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

I’m always here

I know no limit for fun 😃

because I own no limit in pain; 😞

no matter I’ve done 🤷‍♂️

because I’m always punished by my brain, 😞

but all that I’ve gone 🤯

would be as much hard to explain 😞

like the pun 😃

why I was knot there that day. 🤷‍♂️

Benyamin Bensalah

15.04.2021

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

Riceology

Boiling rice may be a bogey;
We are cooking, stirring, working on it,
Then, we get a gluing paste for our fatigue.

But boiling rice is a simple act;
Only if you’re following a couple fact,
My scientific, tricky receipt step by step.

Firstly, you measure the rice;
Take a mug once and twice and thrice,
So you see, it’s science, not a play of dice.

Then, the water is coming,
And here is my first trick coming;
How many times you must be mugging?

An ordinary cooker,
Would take double water,
Pouring six mugs of fresh blunder.

But me! The chef Benyamin,
I choose to put three and a half in,
Letting the rice to swim, not sinking.

But above all of this,
Here are my other magic tricks;
Frying the rice for five mins or six.

After it got golden brown,
I pour hot water on it muggly owned,
Then, I leave the rice under a cover to boil.

After lil lodge-podgy,
We can check our moody foodie;
And it was the first lesson of riceology.

Benyamin Bensalah

09.10.2017

Eye of a corn

Pop.
The first left.
Pop. Pop.
The second and third.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Going becomes a hype.
Pop.
Another one.
Pop. Pop.
I feel it salty to leave.
Pop.
I feel fever to go.
Pop.
Hot pressure.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
They go with pleasure.
Pop. Popop.
What’s going on?
Popop. Pop. Popop.
Is it a must to go?
Pop.
My ears are buzzing.
Pop.
The world’s reeling.
Pop.
Silence.
Pop.
Silence.
Silence.
Maybe, it’s the last.
Silence.
Maybe, it’s over.
Sure.
We are in safe.
Stayed many of us.
Out of the yellow mass.
Yes!
I told you.
Don’t mess with me.
Silence.
Alas!
Pop.

Benyamin Bensalah

15.05.2016

A summer in Constantine

There’s no summer as best summer
In my achromatic life;
However, I’ve remembered
When I was Dani’s guide.

One of my friends, if there’s any,
Came to me in Algiers;
Checking the white Africans,
And facing all his fears.

I showed him the world of Aladdin
That he couldn’t see online;
Wonder after wonder,
Like the mountains of Constantine.

                     ***

Like the wrinkles of a stone-giant,
The place was super-high;
Forest camping at a school’s scout
Was a must to try.

Dani fell in love with Islam,
Having no stirrup;
He said Salam, labas, bismlah,
And Hamdullah to burp.

Mocking people everywhere,
We were Hungarians;
Like superior intruders,
We conquered the lands.

                     ***

Breakfast of the morning sunshine
With some cafeteria
Burnt the freedom to our mind
Through that utopia.

How could one forget the hot wind,
The cold lake of the hollow;
The lost billiard matches at night
As our only sorrow.

Now, that time flew far far away,
As far as Constantine;
But I still keep the memory,
Till it’s no longer mine.

Benyamin Bensalah

19.04.2018

The coolest prophet – Jonah the crook

There’s a story, nearly fairy tale,
about a guy sent into a whaley jail
by reason he did disobey
his Lord’s survey-ridden, nasty play
to send him alone against a city
that already lived by peace and felicity
until the Lord said so:

“Hey, Jonah! I’m your Lord;
I should be worshiped by your crowd:
tell ’em who’s the all star of heaven;
I will give them some days like seven,
then, I will show them some cinema;
go before I burn down Niniveh
because I said so.”

Jonah was shocked by the message;
why this aggression, ravage
while he himself just like that poor people
is meek, simple, desirous and feeble
who eagers no newly made prophethoods,
rather sitting by rivers and staying in woods,
but the Lord knows no fun so.

Murmuring: Yeah, go to Niniveh,
turn them some disastrous cinema
as if the people would believe it
that their life’s wicked, needing to leave it…
but before they lynch me I pick a ship;
Yo, Lord! I’m outtie, fuck this shit –
and Jonah got on board as he said so.

On the sea, there were storms coming,
like water-mountains clapping;
the ship’s crew started to shout, pray and weep,
finding the hiding Jonah, threw him to the deep
by what the godly wrath found peace,
except for Jonah who got eaten by one piece
ending in Leviathan’s fishy jaw.

“Yo, Jonah! How’s with the escaping?
Are you happy now, you made me blackmailing;
go back to Niniveh and kick some butts,
or enjoy the odor down in the guts.”
Smelling the power of the omnipotent,
Jonah found that he’s not an opponent;
saying: “Yolo, I will do as you say so.”

As he spoke, the fish spitted him out,
and Jonah faced back to the unbelieving crowd;
no welcoming, no results,
just a bunch of dislikes and insults,
but God was finally happy
because his sponsor was there in the city,
Jonah who didn’t care at all.

Benyamin Bensalah

07.07.2020