Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘start’

20161129

In aphorism, proverb, quote on 20161129 at 23:55

Before you launch, secure the pad.
Before you spring, fix the board.
Before you kick, remember to start.

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20120802

In aphorism, proverb on 20120802 at 23:59

Maintain real dialogue with those in rash disagreement, for worse than rare disaccord is rife division.

No matter which evil you are fighting, you are still fighting. To negate evil, do not entertain it, only be its antithesis.

What good is the purest of water if it will not irrigate the driest of dirt?

No one can stop you from being who you want to be, without your permission.

Turn away from darkness, but never hide your light.

The filth may stop at the bottom, but it originates at the top.

The crumbs may rest on the floor, but the loaf is cut from above.

The fool cook mops first the floor and wipes second the counter.

20120509

In aphorism, proverb, question on 20120509 at 23:58

A fish out of water is the first to evolve.

I’d rather that you are loyal to the truth, than to me. For I will change, and you may not change with me. But if I am loyal to the truth, and also are you loyal, then always will I find your loyalty near.

A half truth is a whole falsity.

There is a war between the ego and the superego that started before time itself.

If you cannot do it right, is doing it wrong better than delaying doing it or simply not doing it?

Only in the midst of hardship, does our true character.

The fool fail to see the light -lo, they are blind even to the darkness that envelops them.

Light is born in the darkness, though it is not of the darkness.

One minute, the fool in darkness; the next minute, the wise enlightened.

The fool are not below wisdom, the wise are not above foolery.

20110714

In aphorism, proverb on 20110714 at 19:20

The fool live an illusion; the wise live a dream.

The fool fear only what he will lose by sharing, not realizing what is to be gained by giving.

The fool fear loss and so do not share, do not give, and so too, have no room to receive. The wise lose fear and so share, give freely, and so too, are unburdened and able to receive.

It is impossible to hold both compassion and anger in the same heart.

It takes but two to create a movement: one to start it, another to follow it.

For every seed that sprouts, the earth is never more the same.

20091112

In question, rumination on 20091112 at 13:20

Ask me why the world won’t stop fighting, and I’ll ask you why the world won’t start getting along.

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.