Reflections on "Little red tree"

There is a small red tree in the garden. It is a sumac. It has leaves that recall autumn, in their chromatic shades, from yellow to red, passing through orange. The other day I was observing it and I thought about how many hands, at this moment, are joining together, like branches of the same tree. It is from this observation that the poem "Little red tree", "Little red tree" was born and almost immediately the intention to make a song manifested itself, which I immediately thought of in English. The small red tree can teach us the art of resistance, which we need so much at this time. It can teach us the art of Beauty. It can give us a new point of view. I've been writing about the system and its sadistic idiocy for years, its boundless barbarism and its blind psychosis, but I never imagined that we would get to this point in such a short time. A war is taking place between Intelligence and destruction, between the desire to be well without harming anyone and the desire for submission. Between those who need slaves and those who need nothing else but their own personal freedom. “Little red tree”, “Little red tree” are two revolutionary compositions. I have always thought about the Revolution, I have written a lot about it, over the years, but now the time has come to fight with Intelligence and peace, determination and a spirit of constructiveness, as opposed to their desire to devastate, kill the legitimate aspirations of individuals, brand them as subjects. all peoples obedient. We don't want this. We don't need their tricks. We reject anything that goes against our authentic capacity for self-determination. We want to discover our identity and fly high. We want to be free men. We want to fully enjoy the gifts of life. They built an asphyxiating cage around man, this is not how it should go, we cannot accept this. They took everything away, leaving people hopeless. Now is our time. Now we have to raise a new song. Now we have to defend ourselves. Peacefully, we must march. Beautiful in our nakedness, proud to be men and women, free on the streets of the world. They never loved us. They never took care of us. We were only producers of a wealth that was then shared only by them, leaving us, as alms, a salary with which to try to get by. One at a time, they all betrayed us: the government, associations, journalists, television stations, the trade union. Now we are left alone in our will to be, to love, to rejoice. Now is the time. Maybe there won't be another one. Maybe tomorrow will be too late. I thought for a long time, I pondered my words and the word that has resonated the most in all these days is "Sucker". I feel disgust for what the powerful have done, because theirs is a world made up of growing garbage, which accumulates everywhere, with coprophagous men who kill Beauty, suffocating it with the stench of choices against Humanity. My gentlemen, this is a war, the simplest and oldest in the world: on the one hand there are people, who aspire to the light, on the other, the monsters who want to kill the poetry of the happy Mankind that creates infinite works of art. . We are in the trenches. A war, when it is just, must also be fought alone, but we are not alone, we have brothers, scattered here and there. Courage, well! We are called to defend the Earth from destruction. The planet and its human and other species' life. They have built around the person, who, by his nature, aspires to be free and proud, an infinite series of cages. Thought cages. Economic cages. Social cages. It's time to end it. Either they win and Humanity will be a slave for the next few centuries or we win and this Planet will be shining. Let's unite!

​¡Buen viento, Marineros!