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

‘Pimp! Like Slim’: New Artwork

Hey Guys,

I just wanted to introduce my new artwork. This shirt is a portrait of Robert Beck a.k.a  ‘Iceberg Slim’, who has written one of my favorite books of all time, ‘Pimp: The Story Of My Life’. If you haven’t read it, please do, as it’s an absolute masterpiece. I will leave the link for the book below. I would also really appreciate it if you can check out my store. Thank you!

 

“My Store”

download (3)

 (c) A.R. Minhas 2018

 

“Pimp: The Story of my life”

410GcKdg32L._SX326_BO1,204,203,200_

 

 

 

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

A Being of Beauty

Beauty, I have awoken to you

Weren’t my catcalls enough?

This gentlemen’s club has disciplined me

I’m in the corner crying out for you

And you’re hustling for scratch?

You look sexy even when you’re

Swabbing the disinfectant

Dancing on the golden pole

Strobing sound effects

Twirling like a dervish

Spirituality in your sex revealed

I smell coconut

And your breasts are like industrial bleach

My cum is blessed and your mouth like a receptacle of a blue god.

Gurgling sound of a dishwasher

My sins are cleaned

I like how you vibrate and leave the map of your wetness

flower Girl full napa
“Flower Girl” Original artwork by A.R. Minhas (c) 2018

Look up!

The mirror reflects you, and you’re counting down the four songs

And I remember that money is no object for you.

And I’m hoping that this moment doesn’t end,

And if I could finger you

I would’ve left a bloodbath of love.

It’s the red of your lips that speak the name,

And the slight static your legs offer

Arc touch of razorblades creates endorphins for immortality.

And when it’s over

You talk to someone right next to me…

How cruel is that?

Maybe, you could hustle somewhere else

So I’m not reminded of the moment we shared

Is it too human to ask?

© A.R. Minhas 2018

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

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

Year of Regret

Raw silk, pure power

I feel the anger of drunk drivers passing by

 

She undresses in that winter moon

I lay naked next to you, and I feel you in heat

“Taste it, spit the seeds”

 

I’m a meat eater, but I’ll promise to drink more cranberry juice

And I promise

I won’t fall in love again

You saw what happened last time?

 

Coughed up a lung in love

Footed the bill

And my thoughts have become more bureaucratic

I know exactly what forms to fill out

 

Replacement heart on the way

Plus shipping and handling

 

 

I promise I don’t need anyone

You can ask my dreams

You can ask my bank account

And my investments are doing well too

 

Painting pictures of zero balances on my credit card

Could you imagine?

If you never made mistakes

 

Protein shake diets

I’m taking care of myself

And I don’t need anyone

 

Even if your touch leads to those special endorphins

It’s ok

 

There’s a new year coming up

And I’m sorry for repeating

But there won’t be any regrets anymore.

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017

Writing In Silence

You ask me why I write

And I tell you because I can’t communicate with humans

Just ask them

They make me feel alienated

Like an astronaut’s outstretched hand and no one to hold on to

 

My messages are to be delivered in words

So they create explosions of memories

So you can see me as I am

 

I’m trying to reach out here

Meet me halfway

Maybe meet me at Mars

Where there was once water

Now only red and nakedness

 

I wish you had x-ray vision so you can see the playful nature of my soul

I’m not serious all the time

I hate being serious all the time

It’s the job that gets to me

Meet me at the bar on mars

Let’s drink

Screwdrivers to loosen the tongue

Flush out the noose of my stomach

 

I want to be inside of you

The way you sit in that chair

I see the spark of your eye through your legs

Glittering breasts and your perfume filled with animal pheromones

Your orange lips

That ripe eye slit

I want to penetrate it

I want to see what you see

 

Open your pussy

So I can eat you from the inside

And when I come

Don’t get blinded by the light

 

I’m here because I’m lonely.

 

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017