Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘now’

20120520

In aphorism, proverb on 20120520 at 23:58

When progress seems to abscond,
when digression seems to supersede,
it might just seem, it might just be –
that progress has but skipped and leaped, indeed.

What force does pillage now, patience is gifted soon.

A step forward is one more than infinite retreats, absent.

Headway exists where setbacks are stalled.

What gives pique the impression of digression, or even regression, patience may find progression.

Have patience when the going gets tough, with wisdom to know that you are just getting going.

A plea for unnecessary help is a terrible waste of potential.

With pride is a toil spoiled.

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20120510

In aphorism, proverb on 20120510 at 23:57

The fool’s truth is not truth.

Trust takes time.

Trajectory with misdirection, is a truth twisted.

The fool share their trash, hide their treasures.

Exclusion will betray you in time; inclusion is loyal, now and forever, to you and to all.

Priorities are more than hopeful words, they are actions, our past actions. In the history of our beings, can we view our priorities.

20111016

In aphorism, proverb on 20111016 at 23:22

One’s past reflects one’s priorities, just as one’s priorities will forecast one’s future.

Erase prejudice; rewrite perception.

Others’ perceptions of you do not define you.

Truth is not a trend.

Beware the thief who steals with your consent.

Where growls a sheep, feigns a wolf.

Delusion is a choice.

《Invitation》
Activity: Life
Invitee: You
Venue: World
Time: Now
Participation: Optional

20100412

In aphorism, proverb on 20100412 at 15:10

Remember what was precious in the past and create its presence now.

20100129

In rumination on 20100129 at 13:38

Wait not to make a difference, for later does not exist; you are making a difference right now, be it positive or negative, passive or active.

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.