“The High Priestess” – (Poetry/ Artwork for Sale)

Purchase Stickers Here

I’m surrounded by mystical faces

“Great Simurgh protect me in your wings!”

Shaped like eyes

Pupils dilate like solar flares.

Your tachyons are showing.

I masturbate to activate the sigil

Cum to the sound of a Hummingbird heartbeat

Vision of Cicadas

Revisit in that chamber

You tell your greatest lies in small truths

And your skin feels familiar

Stale smoke and ancient car smell.

High priestess, I came to you that night when I wanted to summon Mercury.

And your lips tasted like strawberry, and I know about your charred lungs.

And we remain sweet like secrets to each other.

(C) A.R. Minhas 2019

Advertisements

Fire Above, Water Below (Poetry)

Purchase Art

Your naked body

Against mine

Roof charred,

I can see your frames

Calcium deposits in your ears.

Unsteady legs,

Vertigo

“Our world collapses on ourselves.”

Did you dream of a tower?

Fire above

Explosion of lint

Torrents of water chew the wood

I present the creeping mold

“And what about my plants that I had kept for Feng Shui?”

They have succumbed to smoke inhalation.

The old you is dead.

A fetus was found in the flood.

It comes to term

The world is anew

And the summer child can’t stop laughing.

(C) A.R. Minhas

The Love I Expected.

I never expected to be loved

There are some shortcomings

And here I am

Still

Stuck in a glue trap

“Flesh imbued with pain.”

Heart doesn’t care anymore,

It barely pumps blood

And I hear it

Function like an abandoned beehive

Dust gets in your eyes

Flecks of honey distributed for hedonism.

And

I stare

Into a white tar pit

Evidence of Red Lipstick on the end of a cigarette butt

Craving for a hit

Nicotine oppression

A dream someone had dreamt before,

But the Queen pushes me away.

“These lungs aren’t going to immolate themselves.”

Ash trapped on my beard

The tower is burning

The entity free falls

No soft landing, tainted by love.

Ribcage is a prison,

And I’ve been institutionalized.

Leave my scrawl marks behind,

I don’t have any good memories to share.

(C) A.R. Minhas 2019

Futile

Can you understand me?

‘Milk spilt in the hall.’

Dionysus cried himself to sleep.

Roses burning with a magnifying glass.

Melted sugar.

Come to the blue party.

Serotonin for you, and the light fades.

Blind
‘The head line dips to Luna.’

My delusions are mine to keep.

Share the kiss, never fall in Love.
Some people are blessed to be alone.

(c) A.R. Minhas 2019

A Weekend In Spider Country

I’m here

Sitting by the lake

If you can see me now

What do I have to lose?

 

If I wasn’t here it wouldn’t matter

If I’m not here it wouldn’t change you

It wouldn’t change the crystal clear water

 

There is nothing that I can do

Lying here impotent

On red Muskoka chairs

 

No matter how far I travel

Or where I sit

It doesn’t change

 

This unease

I can never get comfortable

 

Feeling useless isn’t unique

But feeling nothing

Is okay

 

Spiders crawling

Bedspread

I try to bleed them but they keep coming back

 

Nesting in my ears

You can hear them

 

 

Constructing a web

Trap the flies

I wish I could trap your eyes

Stroke them with honey

 

This sugar is for you

 

 

And there’s nothing left for me.

Leaving, wouldn’t matter

 

Staying

Is suspended mid-air

 

Floating

 

Spiders make me uncomfortable

 

And that’s why I can’t sit still.

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017

My sense of humor is a death trap

My sense of humor is a death trap

Lock Jaw. Trap shut.

 

There goes your face

Contact lenses lost within eyes.

 

Go find your broken glasses.

 

And here come the golden cicadas

 

Interrupting me

While I masturbate with my own thoughts

 

I’ll hide behind your pale breasts

The blood from my gums left behind

 

Thumbs leave an impression

Fingers pulsate with love

 

Silkworms on their arduous task

Going uphill on ashened graves

 

A plume of waxed legs

Use them to silence me

 

My sense of humor will kill you

If you came to close to it

 

It’s opening

 

The Birth of a joke

Laugh in the face of absurdity

 

You are lost

And there is laughter everywhere

And I can’t help myself

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017

I feel worse than you

I feel worse than that night.

I’m pining for that cigarette, the first one I ever smoked.

I’m in that tunnel again.

No reception, no one cares.

It’s ok, I don’t care either.

Want me to prove it? I don’t even know your name

And I’m not even listening to you

I’m too self involved and

my pain is too great.

© A.R. Minhas 2017

Novel: Confessions of an Abortion Addict – Excerpt – Part 5

This is an excerpt from the novel “Confessions of an Abortion Addict.” The novel is still in progress and this excerpt might not be sequential and will be subject to additional editing. Please provide feedback. Thank you!

 

The room was a vacuum of white static. A giant corridor in a hospital except without the smell of disinfectant; it smelt more like a perfume counter of a department store. This is the beginning of your new life. There are other would-be actresses that Virchow, has lured with a promise of fame and stardom. The other girls come in different sizes, but they have the same age: under 30-ish.  Old man craves young flesh. Practicing lines, pouting lips in Vanity Mirrors, Refreshing make-up and they have brought with them the dreams that are about to be realized. I adjust my yellow dress that I’ve worn after my agent’s continuous pestering and pleas to look presentable.

I have my hair down, from what I can see in the mirror at the opposite end. It looks matte black. My skin also feels darker because I didn’t feel like going too heavy for the make-up. I’d really don’t like being here too, but my agent insists that ambition is the key. You have to make things happen.

 

“I love the yellow you’re wearing, it really compliments your skin tone,” the girl next to me says.

 

“Oh, Thanks!” I said, and it took a moment for me to realize that she was talking to me. No one had said a word to me this entire afternoon, except for maybe verifying that I was on the audition list. This girl was very peculiar; for one thing, everyone had come with portfolios, their bags and of course they were all dressed to reflect their own particular set of assets.  While she was wearing a low-cut, plain white tee, black leather vest with spiked studs, a multitude of scarves and accessories, on a skinny frame with a heavy dose of mascara which made the blues on her eyes feel piercing. “I love your get up too,” I try to mirror the compliment but it might have felt a little insincere due to the long pause.

 

“Ha-ha, please, don’t lie. I know I’m underdressed, but my agent forced me to come here,” she gently strokes her serpentine red hair.

“That sounds awesome—you have anything else lined up?”

“A couple of things. Plus, I’ve not heard anything good about, Virchow. One of my friends was telling me that he makes the girls take off their top and chooses them based on the color of their areolas.”

 

“Really?” I replied. Don’t listen to the competition, June…she just wants to see you walk out that door. “Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t have a very sparkling reputation, but that’s low— even for him…just out of curiosity what color does he prefer?”

 

“Apparently, he really likes nipples to complement the rest of the breast, so they become camouflaged.” She says in an indifferent tone. “I have darker nipples anyway, so I’m already out.”

“No offense but if that’s the case why don’t you just walk out right now?” I ask her with a bluntness that I didn’t even know I had in me. Yeah, tell the truth.

 

“Well, it’s a rumor, and in this day and age everyone makes up their own rumors. I just want to see who is bullshitting me, right?” She says that without blinking. “Oh, by the way, my name is Sally, Sally Chrysler. Not like the car, please don’t make that joke— I probably should change my last name— anyway, you can call me, Sly. You might remember me from such classics as Prairie Shark, Wendigo: the awakening and of course Who brought the lumberjack on my fishing boat, eh?”

“Ha-ha,” I couldn’t help but chuckle at her, it was a little difficult to keep pace with her thoughts. “Hi, Sally…urm…sorry, Sly. I’m June, June Husk. I’ve also only been in Canadian Movies, mostly. I did some stuff with Tcherkov, but as it was pointed out to me by my Agent, for me to ‘make it’ I have to go to Hollywood…well nice to meet you.” I palm her hand and she goes for the cheek-to-cheek, and we end up in between a low hug and front-on spooning.

 

“Nice to meet you too, June. I can’t say, I’ve seen you in anything…but you look familiar but here’s hoping this is your big break.”

“I hope so too,” I said with a heavy sigh. There is a long moment of silence between us, and the long gap is filled with Sly’s intermittent whistling.

“Hey, once you’re done do you wanna go out for a couple of drinks?” She says in her pattern of blurts.

 

“Umm…I have to be somewhere after, but we can go out sometime later this week.”

 

“Great, by the way, it wasn’t meant as a date or anything—hmm…I just like to you know network a little bit.”

 

“You really are awkward aren’t you?” I replied, smiling back at her.

 

“Yeah, you noticed?”

 

“Yes, I did,” we laughed, and for a moment we forgot that we were sitting in a hallway filled with anxious starlets.

 

“June! June Husk!” A voice bellowed.

 

“That’s you…go! go!”

 

“Thanks!” I leaped up, pirouetting across the rows of starry-eyed, doe-faced hopefuls. She gave me an air kiss and stuck her card inside my purse in a flash. I swore that I heard her say, all the best, as I rushed towards the assistant who called me.

“June Husk…nice name.”  He said holding a clipboard close to his chest.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Previous Excerpts:

Novel: Confessions of an Abortion Addict – Excerpt – Part 4

Novel: Confessions of an Abortion Addict – Excerpt – Part 3

Novel: Confessions of an Abortion Addict – Excerpt – Part 2

Novel: Confessions of an Abortion Addict – Excerpt – Part 1

Confessions of an Abortion Addict

 

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017

It’s Ok To Be Lonely, Sometimes

“It’s ok if they don’t get your joke.”

            “None of them do…”

            “And humor is such a subjective thing.”

                            “You just have to try a little harder…”

“Maybe, a little more to the right.”

“If you stick the landing then they’ll respect you…”

“Oh! When are you getting published?”

            “You just don’t drink that much.”

 

“Please, please another pint… that’s all I have left.”

“Is the weekend over yet because this egg won’t crack itself,”

            “If there is a movie to masturbate too can we please watch something surreal?”

“If your breasts like mountains bow I would be able to see again!”

“I can paint the world with your freshly stippled legs.”

 

“That pure waterfall is my release, and the cliff is your face changing shape.”

 

“Our evergreens and my heart are rooted in you.”

 

“If there a distance between a star, let me immolate between your thighs.”

 

 “I have lied to you inside a convenience store.” “And I know of the other entity that

                                                                  resides below you.”

 

“If there is flesh, let me have a light…”

“And smoke is blessed and falls on all of us with carcinogenic precision.”

“It’s ok, loneliness comes in small bouts.”

                                                          “It will kill you in small amounts.”

 

“And maybe one day you won’t be so disappointed that you ended up this way.”

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017

Sometimes, it’s okay to die

It falls to you

That place last night

 

Remembering a past life

The moment a chemical was released

 

Nicotine in the air

An Orgasmic coffee

The sip to stay up all night

 

Ruminating on your shape

The wetness of lips

And a pause of Sativa’s breath

 

The moon’s fullness desired you

Worshipping the instrument of my birth

      It’s ok to die        now

      It’s ok to die

 Sometimes

 

I can still remember

It’s hard to let go of such thoughts

To be obsessed with your repression

 

And maybe after my consciousness is gone

Then I will forget

But for now

 

It’s there

It’s always there

Your face reddened

 

And your body a map of teeth marks

Triangle etched on beauty spots

Strands of saliva dripping from nipples

              Irradiated

     Stares

                                Longing

       Another cruelty

                            Summer brings a new style of fucking

Throat burns blue smoke

 

King of ash

Tap the last strain of smolder

Cum with certainty, and transcendence

Recreating myself on your belly button

 

An eyelash juts out

The thighs offer a refuge from the coldness

 

And these fingers will make contact

“You’re dripping deep oceans.”

 

Womb or watery depths

There is no dispersion of oxygen here

And no distraction of life

Just darkness

And whatever it is I am.

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017