Soc"i"al Network"i"ng

Programming the literary device results in a bug:

a web host that doesn't operate in prose,
a wall post that doesn't separate friends from foes.
Social networking has synonyms in staying connected,
idling,
stalking,
gossiping,
assuming,
and mocking.
Status updates that don't speak the mind, don't express but impress...
Games that don't entertain but distress...
Strangers that request friendship be ignored...
Becoming fans of strangers however is encouraged and bode...
Badges to pin on pages define who we are...
But sometimes allies will tag and tell and raise the bar or mar...
Are we looking in the face or booking on a face?
If I share this wall, what about MySpace?
Without these, my God, how will I twitter, how will I pitter-patter?
the tattles might be bitter, the rattles they clatter...but how does all this matter?
I just published this and earned myself a gossip platter...comment, like, dislike, share, stare?

M"i"rage

How will I see myself if I weren’t me?
That’s a confection I will not drill to see.
How will I be myself if I wouldn’t be…
Is there a resurrection that will instill me inside, to acquaint with the outside me?
Many questions remain, and yet we abstain from thoughts
Much as time marvels at its own action plots
How will I free myself if I weren’t to flee?
That’s a protection to ensure: I will never meet me

Glossary in this context (Courtesy: Answers.com)
Confection = A piece displaying splendid craft, skill, and work
Resurrection = The act of bringing back to practice, notice, or use; revival
Marvel = One that evokes surprise, admiration, or wonder

Pr"e"fac"e"

Have you ever been through a phase when you want to jump out of your skin?

Scratching, itching yourself to do something worthwhile?

Have you ever been in a craze when you want to pour a pump to your whim?

To jot it down before it loses it substantiality, to capture it before it ends, to preserve in a file…

of things to do before you die?

If the answer is yes, one must stand up and get it – for the skin will outgrow it

If a no, one may keep sitting and not fret it – for no one but us will ever know it.

I really do not know what makes me write: if it is the absence of the better or the presence of the best.

I don't even know why I created "The Mouse" when I was six, considering I have such loathsome aversion (never mind the double negative) towards rats; okay, I do believe in equality but understandably those creatures have something uncommon, a lot uncommon and so, I hate them; also, because they have a marvelous skill of running away from action.

When I wrote "The mouse in my house ate my blouse”, I think I was imitating "Twinkle, twinkle little star.” However, after coming a long way, I do realize that I haven't changed in attempting to create a lyrical mood and capture a strong rhyme scheme. I think the breakage of a steady and smooth flow of operations in my life propelled that urge.

People say writers wage empty wars and fight silent battles and there are those who said, “Pen is mightier than the sword.” However, I believe words definitely have the power to generate kinetic energy - say for instance the wars that are waged as a result of words like "God"or "Land"

So what is my propellant fuel? Well, obviously something is missing! The things we do get in life: we hardly comment on them. And that is probably because we're so engrossed in having them.

I have, for most part, since comprehended the meaning of love (actually I still haven't but even though we haven't fully lived before dying we say we lived...so exactly I say I have comprehended) have spent my imagination in contemplation and serious disgruntlement. I think no matter what society you come from, as Shakespeare rightly tapped: all basic human emotion is the same. And as a result of emotions, I have come to make my expression public. This blog (my first in reality and hundredth in mindful existences) is dedicated to my longest source code of kinetic energy that never ebbs and never sets: expressing.