Snow falls in the mysterious barren city of Sahara Where the beach is cozy and warm in winter Sir Everest is a short fellow in town afraid of heights We heat up fire with hot flames of water. The Poor daydream of favour and refuse to labour The Rich strives daily like a poor man smitten by poverty The forbidden fruits are in high demands in our stores Morals are rotten feeds for street swines. Mr. Murderer is a Judge with one philosophy: If you get killed you are simply foolish and guilty Intelligence hacks the database of mediocrity The Preacher cries "Lord! I have sinned" The Sinner smiles and say "You are forgiven." Miss truth became a nagging Nun So we had her replaced by Professor Lies. Men wear Make-ups and do chores Women go to work and never get pregnant Shadows are painted in colours Pens are simply erasers What is seen are not real Fiction is our reality and fantasies its pages. Next Poem