i cut out paper figures from the sky, from the sea

string them together like little beads

then rip them, tear them apart

like the ventricles of a breaking heart

i take them away, let them learn

then crumple them, or let them return

to ****** them at each other once again

bang, bang, together, bang, bang, the end

i shatter them, explode, bright like dying stars

watch them limp on with battle scars

then throw them to every corner of the Earth

to wander, wondering what they are worth

what could have beens

should have beens

would have beens

bang, bang, together, bang, bang, like shins

i make them talk, talk in tongues

that take up time, but waste their lungs

they speak in words, but they are bluffing

they are the voice, the voice of nothing

and still they walk, gasping for air

searching for a hand to tangle in theirs

tangle them, tangle them up

bang, bang, together, bang, bang, to dust

paper figures, paper hands

with paper skin, paper dance

and paper hearts, all alone

just piles of paper, piles of bones

to be recycled, back to the stars

to play again, play their parts

to leave once more, unpaid but well played

bang, bang, together, bang, bang, they fade

i crumple them, crease their flesh

make them wear a wrinkled dress

to show their beauty, hide their pain

hide and seek, the name of the game

i cut them loose, they drop their useless tongues

throw mortal blether to the wind, fill their winded lungs

paper, breakable, tearable, terrible

bang, bang, together, bang, bang, forever

Viktor Frankl's faith was trust that one's life holds meaning
trust in ultimate meaning...
t'me,
My word trust holds true and rest crammed together for support
to stand under knowing the entire set of upgrades
and lock changes,
to mankind-basic knowledge of good and evil, since my last
a filtration algo-i'll-go rythmn and hyme adjusterho rholler
that powers ourkind past wayless places
when language joins the gamers playing for glory, at any cost,

Old Glory

per pose haps need happening,
sans happy-ness,
what ness could ever be?

What's the haps? Don't lie.
What's goin' on? Don't lie. Say,

Regular stuff. My side's winnin'. A *** in Pershing Square,
under the Jesus Saves sign, brought that to mind,

Fifty years ago, for him, looked like "no direction home"

Sansara sera, whatever sera selah

Nihili, to the max, right. But,
we know
other than this now,
this
breath

thinking process of cognitive rythm building
thunderwordmagicalthoughtsenchanghgken

coughing final, expulsion of some invading barb,
a fiery dart, setting cooling

actions sponding to ligands loosed when the
third aveili in a micron failed to expell

smooth
slowww whoooshhhhh
in-a-ginning be da vita, see...

say I think I know this feeling

qwhy-esse quiessence,
a settling,
after all that could be shaken, was.

acid to water, or water to acid?
who would gno?

o tempestas
ira caeli
moles ingens nihili
te pervertis
ubi aestas
aerum pulsat calide
nunc appares
vorax nubes
tenebrarum columna
tum evanes
tam occulte
quam intrasti resonans