Eversion

What brought you back at this time
when the color of grey is not grey anymore
when even the thought of death is not appealing
when the parade of dreaming silence became enjoyable?

What could even make your voice to reach me
when the sound of silence tortured my soul
when my ears are forced not to hear
when my heart is a numb pump?

What would make me to answer after all
after all I learnt how not to reply
after all our imaginary talk
after all the self-hate?

What makes me reply is the love,
beyond understanding,
beyond dimensions,
beyond the pain.

It’s just a hidden source
of an ever self-denial,
ever tormenting
eversion.

Benyamin Bensalah

08.04.2020

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

A Meaningless End

This is the end.

But the end started at the creation
of the first deoxyribonucleic acid,
of the first cellular life,
of the first material’s
formation.

This is the end.

The end was here from the beginning
at the enactment of beginning,
at the start of all existence,
at the emptiness
in the void.

This is the end.

The end of my deoxyribonucleic acids
of formed cellular creation,
of temporary learning,
of existence
begins.

Benyamin Bensalah

30.03.2020

Dedicated last hour

In the last hour, will I be less dour?
I’ve never been; in fact, I’ve been always keen
of knowledge and every passage,
trying to give a chance for each hopeful glance,
but in the last hour, everything ends.

It will be dour, but not because of the last hour.
Life always was an inner strife
from misery to misery;
to end it, doesn’t make me happy
just ready for the last hour.

In the last hour, something won’t be dour.
For once, I’ll have what everyone wants;
the loved one’s words in my ears
that will give reason to all my hours,
for what, I dedicate her my last hour.

“An eternity of gratitude
for breaking a little
my long solitude.”

Benyamin Bensalah

19.03.2020

Lovely hatred

What could cause more hate
Than its old opposite, love;
No parents, no friends, none but the only one –
But what if one had only that one?
What if he had no world, but one that’s gone?

Time can cure a wound,
But not a complete world missing –
Days in silent relief without any belief,
Weeks in horrible macabre, keen and grief
Then, hatred – even eternity would seem brief.

Benyamin Bensalah

06.09.2018

Enough

Ain’t say more…
I won’t listen anymore;
Every plasma inside me burning
Screams up in one word: “ENOUGH”.

Ain’t say more…
None of the livings listened
When I tried to articulate: I’m different,
Now, my tries outpour in one world: enough.

Ain’t say more…
It’s the end, listen to me;
My presence has been a torment to me,
As for all of us, then, end listening: enough.

Ain’t say more…
Just listen to my absence;
It has no sound, nothing all at once,
Then, believe in my nonexistence: it’s enough.

Ain’t say more…
The memory is horrible,
Maybe, just as I was, only a bad riddle
That a child enjoys, but the others scream up on it: ENOUGH.

Benyamin Bensalah

28.08.2018