The Cologne That Got You Excited

You flutter

With the least bit of worry

And I’m weak-willed

Flowers

They expressed midnight with showers of orgasms.

I came on top of my tarot cards

And I saw the sharpest of reds.

Sigils that I marked you with

And your pussy tastes like the medicine I need.

Bitter sweet

And possibilities of

Of Children

We smoke till our lungs can’t carry the weight of our Ashes.

I meditate in the thorns of your pubic hair.

My head has a white hat and your breasts talk to me in sign language.

The warmth of your hands remind me of a purple color.

Let’s rest here on the pavement like beggars as we are crowned by the pirouettes of hungry moths.

I wish light to all

Also heart disease

Melt cheese with your mouth

And smell this cologne

Every breath is a sharp draw

Of the swords in the heart.

If this doesn’t make you hard nothing will.

(C) A.R. Minhas 2019

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The Magician

New Magician WP(edit)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

New Magician WP(edit)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Artwork Available: https://www.redbubble.com/people/arminhas/works/33499459-the-magician-c-a-r-minhas-2018?asc=u&p=photographic-print

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

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

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

Stagnant

Someone said I can have the whole world

I’m stagnant now

Held into place by my inaction

And I spill a pint glass

My emotions are swaying everywhere

And I continue to overshare my insecurities

I’m not too drunk to notice you flinch

And make your faces

 

I’m surrounded by people who don’t realize my greatness

Just because I’m puking in the vase

You don’t know my greatness

 

I sail on the smoke of an early morning

Cigarette craving

 

This is my regret

And thank you for your indifference

I almost stabbed you with my pen.

 

© A.R. Minhas 2018

She Offers Flowers

She offers us flowers

And I wonder about the milk that was never served

She Offers us Flowers

And all I can think about are your eyes

How I would like to separate the light

The chemicals that split apart

            I fed your love to the children of the street

She offers us flowers

            And her petals lubricate the darkness

I have served my loneliness well

            Indifference is the thing that kills

And you served me flowers

Hungry still

            I devour your Nectar

                        Blood on my gums

My Tongue swirls in the ozone layer

I served your breast on a plate

            By the fireside

                        The ash is your Flowers

Sprinkled in that afternoon

                        Fucking Blue

To keep my fingers

            From the third eye to the other one

She offers us flowers

            And I can only serve you cold meat

If you are my truth,

Then you are my hurt

            I let it bleed

                        A scab that is worn like a battle wound

                                    Mottled entanglement

The flowers are raw

            And I am burnt

If you serve them again

            I have to refuse again

Indifference is the thing.

© A.R. Minhas 2018

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

If Loneliness Was A Cure

Raw silk

Pure power

You stand there edifying

A statue of my inadequacies

 

“My loneliness is better than yours”

 

Overheard.

Disjointed.

 

There is a word for that

Or there should be a word for:

When-you’re-surrounded-by-narcissistic-people-while-all-you-want–to- do-is-get-drunk as-shit-and-have-a-good-time

 

There is no respite from the world

You can only travel so far in the euphoria

Before they bring you back to life

People who would inflict cruelties

But scoff at murder

Murder is where you draw the line

 

“Here, I’ll draw the line for you.”

 

This is me.

 

There is everyone else.

 

I’m standing outside in white darkness.

A tap on the window.

 

I judge a place by­ their cheeseburgers,

And the beef is overcooked.

 

 

 

 

© A.R. Minhas 2018