Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘feed’

20191230

In aphorism on 20191230 at 23:55

Those who share, have something to give.

Those who share not, have nothing.

The fool will not look.

The lay cannot see.

The intellect will look.

The wise see.

Ear plugs made of ego, make the fool.

The wise prune the dead limbs by choice.

The fool go out on dead limb and prune by accident.

The fool cannibalizes their soul to feed their ego.

If there is no self-accountability given, there is no responsibility taken.

Ego is a gift held by fools and a burden lost by the wise.

A bully has back-up to compensate for an ego that otherwise has no defense.

The fool bystander fears the aggressor only when they have personal profit to gain.

20110719

In aphorism, proverb on 20110719 at 10:14

The desert dweller prays for rain, but is prepared not for the storm.

The fool waits for the rains to sow his seeds.

The fool tames a beast he cannot feed.

Fantasy is the reality of the fool.

To judge another’s rationale is simply to impose one’s own motive upon another’s actions.

Climax not without the crescendo; lo, the fool is clueless, the wise is cognizant of.

Life, ’tis a puzzle.

Cast a worm, catch a fish.
[Other times, cast a worm, drown a worm.]

The fool act without understanding.
The lay do not act, understanding only of consequence.
The dilettante do not act, understanding not of impact.
The wise act with understanding of impact.

Consequence impels the fool; impact propels the wise.

Hold experience dearly, opinions loosely.

Project that which is beneficial to others;
Retain that which is worthy of possession;
Relinquish all else.

The wise balance output with input, teaching with learning, giving with receiving, apology with forgiveness.

Prudence in opinion, abundance in perception.

Share candid opinions as you would fresh onions -sparingly and with consideration.

From the valley, espy the peak.

Cash not backed by gold is but pretty paper.

20101207

In aphorism, haiku, poetry, proverb on 20101207 at 23:36

Judge only those with whom you can empathize.

Tomorrow will not feed the hunger of today.

Worry only of today’s hunger, and tomorrow will feed itself.

If one follows their gut, they will always have guts.

When information is framed, only education is tied, only knowledge sentenced, only wisdom slain.

Excuse befits the guilty; truth befits the innocent.

Hold a man to his capacity to err, and he will fail; hold the same man to his level of ability, and he will succeed.

When the Future quarrels with the Present, only the Past has the last word.

Complaining differs from venting, in that, it is with ability and without action to resolve the matter.

To be a friend, one must not lend a shoulder to lighten the burden, only lend an ear to lessen the brooding.

An omelette is not made by wishing for eggs.

Brilliant words only after brilliant eyes and brilliant ears.

《the night》
the night is a fickle lover
longing and lingering and
leaving me to morn.

《couth》
If one articulates
In triplets, would you say
one is high couth?

20100730

In aphorism, proverb on 20100730 at 08:43

Nourish a flower with only petals, and it will die; feed it with dirt and water and sunshine and a breeze, and it will bloom.

Who sets out in search of money will ne’er find riches; who sets out in search of inspiration will ne’er find ideas.

20060131

In poetry on 20060131 at 23:10

《the sex of poets》

The sex of poets emanates –
flowing as without edges,
contagious as without knowing;
words play
back and forth –
a rhythm, ever changing,
follows whereby one leads
until the pull of the next.
One moment
as without definition,
nor clearly sided with neighbors –
rolling one to the next.
Beckoned without call,
it is from a distance that
one sees deep into the heart
where life seems both
to stop and start, again –
without pause and
with the haste of lovers
kept at bay, unwilled.
The words sear clear,
sharp and pure.
They exist alone,
and yet are fed
by the hunger of ideas
yet tossed,
yet exposed –
as if the virgin ever lived
within the eyes of the soul;
forever waiting,
forever with hunger –
fresh as the moment to follow.

The sex of poets lingers
past the setting sun
into the morning dew,
where one knows not for sure
if the climax be truer
at the final release of
thoughts never felt, – or
perhaps at the time
of response; the
lover’s words, a compliment,
meshing with, as if one.
Almost beyond a reality,
the words live on
to dance without end,
to breed a careful song –
as if in tales of lore,
existence never certain.
Fleeting, though strong;
Skirting, though present –
The moment speaks not
of tangible truths
that speak of tomorrows,
but rather the window
rarely looked into –
it is there
it is waiting,
but cannot be taken with you,
nor fed to the mortal –
only to continue
in the souls of lovers –
perhaps truer than
the love of lovers itself.

The sex of poets preys
upon the passion saved
over years and decades
desires of the flesh
never satisfy the wound
of ages past
of pains neglected
merely masking in mum
the yearning ever mounting
to release with a single
sound
The silence is broken,
fears relinquished;
the rebirth of hopes
fills the air –
thick with the essence of now
and hint of next,
never to be sure.
The bliss lies within,
ever longing.
Separate worlds entwined –
an affair of the id
within…
Never lucid to the searching,
but in control.
When no longer logic bids you
surrender, at last call
with bursting souls;
hungrier still, the eve –
power of the word
has finally come, the time.