People I enjoy and who add a spark to my mind.
The Revolution is Dead Amit Mehra
Lines are blurring between journalists, artists and spin doctors. Oh well what is the difference now anyway... used to be, not anymore.
There was a time when, for journalists and artists, there was only one master - the public. Now they serve masters who claim to be servants. There was a time when journalism and art was about fighting fear. Today it is about propagating it, branding it, selling it and defending it.
Journalists, artists were outsiders breaking down walls for humans to stay free.
Today we are the wall that contains minds from being free. Today, there are no outsiders. Only siders. We rush in like fools and side with puppeteers of our choice, ready to be played like a violin.
Revolution is dead. They never played our song. There are no rebels,
no followers. Only masters and servants, feeding on corpses of us and them.
I don't have a child. I was a child. My father said, be honest. If I have a child, would I tell him that? What would he do with it? This is 2015. The keepers of truth and honesty traded their shops for a franchise of lies. Where will a child fed on honesty work? Morgue?
Revolution is dead. We're all peddling lies packaged, branded and marketed as a song of progress. Dead do not progress, we lie in still waters. So then are we dead or alive?
Look at the life flashing in front of your eyes. Try to breathe. Are you able to? That's what I thought.
So here we are. As alive as dead can be. Amuse yourself with hate, ridicule, violence. You are not going anywhere. Dead don't progress.
The revolution is dead. The Czars of yore are the poster boys of the planet dark. There was no Sun. He was just an imaginary friend.
How did this happen? Oh there are many theories around. You can buy them in shops that sell lead in germ-free tetra packs.