Advertisements
Tag: Sufism
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
Buy my Artwork on Redbubble:
Share this:
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
Share this:
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
Share this:
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
Share this:
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
Share this:
Novel: Confessions of an Abortion Addict – Excerpt – Part 6
This is an excerpt from the novel “Confessions of an Abortion Addict.” The novel is still in progress, and I’m continuing this process with Nanowrimo. I’m currently at 10,000 words, 40,000 to go! This passage might not be sequential and will be subject to additional editing. Thank you!
Two travelers in a civic ride past the countryside. The sun sets low in that perfect glow of nostalgia; a time no one remembers but becomes familiar as winter approaches. In plains of beautiful sight, the trees have accepted that their leaves must fall. Snow accumulates on the ground, frostbitten grass fingers unable to touch. I’m looking out at the window and greeted with overhanging wires, deer warning signs, orange pylons, and windmills. I think about what would happen if humans just disappeared from the face of the earth. Will these things still be there, and if they are, what would they matter?
“You’ve never had fast food before?”
“Never, my mother never allowed it, and I just found it reprehensible.”
“Those golden arches don’t do anything for you?”
“Nope.”
“You really are something aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry I’m so different from what you’re used to,” I said, sounding a lot bitchier than it was intended. I was in a foul mood, and it was spilling everywhere.
“No, no—it’s just no matter whoever you are…you always try fast food, you know? Just because it’s always there and sometimes you’re so broke that’s the only thing you can afford, right?”
“You think I’m broke?”
“No, I meant that generally. But you know everyone is broke at some point, and you don’t come off as a spoiled brat.”
“You don’t have to be rich to be spoilt.”
“Hey, sorry did I say something that is making you say all this? Because you sounded really nice on the phone and you’re the one who said that you’d like to come to the cabin after I said I was going.”
“Listen, I’m sorry…it’s I needed to get out of the city for a little bit.”
“And I was your only option? Fantastic.”
“Thank you for understanding,” I said, unable to apologize or empathize with his situation. I turn to the side of my bag and fumbling for my Dunhills. There are debris of my past lives that are in this bag, and I seem to brush against them every time I slip into its content.
The darkness of that leather purse. The womb. An aspiration that will be squirted into a yellow suckling sounds. Blue-tinged aftermaths, tissue paper, crumpled, cold to antiseptic touch, and swabbed with cotton of human shades. A hollow tube that inserts itself into a pink void. It’s searching for meaning and also destroying it. Ftt! Ftt! fits of crying. Centre of embryonic waves crashing into me, and the waves receding taking parts of me with them. And my fingers like looped knives removing the remaining cigarettes.
Windows slightly opened and my fingers nervous to the frigidity of the atmosphere outside. Nightmares following me on journeys of escaping who I am.
Previous Excerpts:
Novel: Confessions of an Abortion Addict – Excerpt – Part 5
Novel: Confessions of an Abortion Addict – Excerpt – Part 4
Novel: Confessions of an Abortion Addict – Excerpt – Part 3
Novel: Confessions of an Abortion Addict – Excerpt – Part 2
Novel: Confessions of an Abortion Addict – Excerpt – Part 1
Confessions of an Abortion Addict
© A.R. Minhas 2017
Share this:
I’ll Give You A Kiss In My Dreams
These thoughts buried something
Something in your dreams
There is a jar filled with Honey
And I pour it
They create steps
A temple of your heart
Steep conversations
Vegetation will take care of
Cicadas
Heart thumping like pure jet-streams
Azure is shape of my skin
You sit next to me
Can you hear them?
Who knew that chemical reactions can create longing?
And I’m floating from you just being next to me
“Share a coke?” you ask with carbonated lips
I would share a grasshopper with you
High on protein
Saliva dripping rainbows and you share that secret with me
There are no Banyans close by
Let’s do magic by that Orange shape
Peeling it by toes
Those natural fingertips are delicate to fur touch
And I promised you an apple pie
If you stay close enough
I’ll give you a view
From my chest
Along a withering forest
To my dreams
Just stay close.
© A.R. Minhas 2017
Share this:
I haven’t felt like this in a long time
I shaved my hair to stop the thinning
Recessions
I’m free from your choke hold
You can judge
And I’ll fuck harder than ever before
You will know me
Even if I have to draw velvet circles
With my tongue
That’s how you like it
When your skin goes pale
And I mark it with my overbite impressions
You go green all over
Your body covered in black tassels
Brimming with the juice of life
I’ll squeeze even if I don’t like pulp
I’ve grown to love your unfiltered bits
That tangy flavor of your body
I had forgotten how to love
Then you held me that night
Just like tonight
You held me before
Just in time
When I was about to let go
Tonight I held you
And your perfume held my stare
And if I stared a bit longer
It would’ve been like that feeling again.
© A.R. Minhas 2017
Share this:
A Weekend In Spider Country
I’m here
Sitting by the lake
If you can see me now
What do I have to lose?
If I wasn’t here it wouldn’t matter
If I’m not here it wouldn’t change you
It wouldn’t change the crystal clear water
There is nothing that I can do
Lying here impotent
On red Muskoka chairs
No matter how far I travel
Or where I sit
It doesn’t change
This unease
I can never get comfortable
Feeling useless isn’t unique
But feeling nothing
Is okay
Spiders crawling
Bedspread
I try to bleed them but they keep coming back
Nesting in my ears
You can hear them
Constructing a web
Trap the flies
I wish I could trap your eyes
Stroke them with honey
This sugar is for you
And there’s nothing left for me.
Leaving, wouldn’t matter
Staying
Is suspended mid-air
Floating
Spiders make me uncomfortable
And that’s why I can’t sit still.
© A.R. Minhas 2017
