insufficient - Hello Poetry

The old fable covers a doctrine ever new and sublime; that there is One Man, — present to all particular men only partially, or through one faculty; and that you must take the whole society to find the whole man. Man is not a farmer, or a professor, or an engineer, but he is all. Man is priest, and scholar, and statesman, and producer, and soldier. In the divided or social state, these functions are parcelled out to individuals, each of whom aims to do his stint of the joint work, whilst each other performs his. The fable implies, that the individual, to possess himself, must sometimes return from his own labor to embrace all the other laborers. But unfortunately, this original unit, this fountain of power, has been so distributed to multitudes, has been so minutely subdivided and peddled out, that it is spilled into drops, and cannot be gathered. The state of society is one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk, and strut about so many walking monsters, — a good finger, a neck, a stomach, an elbow, but never a man. Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, into many things. The planter, who is Man sent out into the field to gather food, is seldom cheered by any idea of the true dignity of his ministry. He sees his bushel and his cart, and nothing beyond, and sinks into the farmer, instead of Man on the farm. The tradesman scarcely ever gives an ideal worth to his work, but is ridden by the routine of his craft, and the soul is subject to dollars. The priest becomes a form; the attorney, a statute-book; the mechanic, a machine; the sailor, a rope of a ship.

0

Oct 8, 2014

Oct 8, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC

insufficient

Excerpt from: "The American Scholar" -Ralph Waldo Emmerson

The old fable covers a doctrine ever new and sublime; that there is One Man, — present to all particular men only partially, or through one faculty; and that you must take the whole society to find the whole man. Man is not a farmer, or a professor, or an engineer, but he is all. Man is priest, and scholar, and statesman, and producer, and soldier. In the divided or social state, these functions are parcelled out to individuals, each of whom aims to do his stint of the joint work, whilst each other performs his. The fable implies, that the individual, to possess himself, must sometimes return from his own labor to embrace all the other laborers. But unfortunately, this original unit, this fountain of power, has been so distributed to multitudes, has been so minutely subdivided and peddled out, that it is spilled into drops, and cannot be gathered. The state of society is one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk, and strut about so many walking monsters, — a good finger, a neck, a stomach, an elbow, but never a man. Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, into many things. The planter, who is Man sent out into the field to gather food, is seldom cheered by any idea of the true dignity of his ministry. He sees his bushel and his cart, and nothing beyond, and sinks into the farmer, instead of Man on the farm. The tradesman scarcely ever gives an ideal worth to his work, but is ridden by the routine of his craft, and the soul is subject to dollars. The priest becomes a form; the attorney, a statute-book; the mechanic, a machine; the sailor, a rope of a ship.

2

You gotta understand that I'm hard to understand I am not the same person at 10am and 10pm.

0

Oct 6, 2014

Oct 6, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC

insufficient

Time Xone

You gotta understand that I'm hard to understand I am not the same person at 10am and 10pm.

2

I write in hopes to see the lightning bolt yellow.

0

Oct 6, 2014

Oct 6, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC

insufficient

Motivation (10w)

I write in hopes to see the lightning bolt yellow.

1

There's something about the night That brings out raw emotion. Maybe it's the moonlight, Somber and sad Or the quiet loneliness That leaves you with your thoughts. But for some Unexplained reason The pain we carry During the day Spills out of the cracks Of the broken heart When the sun sets And the moon Takes its place In the sky

0

insufficient

Oct 6, 2014

Oct 6, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC

ashleynicole

Nocturnal Emotions

There's something about the night That brings out raw emotion. Maybe it's the moonlight, Somber and sad Or the quiet loneliness That leaves you with your thoughts. But for some Unexplained reason The pain we carry During the day Spills out of the cracks Of the broken heart When the sun sets And the moon Takes its place In the sky

16

We look up at the same stars and see such different things.

0

Oct 6, 2014

Oct 6, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC

insufficient

°Perspective•

We look up at the same stars and see such different things.

1

Don't deflect my insecurities Acknowledge them for they are real Don't brush aside my inadequacies I can't help the way I feel Hugging myself close, searching for reassurance Through tear-stained glass I grief strickenly see Seemingly I've lost my tight-rope balance Clambering up ever so desperately May think I'm wilful Because I often get consumed Don't judge me unstable Just dormant emotions exhumed Place a palm against my chest Between sobs, my heart beats strong Laying my turbid mind to rest As I whisper me the comfort that I long Don't be afraid of me I know I tend to get lost Alone in my storm swept dinghy Susceptible to the chills of frost I can't control, I get carried away With the dream I'm set to pursue I can't curb or hold myself at bay I'm weak because I haven't got a clue...

0

insufficient

Oct 6, 2014

Oct 6, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC

ryn

Weak

Don't deflect my insecurities Acknowledge them for they are real Don't brush aside my inadequacies I can't help the way I feel Hugging myself close, searching for reassurance Through tear-stained glass I grief strickenly see Seemingly I've lost my tight-rope balance Clambering up ever so desperately May think I'm wilful Because I often get consumed Don't judge me unstable Just dormant emotions exhumed Place a palm against my chest Between sobs, my heart beats strong Laying my turbid mind to rest As I whisper me the comfort that I long Don't be afraid of me I know I tend to get lost Alone in my storm swept dinghy Susceptible to the chills of frost I can't control, I get carried away With the dream I'm set to pursue I can't curb or hold myself at bay I'm weak because I haven't got a clue...

24

I'm not like you I think outside the box Just a little different I'm not lost Outsider,-- Looking in, has its cost Has its benefits In my opinion I would have my store open on Sunday I'm sorry I just like to profit Don't look down on me You're not any better using Downy I think Tide does a hell of a job We'll all soon get swept by the ocean currents prob-- --ably So don't dimiss your ideas because they're different But embrace it because it's brilliant And magnificent All those haters are insignificant Don't let them steal your shine Rise above and realize How much better you are without them ..

0

Oct 6, 2014

Oct 6, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC

insufficient

The Difference (Anthem)

I'm not like you I think outside the box Just a little different I'm not lost Outsider,-- Looking in, has its cost Has its benefits In my opinion I would have my store open on Sunday I'm sorry I just like to profit Don't look down on me You're not any better using Downy I think Tide does a hell of a job We'll all soon get swept by the ocean currents prob-- --ably So don't dimiss your ideas because they're different But embrace it because it's brilliant And magnificent All those haters are insignificant Don't let them steal your shine Rise above and realize How much better you are without them ..

22