I'm just a pocket poet.
Back to the old stories
where I am the Big Bad Wolf of all
whom all can hate free for all.
Back to the old circles
that I entered in the Colossus as Hercule;
indeed it is all my fault.
While… time brings truths;
I am just as given as all the other voice:
take or leave me, it was your choice.
Benyamin Bensalah
22.05.2023
It wasn’t a bad lore
until you went offshore.
My soul is pure and untouched
even you eagerly clutched
to touch my unexisting memories
in which I left my miseries.
All on my side of recovery
what you thought to make my enemy:
You broken line of psycho-artist.
Benyamin Bensalah
15.05.2023
See no y’all have been given
See no y’all have been bitten
See no y’all have been hurt
Swim y’all in lies and conformities
Run y’all in circles about your mind
Fly y’all like vultures in my behind
Y’all won your own races against y’all
Y’all win what your mind befall
A well-merited bloodsoaked trophy on the wall
While the truth will not be spoken
When the victim is not in token
Why the game is in y’all alone
See no how the martyr’s hurt
See no the hand y’all have bitten
See no the truth what is given.
Benyamin Bensalah
15.05.2023
I’m standing before a book again.
Who cares of the cover – everybody does.
Isn’t it nice, again?
Oh, it is.
Isn’t it scary, again?
Oh, it is.
Reading won’t hurt us, right?
Oh, it does.
As it did tremendous times.
Still, you are at the first page now.
Yes, I am.
Why? Why would you?
Because this is life.
Life?
Life of a writer.
Writer? You wanted to read, didn’t you?
Yes.
I don’t understand.
Me neither.
Stahp.
I wish to stop, but this is life. We go on.
So?
Shhh. This is the first page.
They are always the best.
Benyamin Bensalah
27.08.2022
Perfect art can be made
even by the filthiest maidens
crawling their way from the deepest,
dragging up all the flames, flirt then pest
that eventually, explodes on your human soul.
Benyamin Bensalah
05.05.2022
Since I’ve been thrown hither-thither,
I feel most things always bigger –
here’s a snowball, I feel an avalanche there,
here’s a missed call, I feel a missed life there,
here’s the present, I feel the past hurting there…
And while I’m thinking I’m still aware,
while I’m thinking I’m being fair,
I am sinking to my own fear’s snare –
let my defense pull the triggers and my bitter
-ness, till it’s less and less, I deserve her.
Benyamin Bensalah
04.02.2022
There’s no hand
like the hand of your love.
Those fragile bones
that pull up strength
like ants bear the toil.
Those thin veins
that warm up two hearts
and feed two bodies now.
That smooth skin
that chills and boils me,
leaving me just amazed.
That silky hair
that takes and gives breath
like a fantasy rain forest.
There’s no hand
like the hand of your love
that manifests her care,
her beauty and my duty:
to be blessed beyond limits.
Benyamin Bensalah
19.01.2022
Loving seems so easy when done –
steaming water in your veins,
all the raw aromas around,
they get together as if
there was no preparation.
Though it couldn’t be harder –
for the coffee that’s too hot,
that’s told you are too hot:
get yourself together,
be more coffee like.
This is how a coffee is ruined –
when it’s told that too hot,
waiting for it to exploit,
meanwhile looking around,
idling about all but the coffee.
Coffee never should be granted –
it needs the silence and care,
to sit over it, hold the mug,
feel the scent of strength,
the whole life of a coffee.
Coffee should not be spoiled alike –
without feeling just drunk up,
having no chance to be
what it meant to be,
coffee.
Benyamin Bensalah
13.12.2021
Here’s a letter.
I have none else better.
In the letter,
there’s me – none else lesser.
All my sorry, all my love
All my worry, all my flaw.
Did I tell you how I feel?
Did I tell you how I feel you?
Did I tell you…
How important is this letter for me?
Without you
This letter’s just an envelope
An empty room
A vacuuming paradox.
I found you as you found the letter:
None was former, nor was latter.
Did I tell you how I feel?
How past, present and future feel
When comparing them
To you… and me?
With you
This letter got existence
A living stance
An overwhelming paradox.
An almost empty letter,
But I have so much better:
What if it is Our letter
To write it better – none else lesser.
Benyamin Bensalah
09.12.2021
I always dream
there will be no tomorrow
to wake up on
and face myself
face myself how I miss her
and face myself.
The worst of t’is
that I’ve been afraid
the same way
when she was there:
I knew she’ll leave me –
I wouldn’t bear me.
I’m afraid of every tomorrow,
but there’s always another.
Another happy day
with her.
Or another terrible day
without.
Then, the days
when I am just afraid:
with or without.
But…
But…
There’s another tomorrow.
Tomorrow,
I will face myself,
and tell her.
But…
I told many times.
I’m afraid.
Is this tomorrow
that I’m afraid of?
Or…
Or…
Oh, not again.
It’s already tomorrow.
Benyamin Bensalah
08.12.2021
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