immense
Yet comparing flames
So miraculous
They’re twins
Among rare cinders
Too special
For being apart.

• J. Pigno

On the counter
Behind old keys
I found items
Unexpected-

Two small books
With daily verses
From the Bible
Which he’d read.

If you knew
My father’s ways,

Or had watched his steps
Routinely,

It’s still hard
To even consider
That real worship
Played some part.

Yes, in fact
Most other men
Whose beliefs
Mean more than riches
Would now find
Such strange behavior
Hypocritical
At best.

Yet, my dad,
Though fearing age,
Taught himself
How heaven blesses
And forgives
Those souls left broken
As he fought
Through life too much.

For such quiet faith
Exists
In these soldiers
Born surviving –

Every callous act
Their weapon
Against details
Few will see,

When all circumstance
Means hell
While abuse
Becomes accepted,

Always losing
Constant battles
Over failures
Hate imposed.

Soon surrounded by
Fate’s wings,
They bear crosses
Self-redeeming

Until moments
Like this morning
Prove salvation
Perseveres.

Even money
Loses trust
If approaching death
So quickly –

Perhaps sickness
Brings atonement
Silent converts
Can’t admit.

• J. Pigno

I was wrong about
Poetry dying
Along with the world
Which breathes it
As our collective wills
Keep gasping
Despite this cough
That spreads

To eradicate
Beautiful words
And suffocate art
Still trying
Through crushing souls
By silence
Or extracting faith
From fear –

Rare benevolence
Hiding in shells
Now worried how hate
Turned lethal
Drawing lines
Where tragedy festers
Over politics
Evil has strewn

Like storm clouds
Harboring rain
Hailing heaven’s
Unfortunate judgment
Watching mankind’s
Quiet division
Become their creed
They have prayed,

Losing voices
Begging real change
Under sprawling grays
Forming thunder
Beneath dark skies
Casting shadows
Across faces
Mistaken for masks

Though needing hope
More than sin
Could ever allow
During endings
So slowly played
Even decades
Wait eagerly
Pacing towards grace.

Condemned men
Accumulate wealth
While believers
Paint every detail
Singing songs
Creating true visions
Reflecting dreams
Always pure

Since expecting
Nothing but grief
Until loved ones
Join them in praising
Meager blessings
Amid our apocalypse
Proving kinship
Beyond any doubt.

• J. Pigno

The men who smoke
On corners
Bury words inside
Their ashes
And hide what dreams
Escape them
Pushing secrets
Through each puff –

Proving life
All empty breaths
As they kill both lungs
With sadness
Forcing smiles wide
Yet rotten
Like those yellowed teeth
Which show

Every crack
We can’t neglect
Chasing healthy goals
More damaged
Than such vices known
Could peddle
Before claiming fate
Will come

Should our leisure
Catch this thrill
Burning open mouths
Still silent
Forming better lines
From poets
Pursing lips
Around that butt,

For some prophets
Value soul
Over perfect lives
Less dangerous
Where obsession
Fuels resentments
Finding family means
Regret

And successes
Wasted time
Working honest jobs
In circles
Gaining little hope
While waiting
Across decades
Fearing death

When instead
True gospel hurts
Idling threats
Upon long faces
Hanging down
Though praying fire
Letting halos fall
Like sparks.

• J. Pigno

How ugly
We all have become
In our updates
Like endless stardom

Where emptiness
Asks every user
If acknowledgment
Satiates souls –

That hunger
Abided by grief,

Denying death
As it passes,

Above these heads
Always waiting
For another excuse
To show off.

I’m scared
Still wearing my mask
Since viruses taint
More than bodies.

We deserve
Each strain that is coming
Posting pictures
Of Saturday night,

When you drank
And partied regardless
Thinking glee
Was somehow entitled
While families cry
Over corpses
But refuse vaccines
All the same.

An apocalypse came
Leaving texts,

Like livestreams
Touting disaster,

Citing proof
How steady employment
Distracts weak minds
From their end.

God’s forgiveness
Failed without warning
When humanity
Settled on gaming,

Worshipped cash
Before heeding science,

Wore garments
Spouting hate’s name –

Scrolling videos
Endlessly made
Which indulge those
Primitive habits,

Giving sickness
Ample advantage
Before this germ
Even spread.

“So disgusting”
Fully explains
What priorities
People admire.

Views dip,
Though “likes” keep repeating,
Meaning content
Never gets read.

• J. Pigno

Today I’m still
Measuring lengths
And looking for hairs
That went missing
After shaving off
Pieces of stubble
Stuck to this face
Getting plucked –

Just constantly
Chopping these strands
And questioning now
If they’re even
Despite such care
Being taken
With rulers held close
Near my head,

Chasing confidence
Feeling so lost
Beneath those lines
Always slanted
Like awkward signs
Barely telling
How appearances
Never will last

Despite images
Stuck in our minds
And perfect skin
Lacking wrinkles
Wearing outfits
Stained by obsession
Finding style
Until we collapse.

Staying chic
Means dying through form
Killing time
From wasting existence
While freshening dreams
Growing rotten
Seeking youthfulness
Thinner than skin –

For beauty commands
Every fear
Though symmetry
Squanders its freedoms
Demanding sins
Achieve balance
Only God Himself
Could perceive,

Making elegance
Morbidly brash
Besides vanity
Breeding corruption
Watching grace
Become expectation
Underwhelmed
If glamor should fail

Since charm
Let’s agony play
Where attraction
Causes disruption
Leaving reason
Meaningfully absent
When staring at mirrors
Alone.

• J. Pigno