Art.Suvro.Ghosh

P2544 When covid fucks your ass

When covid fucks your ass, you can't smell your gas,

And left gasping for some air.

One day I go out, lungs in utter rout,

No wonder I'm losing my pubic hair.

The holes in my ass through which gas must pass,

Causes decibels because it's small.

So at least I can hear my fart, it's an art,

Decapitated smell never me, that's all.

But this is Suvro, I shoot my shit like a whore,

Ain't gonna let a shit bit worry me some.

I'll fuck the billion XBB dot one dot sixteen,

And on their collaborating face I'll cum.

You wanna see some pluck, I make you suck,

And "Corona fucking bitch," I noisily pitch.

The shit you say might hit the fan,

I shit in your spherical mouth without a hitch.

And if I die, well, good riddance,

I welcome my kith and kin the carrion king.

They would skin me first to the red flesh,

And then to the bones and then nothing.

But other than cannibalistic use,

There's nothing in a bank or anywhere.

Just a few underwear and boxer shorts,

Tattered shirts and invisible angst I wear.

Dreams I could never reach, my scrotal peach,

My rubbery and hairy asshole.

This birth was a waste, like semen paste,

That's about to be flushed down a toilet hole.

The wistful spirit wouldn't wish someone cared,

It wouldn't matter I'd be on a murder spree.

I'll hunt down every organic matter that did harm,

I'll set them free.

Once they are ghosts I'll fuck their ass,

Yes corona you too,

I'll make you suck my shit smeared cock,

Then I'll flush you down devil's loo.

And with every swirl of a turd, there'll be a bird,

I call it fuck you cuckoo.

It will sing a fart, and with that will start,

The destruction of this human zoo.

What's the ideal clique size? Well, computationally, it's not polynomially bounded, and given that very few of us have anyone to talk our hearts out to, it makes it a problem only for the future artificial superintelligence.

In Kolkata specifically, tempers run amok. There's a lot of vitriol and spit, and I go deaf. The situations are inescapably close; not only are you forced to share the decibels and stray saliva floating your way, but you can almost feel the warmth of animosity or the offending fart.

I caught a virus—an inevitable thing that happens to the immune-compromised Skinner's rats. I point my finger in accusatory chagrin at the sniffling weaklings that I suspect were the obnoxious vectors.

Anyway, it's a good thing my clique size is zero, and I have no chance of passing it on to the rest of the population. And since my sojourn is limited to the alleyways in my limited imagination, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that I disappoint this lineage of viruses that have infected me. Had I been a social bee, by now half the direly oppressed town would have another onus and set of loose snots to worry about.

P2543 Higher asking price?

If we think about what makes a software engineering team valuable to a project. The answer is simple: they are the ones who can turn an idea into a functional piece of software that can change the world. So, how can we showcase this value and justify a higher asking price?

There are several factors that contribute to the team's value, including their technical skills, communication, collaboration, and ability to adapt to changing project requirements.

First and foremost, technical skills are essential for a software engineering team to add value to a project. They must have a deep understanding of software development concepts, programming languages, and development frameworks. Additionally, they should be proficient in using the latest tools and technologies, such as artificial intelligence and cloud computing, to develop cutting-edge software solutions.

However, technical skills alone are not sufficient. A team's ability to communicate effectively is also crucial for the success of a project. Effective communication ensures that all team members understand the project's objectives and requirements. It also enables them to work collaboratively towards achieving those goals. Thus, communication is the key to building a strong and cohesive software engineering team.

Collaboration is another vital factor that contributes to a team's value. A successful software engineering team should be able to work together seamlessly to achieve their common objectives. They should be willing to share their expertise and knowledge and help each other out when needed. Collaboration fosters a positive work environment where team members can learn from each other and grow together. Furthermore, the ability to adapt to changing project requirements is also crucial. Projects often change over time, and a software engineering team must be flexible enough to adjust to those changes. This includes being able to work with new tools and technologies, as well as being able to pivot when necessary.

One approach to ascertain value quantitatively could be to focus on the team's expertise and the quality of their work. Start by highlighting the experience and skills of each team member, and how their unique perspectives and abilities contribute to the success of the project. Showcase the team's past projects and the impact they have had on the industry, and emphasize how their work can help take the client's project to a more proficient level.

Another strategy could be to demonstrate the team's efficiency and ability to deliver results quickly. Show how the team's methodology and approach can help the client save time and resources, and how their fast turnaround times can help the client stay ahead of the competition.

It could also be effective to leverage the team's creativity and ability to innovate. Highlight how their out-of-the-box thinking and problem-solving skills can help the client create a truly unique and cutting-edge product that stands out in the marketplace.

It's important to emphasize the intangible benefits of working with a top-tier software engineering team, such as the peace of mind that comes with knowing that the project is in expert hands, and the opportunity to learn from some of the brightest minds in the industry.

With a multi-faceted approach and showcasing the team's expertise, efficiency, innovation, and intangible benefits, a higher asking price for their involvement in projects can be justified.

One way to represent the relationship between experience, expertise, and the other factors that contribute to pay is through the following equation:

Pay = Base Rate +

(Experience x Expertise) x

(Quality x Value) x

(Complexity x Creativity) x

(Results x Reputation x Risk)

In this equation, the base rate represents a fixed compensation that is determined by factors such as market rates, the client's budget, and other external factors. The rest of the equation represents the additional compensation that is earned based on the individual's experience, expertise, and other relevant factors. Notice they are all multiplicative, good increases it several fold but bad does the damage as quickly.

Experience: You have years of experience in the industry and have completed similar projects successfully in the past.

Expertise: You possess unique skills and knowledge that are crucial to the success of the project. You are an expert in your field, and your insights and advice are highly valued.

Time: The project requires a significant amount of time and effort to complete, and you are willing to invest that time and effort to ensure its success.

Quality: You are committed to delivering high-quality work and ensuring that the project meets or exceeds expectations.

Complexity: The project is complex and requires advanced technical knowledge and expertise to complete. You are one of the few people who can successfully navigate this level of complexity.

Creativity: The project requires innovative thinking and creative problem-solving skills, which you possess in abundance.

Results: You have a track record of delivering results and meeting or exceeding project goals and objectives.

Value: Your involvement in the project adds significant value to the client and their business, and you deserve to be compensated accordingly.

Reputation: Your reputation in the industry is impeccable, and your involvement in the project enhances its credibility and reputation.

Risk: There is a certain amount of risk involved in the project, and your involvement helps mitigate that risk and increase the chances of its success. As such, you deserve to be compensated for taking on that risk.

P2542 Basic unmet needs

I've got mouths to feed, basic unmet needs,

Poverty has fucked my pious ass.

Vitamin deficient not a penny or cent,

Just reverse peristalsis and petty gas.

Not holy my hole when shit like coal,

Offered then to the god in prayer pose.

Small painful tumors everywhere,

Look like eyes, lips and nose.

The gods with the rich, eat sandwich,

I saw with my "wound" eyes.

Poverty makes your tumors think,

What you normally ignore as flies.

Shit fuck gets stuck, constipated luck,

I pull the turd out with a fashioned tool.

Manly the head of the shit is the culprit,

The rest is the usual svelte stool.

My stoic stool and disapproved drool,

Have red stains of misery inscribed.

The worms in my shit are vociferous,

With words their hunger can't be bribed.

My piss is a palette pale, always stale,

It reeks of ammonia out of the tap.

My semen dried into corn flakes,

I never use any cap.

Plus I don't dare to ask a miss for a fuck,

Even if my dick could manage to stand.

The bengali cunts are podgy and belligerent,

I hope you understand.

They smell my crack, and are never seen back,

I sit on the stairs stirring time and tea.

They like shiny and clean assholes,

I do understand their disappointment with me.

Death to my enemies,

A dismembered future for them.

I suck at voodoo and curse,

Otherwise I'm a gem.

These are snakes in men form,

They are villainous and vile.

I hope they eat shit and choke,

Every murderous turd worthwhile.

Anyway, fuck everyone,

Go to hell I tell you all.

I'll just continue to finger my asshole,

And keep scratching my balls small.

When I'm dead think of me as a turd,

Just a bland and boring bengali piece of shit.

Just look away muttering misgivings,

And flush me with the rest of it.

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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.

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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.

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P2526

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.

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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.

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P2518 Clarity

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.

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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.

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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.