i felt sorry
that i did not write
more poems this week
but then i realized
that when i am dead
no one will care
if i wrote one or hundred
poems in a week.

when my father died
i am hundred percent sure
that part of him
became a part of me.

so parts of my grandfather
and my great grandfather
and everyone before
became part of me as well.

in a world of 8 billion people
all art is made by few thousand people
for few hundred people

hundred little germans
walked down the street
and yelled loudly:
hale hit her!
hale hit her!
hale hit her!

and everyone thought
that they are nazis
but they are not.
they only want to
help a woman
who was hit by hale.

what happened next?

hypes come quickly
and erase old niche wisdom

hypes pass quickly
but old niche wisdom never comes back

after hundred hypes
no old niche wisdom remains

and the only thing people know how to do
is to follow more hypes

for democracy to really work
we must return to how we used to live
hundred thousand years ago
when we loved people more than ideas
so when we get upset
we chose people over ideas
instead of choosing ideas over people
because ideas are stupid anyway.

eventually
art will allow everyone
to communicate.
we are getting closer
to that moment.
in a few hundred years
people will accept that
art is not a limited asset
but an essential human
form of communication.
no person will be oppressed
for their lack of technical talent
and everyone will be celebrated
for who they are.
just a few hundred years more.
you will see.

you can be liberated
only if you change your mind
at least a hundred thousand times.

changing your mind
less than that many times
is not really liberating.