I’m the only one
Who walks
Near the precipice
Of death

Staring down
My Maker
As each judgement
Follows suit

Believing
Angry moons
Which guide this
Golden silence

With light
From evening shadows
Down paths
That take me home

Toward justice
Sorely missed
For those hearts
I’ve kept abandoned

Through hours
Passing quickly
Under heavens
Made of stars

Twinkling
Just so fast
Their truth
Is somehow frantic

As radiance
Pierces sharply
What darkness
Settles fate

Like buffers
Holding clouds
In failures
Raining frequent

Upon my pastures
Sinful
Across these
Arid lands

Where mountains
Bearing cliffs
Assume
Their rightful stature

Above
Those wilted grasses
And meadows
Turning tan

Eroding
Amber stone
While ridges
Aging slowly

Determine time
That festers
Beyond
My final stance

Fading
By each breath
I gasp
Without redemption

Atop
My jutting pinnacle
Crying
I may jump.

– J. Pigno

Ink
Is how I deal
With the fact
This all means
Nothing

When feeling
Oddly empty
Despite
What dream
Insists

How hope
Is nearly fate
As it draws
From senseless
Wishes

And signs
In makeshift
Comforts
Along one’s
Dotted line –

That heartbeat
Slowly paced
Weak
And falling
Victim

To the promise
Vaguely conjured
By breath
Which bears
No name

As truth
Now given grace
Through agony
Made
Of reason

Where faith
And human wisdom
Accept
But can’t
Deny

Those papers
Stealing words
For crimes
Of lost
Distinction

Ending
As we’re always
Expiring
With our
Thoughts,

For pain
Is living virtue
From a hand
That’s merely
Written

Of the hard
And fleeting nature
Bound
With captive
Choice.

Forget
This whole
Charade –

Our cry
Is best
Unspoken.

My contract
Should be
Ripped.

I think
I’ve seen
Enough.

– J. Pigno

“You can’t live
Your life
With the lights off”
Is what my
Mother told me,

But what
If that bulb
Suspended
Has blown its fuse
Too fast?

Like pain
Which leaves me dark
And reminds me
God’s not
Waiting,

For a switch
Up there
In heaven
Can’t turn this lamp
Back on

Or brighten
All my ills
And reveal
Some hidden
Answer

Where currents
Cease
Their function
When power
Is facing fear

Near sockets
Left exposed
Begging
These nervous
Fingers

To replace
Each broken fixture
By using
My hand
Instead.

Electricity
Isn’t brilliance
But rather
A useful
Danger

Applied
As something luminous
Whether seized
Or fatally
Charged.

– J. Pigno

Hello
I’m a self-loathing male
Of which I deserve
Your deep hatred
For I’ve spent
My life
Disappointing
All the women
Who loved me
The most

Running away
When I’m scared
Rather
Than seeking
Their guidance
Or accepting truth
In those comments
Which prove
How my ego
Was bruised

Kissing
Then fleeing
The scene
Yet panicking quick
When I’m lonely
Seeking embrace
From a partner
Just to realize
My passion
Is dead

Empty
From fearing
The best
Of what this life
Has created
As a dreadful
Lie of exposure
Where feelings
Can signal
The end

Our cycle
Of intimate sin
Fortunate now
To be certain
That desire
From tangible
Instinct
Is a physical
Need
We pursue

Making it
No less
Wrong
Abandoning hurt
By rejection
And ignoring
Hearts
Staying open
Though judged
Superficially still –

Cause really
It’s always
Men
Using looks
As excuses
Or believing
Rage
Is a constant
Born of pasts
They create

As I struggle
To sleep
Every night
Engaging God
Seeking penance
Imploring Christ
For an answer
And hearing
Him whisper
I’m wrong.

– J. Pigno

In fact
It was always
Simple
This plan we seem
To destroy

With our need
For achieving
Something
Other than what
Should exist

Innately
As it is made
From ether
Unknown
To insistence

Of standards
Imposed
By creatures
Subject to will
Of their God –

That ease
Of inspiring
Ripples
Cast without
Intervention

Across
Such space
Everlasting
Beyond what fate
We redeem,

Incurring
Countless debts
As there are
New stars
Born among us

Finding truth
In their brightness
As we navigate
Dust
Over time

Imagining
Destiny waits
Where emptiness
Pines
For forgiveness

Forgetting
This cosmos suffers
Each moment
We waste
On success.

– J. Pigno

Draw from me
This life
Which hardly begs
To question
What root
Is your intention
And determines
Fate in hand

Yet carries
Precious flow
Like grace through drops
Cascading
Down bark
So parched when waiting
For rain
Such presence makes –

Your moisture
Seeding earth
With feeling
Harsh but fickle
While syrup
Bleeds off timber
Where agony
Tastes as sweet

Forgetting
Pleasure hurts
Off branches
Thick with bristles
Obscuring suns
Above me
From gifts
Of precious waste,

Falling
Oddly near
As their fruit
Of daily beatings
Is a joy
Called being punished
Based on
Weather’s mood

For I merely
Long to keep
This truth
Which towers demons
High as dreams
Relentless
Weeping loves
Once lost

Showering
Dangerous lies
Upon
Our seasons missing
Each day
We dare to blossom
As long as trees
Can stand.

– J. Pigno

My pride
Just can’t admit
To the joys
Of being
Complacent

With an ease
I deem
Unnerving
For anything good
Which waits

And arise
As miracles
Should
When evading work
Intended

By God
In his transient
Heaven
Where energies fade
As they must

Like hope
Now passing by
Enjoying
Such moments
Wasted

Avoiding deeds
Unworthy
Of the effort
It takes
To dream

And pursue
Our fates unknown
To the spite
Of invisible
Pages

Among answers
Scripted lightly
Through authors
Begging
Their clocks

For respite
From these hands
As memories
Scribbled
In margins

Show forever tasks
Unnoticed
In this struggle
Of cyclical
Days

Like searching hard
For sport
Just to spit
In the face
Of reason

Arguing
Something wagered
Is never
A payoff
Gained.

– J. Pigno