Abandoning
These words
Is like running
From my God
As they find me
Facing penance
For what sins
Such silence brings,

Grieving days
Now lacking light
By their absent flame
Once kindled –
Bearing wisdoms
Left extinguished
Held inside
Like dying truths,

Since this ash
Shares certain smoke
Where each fear
May mother candles
Long before
Beliefs can answer
Through new wicks
Lost faith must trim.

There is scripture
Being burned
Upon tongues
Obscuring fire,
Hiding open pits
Still raging
Within mouths
Who’ve fallen mute.

I’m convinced
Creation suffers
When depression
Stifles meaning,
Trying hard
While missing nothing
But that peace
Remaining numb.

Some expressions
Force our wills
Towards redemption
More outspoken,
Knowing morning
Beckons waking
Only if blue skies
Show sun.

Should tomorrow
Seem less dark
Than gray clouds
Today has sheltered,
Trust how color
Follows efforts
Fueling dreams
Real feelings rain.

Purpose flares
Among dim stars
Only shining
Before spirits
Never giving up
Those wishes
Across heavens
Gleaming ink.

  • J. Pigno

How I’ve missed
These graphic tales
Which inspire dreams
Through heroes
Tackling feats
Sustaining wishes
Despite life itself
Gone wrong

Across panels
Side by side
Spread like murals
Faith inhabits
Where our myths
Gain honest meaning
Letting pictures
Show us God

Knowing deities
Do exist
Not in skies
Or drawn on pages
But much closer
Than expected
Sharing visions
Hope imbues

Watching failure
Run its course
Making villains
Seem more special
While true legends
Rise above them
Learning losses
Build strong wills

Fighting fear
Though still unsure
Any wisdoms learned
Can linger
If that issue
Come tomorrow
Should find stories
Incomplete

As each destiny
Unfolds
Over eras gold
From virtue
Turning silver now
Soon brooding
Almost bronze
Since darkness waits

Beyond duties
Never done
Finding reasons
Worth enduring
Turning underdogs
Towards glory
Along journeys
Seeking fate

Squashing doubts
With every pose
Proving innocence
Eternal
Among hearts
Whose champions capture
Imaginations
Left untouched.

  • J. Pigno

We are never
Relieved of shadows
Which trace our pasts
Like phantoms
Chasing steps
Each darkness follows
To remind us
Time stands still

Where memories
Pursue this pace
Towards tomorrow’s grief
Uncertain
Of the shape which
Yesterday colors
Trailing changes
Misery loves

In haunted walks
Through sunshine
When guilt itself
Chews brightness
And fear ensues
While believing
Beneath that sky
Unsure

If God looks down
Disgusted
With sins who stroll
Besides us
Even more pronounced
From daylight
As beating rays
Cast stones

Since silhouettes
Mock our stride
Dancing close behind
Though exposure
Means further proof
Their existence
Threatens those
Whose life seems fair

Or pleasant
Before they strike
Smacking grins off
Smiling faces
Like pure souls
Suffering torment
For these reasons
Now long gone

Learning pain
Has multiple forms
Whose features
Deceptively carry
Tiny truths
Upon old figures
Good gestures
Never quite fix

Only building hells
Less known
Than deepest pits
Always nearest
By turning backs
Just adjacent
Finding demons
Pressed against walls.

  • J. Pigno

Make great art
While you can
Before youthful bliss
Should expire
And engage in love
Without reason
While embracing pain
If it shows.

Do not risk
Or rummage experience
For lessons lost
Seeking hindsight,
But redeem
What fantasy lingers
By pursuing dreams
Here and now.

Instead,
Find passion in interests
Where forever sits
Biding moments
Knowing days stand still
Since we wish them
Yet another chance
At this gift.

Achieve those goals
Idealistic,
Even though your woes
Become heavy –
Let reality
Buckle from madness
Watching someone
Defeat their own sin.

Build bridges
Across new heights,
Letting paths unfold
Though they waver
Like wooden planks
Shaking wildly
Daring walks above
Fallen worlds.

Make faces turn
Hiding envy,
Quitting jobs
Whose roles imply nothing,
Choosing poverty
Over successes
Only gaining
Man’s worsening ills.

Time bends these limits
We’ve tested,
Leaving fate unsure
Despite caution,
So toss these lines
Bearing weakness
Fighting God
On terms more insane.

Choose words
Immortal as death,
Sacred bets
All writers must wager –
No phrase
Lives beyond our gamble
Fearing brokenness
Beautifully said.

  • J. Pigno

I’m okay with 
Losing my voice

And the fact
This writing falters

Where expression
Becomes misleading 
And passion proves
Unsure, 

While attempting
Redundant feats
Out of feeling
Entirely different 
Than I had
When creating poems 
From fear
My soul would waste.

Now here is
One last try
To convey that Lord 
Whose comforts
Provide these words
Through solace 
In being 
Wholly content –

Unknown
But truly free,

Gracing faithful men
Well-meaning,

Outside cheers
Or idle worship
Our now fallen world
May yield.

See belief
Sees scorn its praise
As one dirty term
Depicted
Amid twisted acts 
Most witness
On small touchscreens
Hands will hold,

Though Christ’s heaven
Knows how silence
Yields much greater fruit
Than screaming
Over airwaves
Telling stories
Every living saint 
Must bear.

I can tell you
God is NOT
How most biased crooks 
Still sell Him –

Neither racist,
Nor homophobic,

Never sexist   
Or seeking cash.

He encompasses
Every flag
While condemning
Marching bigots,

Watching zealots 
Wield their weapons,

Mourning nations
Housing hate:

Begging peace
Yet leading hearts, 

Holding tongues
Since passing judgments,

Blazing paths
By sheer example
Causing changes
Time does show. 

For I’m learning
Loudest sins
Are relieved
Through quiet gestures –

If my prose 
Should only whisper,

Then perhaps its best
Unheard. 

  • J. Pigno

Even now
After I’m married
There are moments
Which cloud my feelings,

Those pictures
That haunt each memory
Catching reels
On single frames:

Turning any
Particular girl

Into ideas
Some women stay muses

Well beyond
Your time spent with them
Or perhaps
Never meeting at all –

This belief
Of irony blessed,

So wrong
In every actual aspect,

While validating
Toxic perfection
During films
We’ve always watched.

It’s obsession
Become salvation,

Appearances
Preceding essence,

Such wayward looks
Existing,

Destinations
Lost but found –

When attention
Grows inspired
By what force
Her smile conjures,

Capturing snapshots
Carrying daydreams
Still projecting
Needs not met.

Why do I search
Bad habits
Keeping reality
From exceptions,

Yet ignoring
Changes needed
For maturing
Without grief?

I’m mourning
Teenage years
Spent inside
Enjoying movies,

Wishing females
Were just angels
Who’d accept me
Lacking depth.

Knowing God
Moved highest mountains,

Finding love
Seems much more special

By this miracle
Called commitment
Trading vows
I’d hardly earned.

She has proved
Fixations pass
Learning lonely prayers
Climb summits
Above partners
Stuck near morals
Only lowly souls
Deem fair,

Soon forgetting
Steepest kisses,
Cold and stinging,
Sore like sorrows –

Meaning symptoms
Conquer fantasy,

Though my wife
Relieves their ills.

  • J. Pigno

Poets do not work. They sail the seas of boredom, and pursue their idle journeys towards such freedoms deemed too poor.

They never seek shore of success, but instead sink fast like shipwrecks – forgotten but drowned through silence, submerged as our relics lost.

They are victorious purely in mystery – plundered only by feeling, and revealed as dangerous expressions when discovered on ocean floors.

They exist for beauty to fade, and age to indulge their meaning, to preserve how God or muses dwell where ghosts swim chasing fame.

Do not fear this brine. For praise is much more lethal. Like dry land, mere shadows of wisdom, proving money an obvious threat.

  • J. Pigno

Expression
Lacks real substance
Falling fast
In colorless words,

A distilled
And quieted anger
Like cold droplets
Caught from rain
On that pale
New winter’s morn
Where this wheeze
Called frozen drizzles
Spills past clouds
Whose subtle weather
Offers weak
And meager snow –

Hailing tears
Once blue as lips
Before God Himself
Kept coughing
Over open skies
So dreary
Only silence
Seems more pure
Than raw voices
Shouting claims
How old dreams
Became despondent
Among shadows
Clothing landscapes
Hung by illness
Heaven makes.

I’m speechless
If not bored
Wasting time
Since watching flickers,

Teasing screens
Which tell me stories
Lost between
Those pages scrolled –

Serving single suns
Observed,

Flashing smiles
Forced but vivid,

Leaving scenes
Of digital brilliance
Lighting pathways
Through each day.

My world outside
These windows
Is what truth
Eludes all senses –

Deceives
Though time keeps passing,

Darkens drifts
When white seems wrong.

Some feelings
Gasp for air,
While most others
Fade entirely.

Such faith melts
Much too quickly.

I’m still only
Seeing gray.

  • J. Pigno

I keep opening
Empty doors

Behind old dreams
Like curtains

Which hide those stages
Darkened
Beneath thick cloaks
Of red –

Where drama
Plays its ghosts

Hearing actors
Echo madness

Held inside
These phantom theaters
Plaguing silence
Rife with fear,

Knowing scripts
Have reached their peak

Much how God Himself
Intended

Posing questions
Leaving stories
Open-ended
Sharing grief.

Though His audience
Does applaud

Some refuse
Such adoration

Watching spotlights
Taint experience
Fade each rose
Between both feet –

Still just words
Whose frequent praise

Authors tears
Through honest readings

Only gained
By shedding wisdoms
After learning
Books can lie.

All dialogue
Seems absurd
While depiction
Precedes essence

Urging frowns
Around exposure
To what art
May hollow souls.

Every dogma
Betrays meaning

Digging access
Below courage

Finding pain
That secret entrance
Among gates
When faith should close

Broken latches
If they swing
Letting hinges
Draw attention

Deeming noise
Another vessel

For expression
Soon obscured.

  • J. Pigno

Believe
All possible outcomes
Now that lies
Have become our gospel

And whispers
The loudest of voices

Allowing their hate
To be known.

We’re complicit
Not only in ignorance,

But accepting
These deeds by silence

Like a country
Once bent on kneeling
Towards those hands
Which smack its face.

This siege
Shows every symptom
Through society’s
Selfish lifestyle –

Money,
An enabled illness,

Like pride
Some killer disease.

Deadly,
Though rampant still,

How similar themes
Remain telling

Even when nature
Expresses
Germs are also
Despicable men.

  • J. Pigno