The Bermuda Triangle, does it still exist?
For a long time there has been no mention
No airplanes vanish, nor ships and boats missed
What’s happened to famed fifth dimension?
I read about time tunnels, unquiet zones
Toxic vapours of methane hydrate
Triangle get lost, so no happy returns
The last of great mysteries fades
Its magnetic field has been demagnetized
Or maybe the global warmth stroke
Bad seaweed has died, and the air clarified
So the danger zone evoked a joke
No one gives a damn was it fiction or truth
That old hype has veered off the track
But I'd much prefer to see this in the news:
“The Bermuda Triangle strikes back!”
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Targeting specific behaviors diets are targeted to certain types and admissions. A larger person is asked to reduce portion size and calorie intake.Expending energy: The scientific term for using the food you eat as fuel.Exerting physical effort: Best for describing workouts or high-intensity tasks.
Increasing physical activity. While a thinner person may be asked to evoked a calorie surplus meaning use less energy to maintain weight or gain healthier weight like in muscle gain.Body recomposition, meaning losing fat and gaining muscle. Balance your macros with nutrient-dense carbs for workout energy and healthy fats for hormone regulation
-------------Agamemnon-at Aulis------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------By:Epicurus C-----------------------------------------------------------------------"I owe her nothing as she is seen now as vile!" Written by: Epicurus Citium--------------------
Millions of decades ago,
ancient humankind had one purpose in life:
to find prey
every day,
a stomach that stayed full
until the next breath,
until the last breath.
Ideas stormed,
things evolved,
brains grew creative,
and eventually, we were called the smartest species on Earth.
Here we are, humans of today’s bin,
seeing the air around us
and wondering:
is this how it has always been?
This very planet once had souls whose purpose was big, yet small.
"Laughter, smiles — that's all we want."
However, today's baby is born with a paper and pen.
They start writing down desires, one after another, until the last day.
And boom — the list has already crossed a thousand before the age of ten.
From one corner of the world come screams for money and hymns,
while from another come cries for love.
This world is now full of deafening screams.
People are becoming breathless, chasing empty dreams.
A smile, evoked by ninety-nine reasons,
vanishes because of one statement.
The heart is weak,
the brain dominates.
It's the new normal.
The 8 billion pockets are getting heavy,
but are we ready?
I found a little picture once
On my way to work
It caught my eye and hooked my lip
and evoked a little smirk
This colourful little doodle
Struck me as profound
Amongst the hustle-bustle crowds,
Dreary sights and sounds
The entire world trudged along
With nothing new to say
But this little bit of colour
Stood out amongst the grey
There’s an artist that I came to know
Who is wonderfully inclined
To leave scraps of magic in the world
Just for us to find
My windows were wide open.
I learned to think broader,
I used to see the broader picture through my windowpane.
My wider views never taught me to squint my eyes
when it was time to look through others' spectacles.
I felt human bonds were made in paradise:
thus I evoked all the pain.
Failing to endure all the mental tortures from humankind,
doubts are evoking in my mind;
I don't know if that was just a green screen behind my windowpane!
EXEGISIS OF FRAGMENTS
concentrates
evoked
imagination
in
sorrowful
remembrance
inner
necessity
calculated
rationality
&
recreates
dedication
to
a
conglomeration
of
apparent
motifs
consumed
by
invention
IMPRESSIONS OF DEPTH-:-
style
qualitatively
refined
adorned
precisely
with DIFFERENT HUES
abstractedly
flowered
personified
surrounded
encircled
then SLIGHTLY SHIFTED
fostered
conceived
evoked
repeats
unrestrained
I.C.E.'s unhinged, unconstrained violence
killed a decent woman called Renée Good
It has evoked hot fury not silence
the fact that she had been misunderstood
Made Good look bad, glibbing he did what he had to do,
You see they’ve been given immunity
What is really sad, is he didn’t have to
Behold an assassin’s creed unity
This is a Force I cannot comprehend
Straight out of the fires of hell
The devil had us fooled, this Force NOT a godsend
Anyone can be taken; none safe from the ‘quota’ which makes my head swell
I look for answers and onto my faith
Yet nothing can fix an agent’s revenge
It’s all very cruel, his unkind heart‘ll force only his own wraith
Why must we be like this, I too look to avenge
Right of protest destroyed by violent emotion, becoming worse
There is no justice for Renée Good, only doubt
As her orphans ride off in a Hearse
Words kind and nice shall not suffice
From the depths of my soul, I shout
Kcuf I.C.E.!
Justice For Renée Nicole Good
1/10/26
OF MERCY AND DAILY BREAD
It’s death, not life,
That’s inevitable.
Rather than being evoked
By what we’re dying of,
Let us give God the praises
For what we’re daily living with:-
In God’s healing spirit,
That has us perpendicular,
We’re not breathlessly parallel:
Our mission, not yet completed:-
Remember, we pray for daily healing;
Thus, must be our daily thanksgiving:
Reflected in daily labors of love
As we share the sacred word:-
Thus, let us live and share peace and love,
In the best mission-purpose endeavors,
Until we hear that resurrecting holy whisper:
“Well done, my servant. Come…take your rest.”
I no longer trust the flowers of dessert mirages.
For years, Vikings have read mystical Runes.
They once soared forth in golden carriages.
Now every dawn returns their dreamy tunes.
A faery, I remain in vibrant flight.
A mystic born with Stardust and Cosmos.
My flight dreams transcend the mind's starry night
To realms where big truths and visions arise.
Handfasted once beneath the ancient Oak
Amid unwinding breaths of whispered wind,
Now freed to ride the cosmic tides evoked,
Ascending where the Celestials began.
No human heart knows where I am flying
With defiant fantasies unflinching.
This is the moment;
Those dreams were lost!
These yearning hearts are faraway!
To skip the worries that we chat freely;
But in this hurried world, it's all forgotten.
A photograph,
A faded hue,
A whisper that I sent to you.
The air is cold,
a hollow space,
where echoes of your laughter
Chase The fleeting moments,
lost to time,
A silent,
broken, lonely chime.
I'm sure!
At first sight,
body shivers;
eyes tear up;
soul weeps!
Ohh.... ohh.... Hmm,
I truly miss you, my soul!!
When will faces meet again???
The sun goes down on hurried days,
Lost in a lonely, misty haze.
I search for you in every crowd,
This present grief, a heavy cloak,
From every memory I've evoked.
Is a picture worth a thousand words?
Is it the same with a song?
Is it worth a thousand pictures?
Who can deny the powerful images
evoked from Songs of Struggle and Protest –
a forte of common humanity?
A song can paint optimism, commitment, and a desire
for peace, freedom, and the right to live without
…Your Millions, Mister.
A piece of art sings in the minds of thousands.
It shouts injustices to the skies in loud color
and questions Where Have All the Flowers Gone?
in broad strokes.
A government of placid leaders who
Turn, Turn the other cheek and project calm and concern.
Ask your children,
What Did You Learn in School Today?
Lord, save us from ourselves.
From My Muddy Stream all the way
To My Old Brown Earth, I see inspiration and admiration for nature.
I see the waste and cry to the skies, God Bless the Grass!
There is strength, passion, and nonconformity
in picture and in song.
The one should affect us, touch us, stir us,
and fill us, Step By Step.
(A lone voice whispers)
In the wind,
In a gale, or at sea,
Evoked by angels at daylight,
Awoken by devils at midnight.
And just broken
In between.
I once wandered like Dante,
Experiencing heaven and hell
Simultaneously,
Like a shadow being,
A Djinn.
Unfolded like a rare, old-world map,
Cold and lost as life's winds destroyed all my sanctuaries.
I once used as cover while my broken heart recovered.
But today,
On December the fifth,
The third day after you left,
I feel resurrected and reincarnated like Mephibosheth.
For, like in all relationships, holding Death's cold hands while you once wandered isn’t real death:
Only a tragic play.
Yet one can feel burnt at the stake,
Like the family and servants in a play
Written by someone known as Shakespeare,
Called Macbeth.
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Starting to think that love isn’t real
Something we say, not something we feel
Frivolous rhymes soften the blow.
A ruse evoked by the brain,
Chemical explosions alter and addict.
Life forces fuse like hot metal,
But cool so fast they become brittle
Tolerance builds, chemicals fade, and the war begins
Perpetual battles for small doses, proving our love true
For some, the doses are enough
Anniversaries with digits next to decades
Others see error in choice, but crave the full effect.
Why do my chemicals always remain?
Maybe my brain is broken like it is with booze.
The cryptic off-switch eludes my fragile heart
Maybe love is real, and it only exists in the broken.
I know what you must think. What if it’s you?
Does toxicity spew from my pours?
Am I the retardant for chemicals adored?
The answers compete with love’s lack of existence.
So now I dwell in my new home,
Between rocks and hard places,
Grasping hope with sad faces
ONE OLD HAT AND FRYING PAN
Our life is like a book of endless short stories..
filled with a myriad of highs and lows.
Stories we will write today stretching as far back as our memory goes.
One of the wonders and beauty we possess…as every day we age
is how easily a memory can be triggered…opening our book to a certain page.
Sometimes it a thing, a word, a photo…a melody…
and before we know it our book is opened to that page in our memory.
Today before my morning walk…two memories awoke…
both of them unplanned.
Stirred by Deborah’s dad’s old fishing hat
and her mom’s cast iron frying pan.
I stopped and smiled at the memories evoked
and since there were more memories I wanted to see…
I asked these two memories if they’d like to take a walk with me.
So as the three of us walked this morning
with the stars shining and the wind whistling through the trees…
I perused through a few short stories in the book of my memories.
What a beautiful walk we had this morning…
and to think it all began…
with memories awakened by an old fishing hat
and a cast iron frying pan.
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