Ephemeral Equilibrium

In ancient times, when earth was young, 

Where primordials and nature sung, 

A tribe in harmony, they thrived, 

But nature's wrath, they soon contrived.

The world grew cold, the ice did spread, 

Those who adapted, found warmth instead. 

The unadaptable, in frost, did fall, 

Luck played its hand, claiming near all.

Rains did pour, the rivers swelled, 

Together they built, and higher they dwelled. 

Quick to adapt, they found their way, 

While others, in waters, were swept away.

The ground shook with tremors, the earth did quake, 

Shelters they sought, for survival's sake. 

The adaptable thrived in the caves they found, 

But fate struck hard, many lives fell down.

The mountains erupted, the lava did flow, 

Ash clouds soared high, and the fires did glow. 

Those who fled with a quickened pace, 

Survived the fire, found a safer place.

Like Adam and Eve, the last to stand, 

In a new wilderness, they made their land. 

They knew to adapt, or perish they might, 

But for now, life was easy, no danger in sight.

Their children grew, in peace they played, 

Unaware of the dangers, their parents had braved. 

A reminder to all, who’ve lived long and wise, 

Adapt or be trampled, entropy flies.

Henosis Demise

In days of old, on Henosis Isle, 

Where nature thrived and hearts were mild, 

A shift began, a selfish tide, 

As "me before all" took its stride.

The fisherman, with nets so wide, 

Caught more than needed, cast aside 

The balance once so dearly kept, 

As fish stocks dwindled, oceans wept.

The farmer, too, with greedy hand, 

Used poisons that defiled the land, 

For higher yields, he sold his soul, 

And fertile fields turned barren, cold.

The merchant brought in goods so cheap, 

Non-biodegradable heaps, 

The beaches once so pure and bright, 

Now buried deep in plastic blight.

Communal duties, once embraced, 

Were now neglected, left disgraced, 

Each person for themselves alone, 

The seeds of discord widely sown.

The island's beauty, once so grand, 

Now marred by selfish, careless hands, 

Pollution spread, resources drained, 

And tensions rose as hope was waned.

Desperation, conflict grew, 

As neighbors fought for what they knew, 

The sense of unity was lost, 

And every gain came at a cost.

No redemption, no reprieve, 

Just endless suffering, hearts bereaved, 

The island's fate, a tragic tale, 

Of how self-interest can prevail.

In the end, the isle lay bare, 

A testament to those who dare 

To put themselves before the whole, 

And lose their way, their heart, their soul.

The population dwindled, gone, 

As nature's wrath kept pressing on, 

Henosis Isle, a ghostly land, 

A warning carved in shifting sand.

Liberty without security

 Bellavis, Renowned Opera Diva, Passes Away at 67

In the realm of opera, few names resonate as profoundly as Bellavis. Her voice, a haunting melody akin to a lark's mating call, captivated audiences throughout the land. Bellavis, born Isabella Avila, passed away yesterday at the age of 67, leaving behind a legacy of both triumph and tragedy.

The beginning of Bellavis's journey to stardom was not paved with gold but with the grit and determination of a young woman from a small, impoverished town. Her early years were marked by struggle and hardship, performing in local venues where she enjoyed the liberty to sing whatever her heart desired. It was in these humble beginnings that Bellavis found true freedom, a time when her voice was her own, unbound by the expectations of others.

Her big break came when a renowned music producer, Maximilian "Max" Silversmith, discovered her at a local performance. The contract he offered promised fame and fortune, but it came with strings attached. Bellavis's rise to fame was meteoric. She became known for her unique voice, which resembled an enchanting bird song. Her signature performance, "The Bird's Lament," brought her widespread acclaim, but it also became her gilded cage.

As her fame grew, the diva's freedom diminished. She was forced to perform "The Bird's Lament" in every performance, wearing an elaborate, peacock-like costume that became her chante emblématique. Bellavis's life became a series of rehearsals, performances, and public appearances, leaving little room for personal expression. During this period, Bellavis sought solace in gluttony and drink, habits that slowly took their toll on her figure and her once-pristine voice. The golden bars of her success confined her, and she longed for the liberty she once had.

In her final years, Bellavis's lust for freedom became more pronounced. She did not expect it to become her final stadium performance when she decided to break free from her gilded cage. In what has been described by some critics as her swan song, she belted out a guttural version of "La Campanara di Libertas." The audience, however, was not moved. Widely panned, her rendition crumbled her reputation. Bellavis was reviled by critics and erstwhile fans alike for deviating from her signature performance, and her career in the spotlight came to an abrupt end.

As the gigs dried up, Bellavis seemed to have found a kind of liberation in returning to her roots. Although few records exist, it seems she often sang for free in small venues and karaoke bars. Some claim she finally found joy in the freedom to express herself without constraints. She died a pauper.

Bellavis is survived by her sister, Maria Avila, and her few devoted fans who will forever cherish the memory of her enchanting rendition of lament. A private funeral service will be held, with a public memorial to be announced at a later date.

Man's expenses are the species profits

 The bottom line shows what you achieve,
The top line shows what we all believe.

The bottom line tells of your deeds,
The top line tells of our shared needs.

The bottom line marks your own way,
The top line marks how we all sway.

The bottom line shows your own might,
The top line shows our collective light.

The bottom line is your own quest, 

The top line is how we all do our best.

Death memory

 

Pro Forma Drama Dilemma

 Pro Forma Drama Dilemma

In a land where llamas wear pajamas, 

And commas dance with charisma, 

A gamma burst of plasma, 

Ignites a drama-filled schema.

The aroma of a prima donna, 

Fills the air with a sweet enigma, 

While magma flows in a pro forma, 

Creating a scene of trauma and stigma.

In Panama, a pharma diploma, 

Hangs beside a firmament's maxima, 

Solving life's dilemmas, 

With a touch of cosmic firma.

From coma to enema, 

The universe's grand schema, 

Unfolds with a rhythmic drama, 

In a land where llamas wear pajamas.

Reaching and settling

 "Thank you for settling for me as I reached for you," he said.

"What? No! I reached for you, and you settled for me!" she replied.

"I beg to differ, my dear. I'm so lucky to have even the shadow of your love," he insisted.

"Oh, you silly man, I'm still reaching out to hold on as you fly," she smiled.