God, Sex and Everything in Between – Episode 1 – “Human Irrationality.”

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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

Goddess Sativa

She told me, and I didn’t believe her

“Use teeth next time”

Just to hurt more.

A heart doesn’t want to be sober

Like a trail of swollen lights

Blaspheming moths

Incinerated

Masturbating to their own destruction.

You hear the ventilation buzzing

A stutter of cicadas

Stroking to their vibrations

And I cum a purple substance

Goddess Sativa floating in my throat.

The stickiness of thought,

And a centipede spirals into my ear.

It whispers–

“I have stories about the crawl space in your mind that you don’t want to talk about.”

And then I laugh.

I laugh because it doesn’t mean anything.

And I should’ve believed her.

I don’t want to be sober.

I only want to worship you.

(c) A.R. Minhas 2019

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

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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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

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

 

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