I used
To feel relief
At the prospect
Of expression
When unleashing
Living poisons
From a soul
With missing cause

Before
What answers came
Through shapes
Of faint obsessions
Biding hurt
In silence
At a moment
Ripe with fear

While sickness
That I’d claim
By close calls
Of my choosing
Inspired
Angry shadows
Like threats
When being chased

Running
From my dreams
Of ghosts
Whose fleeting semblance
Appeared
As waking nightmares
Within
Those anxious haunts –

These dwellings
That I’d made
And built
Like nervous chambers
Winding
Far and distant
Amid labyrinths
Held inside

So illness
Lost my heart
Not found
Among these ruins
Concealing jewels
Of envy
For a world
That mattered none

To this man
Who wasn’t dead
But thought
He might as well be
Until
Her beaming smile
Sought treasure
Near his core

Unearthing
Solid gold
From phrases
Left abandoned
Caked
With stony layers
Yet soft
As honest flesh.

Some words
Are never said
Or meant
To have been written

But these,
My only wishes,
Are the diamonds
Of your voice –

Shimmering
In my dark
As passions
Wholly priceless

With the help
I’d never asked for
Or fortune
Worth this cure.

– J. Pigno

Tell me
All about angels
In the song of your
Every step
As a blessing
Heard distinctly
Within
What melody drifts

Across
These gleaming stars
Beneath
Our private moonlight
Where chirps
Like long sonatas
Begin
Each nightly ball

Stringing
Nature’s sounds
Into woven hymns
From gestures
Too real
To be dishonest
When trailing
Every path

We walk
With shuffled feet
And turn
From nearly dancing
Praising God
This instant
Is a tune
Which never lasts

For more
Than beating dusk
To a change
Of quiet mornings
Ushering
Frequent silence
So the rhythm
Hides its pulse

Amid
Such sheltered days
And people deaf
To dreaming
Or love that’s losing
Anthems
Between each poison
Sun

Defeating
Sacred voice
On terms
Of bright deceptions
Obscuring notes
From glaring
Its beam
Of focused lies

Ignoring
Soulful dark
Like jazz
Of lost romantics
Tangoing
As we wander
Among shadows
Lost and found.

No saint
Can ever waltz
Without that guilt
Of knowing

All truth
Is raw expression
Black
As rawest dark.

– J. Pigno

That glass
Between our hearts
Is always
The thickest mirror
With streaks
Of failed reflection
Preventing
Honest sight

As it sits
Atop this soul
Like sheets
Of dirtied crystal
Smeared
With best intentions
But clouded
From my past

When laying
Upon your chest
To feel
A certain weakness
Resembling
What comes after
That plight
Is shattered whole

Where ceilings
Bearing down
On questions
Causing madness
Bring answers
Oddly welcome
Through warmth
And grazing flesh

As truth
By shattered scars
Emerge
For meeting edges
While pressured
From resistance
To break
At slightest touch

In your arms
Not being sad
But fearful
Of these fissures
Like cracks
That make an image
Doubt
What picture lasts

Across
This fragile rift
Now seen
Within my likeness
Demanding
Solid shadows
Become
A fading ghost

So cheeks
Can really meet
And lips
Present their penance
For echoes
Undivided
Behind this mask
Which breaks.

– J. Pigno

We built
Our nuclear gods
And winters
In which they
Flourish

As nightmares
Oddly worshiped
With fears
Too real
To dream

When suits
And filtered masks
Are vestments
Built for
Service

At rites
Of raw destruction
We practice
Far from
Home

To carry
Raging storms
Across
This timid
Landscape

Toward churches
Growing empty
Where families
Pray
They pass

As agony
Looms en masse
Through clouds
Like burning
Vapor

Of mist that bears
Redemption
By cost
Called imminent
Doom

While truth
Of shattered glass
Depicts
Our shallow
Remnants

Like TVs
Blown
To pieces
As anchors
Tell us wait

Before
Each bomb erupts
Without
One final
Warning

Inside
Those tiny
Windows
Of signals
Leaving scars

Asking
How our faith
Can lead
To such
Acceptance

Of fallout
Seen as justice
On hands
Of equal
Men

Believing
Science saves
Instead
Of how it
Festers

Much like
What they tell us
Is deterrence
Safe
And good.

Kneel
Yet brace for change

Ignore
What’s coming
Later

That peace
Is killer gospel

For now
It’s Sunday
Mass.

– J. Pigno

Forever
Isn’t fiction
Where angels
Make their music

Across
That heaven waiting
Eternal
In our books

When songs
And stories dream
Of tales
Which stand immortal

Upon our heads
As victims
Of a finite world
We grasp

Like heroes
Playing fate
By answers
Poorly guided

Or judgement
Misdirected
So man can lose
His turn

To find how
God is real
If only love
Would fester

Among what sin
Grows softly
Between flowers
Near our hearts –

A garden
Not of fruits
But chance which longs
To question

Can divinity
Be created
As art
Will only fail.

– J. Pigno

These tears
Will only sting
When they linger
Long on lips

Like rain
From autumn mornings
Which whispers
Newfound cold

In a world
So oddly still
Of clouds
And fallen colors

Where winds
Hold quiet secrets
Of trees
That seem to burn

For reasons
Undisclosed
Amidst this
Solemn backdrop

Of grays
And gentle showers
With hints
Our season passed

While skies
Interpret heat
Not as sun
But pigments

Through shades
Of living palettes
When feelings
Show their hue

To mock
What leaves remain
Like cinders
Born of changes

Near wood
And barest branches
Whose flames
Are swept by gusts

Carried
Far away
Across this
Rigid landscape

Crisp
In solid contrast
To summer
Which came before

Reminding me
Our blaze
Should glow
If we allow it

Despite
What mist will trickle
From heavens
Keeping score

Indulging
Nature’s paint
Warm
Yet broken-hearted

This air
Still seems to harbor
A kiss
Of looming frost.

– J. Pigno

You saved me
From that place
Where the world
Was sad
And lonely

At a time
All other people
Would hardly
Know
I’m there

Believing
All my grief
Was a real
And suited
Prison

Until
That blind
Redemption
Like keys
Held in your eyes

Unlocked
What could become
One last
And sacred
Mission

To uphold
This dream inside me
When love
Still barely
Speaks

And conquers
With your grace
These fears
I choose
To carry

Like triumph
By experience
While tragedy
Makes me
Whole,

Stronger
Though I break
Against
What passion
Lingers

Imbuing
Raw connection
As truth
Which chisels
Stone

With compassion
As its source
And empathy
From our
Meeting

Conveying
How God festers
Within
Those souls
Who care –

Your smile
An open passage
That leads
To greener
Pastures,

Your words
A constant poem
Which quells
These demons
Bare

Exposed now
From my heart
As a rare
Yet simple
Message

How prayers
Are always answered
Even if
It’s far
Too late.

– J. Pigno

These spiders
Nest inside
Where the dark
And empty spaces
Hold webs
Instead of visions
Replacing dreams
I’ve lost

Dangling
From each line
Which sway
As winds of anger
Defeat
What phrases linger
When fears
Are birthed within

Laying
Tiny lies
Like eggs
For infant demons
Holding
Monstrous wishes
In their quick
And scuttling hands

So the lost
And silent voice
In this throat
Becomes complacent
As breath
And spoken changes
Cough silk
Instead of hope

As dust
Begins to mount
From patterns
Taking residence
Among shadows
Being woven
Across this dampened
Soul –

These chambers
Of my heart
Their deep
And musty crevice
And basement
Lacking center
To shelter
Wayward words

Flowing
Though they must
Throughout
Infested currents
Of vessels
Pumping madness
Demanding
Blood is drawn

Beyond
My living will
Consumed
By prying insects
Whose base
And natural function
Is to trap
Inspired verse.

– J. Pigno

I keep getting
Winded
From the hurt
Which steals
My breath

When running fast
Toward safeties
Where a past
Does not
Exist

Through air
With better
Hopes
Like oxygen
Come tomorrow

In bursts
Enough
For sprinting
Away from
Dreaded death –

What stretch
Or old expanse
Has feelings
Real
But crazy

Pursuing
Fate relentless
As I race
And challenge
Fear

Without
That beating heart
To sustain
My brisk
Momentum

Driven
By sheer
Exposure
To pressures
Hardly new,

As failures
Trail
My path
Dragging pain
Behind me

Holding down
My answers
Or chance
To up
And leave

Even if
This weight
Was a weak
Yet obvious
Reason

For losing
Before I finish
Across
That line
I’ve drawn.

– J. Pigno

Poems
Are self-contained
Within minutes
Felt excessively
As a shy
And idle genius
Of the mind
Which takes
Its time –

This process
Drawing shapes
Around moments
Lacking patterns
In themselves
Containing reasons
For forms
That go
Unseen

When savoring
Endless days
Pursuing gifts
Unnoticed
From corners
Hiding shadows
Like cracks
Between our lies,

Where truths
We cannot speak
Hold meaning
Through their darkness
Keeping proof
Clandestine
Of the God
Who bleeds
These words

While quiet
Does persist
For a daze
Which ushers answers
Down aisles
Walking freedoms
Among what colors
Drift

As the image
Bearing voice
Of their scene
Which keeps repeating
Captured once
Forever
By our bored
And patient
Peace.

– J. Pigno