‘Maps of Eyes’ (c) A.R. Minhas 2019
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Tag: Horror
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
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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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My Artwork And What It Means To Me
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 and although it takes a longtime, 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 is 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 them.
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, connected you where you can get 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 you’ve done. I appreciate the support.
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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Blackholes
I’m sailing a ship in space,
Because I want to be left alone.
Everyone told me I will drown in the moon.
And I’m ok with that.
As long as I can have my smoke on that secret porch,
As long as I can feel the sweet comfort of a dark chocolate cake that was left over,
I sometimes imagine your blood is its icing.
I’m colonizing the stars,
Repopulating them with your memories.
At the bottom of the ocean
Pressure conforms—cracking skulls
The sound of opening a can of coke
“Come share with me,”
I’m spilling purple flowers everywhere
Can you imagine a gesture of love drifting alone in space?
So peaceful.
At the bottom of the ocean.
Living in Atlantis.
Imaginary like heaven,
All the pain disappears.
Like a memory of that light that was there once,
Like a memory of oxygen…
Everything fades to zero-calories of nothingness.
My lungs grow heavy with sulfates
Why don’t you just die here?
“This is a good spot,”
The black hole is right above my head.
© A.R. Minhas 2018
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I’m Standing Still
I’m standing still
You keep moving on
In my artificial drunkenness
I smell the sweet taste of death.
Non-existent comforter
Wrapped in your left breast
Milk gets everywhere
Spilled on afternoon tea
Green as you were
I’m left pale and broken.
“Where is my womb?”
I’m left to wonder how cruel I can get
Have you seen my torture lungs?
Bronchials inflammed
Shooting with nerves
I want to share my fluids.
But not at the price of my company
I’m better standing here.
And you all the way there.
Our spikes are meant to stab
No comfort in human touch
The digital release of my soul.
I’ll impregnate you with my thoughts,
Abort me later.
You can offer me comfort from the other end of the world
I don’t want your closeness
The messiness of attachment
I can only offer you mind-numbing cliches.
There is no warmth left anymore
My body is cold
And your hands
Don’t resemble a soul mate.
© A.R. Minhas 2018
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Deeper Than Dreaming
The waters re-appear
Drowning imagination in salty froth
As the world strangles his neck, he felt his teeth fall,
Below the abyss of the waking world— like notes from the past
Images left on the canvas
“Don’t paint them again!”
I wander now on the boat made of rubber tires
Using broken hands to steer
The stiffness points north
“I have no intentions of going on journeys anymore.
Let’s dream to wander aimlessly.”
Inner eyes seeing through the body
But there are no landmarks or memories to possess
Everything I was once
Gone
Left only with the finding of himself
With fluidity, he soothes his urges,
But now the tempest has risen again
Nostrils contracting with the heavy scent of turpentine
Knowing the power over him is held by the blueness of the past
But the crippled sailors’ journey is meaningless
At the same time, the boat is only directed by an easterly breeze;
Reflected by Narcissus
Lip-syncing Queen of wands I found in that forgotten deck
I don’t fear the tides
Like towers crashing down
But even at the edge of this precipice, I can’t escape my body
Frozen by guilt and sheltered by the warmth of regrets
I am the only thing that survived the end of the world
Now the sea-serpent emerges from within
He rises Spiraling like minarets
It was the snake that eats itself eternally
It hissed so he could bow his head
It proceeded to cannibalize itself
As the sailor continued on
There was still no sign of land
But the air had eroded a smile on his face.
© A.R Minhas 2018
