Wandering the Grounds
Exiled now…outside of this Slotted bubble we can see his world. A foreign land of new-old ideas. How to re-enter now that I have been spit out?
Frozen wanderer. Frozen cold outer circles,
I want back in the academy. Why am I in this maze?
This labyrinth though is not my demise.
Daedalus denies the days demise…he devises
A plan from out of this wasteland.
We pray for the warmth, the heat and hearth
We pray too for a flood, pray for the rain
we want mom to wash away all this stupid shit.
To flush it down the drain
and bathe the baby in fresh waters again.
Then a voice from the heights:
Here is your ark.
Here is your womb.
Warm water’s room
for all who hear me.”
The coming Flood and the Vessel…
Towed by two in tow, toe to toe, tete a tete.
Then, he appears in the clouds.
Sloterdijk is here again! He has let us back in!
…now telling us, we spared ribs of discarded souls,
“ Go forth and multiply, brick by brick, bric a brac, wall by wall.
I am the morpho-god, architect of walls and layers and layers”
We continue to build for him.
Yet he continues to care less
He has carelessly discarded our bones,
too many to count,
reminding us of our imprisonment
Behind these walls
A Call to Burst the Bubble
Let us create our own ark now.
Let us have our own fun with the flood.
Blood will be shed, we will prevail.
The others bubble is easy to burst if you enter in undetected.
We undercover agents
we bring our Horse House
…little by little, two by two,
towed toe to toe, the Trojan ready for battle.
We are aware now of the outer shield,
your Achilles heel,
the field of play.
All we wish is to have a spot in your world, Peter.
A slotted spot. We have proof of your orb.
We hear you spitting us out as your fat head forgets to lock the door.
Now we are back, as individuals banded together, r
eady to demand of your rule to include us,
to remember the closeness.
To remember the stories we shared.
“Let us back inside! We know your geometry.
We know your geometry…
we praise transference and refute loneliness!
Please, we love you and need you!!”
He fell for it.
We come inside like a endoscope invading the womb,
fetus blinded by a flash of light (it was only supposed to know sound!)
…and he passed, he passed through, passed out,
he turned out to be another lost life before it started.
We invade we invade we played in vitro invasion.
We thought it was a game, we gladiators, gladly entering the stage…
but it was all a stage, a sign of our age, staged and frightened
…we are all the fetoid child
curled up in its womb ball warm room
missing as we now float in darkness…
float in a bubble…float off into space.
Outer atmosphere…space is a frontier, but nothing is final.
We lose our life yet they remain.
Now from above…from out of the waters we emerge again…
others still splashing…we now philosophising…
the lost demising…Daedelus denies the days demise.
We rise from the ashes…
Platos invitation at the gate,
was really an invitation to not be late.
To not play in the rabble’s rubble…
but to blow bubbles
. To float off into space,
grounded in this place.
The peregrini… The Falcon Heavy….
saying to the rabble…don’t panic!
Why run frantic? Here we are again within our bubble…
the space is not within the city-place, the wall-palace…
but our atmospheric aroma remains.
I think we have sensed that this chunk of reading, along with the next possibly, is the central written orb for understanding the trilogy as a whole. If imagined as a fictional trilogy (as mentioned in an interview I have yet to find), Sloterdijk probably played around with the symmetry of the text as a whole. something like ((())) , with the various nested bubbles/rings/circles/etc. within and with out.