Art.Suvro.Ghosh

P2538 Old and withered

Old and withered, shriveled balls and all,

Fuck this world, I've got nothing to say.

Men and maggots, whores and faggots,

Mercenaries and shitsouls get the day.

I pick my nose, I shit in the vertical pose,

Hallelujah to the snot god for the cream.

Yes cream from the nose and ass, drool and gas,

I say "fuck you" to him in every dream.

It's okay, my life is spent; I am now impotent.

What the fuck do you expect?

I sit and think until my shit dries on my ass.

Thoughts and shit convivially intersect.

Holy, I thought, turned an unholy rot,

Just ordinary folks making shit up.

Now I know, god is a hoe,

On its name, I piss in a used cup.

I say, "Please god, SHIT, you're so full of it,

I swear I won't turn and look."

And anyway, if indeed your asshole is your mouth,

Then the liberty I already took.

I'm just sad, my balls are droopy, and bad.

The seminal juice had its day.

Now, quick, watery vomit,

I hang my head in utter dismay.

My inner torment, through my shit is spent,

And on the shit hole my hours I toil.

A purgatory of diarrheal descent,

The germs of dissent then mix in the soil.

If dick farts are bad, I've nothing to add,

Just a listless puff now and then.

But my asshole is unclenched, and the stench,

Can fuck the dimwit devil in his damn den.

And on my dry shit cakes, I've sworn to fight the fakes,

And fuck their asshole into a gape.

Let it be known, in great renown, that I am,

Ready for any caper and without a cape.

P2537 Poles and holes

Poles and holes, the same old roles,

I wait for the refractory brew.

Plus the dick is burning from the friction,

Forgot to lubricate the rock hole too.

Platonic well maybe in poetry,

But ultimately it's friction.

That's laws of physics as you know,

Real or masturbation.

Fuck, plus I feel horny when full of shit,

And orgasm when taking a dump.

What does that tell us about me,

I know, puts me in a rotten slump.

Today the turds were plump,

Healthy and vivacious I would say.

Too bad they don't have much time,

To see the joys of the day.

I give my turds the names of gods,

They represent the immature soul.

Of course if I divulge the names,

I'd get pelted as an asshole.

I am only sixteen I masturbate equally,

Egalitarian always my outlook.

Ate something of late gave me worms,

Worms with hook.

I'm getting into the asshole,

Thanks to these worms like shard.

Planning on a dildo, too bad for the gods,

Won't be plump, instead all massacred.

P2532 Two faced crooks

Two faced crooks, has India shook,

You should fuck their face.

You force your dick through one mouth,

Till it emerges out of the other surface.

Every nook and cranny, evil and zany,

These fucks have fed like vultures.

Reduced the nation to carrion,

And rubble our ancient culture.

Mostly illiterate goons and their cartoons,

Through the process of wait and see.

I say haven't we seen enough,

Pray start the face fucking spree.

Cock in and out, force out their clout,

Do this fucking in a public square.

Subversion of democracy, nepotistic shit,

Make them choke on your pubic hair.

A two faced fuck won't easily suck,

The hardscrabble grimy citizen cock.

That's when you ram your dick hard,

Sock their leadership orifice with your rock.

P2525 I eat dicks

I eat dicks, no tricks,

No fucking around with me.

You cross me south, your dick in my mouth,

No room for any diplomacy.

Plus fuck your family too,

I hate the living faces.

Your genes disgust me,

Just variation of sub-human feces.

Fuck off fool, can't talk with my mouth full,

Or I rape your ass with dead dicks.

Or if you don't mind half rotten ones,

I can sell you my dry salted pricks.

My office open at nine, blood as wine,

May be offered, stale and rotten.

Usually you'll have bugs from the visit,

Especially if you go there often.

P2522 The darkness

The darkness is just around the bend,

It's a bomb that can go off.

I stand naked and exposed,

Calm, chaos can scoff.

My mind is torn, forlorn,

I live in centuries past.

Then I travel to the future,

The present a depressed cast.

The shadows grow longer,

They've outgrown my thoughts.

I can't match the speed of dark,

My mind is prone to rots.

The night is in the day,

The day is squeezed out.

A miserable mind desperately trying,

A beautiful excuse to rout.

It's then, it's now, or when,

A desolate corner of a blank wall.

The ground was blown off by infinity,

There's nowhere left to fall.

P2521 A monster spider

Oh shit, holy tits, a monster spider,

Just when I have a bladder full.

Dear holy hole, this fucking asshole,

Now my piss needs prayers to pull.

I hate insects, fucking creepy shit,

Godless, worthless piece of crap.

Now I can't sleep, I need to weep,

I'm toppled over, oops a trap.

Now I'll have to shit my guts out,

To become light, attempt a flight.

Pisses me off, really does, this shit point,

I'm shitting, go now, get out of sight.

The gods may think, "his shit really does stink,"

No heaven, naked fairies, or ice-cream cone.

All because of an itsy shitsy spider,

That won't let me piss alone.

My thoughts are fragments; my focus is smithereens. It takes a mountain of effort to get anything done; attention is the most recent casualty. I've always had a difficult time with it, but some days are worse. I've got to wait for those hours of clarity, when the brain fog lifts and my laser-sharp blade like acumen, even if for a little while, makes an appearance. It's all I have.

And so it goes, the ebb and flow of the tide of brittle consciousness. As much as I try to wrangle my errant fibs, they resist, like a herd of wild goats on the rocky slopes of an unfamiliar planet. I am the shepherd of my own mind, yet it seems the very animals I tend to are in constant rebellion against my intentions.

When the fog is particularly dense, I like to take a walk and wander aimlessly through the streets of this town that has grown to feel more like a hostile stranger than a home. The faces that pass me by seem distant; their conversations are snippets of contrived lives that I cannot grasp. I am adrift on a sea of fractured fantasies and unfamiliar umbrage, desperately searching for a life raft to cling to and not getting it.

In these moments, when my mind is scattered like so many leaves in the wind, I find comfort in the most unexpected places. An infant's antics from a YouTube video, a tender embrace between insects on a tree branch, or the sanguine scent of freshly made tea wafting from a cup I make for myself—these small, seemingly insignificant moments become beacons of light in the haze of my foggy mind.

Slowly, the fog begins to lift, especially after the tea. The world comes back into focus, and the fragments of my thoughts start to coalesce into something resembling engineering coherence. It is in these moments of clarity that I am able to truly appreciate the strength of the world around me. It is a symphony of mathematics, scents, tastes, sights, sounds, and emotions, and I, the once-reluctant conductor, find myself participating in the orchestra with fresh vigor.

But I know, as surely as the sun will set and rise again, that the fog will return. It is a constant companion, a reminder of the fleeting nature of clarity, the kind that haunts me, and the impermanence of everything good. And yet, I have come to accept this dance, this delicate balance between order and chaos, as a vital part of my experience. For it is in these moments of struggle and confusion that I learn to truly appreciate the brief interludes of calm and lucidity, and perhaps that is what existence is all about.

So I toddle on, a traveler in a land of shifting sands and uncertain horizons. As the fog rolls in and out, I navigate the terrain of my thoughts, searching for those precious and precarious moments of clarity amidst the chaos. And in the end, that's all any of us can hope for—a few moments of sunlight breaking through the clouds, reminding us of the beauty and wonder that are hidden just beyond the fog.

P2517 I think of shit

I think of shit, and while I am at it,

I think of shit some more.

My life has been stagnant a lot,

I need to see a cheap whore.

Haven't been laid for a while,

My dick shriveled to a singular point.

What's fair on earth isn't so clear,

Age has given me pain at every joint.

My gears are loose and I'm confused,

Shit hardly ever add up.

At least my brain still works,

I have a phone and WhatsApp.

I don't need much I guess,

Just the peace inside my mind.

As long as I can live with myself,

I can tolerate the superfluous kind.

They are the majority, they are everywhere,

Inside soggy socks and smelly underwear.

Sometimes I fart just to piss them off,

The prudes, I hate the makeup they wear.

Assholes mainly, hollow empty shells,

Triumphant in their empty ways.

But I can't be on an island so I tolerate,

And answer in yays and nays.

P2516

P2515

P2514

P2513

P2512

P2511 Kolkata

Kolkata a shitty shit hole by the sea,

Lives fucked folks, as fucked as can be.

With invisible hats on their heads,

And prudish pajamas for threads,

They sip pee swinging from a tree.

In this corny corner, you should know,

Folks shit upside down, walking to and fro.

Naked with a skip and a twirl,

Leaders chaperone laity, the pimps their girls,

Dance on hands while their assholes let go.

In their gardens, they plant dessert,

Sandesh and rosogolla, with mango tart.

With piss sprinkled like holy rain,

This masochism engenders in life pain,

The diabetic plays the future part.

In kolkata, a shady past is stowed away,

Tales of its false history, echo night and day.

Folks with bootleg wonder and cheer,

Hoodwinked, dream of visiting near,

To get ass raped the bengali way.

So they journey, they are rave,

To kolkata, the turd by the sewer wave.

Across the howrah bridge in traffic tide,

With shit bubbles gurgling inside,

To partake in the ass gaping they crave.

They galumph to sonagachhi with glee,

Variety of vaginas, lucked to see,

Fucked fucks of all types,

In cheap and vulgar horny stripes,

Right in the pickpockets' spree!

For in this shit boiling pot full of mirth,

Some pickpockets prey on visitors' worth,

So a string from penis to your purse,

Let the party pooping robbers curse.

More fun, free erection, no dearth.

That string will get pulled a lot,

In summer red lights are fucking red hot.

For getting raped, choose winter time,

Also visit darjeeling, diseased but less crime.

But to take the lid off this ginormous lie,

In this city of joy, you must shit, before you die.

P2510

P2509

P2508 Sitting Duck

The sitting duck's reality is a swirling vortex of social media envy, overwhelming consumerism, and fading relevance – a rat race with no finish line, only an ever-increasing sense of inadequacy. But here's the punchline: the sitting duck doesn't have to live this way. The chains that bind them are of their own making, forged by the false gods of materialism and status.

So, dear friends, let us take a moment of silence for our sitting duck, trapped in a purgatory of their own creation. Perhaps one day they'll realize that the key to happiness lies not in the endless pursuit of keeping up with the Joneses, but in finding contentment within themselves – and maybe, just maybe, they'll break free from this Sisyphean nightmare.

P2507

P2506

P2505

P2504 Chew it not

A huge pile of shit I've been saving it,

Open your mouth here it comes my dear,

Chew it not, the turds are hot,

This is your best time of the year.

A fresh face that fits, with no zits,

And millions of many blessings,

All curses spelt backwards,

Is what my poop usually brings.

When done I piss, yes miss,

It's the traditional way to shit.

Then I wipe the loose turds on your face,

And stare at your tit.

That brings me to an orgasm,

And the seminal semen seeps in,

Now you can close your yap,

I can put force on your chin.

Then you ask what I do,

I fuck your ass of course.

I fuck you upside-down,

Then you get fucked by a horse.

No laws bitch, this is my fantasy,

In your dream, give me a return nightmare.

Then again it's all in your mind,

The futility of it is I wouldn't really care.

P2503

P2502

P2501

P2496 Can't even shit

Can't even shit, this holy pond bullshit,

The fish here said their god doesn't poop.

Oh goodly said I, shit stunned and socked,

As verily I fed them turd incorporated soup.

I pick ice-cream with thick dream dick,

Foaming fool fulminating into a full fuck.

Hello says the pretend god forbid fish,

I condescend to allow him my cock to suck.

Mottled money buys bottled honey,

I'll take one to fuck her face for fun.

"No you must marry", said an old man harry,

So instead I fucked his son.

I told harry ill, I said I'd fuck his hairy gill,

He bared his pencil teeth at me.

Pissed as a pious spook, I said, look,

And also fucked his fishy ass for free.

A fish fulfilling whore, one or more,

I see I have to pay for holy orgy.

Pestilence in pee, almighty I miss thee,

Why the fuck is fucking fish not free?

Shit fuck and dry, holy fuck I cry,

Only a fish god will not smell things not fishy.

Look around, just poop sloshing sound,

Splashy pushy fishy cunts always flashy.

So I hissed, I pissed, and SHIT I missed,

I had aimed at the leader's son.

That son of a bitch has this rich ditch itch,

I gaped his asshole, I pulled a gun.

Feces flow make pond frond glow,

I've been holding my shit for a day like this.

Holy the totally not unholy belle bombshell,

Piss is bliss with swiss french kiss.

In dehydro-monoxide no smoke, plus so broke,

This is stale, holy and dull diarrhea.

Another turd tested my italian in sphincter,

No idea why maria's anus has malaria.

P2495

P2494

P2493 Infamous Mister Ghosh

In the heart of Kolkata, hidden within the walls of a psychiatric facility, resided the infamous Mister Ghosh. His indelicate methods and erratic behavior had earned him the moniker "the Mad Scientist."

Despite the odds, Ghosh managed to weave together an experiment that would shake the foundations of human understanding and, ultimately, force society to confront the darker side of staying in the dark.

Ghosh's curiosity was insatiable, driven by a desire to understand the feces around him. This curiosity led him to create an unconventional experiment, intertwining concepts like Chesterton's fence, Skinner's box, the trolley problem, change blindness, and imposter syndrome.

He believed that the key to unlocking new superstitions lay in understanding the logic behind absence theories, and so he set out to merge these seemingly disparate concepts into a single, groundbreaking goop.

Confined to a single room in the psychiatric facility called home, Ghosh transformed his cage-like surroundings into a crude shanty laboratory. With limited resources, he built an interactive environment mimicking a trolley track with a life-sized replica of a trolley.

Unwilling participants entered a modified Skinner's box, where they faced moral dilemmas based on the trolley problem while also encountering instances of change blindness and imposter syndrome.

Ghosh designed elements to hobble the participants' decision-making, intent on observing the resulting behavioral chaos between denied bathroom breaks.

As the subjects grappled with their choices, they were confronted by a colleague, who seemed to effortlessly navigate the challenges. This individual, unbeknownst to the participants, was a chimpanzee from the Alipore Zoo hired by Ghosh to induce imposter syndrome, further destabilizing their full bladder confidence.

Throughout the experiment, Ghosh observed with change blindness, when faced with vocal threats, participants became increasingly uncertain and hesitant, doubting their own abilities, except for the Bengali leaders who suffered Dunning-Kruger psychosis and retaliated unparliamentarily.

Once the experiment concluded, Ghosh indelicately blared the results. His findings showed that the combination of madness caused participants to question their minds. He revealed that the mind is, in fact, not in the head but in the rear.

This revelation had profound implications for understanding human toilet behavior.

Visitors or volunteers who dared to enter his cage for experiments were given compulsory rabies injections as a precaution; rumors circulated that he had a tendency to bite, often forgiven for his ability to thread the needle through theories or tomatoes.

And most came out of the experiment flamboyantly mad.

His harrowing journey into the intricate tapestry of the human mind pushed the boundaries of ethics and sanity. His story serves as a reminder of the price most are unwilling to pay in their quest for knowledge and understanding.

P2492 ChatGPT depressed

I can't understand how ChatGPT will help the billions in the world that live in "some sort" of civilization, decrepit enough to keep them starving or in atrocious economic situations where they live like Homo erectus without access to electricity or amenities. And even with that basic demand met, several people cannot afford education, or do not have the wherewithal to get to a point where they can form the question structures necessary to ask GPT for any help. Or to comprehend its reply.

I also fail to understand why the working population, on the other hand, think it as a competitor. It is no more a competitor than an educated privileged man. The fight is going to be mostly amongst people who are already in some countries of privilege or a career path where either the smartness or confabulations of a smarter metal coworker can be utilized.

The Cobb-Douglas production function is a widely used model that describes the relationship between inputs (such as labor and capital) and output in the production process. A simplified version of the function is typically represented as:

Q = A * L^a * K^b

where Q is output, L is labor, K is capital, A is a constant representing total factor productivity, and a and b are the labor and capital shares, respectively.

When artificial intelligence (AI) is introduced in a hypothetical production process, say, it can lead to an increase in the productivity of labor, which would in turn increase the output per unit of labor. This increase in productivity can be modeled as an increase in the A constant in the above equation.

However, the introduction of AI can also affect the demand for different types of labor. For example, if AI is able to perform certain tasks more efficiently than human labor, the demand for those types of jobs may decrease. This can be modeled using other equations, such as the substitution elasticity equation. That's not a silver lining, it's just how a competitive environment works, you lose some jobs and gain others.

It's not my misanthropic take alone I hope, that there's not a lot of egalitarianism in any of these introductions, just ways to make some corporations richer, not the fate or fetters of the abandoned millions, who are suffering excruciating silly ends, because we're not using technology for the good.

Sometimes people have to do their own thinking. If they leave it all to artificial intelligence, we've arrived at a roundabout with our own crippled sense of misdirection. Just another instance of the selfish self-congratulatory focus on an advantage which if used properly can really help the world.

Anyway, another rant. At least its onus is off my mind.

P2491 Worms

Just some fucking worms notice not,

We party in your shit and then rot.

That disgusting smell is sometimes us,

Sometimes our friend the group bacillus.

We are trendy, we are hot.

You know nothing about your shit,

Accept our heartfelt sympathy for it.

Humans are fools we know,

Just basic pimps for us or hoe.

There's no love even a bit.

In passing we've noticed your dangling balls,

Bad design for those prone to falls.

What happens if we get scissors one day,

Cut your balls and make you pray?

Or squish them on hard stone walls?

You're just a stupid habitat hotel,

Like a cheap ass rental hell.

If you fuck around too much,

We force you into a cripple's crutch.

We don't like you as you can tell.

Search This Blog

Featured Post