Encore

The Past been a nightmare to wake from,
sometimes eating up the present,
being unable to tell whether it has an end;
the Future been the past’s mirror image,
warning signs or either sirens’ songs,
nothing that possibly cannot go wrong;
I was likely anchored, cornered to Present,
more like pulling the chains than living,
but this was already much from a dead being.

I walked every step with a blind resignation,
a person died and revived in me,
like someone stealing life and trying to flee;
the anchors I tried to undress so hard
kept undressing me slowly,
and here I am standing like nothing can control me;
the anchors I were fighting, life, have gone,
it feels no more grief, no more agony,
I’ve reached freedom through fatal cavity.

There’s no past I could face anymore,
none of me waits me in the future,
but here I am where I could have been sooner;
losing the pain through losing life,
I am free with a huge cavity,
and I am as ready to live as to face mortality;
I feel eager, no more than any,
just to live a bit more,
imagining there’s an anchor that makes me stay more.

Benyamin Bensalah

10.05.2021

Devils may cry

My indifference surpasses Earth’s billions species,
my wild philosophies boil hotter than Venus,
my grief’s still colder than Pluto’s deepest valleys,
my carelessness embraces the whole space;
still, there’s a crying child in me
who doesn’t want more than being loved
and told motherly that this is your very place.

Benyamin Bensalah

24.04.2021

My Worst Poem

I was asked a couple of times
to choose my favorite poem;
what a rude demand,
how gross
just to choose for judging.

What should it be;
the most confessionalist,
something about nature,
mankind or poetry itself
while I’ve been just writing?

I can’t even choose the worst;
the most ridiculous,
something about whining,
one with bad rhyming
or one that doesn’t fit me at all?

If you read all my works,
you should know…
but why would you anyway…
so, I inform you:
I’ve been just writing.

Now, I call it my worst poem,
looking for my best of all
because at some point
we are the best and the worst
while we didn’t exist at all.

Benyamin Bensalah

18.04.2021

The Age of a Dragon

Time has been no more just a deception.
Where are the uncountable years on chain?
How to count the unceasable pain?
What measure can contain all the knowledge
of one’s griefing observation
on the self and what imprisons it?

The world is no more than a foolery.
All the pain grew shield on our skin, still..
Still, the scars are under our scales;
they are graved into the heart –
no teeth, no claws can defend us from;
this ruthless form is meaningless.

Life is a ceaseless demolition.
There’s no defense from this dark magic;
it creates spears and useless scales against,
then some wizardry chains us in caves
because we burnt the bridges, burnt the gates,
but weren’t we created for that?

Benyamin Bensalah

18.04.2021

Meaning less

None does matter,
but everything’s from a matter;
touchable, feelable,
loveable, hateable,
countable in a measure,
surrmountable as a leisure –
where’s the meaning then
when we arrive to the fin?

Too much sugar;
it’s sweet no more,
too much pain;
it feels no more.

What to love, what to hate?
What is mistake?
What is fate?
What has any meaning anyway?

None does matter,
but everything does at some point;
unique, feeble,
oblique, speakable,
forgiveable in a level,
liveable as a pleasure –
can we have less meaning then
and some ease reaching our fin?

Benyamin Bensalah

13.04.2021

Bucket-list 2.0

I would haved liked to;
Raise my voice in a praise,
Fulfilling faith or whatever abstract concept,
Imploring long upon a phrase,
Ensuring my existence.
I would have liked to;
Find Myself at the altar of art,
Still as living mortal enjoying its blessings,
Among poets taking apart,
Feeling I am there.
I would have liked to;
Explore my weak body’s limits,
How much its complex structure can take,
Whether it can surpass spirits,
Leaving me not inanimate.
I would have liked to;
Run wildly through continents,
Then, richfully resting and finding my house,
Where I can spend my experience,
Creating something like homes.
I would have liked to;
Walk cozily, dearly hand in hand,
Pairing shoulder by shoulder in our old ages,
Ignoring nature’s last demand,
Having willing for staying.
I would have loved.

Benyamin Bensalah

20.03.2021