Poetry – A.R. MINHAS

Fraud

I don’t deserve it.

“You look like you need it.”

A cherry flavoured kiss.

I still taste you on my beard.

A door knocks.

An ancient bird that taps.

Shadows close in on me.

The mouse-trap with red velvet cake.

You don’t deserve anything.

It snaps. It recoils.

This is how a dream breaks,

And I’m relieved.

You were never real.

It was all given to you,

And now you return to take me back.

I laugh at your audacity

“Papers, please.”

I was never here in the first place.

There is a beauty in surrendering.

April 9, 2019April 9, 2019 by A.R. Minhas

I’ll Eat You In My Dreams

There is a jar filled with Honey

Buried in your dreams

And I pour it

They create steps

A temple of your heart

Steep conversations

Cicadas with Kamikaze fervor

Heart thumping like pure jet-streams

Azure is the shape of my skin

You sit next to me

Can you hear them?

Ovulations of perfume

A fermented kiss in a plastic bottle

Who knew that chemical reactions can create longings?

Vegetation of Serotonin

And I’m floating from you just being next to me

“Share a Diet-Coke?” you ask with carbonated eyes.

I would share a Chocolate grasshopper with you

High on protein

Saliva dripping rainbows and you share a secret with me

There are no Mango-Trees close by

Let’s do magic by that Orange shape

Peeling it with toes

Those natural, citrusy fingertips

Delicate

To a stroking fur touch

And I promised you an apple pie

If you stay close enough

I’ll give you a view

From my chest

Like open palms

Dipping to Luna

A fountain foaming with desire

Smoking Blue Dream

Within a withering forest

In my dreams

Just stay close.

And I’ll eat you underneath a Mango-Tree.

February 25, 2019 by A.R. Minhas

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

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.

Buy my Artwork on Redbubble:

https://www.redbubble.com/people/arminhas/works/36229617-self-image-before-birth?asc=u&p=canvas-print

January 12, 2019January 12, 2019 by A.R. Minhas

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?

December 31, 2018December 31, 2018 by A.R. Minhas

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

Voice

Calls

From

Below

The chaos

Is interested in you.

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

August 29, 2018August 29, 2018 by A.R. Minhas

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.

August 26, 2018 by A.R. Minhas

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 longtime; 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 its 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, 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

“Girl with flowers“

“Nightingale Sings”

“Woman in the Cosmos”

“Simurgh”

August 19, 2018January 5, 2019 by A.R. Minhas

Nightingale Sings

If you had walked on the sand

Waves of eyes sing this

Song

It howls red

A screaming into Love

You tell me everything, and I gave you

My Simurgh

I’m a wanderer King

I consult with my non-existent God

Stub your cigarette on my eye

I have too many to spare

Your soul has some ash on it

Brush it off

There is some employment to be had

Yellow footsteps follow the smoke

I saw like the buzzard

The snake that serenades you

Fall down the whaling willow

The spider in the night

I creep towards you

The webs of our entanglement.

Attune to the nightingale

Still darkness

Beyond the universe

And it wants to recreate itself.

August 16, 2018 by A.R. Minhas

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…

July 12, 2018July 12, 2018 by A.R. Minhas

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.

June 25, 2018June 25, 2018 by A.R. Minhas

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