Category: Poetry

The Darkness That Holds Me Together.

I’m unable to avoid the sharp corners of my mind.

Brain filled with endorphins.

“I’m reliving my childhood.”

Mango trees,

Plucked from the earth

Sweetness of lips

Honey drips down your thighs

Patterns on your nail polish swirl and I know I exist.

Your heart exhales

And I feel my stomach knot like strings

There is a weight to all of this

“Black charcoal to moisturize a face”

Our past is entangled

Tachyons enjoyed with green tea

And a past remembered with too much sugar.

If you could hold my darkness

You will be the center of everything.

(c) A.R. Minhas

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by A.R. Minhas

I Hear Things And I Feel Nothing.

“I have shared secrets with you…”

“Oh Dead Mother!”

“Come have your pills. Depression doesn’t look good on you.”

“It’s just a coincidence that you wore red today.”

“I’m masturbating in public!”

“…And let’s abort this thing.”

“And why do you care that our generation is the worst?”

“You didn’t taste that way before…”

“And I’m learning more about you. Every time we feel each other.”

“Just remember– The Dream of a Green Sunday.”

“Meat has turned raw, my existence is a tragedy.”

“White-Chocolate Cheesecake is the escape, and I feel nothing for you.”

“There was love once…wasn’t there?”

“I think and there was an illusion.”


(c) A.R. Minhas 2019

by A.R. Minhas

Self-Image Before Birth

They beheld me and I beheld you…

We are locked in each other’s web of

Expectations.

And I’m aroused by the Moon’s piercing light

And I’m blinded by your shadow.

You have eclipsed me

And I cower before your presence.

          While my presence lingers somewhere down there

In the periphery

Hoping to communicate with you

But you are above it all

          In a Heavenly sphere

And I’m stuck here in hellish cubicles

Recording death in its future states…

And yet I have found ways.

To smother death in its Afternoon Siestas

                                                And all it would take to validate me

                                                          Validate me with your lips

                                                          A Kiss!

“Smack!”

A kiss so hard that it leaves me red all over

A kiss so hard my saliva makes iridescent rings with yours

Communicate with lips

          And I’m Rebirthed

          Or Resurfaced

                 From the flood that consumes me

And I’m gurgling                                                   This song so perchance

You hear it                         And                               Validate

                                                                                    Me  

Continuously validate me

               And validate my words

           And keep validating me

Or I will be

An after thought

                To be an after thought

                             Just like birth

                                      Death happens suddenly

And it’s continuous on and on and on

These words aren’t mine

They are borrowed

                                   In blood and all the unseen are the world’s thoughts

                                                          My blood

                                                          My DNA

Unconsciousness

 That gives substance to my words

          But you so closely resemble myself

       That I accept your inability to communicate with me

       And your betrayal 

                     Is comfortable.

© A.R. Minhas 2019

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by A.R. Minhas

A Room Full of Paintings

My Artwork Collage

I’m surrounded by all of you

The paintings that I don’t understand.

The paintings that you keep forcing down my head.

“What was your earliest memory?”

I was on a boat.

A net sank deep into the dark water,

And blood-red crabs emerged.

I said that, and a box full of change fell.

They echoed across the hallway.

“Sounds like Swedish wood.”

And we continue to miscommunicate.

The woman that is behind the painting

Blue and green, patterns of zygotes

Your eye keeps following me.

Your eye makes me hard and makes me desire death.

Curving a sickle to tear open guts.

Sun and steel, the body mimicking desire.

And I can’t stop thinking

What your eyes see, and if they are dilating because of me.

Are there any paintings left for us to Eat?

© A.R. Minhas 2018

by A.R. Minhas

The Last Time We Were Here

There’s a lesson at the bottom of the glass

I’ve hit my bubba pink

 

She delivers and they walk by

I’m like a GPS

My subconscious has taken a detour

 

Too hyperaware of everything

 

And I’ve never seen her walk

And she appeared like my words give her form

 

I’m dreaming again, but there is nothing between us

 

And I’m here again with you old friend

 

“I’ve stopped writing because I’ve stopped feeling…”

 

You paused and drank your Cappuccino

“It all comes back to you.”

 

Amsterdam big-wheel rolls on and

We reminisce

You’ve gone all responsible on me

 

How fucking dare you!

 

And you sit there counting your wrong decisions in the past

And I’m confused because all I’ve done is envy your capriciousness

 

And then I remembered

I wrote a poem the last time we came out here.

 

 

© A.R. Minhas

 

by A.R. Minhas

The Magician

New Magician WP(edit)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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By: A.R. Minhas

 

She places the tools on the table

Unsheathe the rose petals

It’s time to use them

 

Droplets of wine that spill from the cup

Your thought pierces me

The Divine spirit soaring like a drone

The mystical explosion will destroy you in the vicinity

 

 

A guide that taps her cigarette

Three times and howl is heard

A burn mark shaped like a pentagram

The hands that show the path

As it was above

So it will be

If you find love, kiss me hard

With the tongue involved

A spiritual virus

 

Recreate me

Eternally

 

Your red robes have been thrown in the forest

 

Be sure your nudity is seen by everyone

And the sigil is magnified

 

A

Voice

Calls

From

Below

The chaos

Is interested in you.

 

© A.R. Minhas 2018

 

New Magician WP(edit)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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by A.R. Minhas

The Fool

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THE FOOL (Zeke)

BY: A.R. Minhas

 

If you hold onto this

Drown in the water

Look up! Look up!

 

There’s hope that if you hold onto the flower

The wind that carries its weight

And floats up

Swirls around a bit

 

I can’t get that green cicada noise out of my head

And I plan to end another father figure’s life

“I’m beyond frustrated.”

 

You don’t lead me anywhere,

I just travel in circles, and all you do is make noises

Plates clutter, your middle-age flatulence

Feet thudding with panic

 

And I fear that

I might end up like you

 

Bald, bloated, stubborn and alone

 

But for now

I feel the wind in my hair

There are no signs of appendicitis

 

I feel like I’m guiding myself

Even this cigarette has given me a new meaning of life

 

And if I can just walk around

I’ll eventually stumble on that mystical guide

 

Here’s hoping it was me all along.

 

© A.R. Minhas 2018

 

 

 

 

 

 

by A.R. Minhas

Nightingale Sings

If you had walked on the sand

Waves of eyes sing this

Song

 

It howls red

A screaming into Love

 

You tell me everything, and I gave you

My Simurgh

I’m a wanderer King

 

I consult with my non-existent God

Stub your cigarette on my eye

I have too many to spare

Your soul has some ash on it

Brush it off

There is some employment to be had

 

Yellow footsteps follow the smoke

 

I saw like the buzzard

The snake that serenades you

Fall down the whaling willow

 

The spider in the night

 

I creep towards you

 

The webs of our entanglement.

Attune to the nightingale

Still darkness

Beyond the universe

 

And it wants to recreate itself.

 

 

© A.R. Minhas 2018

 

by A.R. Minhas

Love Bird

You flutter away from my hands

Our disentanglement is what follows

Your Ovum smells especially fertile today

An ancient jug in an opportunistic thrift store

The old wood varnish

And cosmic webs

It’s summer

The blue of a past life

And I’m waiting to be flooded with outrageous fortune

You wear my cum better than a tank top

And I’m searching for that perfect spot between your blatant thighs

To land perfectly

With orgasmic precision

An orange peel wasted

A combination of words that describe the feeling:

“I’m experiencing an Inconvenient Catalytic Exteriorization Phenomenon”

If I could rub your lips I can hear your pain

You tumble down the stairs

And I’ve lost faith in my unconsciousness

And that small, pink bird with green breast flies away

Always elusive to my charms.

© A.R. Minhas 2018

by A.R. Minhas

Woman, Mirror & Eyes

Woman, your beauty is divine

I can only recreate it in my hands

Crooked

My thoughts

Come

 

From                            Floating orgasms

 

The pleasure principles

Your paleness speaks

 

Volumes

 

And I didn’t hear a thing

Your eyes stare at me

Or am I even here?

 

I finger them

And you’re enucleated

 

You see from below

There’s nothing above it

 

And if you can

 

You’re reading too much into it

And you smoke too much

 

Lungs turn corrosive blue

And if I turn to hold you close

 

Escape into the mirror

 

Dissipate in your reflection

 

 

You can’t hold onto what can never be…

 

© A.R. Minhas 2018

by A.R. Minhas