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Tag: Cool
A Room Full of Paintings
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
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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
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The Magician
Artwork Available: https://www.redbubble.com/people/arminhas/works/33499459-the-magician-c-a-r-minhas-2018?asc=u&p=photographic-print
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
Artwork Available: https://www.redbubble.com/people/arminhas/works/33499459-the-magician-c-a-r-minhas-2018?asc=u&p=photographic-print
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The Fool
Purchase Artwork: https://www.redbubble.com/people/arminhas/works/33440034-the-fool-c-a-r-minhas-2018?asc=u&p=canvas-print
(USE CODE RETROGREAT, for 20% Discount)
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
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My Artwork And What It Means To Me (Updated)
Hey Guys,
I’m really happy to share my artwork with all of you. I usually make my paintings on my phone, which sometimes can be challenging as it takes a long time; however, I’m finding the process a lot more rewarding and creatively stimulating.
I don’t like to say what my art is about but if anything it’s about the connection between sex and spirituality. A bit like my poetry and prose. I like to think of it as ‘Sexual Mysticism’ (If that term even exists). As for the eyes, I don’t know why but I’m obsessed in making eyes.
I wanted to rant a little bit with this post because lately I feel, for some reason, sex has become a taboo subject; although, it’s the single most life affirming thing you can do in your life.
This has been frustrating for me lately because I’ve tried promoting my art on other social media platforms but they have rejected my request. It’s really annoying because I’m not posting porn, the nudity is meant to have a message. It’s not meant for instant gratification or objectification; it’s meant to make you think. and in that respect, I need your help.
If you like my art, if you understand my message and my true intentions; please, help me in promoting my art and supporting me. If you go onto the links below you can get T-shirts, hoodies, phone cases and stickers with my artwork on it. The links, further down, connect you to my Canvas Paintings. So you can have my paintings in your home, that is if you think there good enough. If you can’t buy, please spread the word to others. Anyway, thank you for all that your continued support and I love you all. Thanks.
Shop: https://www.redbubble.com/people/arminhas?ref=more_work_artist_title_name&asc=u
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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
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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
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Become a Simurgh
I feel distant again
It started when I desired to be desired
And no one has time to waste
I became a Simurgh
Soaring on top of a digital wasteland
You can keep your trypophobic flowers
I only smell the sweet pheromones of death
Did you hear the outrageous music?
It was bright red, like a Sun that gives everything but receives nothing
I became a Simurgh again
Because they never rest on the ground
They are here only to bring messages
They have no time for your stories
Eyes instead of feathers to observe
Not to live
There is no living here
Only beginnings and Ends
The middle is soft and silly
Become a Simurgh
And leap over the earthly spikes
And escape your desire to be loved
These are trivial things
Become a Simurgh
So becoming something doesn’t matter anymore.
© A.R. Minhas 2018
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No Love
So you hold me close
And I’ve thought about that afternoon
You hold me too tight
And I’m not able to give you love or offer love
I’m resigned to the fact that you despise me
For some reason
I trigger something in you that finds me so repulsive…
And I can only draw you now in naked form
Your breasts have eyes that I can’t escape from
I had learned to live alone
So it’s ok if you’d like to
I’ll swipe left before you even think about it
It’s rude to say anything
Mutually assured loneliness.
© A.R. Minhas 2018
