Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member


Life doesn't come with a manual...


it comes with a mother.


Sitting to practice relaxation.
Misplaced pavement slabs stick out.
I try, now, not to trip, but it's happened.
I try, now, not to wish.

Rain induced meridian response.
Red caffeine lattice on black.
I try, now, not to sip ashamedly.
I try, now, not to wish.

I won't try to keep myself locked up.
I won't repress what I am,
as if I'm only so valid
as I am fitted
and dressed
to expect.
Where was I before my Birth
Who brought me? In this life

Some say My Parents
Gave me my Life

I think they only Ate
The Forbidden Apple

They just performed their basic Karma
And received me as a gifted Product

I was shipped without any User Manual
And without any Standard Operating Procedure

My parents worked round the clock
Gone through all the other manuals

At last they applied their mind
And prepared their own Manual

They also defined their own
Standard Operating Procedure

And I was handled and serviced
As per their Manual and SOP

Now I think, I am grown up now
But the question still remains as it was

Are we all only Products?
If Yes, Who Manufactured Us?

Where are the Original User Manuals?
Where are the Technical Manuals?

Where is the Standard Operating Procedure?
Why I was shipped to this mother Earth?

Some of my friends suggested a simple answer
'God made us and You too. But you are *****'

This answer posed other questions to me
Who made God?  God Made God?

Or the Humans made God for their own purpose?
Where are the temples of God made by Insects?

Suppose If God made us? Why he is so greedy?
Like the capitalists of proprietary companies

Why we are a strict proprietary Products?
Even proprietary products are supplied with Manuals

If God can't make us Open Source, At least he should
Supply the Manuals, Supply the Standard Operating Procedure

Or He is also too much selfish like each one of us
I Need Answer
We, the voice of the most oppressed,
Work in the profession remaining the most humble,
Throughout histories, as slaves our lives still remain tumble,
With our strangled necks, we are deliberately suppressed

For the centuries, our voices remain unheard,
Like a weeping fish at the sea,
We are treated zombies at the rush of a blood,
Collecting by hand, the human society’s poops & pea

Things for us got intensely worse,
We work as a group with an isolated curse,
For our livelihood, go into manholes as bare-bodies
Mostly get out as dead-bodies

From pathology to oncology,
We are treated untouchables, even by the modern technology
We are the oxygen-offering trees that remain green
Hurting ourselves, collecting excreta making this world neat &clean

With our hand-cuffs we shout and fight,
Rulers remain drunken-deafs to our plight,
Hell with your knowledge, to those who go to college
And keep pushing us to the drainage,
We remain living dead and frustrated, to get our right

When asked about work, we remain dumb and blind,
Fearing the responses to our ***** revelations,
Because humans are unemphathetic and unkind
To get our life some elevations.

Our mind said us “Please think! Please Think!”
When we revolt not to work, societies stink,
We warn, Witness your locality *****,
To our sufferings, if you keep blank & empty.

We are a collective voice,
Representing inhuman humanity,
That keeps the society on a poise,
So raise your voice, with a clarity of choice
To get us work with the utmost dignity!
Manual scavengers is a decent term. People who collect human and animal excreta on bare hands are the manual scavengers. The quality of these people in the south-east Asian countries like India remain pathetic. Their voices are often neglected and ignored by the rulers. They remain struck in a state of vicious circle, where poverty and untouchability keeps chasing them continuously and push them towards this work. This poem is a pain of the masses that had been engaged in manual scavenging for centuries immemorial that continues unlikely, till the present day. Rulers don’t offer the mandatory occupational standards and technological support to the manual scavengers. The motive of this poem is to voice their concerns to help them work peacefully and offer them a dignified life. This poem is written in the style of a ballad.
George Krokos Feb 2018
There are strange new worlds with an artificial sun
which have been created by people to have fun.
They're made up of things that we all do fear and love
where the main conditions are imitating those above.
The main characters are those whom you can choose
if in by doing so you fancy they won't lose.
Even when they do you can have another chance
provided that there's a better or improved stance.

The landscapes and creatures are so imaginative
and may come from a place that is very relative.
Some resemble those which are not readily seen
and aren't even like any where someone has been.
The challenge is to eventually reach the end;
along the way to find and make a real friend.
Many are the struggles one has to overcome
that can be so very overwhelming for some.

There are those people who just happen to breeze through
while some others get bogged down in all that they do.
The saying of “practice makes perfect” here does sound
very wise indeed for people that start to come around.
Time and self effort are the main ingredients needed here
and one's inner attitude to finish and reach the end is clear.
However there's no real sense of what that may really be
unless one gains true insight on the way and begins to see.

The sense of accomplishment is all the more justified when
everything falls into place and the puzzle is solved then.
But there are certain aspects that other people may dispute
which will depend on their own convictions if they refute.
There's also the situation where others don't clearly see
what's been realised by the one who at the end comes to be.
As very little is known about the goal which one can reach
except by those who are already there and willing to teach.

There are also certain manuals of instruction some others have left behind
which have been interpreted and commented on that are of a dubious kind.
Some of these seem to tackle the problem from a position along the way
while others go headlong and sink knee deep into semantics of the day.
Even those that are more widely accepted or universally read and known
don't really say enough or make clear what between their covers is shown.
This is the main reason that gets people thinking about the subject at hand
and to wonder if there's anything other than a fantasy vs reality made land.
__________________
Written in 2017. Guess what this poem is about.
Äŧül Dec 2016
We count cells by manual methods,
Using the counting chamber,
Plating & colony forming unit count.

We let them be counted automatedly,
Using electrical resistance,
Flow cytometry & image analysis.

Then there is this indirect method too,
Using spectrophotometry we count,
Or even by the impedance microbiology.
Cell counting methods used in Animal Cell Culture include the above three main categories and then seven sub-categories are divided among the three chief categories.

There are two manual counting methods:
a. using the counting chamber for counting each one individually, and
b. plating and CFU (Colony Forming Unit) count.

Three automated counting methods are there:
a. using electrical resistance,
b. flow cytometry, and c. image analysis.

Two indirect counting methods are there too:
a. using a spectrophotometer, or
b. count by impedance microbiology

HP Poem #1334
©Atul Kaushal
Daron Bigby May 2015
This life didn't come with a manual
We're forced to manually go through its ups and downs
Getting spun around on society's notion of how to live
You see, society works like a model T factory
Trying to put us down a conveyor belt
Place us in a mold and push us out like that's really how we're supposed to be
They told me I need to graduate high school at 18 Finish college at 22
Then go to work wearing a tie in a cubicle
They told me I need to provide for a wife and two kids
Bring home the bread in the form of 5-6 figures
But here's what they didn't tell me
They didn't tell me what to do when college tuition was raised again
I mean I'm already eating three square meals of ramen noodles just to make the payments
They didn't tell me that the one class I need to graduate is no longer offered
So I came all this way just pick another major
They also didn't tell me that they only hire people with experience
Now I'm stuck with a piece of paper and mountain of debt
And it's one of the best kept secrets that society tried to hide the horror
That I paid 100 grand to say can I take your order
They also didn't tell me that it's hard to find my queen
In the sea of self-entitled princesses that only want my money
They want relations, they don't want relationships
They crave the attention but none of the commitment that comes with it
Society is so focused on creating a perfect standard of living
That they forgot to tell me what to do when it perfectly unravels in front of me
And they continue to push people out of the factory
While I'm swimming in the byproduct they conveniently left me
This life didn't come with a manual
So society can't fool me by creating rules on how to live
Because racial divides say we stereotypically live differently
Yet they continually expect us to live equally
I dared to be different and chose to live for me
I was sick of living vicariously through the rules of society
And decided I am the pilot to my own destination
Flying to my own creation of life
After all, this life didn't come with a manual
Amitav Radiance Jun 2014
Each one of us writes an autobiography
Pages composed with anecdotes and memories
Pen dipped in the ink from our soul
Helsy Flores May 2014
If you wanna be a part,
There really is no art.
Be funny, handsome, and smart,
And you have my heart.
2013

— The End —