Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘logic’

20171024

In aphorism, question on 20171024 at 23:55

What a fine machine is the human mind, when oiled equally, its logical gears and emotive pulleys.

What is a pulley without its belt? What is the value of one lone gear?

Talent two feet under has no advantage over skill six feet under.

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20171024

In aphorism, question on 20171024 at 22:55

What a fine machine is the human mind, when oiled equally, its logical gears and emotive pulleys.

What is a pulley without its belt? What is the value of one lone gear?

20120513

In aphorism, proverb on 20120513 at 23:57

bystander:
noun; one who stands by [something], and thus condones [something], even supports [something].

A foolish argument is grounded in a foundation of desperation.

The fool praise the light, but live by the darkness.

The only way to fight evil is to not join it, not contribute to it.

The fool trust not those without intention to convert, confusing conversion for conviction.

The fool ask ‘How to conquer those who threaten us?’, not facing the reality of their contribution.

Who is without a weapon is feared only by the fool.

Defenseless, the fool become defensive.

Defense, by any other name, is offense.

Where some fool are critical, other fool are insecure.

Where two side against one, is strength only but numbers, is weakness only but elsewhere.

The fool seek not to hear, with a defense of listening.

The fool have ears, but do not hear; have eyes, but do not see; have hearts, but do not feel.

Resolution led by a moderator is not a resolution of two.

The fool don’t the best they can, the wise do the best they can’t.

Seize wisdom from the depths, net ignorance from the shallows.

The fool adjudge assumptions, the wise consider intentions.

Criticism that negates compliments exposes false compliments; criticism that complements compliments  reveals true compliments.

Forever to be trusted, are the fool and their fallacy.

Sooner an apology to be forgiven than the innocent to be spared.

The fool hear with ears that deceive.

Where fault lies, a defense is readied. Where understanding lies, an offense is unnecessary.

Do plumbers have pipe dreams?

Sooner a parent to side with the other than with truth.

Wisdom is not without extent.

Perspective and understanding are but two sides of a multi-dimensional reality.

Concern falls as criticism to fool ears.

The fool have a defense for every criticism, an offense for every defense, a criticism for every offense.

Who is fool enough to fight logic with illogic, falls victim to his own weapon.

What time does not heal, memory must forgive.

No one judges more or less than the next -some admit it, others deny it.

A poor defense is as good as no defense.

The fool fail to fathom the color beyond text, black and white.

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.