You wouldn’t get it

All started with a smile
of an unconscious state of mind
led by hormone-made happiness
sealing a smile with sealing-wax
on a man of fusioning confusion.

All startled with a cry
of a subconscious mindlessness
led by  childhood-made  traumas
sealing cries with high unpaid tax
on a poor heart without happiness.

You wouldn’t get it
even if you could get into the mind
of collapsing blurred, fake-realities
sealed by the possible impossible
truth of all this has been just real.

Benyamin Bensalah

02.04.2020

Bad omen

What a dread dream I had as a child
to be once one of the dead poets
seeing no remedial meaning in life
as I’ve been followed up with bad omens.

Now, as grown up, I couldn’t be more childish
to think I could change those bad omens
trying to bring the never had happiness to others’ life,
only luring them to mourn one of the dead poets.

The sadness doesn’t come from my failure,
neither from that I’m alone,
but rather that I’m seeing those lives’ remedy
in my absence; as I was the bad omen after all.

Benyamin Bensalah

03.04.2020

Cats and dogs

It rains drops,
drops of water molecules,
drops of Hydrogen and Oxygen combinations
with dust-like minerals and pollution
from the skies.

It drops rains;
rains of human feelings,
rains of coziness and shivering fevers
inside and outside of homes
been and never been.

It’s raining drops;
drops of eager-living hormones,
drops of synthetic concepts like poverty
with any form of possession
and with the lack of any’.

It’s dropping rains;
rains of drying happiness,
rains of sadness in a winter-like summer
with all the humanity
on holidays.

Cats and dogs;
it’s raining ceaseless happenings
it’s dropping away human-made humanities
and gives away paradise
for unknowing animals.

Benyamin Bensalah

02.04.2020

Finished, but unfinished

No one loves me, not even one,
Not an animal, not a human –
Monster, I’m called by the men;
Loving and being loved, it’s them…

No one feels me, not even one,
I’m not an animal, not a human –
Monster, I’m called by the men;
Feeling and being felt, it’s them…

No one hears me, not even one,
They’re not animal, not a human –
Monsters, they’re called by the man;
Seeing and hearing, it’s not them…

Benyamin Bensalah

11.09.2018

Wavery writing

I grab the pen,
In the sand.
On the beach.

As all the pens,
It depends,
How it ends.

The words just land,
In my hand,
Through the waves.

They try to mend,
My heart’s wound,
By their sound.

It madly sends,
Crazy bends,
Waves and graves.

The murmurs end,
When the wind,
Ends its trend.

The waves are grand,
Once God’s grant,
Then graves (a)gain.

My skin is brand,
I’m well tanned,
Though unplanned.

The pain must end,
What I planned,
Wave Goodbye.

The thoughts are banned,
It’s the end,
I can’t stand.

I drop the pen,
In the sand,
On the beach.

Benyamin Bensalah

10.08.2017

Probably somebody popped up in my mind

Probably somebody popped up in my mind –
Among all those possibilities
Out of the void,
Among all those responsibilities
I try to avoid,
There’s a beam of trust
That holds every doubtful thing as a whole,
That gives me and only me a role,
That keeps me human after all –
Monsters must or must not be alone –
Keeping you as my mortal and eternal goal.

Benyamin Bensalah

10.10.2018

Thought and soughed

I’m dizzy, drunk and dumb,
Tho’ no alcohol touched my tongue;
No Hennesy of Islamic heresy,
No, I didn’t take any heavy to be heady.

I’m in daze, drought and dung,
My life is empty, but not an easy run;
It’s an endless intoxication,
Dragged and druged by self-interrogation.

Whether a shot would amend my inner weather?
Whisky with coke to feel better?
Sending me to hell from this hellish place?
Living-dying on the worldly drugs of my race?

Benyamin Bensalah

06.12.2017