There are rooms
Inherent to dreams
No words could explain
Upon waking
Like windows
Without any context
Peering inside
What has passed

Where context
Escapes every sight
And meaning devolves
Into subjects
Barely described
Beyond feelings
Vaguely defined
Through our thoughts

Which struggle
When witnessing scenes
Pictured on screens
Flashing static
As childhood haunts
Remain vacant
While analog worlds
Appear dark

Between each frame
Kept apart
Through assembled clips
Growing faded
After edited lives
Play on repeat
With white noise soon
Juxtaposed

Against evidence
Blaring so loud
That memories dwell
Among specters
Removed from view
Merely waiting
For another odd sound
Coming close

Behind signals lost
Now believed
To be secret truths
Long forgotten
Hearing old cartoon’s
Distant music
During background shows
Late at night.

• J. Pigno

I’m afraid this is
Really not living,

Being scared of an end
Every second

And reminded
Happiness lingers
Beyond what fears
Remain strong –

Like memories
Yet to be made,

Or a poem
That seeks being written,

Before this death
Which eludes us
Each second we seek
Where it waits.

Only ghosts
Find answers so close

As the rest must yearn
For their slumber

Still hiding in dreams
Every evidence
Of meaning outside
Pleasant thoughts

Within memories
Caught at fate’s brink

When our history turns
Into nightmares,

Facing truths untold
While they happened
But revealed too soon
During sleep –

Since daylight
Haunts me instead,

Waking up
From visiting family

Or being home once more
Without symptoms
Instilling such dread
Morning brings,

Wishing faith
Just wasn’t entrapped

Behind these eyes
Asking heaven

How tomorrow’s pain
Obscures mysteries
Now almost solved
Laying still.

• J. Pigno

The bad son
Faces his penance
Each day these words
Go unwritten
As desperate attempts
Soon defeat him
With no confidence gained
Pulling back –

An image unclear
In that head
When verbally lashed
If unleashing
This imperfect phrase
Being honest
Like a punk rock tune
Lived out loud

For one period
Briefer than songs
Where notes like screams
Serve it better
Than nastier lines
Sparking lyrics
Spoken by those
Claiming love,

Knowing full well
Secrecy sucks
Since expression
Brings harsher opinions
While suppressing
Such deeper conclusions
Surmised from greed
All around.

He’s barely enough
Though they claim
Those failing dreams
Stay respected
Since sadness feigns
Bitter triumph
Or ignoring
How eyes never see

What strength
Hides childhood tears
And fake boldness
Begs their forgiveness
As rebellious whims
Go unnoticed
Until growing too old
For that shit.

• J. Pigno

I don’t understand
Growing old
And how age could bring
Certain wisdom
When loss itself
Remains constant
As the only truth
Staying unchanged

Where each ending
Offers no choice
But a jadedness
So inconsistent
With happiness past
Spent enjoying
Those memories gone
Now for good –

Our loved ones missed
Every morning
Holding empty hearts
Growing bigger
As friends like dawn
Make their exit
Into endless dusk
We all face.

Funny if death
Brings more fear
Than days less lived
Fighting illness
Or sleepless nights
Always thinking
That axe may fall
Very soon,

While time
Weighs heavier still
Reading headlines
Increasingly heinous
Since dangerous trends
Appear common
Getting worried
Such hate will explode.

Every leap
Brings us back two steps,
Yet forward too far
Towards destruction.

What is faith
Nearing hopeless conclusions?

Why burn so bright
Just to fade?

• J. Pigno

Only artistry
Offers me rain
In the hours between
Each expression

Soon lagging behind
Every moment
Where suffering speaks
Louder still

On that poetry lost
Trying hard
Which captures defeat
After waiting

For one more chance
Spent debating
If pursuing this dream
Remains wise

With those options
Doubting will bring
Against all odds
Seeming senseless,

When endurance
Means uttering phrases
Experience deems
Too unwise –

Growing bored
From facing their fears,
Merely chasing truths
Trailing teardrops,

Spilled by empty hearts
Seeking verses
Finding empty lines
Needing blood

Like sustenance
Pumped through belief
And fueled by hope
Leading charges

As cavalries march
Across wastelands
Now warring so much
They can’t feel.

I keep begging
These skies inside
Just bring one cloud
Dripping crimson –

My soul left parched
Missing substance
Under faithless suns
Causing droughts.

• J. Pigno

There is too much truth
In dichotomies
Like ambiguous holes
Which need healing
Built from aging dolls
Better suited
Living lives less loved
Than their woes

At the hands of boys
Playing rough
Trading formulas learned
Counting losses,

Having questions asked
Though their answers
Becomes what fate
We despise –

This self-fulfilled hate
Towards relief
Only moms could show
Rocking cradles
Where math means warmth
Missing numbers
Yet proved through needs
Soon suppressed

If growing up fast
Watching sunlight
Bring with each gray dawn
Morning ashes
Now invented by men
Feeling angry
When nothing seems right
But success

So women like words
Stay ignored,

Still equations solved
Imply nothing,

After years spent lost
Seeking fusion
Behind a white picket fence
Fear imposed.

Our dream house
Beckons such wars –

Toys broken apart
Over difference,

Never nurturing worlds
Always turning,

Neglecting how flesh
Is enough.

• J. Pigno

I was worried
You might call me back
After months spent
Feeling so jealous,

And hiding this pain
Almost hateful
Over how our lives
Grew apart –

Shedding tears
Friends never could fake
As we swore out loud
Our contrition,

Knowing manhood
Hinges on bonding
Thought platonic
Yet intimate still.

Some are afraid
They might love
Outside what realm
Remains stoic,

But who should care
When emotion
Runs deep
After years being close?

There’s pride
In having two sons
Despite my attempts
More inadequate

At adulthood’s tasks
Seeming harder
While for some
It happens with ease.

Perhaps that’s why
Change can hurt
If the past gets lost
Over decades,

Reduced to texts
Between brothers
Knowing innocence
Never returns.

Good things
Require adjustment
Since tomorrow
Presumes transformation.

Why does God expect
Further distance?

Will these memories
Be difference enough?

• J. Pigno

She dreamed
Of a fortune cookie
Which had no words
That were printed,

Just digits unclear
On it’s backside
Bringing riches
Supposedly ours –

Lacking money
Or worldly success
Like most may hope
Would come easy,

But love more real
Than this ticket
Soon trading such means
For each heart.

All abundance
Could never get close
To what mystery
Brought us together

Where existing
Required some paper
So passing through
Was proposed –

Like exchanging vows
As we had
In daylight’s care
Better savored,

Always trusting God
Knew these numbers
Were lucky enough
When they add

Their total sum
Being told
With symbolic grace
Only witnessed

By soulmates whole
After counting
Every blessing
Cash doesn’t bring.

Your happiness
Will feel less defined
Inside boxes
Demanding investment.

Can security
Satiate hunger
How registers
Eat dollar bills?

• J. Pigno

Life’s lie which
Buffers our death
Just brings me
That much closer,

Like denial
Appearing as freedom
When negligence dwarfs
Every fear

From casting doubts
Upon debt
While agony falls
Over gardens

In the dead of night
Hiding lilies
Drooping too low
Getting lost.

Most plants
Need stabler rains
Than immoral heat
Chasing sunlight

Behind cloudy roles
Always drifting
Such deeper roots
Never take.

Day’s principles
Slowly will fade
Into saddened dusk
Growing jaded

After fashioning
Blossoms so gorgeous
Their only hope
Is to wilt.

Our faith demands
Better dirt
Even though some skies
Never open,

With God himself
Mocking toil
Letting work ensure
Further droughts.

Why try hard
If we burn
Regardless of vines
Bearing roses,

Once per year
Until seasons
Remind us all
Nothing lasts?

• J. Pigno