Slobodni, divlji čovjek izumro je prije više tisuća godina. Zamijenio ga je bijedni, sterilni, servilni čovječuljak. Zamijenio i preplavio planetu svojim klonovima, krpenim lutkama, uveo robovski, podanički mentalitet i doveo ga do savršenstva... do apsurda. Divlji, drevni, nekadašni čovjek i moderni čovjek nemaju bitnih dodirnih točaka. Ovaj prvi je izumro, ovaj drugi je preuzeo stvar, pritom se razvivši u čodovište, frankenštajna, spodobu, ekstremnu blijedu sliku čovjeka, kopiju kopijine kopije onoga što je čovjek nekada bio. Slobodni čovjek.
Istina, divlji čovjek je izumro i čini se kao da ga nema više, kao da ga nikada nije ni bilo. Njegov period postojanja se čak i ne smatra povješću, već "pret-povješću", "pra-povješću". Koja bi to bila povijest koja je prethodila povijesti, to pustimo modernim spodobama, polu-ljudima, raznim stručnjacima i velikim znalcima da se dogovore između sebe. Mene ipak zanima taj divlji čovjek. I što se dogodilo s njim. Kako je nestao. I zašto je nestao. Ne. Ne zanimaju me zapravo silni detalji, nagađanja, priče o "pra"-ljudima, zamišljanja ni maštanja o nekom davnom životu nekih ljudi tamo daleko.
Divlji čovjek nije tako daleko kako se možda čini. Ni slučajno. On je živi potencijal koji se nalazi u mnogim, mnogim ljudima koji toga možda nisu ni svjesni. Oni znaju da mnogo toga ne štima. Oni znaju da im se laže, da ih se iskorištava, da ih se zaglupljuje, da ih netko koristi za ostvarenje ciljeva koji nisu njihovi. U njima je divlji čovjek na pomolu, koračić do buđenja.
Da razjasnimo, postati divlji ne znači otkriti Tarzana u sebi. Znači postati autentičan, živjeti autentično, skinuti nepotrebne kretenske umjetne naslage sa sebe koje su nastajale generacijama. Postati divlji znači iskoračiti iz obrazaca. Kretati se van tračnica. Tu više nema utabanog puta. Svako utabava svoj put.
nastavak slijedi...
Evo jedne od najboljih pjesama ikad. Ona ima puno veze s divljim čovjekom. Zanimljivo je znati da ju je Bob napisao kad su mu bile tek 22 godine. Dečko tih godina mogao je do takvih spoznaja doći samo iznutra. Kroz tekst ove pjesme provlači se cijeli niz tema, cijeli niz mudrosti, spoznaja, zaključaka i pitanja. To nije tek puka "pjesma". Stavljam cijeli tekst ispod videa. Cijeli tekst je odličan, a oni meni najdojmljiviji djelovi su boldani.
Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.
Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.
Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.
So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.
As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.
Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.
Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.
You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit To keep it in your mind and not forget
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.
While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him.
While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.
But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.
Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.
While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally Life sometimes
Must get lonely.
My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?
And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
