Hell is being
Painfully whole
And aware of what’s wrong
Till it kills us

Like a poem one says
Without semblance
Of the deepest beliefs
They can hide

By questioning hope
Fairly bold
When bargaining hurt
Always honest

Or worse yet now
Begging questions
Much harder than prose
Ever asked

But behind each page
Barely turned
After writing this fate
Soon exhausted

From exhuming dreams
Fear had buried
Beneath emptier days
Spent alive

Leaving graves upturned
Right at home
Where another lost night
Beckons shovels

Which disturbs each hole
Moving soil
Seeking death’s fair share
Far below

What’s concealing light
Once entombed
Long before such words
Cast their shadow

And my age held proof
There was meaning
Through our passing time
Being felt

Until happiness
Ceased to exist
Trading twisted vows
For what’s easy

Where normal stole
Broken pieces
Still better off split
Than intact.

• J. Pigno

God must too
Be a loser –

For all beauty
Is born from His rejects,

Like impetuous words
I’ve forgotten,

Only drivel
To ones who don’t know

Or can’t ever recall
Through their eyes

How safety
Has murdered our instincts

By this burdened life
So devoted

No truth can flow
Out its lips.

Faith
Is a challenged fixation,

Some broken belief
Nearly failing,

Gaining new sight
Through the blindness

That rational doubt
Often brings.

Poetry
Keeps me detached.

Let its heaviest lines
Be reminders

Of one last fuck
Still remaining

Inside this soul
Weighted down.

• J. Pigno

An eternity
Grows in our midst
With each year like vines
Clinging gently
To this white wood porch
Where life settles
Watching souls climb up
Before dawn

Like a lifetime built
After sunrise
On some farmhouse lost
Between moments
Seeing God rail through
Blowing whistles
Driving trains right by
While we pray

Rocking back and forth
Like these angels
Trimming weeds from dirt
Still beneath us
Letting flowers bloom
Out of worship
Along paneled walls
Catching rays

Which enable faith
If there’s rain
Like those smallest seeds
Sprouting gospel
Knowing summer’s warmth
Stays eternal
Near that tiny ranch
Time forgets

Does exist right here
Despite fears
Or concerns with death
Bringing winter
Keeping hands inside
Near their fires
Until most can learn
Snow will melt

When agreeing warmth
Is one flame
Truly kindled now
Through believing
Such determined plants
Remain thriving
Since they realize
Seasons can pass.

• J. Pigno

I can’t think about
Places we’d go
Because being home
Is too painful
As the daydreams pass
Near that window
Staying here where life
Seems beyond

An experience
Silently known
Deep inside my soul
Always wishing
For another good shot
At remembering
How such youth once felt
Before this –

Inspiration caught
From afar
If vacations close
Couldn’t cut it
When demanding hope
Bring you further
Like what lovers dance
While they can,

Though romantic scenes
Beckon faith
So these words flow swift
Out of envy
Hearing music play
Right before us
Watching poems start
All around,

Taking chances
Fearlessly sought
And defiant through bliss
Giving meaning
Since rebellion yields
Better answers
Along each lost road
Artists seek

Under desperate woes
Bearing down
Upon heaviest hearts
Beating weakly
Worried death may come
Very quickly
Ruining one last time
To exist.

• J. Pigno

It’s been a good turn
Rolling dice
Though the pain plays out
With each gamble
After losing face
Winning sickness
When the rest still live
While I rot

Since my trade-off
Paying fate’s debt
By what sins have killed
Through example
Are unfortunate words
Still unnoticed
Like those cards so weak
They must fold

Until sadness
Offers one break
At repentance blind
Making wagers
Still sulking alone
Behind tables
Taking risks too dumb
For one man

That expresses
Another bad hand
In pursuing dreams
Never triumphed
Unless God Himself
Defies limits
Yielding hope now pushed
Beyond chance

Counting empty draws
As full suites
Or ignoring rules
Switching numbers
Against mounting odds
Ruining moments
You could never enjoy
Betting fear

But can somehow choose
Writing lines
Where suffering breeds
Fascination
Beneath morbid stakes
Poets offer
Indulging whims
Always raw.

• J. Pigno

This is the way
We must dream
As we capture
That glittering moonlight
Still mirroring hope
Long defeated
In a sheer
And elegant glass –

Tinted by veils
Of appearance,

Much deeper than blue
Should remain,

Obscuring such flames
At its center
Where the sun’s lost rays
Still reflect

Every moment once spent
Taking breathers
Rather than raced
Toward indifference

As achievement drips
Along edges
While the wick does burn
Ever bright,

Melting like sins
Despite knowing
This candle wastes
Without purpose
For another good day
We’ve been tested
Cooking more meals
We can’t taste.

I’m enduring fate
Seeking pleasures
Because faith means truth
Never questioned

When picking on fruit
Missing labor
Or stealing new words
From God’s tongue

Off the lap of stars
Doing favors,

Though staring right back
If we focus

Among gazes vast
Almost meaningless
Through their torches
Guiding at night

Every universe
Now too infrequent,

Like bad movies
Plotted but honest –

So beautifully shot
Behind lenses
Only space itself
Can provide.

• J. Pigno

There’s the numbness
Fear can’t explain
That’s driving me mad
Without meaning
Building under this skin
Facing needles
Always never quite there
Though they are

And feeling each prick
Against flesh
Which fights every jab
During silence
Or a moment alone
Needing respite
Just to find those pins
Yet again

Once more deep down
Stealing purpose
And some peaceful sleep
Keeping answers
Among desperate dreams
Growing faded
Behind darkened thoughts
Getting lost

As what youthful turns
Appear gray
After years of clouds
Always raining
Leaving empty voids
Uninspired
Hiding holes in fog
Blocking sun

Until faithful rain
Quenches droughts
Showing brighter points
Beneath dullness
Having God Himself
Pierce our heavens
Letting light shine through
Like before

Though these tingles
Threaten all veils
Whether bluer skies
Or fake smiles
Still concealing truths
Now remaining
By such sharpest blades
Phantoms hold.

• J. Pigno

My mother
Can only see beauty
Even when things
Aren’t pretty
Like her son grown old
Feeling heavy
From a weight
Both real and unsure

Earning doubtful eyes
He will share
With the one whose love
Blinds her greatly
After years spent close
Fighting battles
Their home has made
Cozy beds

Where agony’s grasp
Doesn’t threaten
But enrich that bond
Truly special
Even when such pain
Appears fated
Never facing days
Truly bad

Wishing always
God would just listen
Over future plans
Being spoken
Precious years may waste
Passing quickly
While preparing time
Better spent

Until dreaming
Comforts me less
Finding words on-screen
During nightmares
In our theater lost
Among memories
Showing reels
Of ugliest films

Starring me
As talentless bulk
Playing “husky kid
Lacking meaning”
Despite swearing
How worthy this phrase is
Needing effort
No longer enjoyed.

• J. Pigno

Some prayers
Are better unanswered
As it keeps such faith
Reignited
By unfortunate pleas
Only relevant
When needing that push
To believe

After normalcy
Squashes each flame
Yet demands more fuel
For raw tinder
Set ablaze through hurt
Become cinders
Like those ashes lost
Deep inside

But surrounding hearts
Grown inflamed
Once engulfed with grief
Getting colder
Until even pain
Has no meaning
Since soon this chill
Feels subdued

Deeply feared
Though known all along
Sensing God outside
Aching bodies
Warming souls right up
Choosing willingness
If accepting hope
Is the cure

Like an anger
Thawed from regret
Still pulsing hard
Under fingers
Across memories
Begging their violence
Towards ourselves
When spirit forgets

Yielding reasons
Change can occur
Giving ample room
Taking notice
Of true miracles then
Never witnessed
Looking far beyond
Here and now.

• J. Pigno