A hundred years from now, a party girl, a cosmetic, plasticised goddess, will be so at home that she will be despised by the average man, as one who fears for his petty career and trembles! Honour deliberately digs a pit in the bottom of the pit of calculating games, and no one cares about the chattering mouth-carat of the puppets in the tabloid media!

The new-avant-garde prose line of poems is shouted down, saying: one-night stands have more east! Morals and humanity long since shed, mothers of children can't know what an uncertain livelihood and a messy tomorrow might bring!


The trembling, weeping cries of the little angels shiver like painful vapours in the abandoned alleyways of the streets! - What this present ******* Kor is extracting from itself, and creating, its pathetic beneficiaries are also, like molehills, hiding in underground, apocalyptic worlds, chewing on the hard-to-get, gnawing colonies!

A greedy food-chain insidiously lurks in the tunnels of each one's secret instincts; the strong devour the weak, the weak the weakest, and while the Golgotha-stricken vulnerable clamour for more reprieves from the company of lords and petty kings, their pathetic shipwrecked lives are consciously fearful - no-man's-land, fly-**** infects their chances of survival too!