Art.Suvro.Ghosh

P2617 Super holy I am

I am a holy man, super holy I am,

And yet the bird shit on my head.

I curse the species to an early extinction,

And I want this bird dead.

I hope bird brain can take the pain,

I'm sure it's cloaca won't be happy.

First I fuck it, then I bleed it,

As we know that's alrighty with almighty.

In Tibet when I sodomized a pet civet,

My dick stank like a skunk.

Not to fear, skunks are leaders here,

Plus this is expected of a masculine monk.

Sin will win if you fuck your kin,

Just an aphorism to put on your ass.

Fuck everyone, advisable as a tattoo,

If you want a free boarding pass.

My roommate meditates with his mouth open,

I'll transfer the poop as a friend.

That bastard farts in his sleep,

I plan to bring him to his monastic end.

I hope he chokes on the poop,

I'll ensure that his head bursts.

I'll kick his pious balls until he's there,

In bald buddha he says he trusts.

Just a lot of bald bull they pull I say,

And I ask, to what gnarly end?

You get proxy poop in your mouth,

And kicked to death by a bad bald friend.

I'm holy but with big holes,

With wants, I fuck gents and cunts.

Every man for himself and shit,

Pretend pathetic the monastic stunts.

After he's gone I run to his house,

All the illegitimate daughters suck my dick.

The sons become errand runners,

His wife as mistress I plan to keep.

Fucking ascetic, my ass,

He was a duplicitous man.

I am worse and I act today,

Stop me if you can.

P2610 I'm alive

I revel in mediocrity, shit gets sticky shitty,

But I am okay with being flamboyantly inept.

For instance I can't get it up,

Soft sideways, a compromise I accept.

It's now usually a monthly thing,

The supply of semen almost a whisper.

I can hear my balls fart empty farts,

I call myself a disenchanted pauper.

Even the orgasm doesn't last very long,

As if it has work to do.

Just a matter of fact feeling,

I settle for the penile ahchoo.

And it doesn't take much as such,

Just tits after the opening movie credits.

My consolation the plots are too thin anyways,

Can't say I'm the king of premature misfits.

That's alright I think, at least I'm alive,

Shit! I might be brought out dead instead.

Then, who would have these burdens,

Of the thoughts inside this heedless head?

It takes a worried man,

To save the world under controlled condition.

My head is harried, I'm unmarried,

I master the damsel in my masturbation.

Only in my doodle my sperm becomes a noodle,

With which I strangle the strong stranger.

In my blog at least, I can fight and fist,

My way into weirdness or danger.

In real life, the old dreams are cold creams,

That lubricate my anal and finger union.

In this wet season of mangoes, however,

Diarrhea and vomiting are more fun.

But this poverty, it's an impoverished pity,

That my shit sticks to my soul.

Or this atheism, the lifelessly logical,

That constantly dries up my asshole.

The abject squalor is my comfort,

The wretched filth surrounds and defines me.

Free from the monotony of rote and routines,

Happy as a vicarious hippie.

I scratch my balls, answer nature's calls,

Introspect the contradictions at the core.

Anything else might be overreaching my bed,

I just want to sleep some more.

The nature of faith is an afterthought of our relationship with how we accommodate the gaps in our understanding, perhaps a necessity of not letting a question go unanswered, especially if the placeholder isn't all that astute.

Within any framework where it is permitted, we strike out the provisional answers for a more suitable candidate, and at least with science, society moves forward. Any other way, like organized religion, where the hubris of being correct stands in the way and you can't accommodate new evidence in the answer, civilization is set back. It's really that simple.

Stupidity piles up fairly easily and rather quickly, and before you know it, you are wearing a hat, but you don't know why, are too afraid to ask, or, when you do find out, are too alarmed at the anachronism to do anything about it.

But such is life. Schooling doesn't help; it merely takes an opinionated stand. Unless you are willing to jettison the platforms on which you float, you may never know what you're floating on. This is now a lot more pertinent in India, where Darwin is excluded from the class ten biology syllabus. It's not safe to assume that you or I can read beyond the good intentions. In a democracy, once elected, the government is roughly as far from the well being of the population as a monarch. At least now some students may be motivated to find out, but they'd be in the minority.

The expectations that were passed down through indoctrination are now in my stool, and I am now brave enough to battle my moods and stand up to all the deceit in the world. I wonder if that makes me a monkey.

P2608 Nothing that's yours

In the fields of corn, you'll find my skull in thorns,

Torn, stretched and disfigured by selfish men.

I can't talk to you, bones can't,

But then you can read my pen.

These will be the impressions in clay,

The ones in sand will scatter.

The synaptic connections

Of an erstwhile mad-hatter.

Otherwise

Nothing that's yours will outlive you,

That's a fantasy we endear.

In the universe where "isn't" isn't anymore,

There are things unknowable and unclear.

Most of us are worth shit anyways,

What legacy? Just a putrefying corpse vain.

All the scribbles get glued to shit,

And flushed down time's drain.

All that talk of rebirth, deferred bullshit,

They're just blowing air up your holes.

There's plenty of time wasting shit like that,

Stay away from patronizing self-righteous assholes.

The triumphs die with us,

Our sorrowful stories are all too dead.

Or once the mind that thinks those thoughts,

Isn't in that head.

Our insignificant existence is easily erased,

Forgotten what went into that person.

Nothing survives the churn,

Not the planet, not even the sun.

And when I'm no more there's no more than,

A man with ordinary dreams who didn't make it.

Who, no matter what he did,

Everything turned into shit.

It's all a temporary ride,

Enjoy and suffer, it's worth the pain.

It will not repeat ever again,

That much is certain.

I won't be born again,

I won't live again,

I won't die again.

It's all very straight forward and plain.

Every philosophy is false centered around us,

Since we don't matter to the universe.

A gradient entropy exploiting,

Written in atomic verse.

No reason or rhyme, don't waste your time,

Just be who you are.

An animal like the rest of them,

That lives a life that can't go far.

P2607

P2606 I eat well

From my shit you can tell, I eat well,

I am a wealthy man.

I can always piss, wherever it is,

Simply because I can.

I won the genetic lottery,

And inherited all the wealth.

I've never really done anything,

As reflected in my health.

I have a harem of whores, a score,

They get paid to suck my cock.

They've been trained to do anything,

Shit wearing a pink frock.

From them the progeny is large,

My sons are all fat fucks of a selfish breed.

They are rare assholes with psychopathy,

I'm so proud of my seeds.

I have a bladder full for ministers,

They drink my urine on demand.

Democratic country in name only,

It's either my fist or hand.

Most people are nitwits, greedy or both.

The religious always in the last.

Any shitty slipshod in the name of god,

And you have their blessings real fast.

To rule, the foolish must stay a fool,

And science is really bad for them.

The more shit they know, the less shit you can throw,

A recipe for a rebellion that's lame.

Promise the fucks a better next life,

Or some shit with holy smattering.

Jam a lifetime of penury up their ass,

Tell them you're their god or something.

I have a penchant for cuban cigars,

They wake me up from booze.

I carry the jamaican rum with me,

In case I want to snooze.

I stand and shit and count my crypto-coins,

My coffers are overflowing with it.

I'll invest in suvrotica's shitGPT,

To bury this world in shit.

It doesn't hurt to fart or start,

Genocide of sorts, it can be easily arranged.

Just point at the superficial or cosmetic,

Trivially unleash the dogs deranged.

The future for the poor is either bleak or sick,

I'll ensure that it's dire.

I have no patience for wiping my ass,

I'll call for the ministry of desire.

It was a good decision to come here,

Disposable humans sold for food.

Yes, believe you me,

This chap was just rupee one, the cripple son.

The mother wanted to get rid of it,

But environmentally no harm done.

I like the chonky ones more,

The fat gives me a good night sleep.

I hate to keep them alive,

They either stink or weep.

Promised to fry a married couple,

To an eternal bliss they'd go.

They have some bullshit fiction cooked up,

Superstitious animals far too low.

My shit hasn't been regular,

Got to chew the bones a little more.

I heard children screaming once,

When I mouthed a score.

Plus I've been shitting all over,

My place is like a loo.

I usually keep myself to myself,

But this heat set my shit on fire.

The world hates me, I hate it back,

Nothing really here to admire.

Already my shit smells bad,

I've asserted proudly many a times.

I announce, now, it's disgusting enough to,

Discourage any machinery of crimes.

Erectile dysfunction a must, dick is bust,

Sad are the times that have been spun.

Even when I finger my asshole,

It's wet and no longer any fun.

Bloated like shit, I sit a misfit,

Fanning my farts with a fan.

The desultory electricity rapes your ass,

Loadshedding, bengalis dread that span.

The calender hindoo gods cackle,

Slipshod absconders in a row.

They start cavorting when the fan's back on,

Dancing holy tit shit, to and fro.

No rain, and so rainbow a pricey hoe,

Only in cards, otherwise rare.

The extra sweat stinks bad,

But elixir for the lice in my pubic hair.

Plus my pee and vomit are weird,

Like niagara fucking falls they run.

I think all my voluntary controls are burnt,

All thanks to this fucking sun.

It may be a sign for a change in time,

Shit is being planned behind the cloud.

The humans are full of sin, o almighty kin,

Please fuck their assholes into a gape.

Fuck them in their talkative mouth,

Making sure there's no escape.

Holy hocus pocus in anal pus,

I focus on staying godly true.

Usually easy to notice us glib saints,

A velveteen smile painted like poo.

O surya, lord of sores, the cunts are all whores,

Personally insert a jackfruit in their cunt.

Also put a leash, connect the hair to it,

People dying, trying to meet their want.

In the holy land of hindoo, my poo,

O dear lord I hold it.

Magically connect my asshole to the leaders,

In the mouth of these nitwits, I want to shit.

Only on days holy and really slowly,

I plan to shit from now on.

Reserved are hallowed grounds,

Or the mouths of the festive con.

In this happy month of mango May, I say,

Fuck the fools who rule.

O sun god, show me a ray, I pray,

For you, I'm holding my stool.

P2586

P2585 Golden years

Golden years are overrated,

My cunt's larger than a cave.

The last fuck lost his dick in it,

Hard to find one that's brave.

I've put my ass on combo offers,

But loose turds spoil the mood.

And when I have diarrhea,

You may have understood.

Plus my boobs are spent,

They hang like cellophane.

No milk for the ones who suck,

Seriously what a shame.

I suck cock without my dentures,

Otherwise the customers get spooked.

That's really all I can do now,

To get food that's cooked.

My faith in god keeps me going,

Once in heaven I'll blow his cock.

I'll lick his balls and asshole,

Eat shit from his sock.

Gangbangs with goblins and fairies,

Triple penetrations with the devil-oh my!

Assortment of dicks waiting for me,

I can't wait to die.

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