Rights of Individuals

Human Rights....

easy to define, hard to follow. And i'm nt even talking about the malaysian government.

>>>>>>>>>>
sister was meant to call today. Sister who loves me. She wanted to send me the picture of my nephew but she didn't, because she wanted me to hear him cry. And i thought, i could do the online chattin thing. Where i can listem to him cry. Listen to him let that cute cryin noise that they do. My galfren sez that it sounds noisy i dun think so. So i thought i'd go and buy myself some speakers.

>>>>>>>>>>>>

And he sed, passport.
I sed at home.
to jail with me then.
I'll get it now i sed.
Ur fren can do that.
And he did.
But the boss wasn't in.
So i'm still here stuck.
Detention centre they say.
Cramped up bed i say.
2 days i've been here.
Waiting for the boss to come.
But he hasn't i dunno why.
So i wait till tommorow.
And i have a test.
I do/am angry.
Though it will do me no good.
And so i wait till when.
I can hear the baby cry.
I can go back home.
And live my life free agian.

other issues of concerning malaysian media....

http://www.aliran.com/charter/monitors/

Comments

Celebrations

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 16 ; the sixteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . It was a hard ground that felt like sand paper. When he started his journey, it was the soles of his feet that were in contact with the ground, but now as he pulled himself closer to the station, it was his whole body. His elbows were scraped, bloody and fresh scab peeled bled out to leave a trail of red on the wicked hot dusty ground of pain and suffering. All around him slow moving bodies crawled towards the direction of hope, all along leaving patterns of blood, sweat, skin and pus. These bodies had seen civil wars, droughts, genocide and lived to tell a tale of a people who now belonged to a nation listed as one of the poorest countries in the world. This is now, but before the list, was a struggle of massive proportions, under reported and quietly hidden

Escape

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 10 ; the tenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . The Temple Widow A narrow dirt path, generously peppered with tiny pebbles, tiny miniatures of their gargantuan ancestors, leads to a bridge. It hangs, rickety and old. Old but not well used, old like abandoned and not frequently used. The bridge hangs low over a small stream that slowly gurgles past, happy unlike those that visit the place. The bridge leads to a temple. It is not very big, only perhaps the size of a small hut and at the most the size of an average temple hall. The temple has no deity; the temple has no one corner that doesn’t look like the other. It is clean, well swept, and empty. It has no furniture, and excepting a series of well spaced out windows, the walls remains uninterrupted. She stumbles in, the lady. She is not very tal

Time Travel

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 8 ; the eighth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton . I haven't got the memory of a vedic tantric. Neither do I ever claim to remember all. All I know is what I know, question my memory if you want to. I don't ask you to remember, I don't ask you to believe. In fact, I'm not asking you for anything at all. It is your choice to be here, to read this. So no, I don't owe you a favor. I happened to chance upon a watch, on one of my travels. Turning the dials of such a watch, could transport you to the past, to the future, to any time. But time, my friend, is not how you think it is. It is not a straight line, and you cannot just by chance hop into the world of dinosaurs and wooden weapons. It is a series of transparencies, like films of clean sheets of paper laid on top of each other. You look from above

Plate

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