solace

beams, sun, and the warmth that feels safe
this is my corner, this is my place..
and it is all i ask for really, somewhere to hide
when the stress and guilt of not making it tides..

so we run away! into that little cozy place
and hibernate for weeks, or months or days
knowing its wrong, yet we still seek solace
but from whom? now, we're not very honest
afraid of the answers, so we reject the questions
is that a man's way? to deny his passion?
it is a common disease, yet one which will not fade
growing in pain, as we move into old age
the wastelands are outside where sharp wind blows
we love the little box, so in we go..
do you feel happy really?
do you?

my criticisms were meant to help
and im still waiting
but no matter what happens, at least you once believed

a blur of lights, swirl, fuzzy insight

who? where? what? thinking as i blink twice

am i? i just am,

i do,

a man,

where? is this? perhaps

and the grey scares me, hues of uncompromising

tones which speak of not even trying..

and a little book in this corner, dusty it seems

pick it up, says, the illusion of being

so it hit me, i was, i am, i might still be

what's a person, his soul? or just his deeds?

and so the box came into sight, there was no box

but we wanted a category, to organize the thoughts

so we set it up, and so too, society was brought

for it is a man, who determines his lot

if you so chose so, you could be an 'anything'

for nothing is seen, except energy in glimpses

am i crazy?

it's funny how they place the blame on the youth

sure, they have to take a certain amt of responsibility

but still, their values were cultivated from mimicking the previous generation

if you say the youth does not give a fuck, think about it

do you give a fuck?

have you ever led them to believe in one solid system, one dream

whoever who sold them these dreams of street life has succeeded

one in which violence and apathy is celebrated

but are the persons involved cleaning up the mess? no

and did the parents stop them from even creating the mess? no

who created the system in the first place? the rat race, paper chase

where both parents go to work, and think that as their job

and the education system has failed us

oh to see the next 100 years

nobody can help you but urself

u say u want it? then work for it

teach a man to fish...

sometimes you need to live up to the hard truth

people are so fucking afraid to have an opinion
hiding behind an excuse of not wanting to be the one who judges
but isnt that precisely what we do almost all the time
when we look at something, we appraise its value and judge it
it is not wrong to say something is bad when something is bad
and not necessarily wrong even if that something is good
but it is not in the interest of progress to just dodge and not give an opinion on everything
criticism brings about change in most situations when not done to excess

Online privacy is a minefield. Individuals and businesses are placing more information and more trust in a small group of powerful organisations. The email accounts of the Guardian, Times, Financial Times and Telegraph are all managed by Google. How far should the media trust Google to protect its off-the-record sources? Hundreds of millions trust Facebook with the minutiae of their daily lives. Tracking people down has never been easier than in the online era, and as individuals we have never had so little control over our privacy.

There are two ways to combat this. The first is limited: make sure the internet giants never have enough details to pass over. If setting up an anonymous Twitter account, use an anonymous email, use a tool like tor to hide your IP address, or even better, post from an internet cafe or similar. That's the limited, short-term fix. The bigger fix is to make sure it's in the interests of the companies managing the internet's main content sites to protect their users' privacy and resist incursion by the law.

we know more, but understand less
information overload burns us out, desensitizes us.

the grass is green yet feel so fearsome
we never forget our loneliness, forever it pierce in

and as the clock ticks, approaching the end
the little mice, blinded, the little mice ran.

you forget the revolutions, forget the emotions
wonder what it's like to take a stand.. fight for your soul and
they will not take my spirit, will not bind me to chains
i am the abel, and we are the cain