Handful Of My Scribbles

Where we come from is a mystery, except for the biological explanations that we have. The blood line, the human race, the evolution – all inconsiderate. Again, Biological explanations? Now, do you know where it comes from? It came from us humans. But wasn't that the question at the first place?

We come from a mystery within a mystery, an assumption within an assumption. We are not distinct in our shapes; internally we all are the spirals of our DNA, we are spherical, cubical and columnar. There are branches to us like there are to compounds. And considering the partial completeness of our interatomic spaces, do we even qualify to call ourselves solitary?

However, we involve in an untiring search for something that differentiates us from everyone else. That excels us from everyone else. Yes, excel would be the right word. Everything here is a competition. It has just been equipped that way.

Developing an era where we even measure how swift an electron moves or how fast the light travels; how can we humans possibly let go the comparison and judgements for something as visible as ourselves?

Amid all these searches and findings, curiosity and verdicts, I too struggle to bloom and blossom. I, at times struggle to live because those are the times when I live the life that others want me to. Otherwise, having a life isn't that difficult a task. And we humans have always been fond of the easy ways.

Though I don't know where I came from, knowledge of where I will end is satiating.

The place is the same where I will be able to communicate with the trees, the clouds, the water, the butterflies and the pandas.

I hope the panda agrees to teach me kung-fu then.

I know that we someday are going to dissolve into the same thing. One of my favourite writers calls it - the soul of the world. I call it arbitrariness. Because, everything looks so different yet all is one.

You are in me and I am in you. We are in her and she is in him. There has to be a mason somewhere with a capability to build various things out of the same raw material. An illustrator who knows to express one thing differently.

And perhaps, someday, when I disrupt into the randomness, I shall be able to find the one.

Till then, I fall in love with everything and everyone around me because that will take me closer to what I have been seeking for.

Till then, be known as the one who falls in love with every little thing!

परिपक्व मान्छेको भाडभैलो देश

सकुन्चित सोच र अध्यारो यी रातहरु

अध्यारो नै गल्ली, अनि त्रासिदो मनस्थिति,

साघुरिएको बाटोमा गुडिरहेका, खोकरा यी सपनाहरु

शान्तिको अपेछ्यामा, निभ्न लागेका ज्योतिहरू

आशै आशामा पलाएको मेरो देशको तमाशाहरु

बदिल्दो आकाश्संगा, नबदलेको सोचहरु

बाझिएको पहाड जस्तै बाझिएको सिउदोहरु

रित्तो गाग्रो खंकियेझई, खंकिने त्यो आवाजहरु

अनि परिपक्व सोचमा, ओझेलियेका परिपक्वाताहरु

म्रिगत्रिश्नामा बाच्ने बानी, नदेखिने यी चोटहरु

नदीहरु बीच बग्ने त्यो प्यासहरु

त्यो तिर्खा र त्रिश्नाले नथाकिने बगरहरु

अनि बेमौसमको बर्सात संगै गर्जिने ति चत्यांगहरु

मातृभूमिको काखमा च्यातिएका अनगिन्ति थात्हरु

अनि उजाड ति जंगलहरु संगै उजीडेका आन्कंछाहरु

पोल्तोभारी बेरिएका भिजियेका पटुकाहरु

परिपक्व मानिसको हामी, यो दार्दानिक परिवेश

परिपक्व मान्छेको यो भाडभैलो देश...

आज यो बन्जर माटोमा टुसा पलायो

क्षितिजले पनि इन्द्रेणी बीच सँसार सजायो

यो मरुभुमीमा बादल बनी झरीरहनु

मनको रित्तो पानामा रातो मसी कोरीरहनु

तिमी जरा बन म हाँगा बनुला

बेजोड़ मौसममा नी सँगै फुलौला

तिमी सोच बन म शब्द बनुला

सँगै मिली निराकारको आकार कोरौला

आधा वाक्य तिमी भन, आधा म लेखुला।

आवाश कर्मा

About a year back, my dad bought me a book titled ‘Mission Earth, Black Genesis’ by L.Ron Hubbard. I have a taste for sci-fi novels and it was thoughtful of him to pick a book for me but soon I found out that this book belonged to a series ‘Mission Earth Dekalogy’. Yeppp...DEKALOGY! 10 books! What I had in my hand was Vol 2. (Just!)

The following week I tried reading it. Few weeks after that, I was out in the market searching for it’s prequel ‘The Invader’s Plan’. I didn’t succeed in any so that book stayed in my bookshelf unread and discarded. UNTIL recently when I dusted it off and went through it’s pages, I realized how I could make this book mine. I found a way I could detour it from inter-space invasions to interpersonal alliance, through BLACK OUT POETRY!

If you are interested to know what Black-out Poetry is, then PLEASE visit my previous post: Shedding some light on BLACK-OUT POETRY

And here is In a Bundle: My First Attempt at Black Out Poetry.

As aforementioned, your feedback is highly appreciated.

'You're a wonder. Yes, you.'

Remember that.

(This was reposted by an Instagram page dedicated to black out poetry @makeblackoutpoetry as poem of the day. You can also find me on Instagram as @sthaastha)

Love was the first of everything.

The second was that dark secret

I couldn't understand why he drove me crazy.

He didn't seem to be in any rush

yet I was going too fast.

He could ruin me!

My finger was alive with electricity

I yelled, the doors are not locked.

We were tearing through space like madmen,

only a stupid mistake.

And all for nothing!

That's when I found everything beautiful

the people, the music, the dancing,

the fire that filled the skies.

Even our secret, in dreamlike color.

It was too late, too soon

and bad was dedicated to make it worse.

Maybe it was because I was still confused

or because all the wild sparks flying around got me rattled,

but to add pain to injury, he didn;t turn around.

He was half-lying in an easy chair.

He was idly playing a game called "Battle."

The effort had been too much.

She picked up her feet, gathered up

and then put it all back in the cycle of withdrawal.

She was entering a restless, fitful sleep.

Thanks for going through.

I am excited about my second bundle of black out prose and poems.

Do let me know if these words speak to you.

And if this interests you, grab a black pen or marker and a newspaper and start Blacking Out! :)

Maybe or If you are like me, you see different ensembles of words already used once.

And at times, you fascinate yourself when you find poetry in prose.

Expressions, utterances, phrases, promises, tidings. Let’s talk how and when I find soul in words.

This is the sole motto of this post - enabling our eyes to see what’s not visible.

Author Austin Kleon, who is also a cartoonist, who is also a designer and who also seems like a really cool guy came up with this brilliant way to eemmm... ‘recycle words’. It was an instant hit since those recycled words got depth and purpose. I suppose Austin could black out a newspaper article of stock market news and find profitable words (Bad one!). He also has a book titled ‘Newspaper Blackout’ to his name.

I knew nothing about all this whatsoever, until I sat down and googled it’s origin and I am honestly surprised to find this concept just as young as about five years.

Black out poetry for me, is confining yet liberal. However you might want to redact it, whatever you create out of it, is all yours irrespective of the original assembly of words.

HOW TO BE A BLACK-OUT POET?

STEP ONE

Get a newspaper, a leaflet, a brochure, a book, anything in print.

STEP TWO

Basically, I would like to say, "Follow your heart." But yeah...

Find striking/appealing words you want to use in your poem.

STEP THREE

Surround your words with an idea and how you can construct them in their places (trickle down, bottom-up, left to right.)

STEP FOUR

Black out the unwanted words and images.

And there you have it, YOUR BLACK OUT POEM from a prose, open for interpretations.

For my first bundle of Black-out poems, PLEASE have a look at MY BLACK OUT POEMS. They are my first try so your feedback is highly appreciated. :)