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

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THE FOOL (Zeke)

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.

 

© 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

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

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

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

My sense of humor is a death trap

My sense of humor is a death trap

Lock Jaw. Trap shut.

 

There goes your face

Contact lenses lost within eyes.

 

Go find your broken glasses.

 

And here come the golden cicadas

 

Interrupting me

While I masturbate with my own thoughts

 

I’ll hide behind your pale breasts

The blood from my gums left behind

 

Thumbs leave an impression

Fingers pulsate with love

 

Silkworms on their arduous task

Going uphill on ashened graves

 

A plume of waxed legs

Use them to silence me

 

My sense of humor will kill you

If you came to close to it

 

It’s opening

 

The Birth of a joke

Laugh in the face of absurdity

 

You are lost

And there is laughter everywhere

And I can’t help myself

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017

I STILL HAVE TIME: A GARDEN OF EYES

 

My words have failed me

And so has everyone else

If there was a bullet

I could shoot

I would shoot it with my teeth

Everything is falling apart

As it always does

And I’m here to chew on your ashes

Like sweet betel-leaf

“Spit out the purple residue!”

 

Our gums have long expired

They’re longing for Vitamin C

 

          Fructose spilled on your car

          Calcium deposits remain

And the smoke chars your pinched breast

          They open and close like eyes

                   I’ve never had a taste of those protruding nipples

That stab me in the throat

As we become one

And you give me sustenance

 

Suckling sound!

I know it calms you down more than Sativa

Bless me with your chemicals, and I’ll  bless you with mine!

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017

 

 

I Don’t Send My Heart On Adventures Anymore

I lie on a bed made of ash

          My body rests precariously

 Acupuncture

          Cigarette butts

                             Nicotine gently sways

                           Into ether

                                               I’m immune to your charms

And claims of love

Please sell insurance somewhere else

Premiums are high and I’m unworthy to get your coverage.

          Breasts like deployed airbags

                          Sometimes accidents are a good thing

 

If it’s Cherry red then I’m sold

But not too far

                   The elevator opens on the far end

                             And my erection will hold the door open for you

 

And I’m pressing the button down

Don’t you dare sneak in

I’m told my cologne is poisonous

 

I’ll reach you before you can

But this is not the time

Or the spatial reality to consider such matters

I’m not looking for adventure

And my heart is weak

                   It wants its own company

                   It deserves its own company

                                      Sole-proprietorship

And Unlimited liability

 

My heart has grown tired of adventure

                   It just wants to watch TV

                   Eat unhealthy                        And derive pleasure from pixelated

                                                                Barbie dolls

 

And abnormal quantities of

Jack and coke.

I don’t mind being sick as long as my heart isn’t affected.

          This is the love

I exude out

And my lips have forgotten how to interpret your name.

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017

 

Pretend that I don’t even exist.

There was a death recently

And what do you care about life?

Actually, there were two

Both of them water-related.

Think bloated green stomachs.

Just another individual among the millions departed.

And here I am

Existing

And what’s the point of asking how I am? Huh?

It’s not like you care what I say

You cut me off mid-sentence and never pick up what I have left off.

And have the audacity to call me secretive?

I don’t share with people who can’t suffer through my loneliness.

If you’re insensitive, I’m much worse.

But yesterday you reminded me why I hate people.

Yesterday you took the cake.

And blew all the candles to leave that wax burning.

My skin like wrapping paper. I want to tear it open.

I need to return it back, whatever it is you call life.

I never asked for this and it has become a burden ever since.

I’m tired of being ignored

Passed over

Broke

Depressed, sometimes not all the time.

Loneliness is my chosen comfort.

Most of all I need distance from you.

If you can’t stand me. It’s ok. I won’t be so close to you either.

To hear is to obey

But if you pretend again that we are something.

 

I won’t be writing poetry about you. And I’ll say something very unbecoming.

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017