A New Day
It is a new day. The old way will not serve us now, never did, as anyone of us can tell.
Yet there are a million voices coming from that dead, defunct, most hopeless time. Mechanical voices calling to everybody else “follow us” as if they are certain we are certain
we must follow some body.
That’s the same bus full of nuts that brought us to want to close the shop and give it all up.
It’s these identical parrots from the museums and crusty old school houses groomed in the old way to stand apart as leaders who want to ask us to give another chance to what has never worked, I tell ya. It’s a gaggle of authors, musicians, actors, film makers, therapists, entrepreneurs, politicians, scientists, all of them afraid not to be bosses. They must think us inept.
To top it off, these gangsters turn profits that satisfy paltry, selfish motives by capturing on legal documents the ownership of all the art made and being made by lonely, devoted individuals who go venturing into the deepest recesses of life to keep promises each remember were made to life’s giver at the moment of first breath. Do you recall you made such a promise? If you do, this is a new day for you.
