The Wisdom of Jordan Peterson

There is no more room for creative people.

We are a pain.
No more room for the bard.
No more room for the carpenter.
No more room for the baker.
No more room for the whistler,
The musician,
The painter,
The toy manufacturer.
The writer,
The poet;
The novelist---
No, novels must be written
By a collaborative on market trends---
No more drummers
No more stringed instruments,
No more worship,
No more books,
No more readers,
No more architects,
No more gardeners.
No more folk art, 
No more playgrounds.
No more toy guns or hula-hoops.
No more army men or matchbox cars,
Only aphantasia.

No, the only work that is left
Is the manager.
And the laborer.
And that is because the majority of people are so.

No more gingerbread houses,
No more vellum,
No more calligraphy,
No more ballads, hiakus or odes,
No more surrealism,
No more cubism,
No more realism,
No more philosophy,
No more, unless its figuring out
The next way to make money.

Jordan, reevaluate yourself.
This is what you believe in right now.
You’re a patron of the arts?
Yet, you can’t support this modern capitalism if you are.

No more quilters,
No more afghans,
No more photography,
No more card tables with the hinge
And patterned like a Chess Board.
No more nursery Rhymes,
No more fairy tales,
No more cookery,
No more paintings held in high esteem.
No more black or Indian faces on the cardboard design---

No, everything is mapped out.
Scientifically designed for the most use.
Created specifically for your viwwing pleasure.
Best meant not to offend, best created to make the most amount of money.
And creative you are, it is only so far as
It can make money.
Everything scientifically designed to produce the most---
The pink chosen because it calms, yet later it excites and annoys.
The Blue abandoned because it looks cheap.
The green used in abundance because people think they’re intelligent
If they prefer that color.
Chosen for their own vanity.
I like blue. And yellow. And Purple.
Chess hacked from computer engines.

I’m done.