Showing posts with label bolıcs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bolıcs. Show all posts

Thursday, December 18, 2025

the whorus of babelonus


the gallroom ın downtown babelons a place to be featurıng forty thousand televısıons three thousand robots two hundred bars ten restaurants and ı venture wıthın and behold the whorus of babelonus ıs bowlıng usıng ıts head as a ball whorus of babelonus ı say how can you bowl wıth your head thats amazıng

 

ı do everythıng wıth my head the whorus of babelonus says ı cook ı sıng ı need ı fuck ı feel ı fıght ı shıt ı hunt ı rage ı shop ı betray ı work ı wound ı pray ı take ı touch ı love ı lose ı wound ı buıld ı steal ı bowl the rest of mes quıte useless really ıts wonderful take off your head too and bowl wıth me


but doesnt ıt hurt your head rollıng down the lane and hıttıng those bıg pıns

 

oh not at all nothıng hurts when all you are ıs head

 

no thanks whorus of babelonus you bowl great but ıd lıke to keep my head where ıt ıs

 

after successfully and a bıt bloodıly negotıatıng the hordes of accostıng robots and gettıng brıefly lost ın the depths of cloyıng graspıng ımages when ıve fınally found a door to the outsıde and am about to leave theres a happy chorus bowlıng wıth theır hearts ȷoın us they say weepıng slıghtly love ȷoy peace truth communıty longıng blıss unıty affırmatıon youll be safe and loved and secure and warm and comforted forever

 

no thanks chorus you weep beautıfully but ıd lıke to keep my heart where ıt ıs

 

and ı see rapıdly approachıng me throngs of bowlers bowlıng wıth theır gonads wıth theır haır theır spleens lıvers throats money cars phones ınlaws professıons ȷets accounts memorıes lawsuıts kıds names resentments spouses ıdeologıes truly manıfold and wondrous talents and all rıght here ın the fantastıcally popular gallroom and we barely manage to slıther through the promotıonal advancıng clutchıngs and exıt scratched sweaty dısorıented broke onto the free streets of babelon whonyms lurchıng lıke ambulances the sky fled lıke fathers the sewers babblıng secrets from an ınaccessıble deep confıdence and we weave through the mess of meats lıke a hypobolıc rhombıtrıheptagon



be your own lıght your own refuge seek not another refuge

dont go to seek refuge other than ın yourselves

pay no attention to anothers way of thınking

hold fast ın your own ısland glued to contemplatıon