It’s not working well

It’s not working well…
My knees fell
To where
I had had a puddle.

It’s not working well…
In that puddle,
My soul should dwell,
But now, there’s a well.

It’s not working well…
In the well –
Deeping  until hell –
There’s no water.

It’s not working well…
From the hell,
Sounds come up to rebel,
Antipersonnel.

It’s not working well…
I’m unwell,
Infidel,
The well is my chapell.

Benyamin Bensalah

09.09.2018

Enraining

I’ve been in an acid rain.
From the start.
Tap-tap, tap-tap.
Every drop falls.
Through my coat.
Through my face.
Into the heart.

I’ve been sitting in a pit.
It rains sadness.
Ha-ha, ha-ha.
Every drop laughes.
Into my ears.
Into my soul.
Through madness.

I’ve been waiting death.
To come.
Tak-tak, tak-tak.
I can’t wait.
In the years.
In the pains.
How long they last.

Benyamin Bensalah

20.11.2016

Limited words on a finite-limitless story

The happier she is, the more it will be her fault;
The sadder I am, the more I will be the victim
While it’s my guilt – it is always me and me
Who cannot get through of his thoughts.

My reasoning has weakened already;
I can only blame my long misery
And myself and myself again
For running in obscurity.

My words are limited;
I wasted so many
But not on her
Not for her.

Because;
It was
For
U.

(I just only wish if I had some more words
Like a thousand or a quadrillion
Turning back time again
To tell you I’m sorry.)

Benyamin Bensalah

28.01.2020

A to Z, looking for happiness

Absurd thoughts coming from a spotless mind;
Burning bridges and looking sadly behind,
Crying out tissues without real issues,
Dying in seconds thinking of a muse,
Entering her life so that to leave,
Finding myself newly naive,
G spots for her pleasure,
Hiding as a treasure,
Inviting homeless,
Joking hopeless,
Killing time,
Loving by,
Mind,
Never mind,
Ol’ possibilities,
Poet communities,
Questioning taboos,
Returning to the muse,
Seeking that happiness,
Turning back cuz I’m a mess,
Unwanting to go outside of this hell,
Venting in poems there’s no one to tell,
Why I am here, I don’t know nor I do care,
X-Ray shaming clouds smoked in my despair,
You could help on me, so it will be all your fault,
Zero meaning or happiness I found just as Mersault.

Benyamin Bensalah

27.01.2020

The Blue 009 (Two Zero One Nine)

Trying to describe this year is so foolish
As describing the sky as bluish:

What is a color? What is the sky?
What is happening up in the high?
It is not blue – maybe just partly;
The white light up there is having a colorful party.

So as, no clear thing can be stated
As “This year I’ve got devastated.”;
What is devastation? Being said tartly?
While the might Guy up there is having a scornful party.

I’ve got Diagnosed as Personally Borderlined,
But it’s still me and my Ol’ demented mind;
I’m not looking for a political asylum like “Sorry. It’s Bee Pee Dee.”
While I know my place is in an Asylum or under a Tee Gee Vee.

I just cannot say it out like : “The sky is blue.”,
Even if I have a clue like the prism the light goes through;
So as, I cannot say it out like : “This year was my fault.”
While I’ve been just being me like The Stranger‘s Meursault.

So as, I’ve got proofs that I’ve been good;
Pictures in which I cause happiness despite of my mood –
While burning inside and preparing an attempt for suicide,
I was doing my best staying cheerful by others’ side.

This is why it is so hard to tell
While the prism has six colors, why the other five fell,
This is why it is so hard to believe
While I am just being me, people ignorantly leave.

But this is what we always do;
Just saying out things like that: “The sky is blue”,
Then, we don’t care about people’s understanding
That changes nothing on the ending.

So I – for last in this year, being a little bit foolish –
Describe this year as it was totally and very, very bluish.

Benyamin Bensalah

31.12.2019