Joseph A. Pinto

barflypoet & author of dark fiction

Blame it on the scotch…


A Distilled Spirit: pained prose from a bar‘ now ready for consumption at:

Amazon paperback:

Amazon kindle ebook:

Barnes and Noble:

UK Amazon paperback:

UK Amazon kindle ebook:


I am proud to announce the release of ‘A Distilled Spirit: pained prose from a bar.’

Pour yourself 161 poems written exclusively from inside the pubs I haunt.

Available on Amazon as paperback or Kindle ebook: (copy and paste link)

Available at Barnes and Noble: (copy and paste link)

so what is ‘a distilled spirit?’

these are conversations heard both outside and inside my head,
interludes drawn from sights seen in front of and behind my eyes;
an encapsulation of regret and regression, death and demise.

they are the interpretation of lives unraveling before me.

become my companion interloper as you sip from this collection,
or slam it back in a gulp.

pain is beautiful. pull up a chair.


‘godzilla is on my shoulder’

godzilla is on my shoulder
a mutant of my environment
roaring, roaring
in a vacuum.

godzilla tripped off every early warning alarm
though no one gave it pause—
in its wake lies desolation;
it stomps in isolation.

godzilla is on my shoulder
misunderstood as it may be;
some think the beast has just woken

friends, it has never slept.

© Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.


you are completely oblivious
i am a wayward soul;
i possess no anchor.

how do you not see
the water i’ve taken on?

i’ve drifted, drifted
over the course of many moons
prey to siren’s call.

let the north star guide you
while i remain rudderless—
my night pregnant with storm.

© Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.

Time for another entry into my #whatpainsyouproject…

‘found things’

the music preceded him before
he entered the room. he took
his seat beside me, stroking

wistfully that beard of his
and said i wish i’d written
that, that song in my head but

i got lost in the things-to-do
and the things-i-wish-i’d-done.
he took a long draw from his

drink, held it like a captive bird
in his mouth and mourned the freedom
of his spirit. i mourned with him,

drank with him, listened to the
band he could not hear. we drank,
we had too many shots and cried until

i said it’s not the dollars lost
for your family, brother,
but rather the chords you strum for their hearts;

we drank together through the night,
the ballad found in his ears.


#whatpainsyouproject –
a poem for an anonymous reader and their pain…

© Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved.