Idyll s reality 

 
 
The will and the opportunity, if we all wanted it together, would still be lost! A 
The man of the new postmodern age is the gigolo, the model and the wily vigilante! 
Who explains his bribed turncoats with his job description and, if he really has to, shakes out the fake cheques from the depths of his fat wallet! "At last! You've just turned up! What do you see? She's not in her right mind, she's got a sharp tongue, so she must be a newsreader!" 
 
I don't care what the villains splash between my eyes with their ugly talk, I'll be even silent if someone wants me, and I'm vulnerable with a child's soul! If I remember where I have not turned, And almost died in a siege of blue-purple stains, In schoolyards, on toilet bowls! 
 
Wordlessly, yet with forced smile I have endured much; The integrity of my bones was threatened long ago By the petty fury of apocalyptic vengeance,- I cannot surrender to clown-balek- Ominous Cassandra's message will target me, I'll be a target on the altars of despair! Child-crazy, half-witted lead soldiers: was there ever a more gullible and naive man than I, whose simpletonism was bordering on the forgivable? 
 
Would I have ploughed on, if I had showered my broken soul with nectar I could hardly have done so! Twenty-eight years old, the ever-child, charming and lovable 
who always opened the honest doors of his soul at the wrong time: while shame and murderous humility!