Category: Existentialist

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

Pierre Reverdy: The song of the dead (p.40)

I’ve passed too many dark lines
And I can’t come back
I covered my features with salt
and I no longer have a place in the world where I’ve belonged
Searching in the sun
Seeking in the darkness
And Iooking into your heart for an impossible echo
Towards the trails of boredom exiled in yourself
Or even beyond

Benyamin Bensalah

19.03.2021

Translated from the French poem of Pierre Reverdy, “Le chant des morts(p40)”.

In memory of a moment of peace

Under a confused mind of a cloudy meander,
I was sitting where two tempests clashed,
The colours were drought by the blender-
Of a blinding light as if a camera flashed.

Under the gravity of the grass on the ground,
I amazed miraculously how the sky split,
As my lamb-like soul split years around-
On a play-ground of an o-childish spirit.

Under a mysterious frozen fragment of time,
I saw my prisoned prism in the height,
Held by a bird, a bird.. a bird that I’m-
Surely, my soul will never see the light.

Under the brightening crack on the darkness,
I was the white dove with a shot-spot,
Bleeding out in a dark ink of numbness-
With the body as a soul-less cold splotch.

Benyamin Bensalah

12.04.2017

When the tooth aches too

It started with a Monday morning
that could be skipped staying snoring,
but then things might’ve been better,
and I wouldn’t have turned to this letter.

My gloomy, grumpy morning face
was unknowingly drifting to a horrid fate,
accepting calls as a working routine
like a piece of meat in an evil cuisine.

With all my soul within me burning
my already doomed stance went to turning
to be gifted a tooth aching in my mouth
just when I thought I was already way south.

The pain tortured me, in and out,
feeling just as conscious to avoid blackout;
standing-sitting, standing-sitting
while the universe kept me hitting.

I checked dentists’ numbers on the Maps,
but they were shown so far on the apps;
it was late for me already pushing the shift,
so I rather jumped down from a cliff.

You might be asking: how’s this writing;
it was my last note of whining –
for me, suicide has never been a taboo,
especially when the tooth aches too.

Benyamin Bensalah

15.03.2021