DBD

Hours, days, weeks and months make a queue,
In what, things don’t renew but redo;
While blue stays blue, and two remains two,
The only new is the thought of you;
My fragrant tulip with a crystal drop of dew,
Causer of my heart’s purr and mew,
This is how I wish Happy BDay, and I love you.

Benyamin Bensalah

10.06.2019

Birthday Cough

(1)
Life always has a simple key;
If it’s not its harakat, then its hara-kiri…
(2)
I’ve just passed two decades and four years,
Living for two years in Algiers.
(3)
My life’s been a funny thriller;
Clinging to remain a caterpillar.

France for French and bass for dance;
I fully maintained my old stance.

The same faith that makes a moth nocturnal,
Made me write my grotesque journal.

Day and night through polyglotting;
I spoke weary words and hodgepodging.

My talk’s been strange as a stolen stone;
Mort satire arranged my lonely tone.

For that I’ve got beard and scrub,
I gotta be a philolover language bug.

More than twenty witty years of Earthism,
My fortune fooled the laws of Murphy’s.

Like coming from the blue, apathetic;
I’ve been walking on the gloom, my path is epic.

Overall my karma’s rather up than down,
For that, I’m thanking Allah until now.

Finally, To sum up my level up,
I clashed up twenty-four years in a cough.

Benyamin Bensalah

19.04.2017

I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I

Today, it’s the twenty-eighth crossed bar on my cell.
I cannot say simply, but let me describe the term:
I was condemned as baby to live through this hell,
formed grossly from my dickhead father’s sperm.

Absurdly but my life could be a perfect examplar
why one should abort or just take an exam
before throwing a life into air without any care;
before owning a soul whom the gods damn.

Owning without owning because I’m all way abandoned;
never had what normies call healthy parenting,
but apparently I never wanted this file reopened –
I’m careless about all, don’t need that venting.

I’ve been abused, traumatized, but I’m way worse –
and I’m still highlighting it’s without my consent
that I am who I am, my own monster in this curse
of individual and collective torture I was sent.

I’d be happy to say that there’s a “what hurts me most”,
but unfortunately, I have no much to blame;
I’m thanking who tried to save me and am sorry they lost,
and am sorry I hurt them, but my sorries are lame.

So, this is my cell, still, an individual hell without circles;
there’s no goal, nor degrees to go through –
I’m just here with the immense thoughts’ whirlpools –
Been stressed to quit, now I’m just waiting my queue.

Today, it’s the twenty-eighth crossed bar on my cell.
I couldn’t say simply because there’s no way to tell.
I just wished to find my place inside this terrible hell-
that I may deserve; I hope others will be well.

-With hope there will be no more stickbars to chisell.

Benyamin Bensalah

05.05.2020

The monster behind 04.26

My mother kept whispering sole conversations,
but it was me not talking to her instead;
my mother kept inside her emotions,
but it was me not making her express;
my mother burst out in crying-shouting,
but it was me who let her problems imbed;
my mother was whom I blamed for many things,
but it was me ruining her and my life instead;
my mother was fighting for me,
and it was me giving up instead;
my mother was the only who cared about me,
and it was me who turned passively careless;
my mother was who gave birth to me,
then it was me who never gave her a fine birthday bless.

In Memoriam of the great date of 04.26.1964.

Benyamin Bensalah

04.26.2020

Lament of the twenty seventh

Before my deoxyribonucleic code has been sent
To my mother by a male parent,
I was on his land of sand,
As barely apparent.

(spermicide)

2. Then, I was finally sent
Into my female parent,
On another land,
Barely planned.

A couple of months went that I spent
In my mother’s abdomen rent
On that green land,
Barely planned.

Then, my rentee went to that land,
Flying to the land of crescent
Where I was to be meant
For a big moment.

(embryonic)

5. The event happened, the end of the rent,
Under the flag with the red crescent;
I was by a Jewish name penned,
On the fifth May after Lent.

Falling into my mother’s hand,
Still without any dent,
Back, I was re-sent
To motherland.

On that land, red in discontent,
White until the Lent’s end,
And green at Lent,
I had one parent.

I had no knowledge when he went,
But I was without a male parent,
With only two women, a grand-
And an abnormal parent.

His furious leaving left an advent
As my mother madwomaned
With a schizophrenic scent,
To madhouse “never” sent.

The balance keeping us under tent
Was our draconian grandparent
With an infinite financial grant
That let us live on that land.

For alms, we walked to granny frequent’,
And I loved her as my parent
For that little attachment
I barely experienced.

The further notions I experienced:
I was sent and sent and sent;
Nursed, schooled, churched,
And kindergartened.

But even before my childhood could end,
I found myself hard to befriend;
Playing the play of a dement
With an unmatched brand.

A playful kid, maybe too vehement,
Among others, a crazy element,
I was, but inside silent,
Over-vigilant.

I liked to observe others’ comportment;
What was that I have been meant,
What made me outstand
Like an alien, mutant.

Step by step, I wished the end
Of flying dishes and plant’
At my domicile rent,
End of the torment.

(pubescent)

17. I wished to vanish from the torment
Of social-antisocial banishment,
But I saw no escape slant,
Only in my poetic lament.

Though, before those sad lament,
I tried to see my life and mend
My heart with compliment,
Some failed love event.

Minutes, days, months and years went,
A lot of school skills that I learnt,
But the best one in my hand
Was the ability to pretend.

Even if I swam well in crosscurrent,
I wished to end, leave that land;
Searched by my male parent,
I planned to visit his land.

Then, my mother went to madhouse mend,
For what, I was by my university banned
To work that went well, but I meant
To start or end a life in sand.

(twentified)

22. So, as my twenty-first birthday present
Finally, I Africanly citizened
To know my descent
And the crescent.

Beyond the French and Arabic accent,
I manned myself on that land
Where I was landed and
It’s not yet ended.

Changing the cross to crescent,
I could be happy and…
But people prevent
Every event.

I’d been married as I planned,
But my fam is an accident
As my birth in an extent,
In this actual land.

What to do, socially I try to pretend
That I am indeed an element,
But my DNA was meant
To disappointment.

(at present)

27. Seen these verses, it’s abhorrent
As well as writing a lament,
But as a birthday present,
I wish a Happy – End.

Benyamin Bensalah

04.05.2019