The ape under the syntax tree

When people will travel through light atoms by atoms,
When we will change thoughts by mental mediums,
When some of us will reach cosmic singularity,
When it will be close to exceed humanity,
There will be us, still fighting on the side of ignorance.

Benyamin Bensalah

06.03.2020

Godly days

It’s said: there’s a God
Who created
Everything in six days and rested…
I don’t want this theory to be tested,
But the copyright on his days is quite divested:
(Two more Babylonian lines
For a Moon-phase advertise’ …)


Sunday – Norse goddess,
Chased by Hate, son of the grotesque
Wolf.

Moonday – Sun’s brother,
Also dog-chased, but not bothered until
Ragnarok.

Tiw’s day – the dueling Mars,
But not making too many wars with hands
Wolf-eaten.

Odin’s day – deathly Mercury,
Nothing makes him more hurry than
Wisdom.

Thor’s Day – thundering Jupiter,
Famously he’s a soul-janitor just as his dad,
Odin.

Freya’s day – our sweet Venus,
Every man is dying just to reach her..
Beauty.

Saturn’s day – the god of time,
Known as Cronos with a scythe, eating
Children.

The more I’m looking for meaning in this life,
The more I end up saying: where’s your God now?

FYI

Benyamin Bensalah

10.02.2020

Binary none

‘One’ for every human variables,
‘Zero’ for all how I care,
‘One’ for every feelings on the world,
‘Zero’ I understood or cared.

Once life must end in general,
Zero counts all my care,
One variable’s life in the mass
Zeroed in matter of fare.

Benyamin Bensalah

26.02.2018

János Áfra: Listening

Each other’s distorted mirror images
we are, two facing
X-ray images. On one side
bigger skull and less
emotion. Still the same way,
a shade is in our chest,
a hidden pump, the heart.

Two fluoroscoped torsos,
wrapped with tempers,
in golden yellow frames. Between us
like the back of a book, are shading
the edges of the papers, our common borders.
Sketched on the margin, there are blurred
Eastern calligraphies, jealousy-made
trace system. The will’s
hereditary prehistoric images
to break up mortals.

The earthly cold of freedom would allow
to let you go, but I can’t
distinguish yet, the thoracic cavity’s
and the skull’s night’s warm.
I’m rather listening through your breast
how your heart is beating.

Translated from the Hungarian poem of János Áfra, “Hallgatás” (2014)

Benyamin Bensalah

02.01.2020

Lament of the twenty seventh

Before my deoxyribonucleic code has been sent
To my mother by a male parent,
I was on his land of sand,
As barely apparent.

(spermicide)

2. Then, I was finally sent
Into my female parent,
On another land,
Barely planned.

A couple of months went that I spent
In my mother’s abdomen rent
On that green land,
Barely planned.

Then, my rentee went to that land,
Flying to the land of crescent
Where I was to be meant
For a big moment.

(embryonic)

5. The event happened, the end of the rent,
Under the flag with the red crescent;
I was by a Jewish name penned,
On the fifth May after Lent.

Falling into my mother’s hand,
Still without any dent,
Back, I was re-sent
To motherland.

On that land, red in discontent,
White until the Lent’s end,
And green at Lent,
I had one parent.

I had no knowledge when he went,
But I was without a male parent,
With only two women, a grand-
And an abnormal parent.

His furious leaving left an advent
As my mother madwomaned
With a schizophrenic scent,
To madhouse “never” sent.

The balance keeping us under tent
Was our draconian grandparent
With an infinite financial grant
That let us live on that land.

For alms, we walked to granny frequent’,
And I loved her as my parent
For that little attachment
I barely experienced.

The further notions I experienced:
I was sent and sent and sent;
Nursed, schooled, churched,
And kindergartened.

But even before my childhood could end,
I found myself hard to befriend;
Playing the play of a dement
With an unmatched brand.

A playful kid, maybe too vehement,
Among others, a crazy element,
I was, but inside silent,
Over-vigilant.

I liked to observe others’ comportment;
What was that I have been meant,
What made me outstand
Like an alien, mutant.

Step by step, I wished the end
Of flying dishes and plant’
At my domicile rent,
End of the torment.

(pubescent)

17. I wished to vanish from the torment
Of social-antisocial banishment,
But I saw no escape slant,
Only in my poetic lament.

Though, before those sad lament,
I tried to see my life and mend
My heart with compliment,
Some failed love event.

Minutes, days, months and years went,
A lot of school skills that I learnt,
But the best one in my hand
Was the ability to pretend.

Even if I swam well in crosscurrent,
I wished to end, leave that land;
Searched by my male parent,
I planned to visit his land.

Then, my mother went to madhouse mend,
For what, I was by my university banned
To work that went well, but I meant
To start or end a life in sand.

(twentified)

22. So, as my twenty-first birthday present
Finally, I Africanly citizened
To know my descent
And the crescent.

Beyond the French and Arabic accent,
I manned myself on that land
Where I was landed and
It’s not yet ended.

Changing the cross to crescent,
I could be happy and…
But people prevent
Every event.

I’d been married as I planned,
But my fam is an accident
As my birth in an extent,
In this actual land.

What to do, socially I try to pretend
That I am indeed an element,
But my DNA was meant
To disappointment.

(at present)

27. Seen these verses, it’s abhorrent
As well as writing a lament,
But as a birthday present,
I wish a Happy – End.

Benyamin Bensalah

04.05.2019

Parallel love affair

We were two travellers
Passing through the infinite possibilities,
And what we have found seemed impossible;
It was far beyond our dimension’s limits –
This is why it was so beautiful.

But, by matter of chances,
Our adventure was indeed impossible,
And now, we are both travelling parallel,
Similarly, but far away from each other,
In other infinite impossibilities.

Benyamin Bensalah

03.01.2020

Program R

Words by words and codes by codes,
By all those new neutrons and electrons made chatodes,
By all the data that have no limit concluding the material and the spirit,
I was started and I started after the first program of Let Be Light, having sight.

But having sight never could be ever fitting
Since the data perceived is just hitting-hitting
So much memory files, no miles of computers could synchronise,
And I was just born with eyes having no distance on the size we analyse.

So, “let be light”, having no right I cite
Meanwhile mentioning that flawless programming might
That holds the copyright on every carbon, molecule and single atom,
Writing the reality of physics and the psyche that seems biologically so illogical.

Minding the minds of humans not crawling
As it was reprogrammed by the drawing of Darwin,
The brains and the cells are starving for knowing the truth:
What, why and how is that what we went, and what we go through ruled by Mr Who.

Then, I stay here saying ‘Hello World’
In my little program, made word by word,
Relating it to the world in my single reality of Program R,
Starting to act, I myself – a little bit – a programmer just like the Programmer.

Benyamin Bensalah

27.11.2018