Oh! many a times have much must I
Obliterate this realm of semantic bullshit
These words of mine hold so much import
In a language that you will never seize.
My torment is given just another infantile name
The heart-wrenching disgust is not for you morons
I’d rather be a pompous, conceited maniac
Than be a streetwalking fatalist spiritual nincompoop.
The enemies of my spirit, are the enemies of humanity
Just because I endorse the emancipation of the free spirit?
The hypocritical advocates of, ironically, humanity are themselves
The feeders of the cadavers of your spirit and mine reckless.

The BlackBerry, the elite, and a question of civil liberties
Food for thought: It is time to junk Haldirams and Nestlé