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

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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.

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 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.

October 6, 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 long time; 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 it’s 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 eyes.

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, 2018June 1, 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

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.

July 17, 2018July 17, 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

A.R. MINHAS

Tag: Space

A Room Full of Paintings

The Last Time We Were Here

The Magician

The Fool

Nightingale Sings

Love Bird

Woman, Mirror & Eyes

Become a Simurgh

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