Thought and soughed

I’m dizzy, drunk and dumb,
Tho’ no alcohol touched my tongue;
No Hennesy of Islamic heresy,
No, I didn’t take any heavy to be heady.

I’m in daze, drought and dung,
My life is empty, but not an easy run;
It’s an endless intoxication,
Dragged and druged by self-interrogation.

Whether a shot would amend my inner weather?
Whisky with coke to feel better?
Sending me to hell from this hellish place?
Living-dying on the worldly drugs of my race?

Benyamin Bensalah

06.12.2017

I promise

Send me a wave-
I will nod,
Say me a hi-
Truce of God!
Be friendly to me-
I won’t be rude,
Until you don’t break my rule:

“My world is one person,
One person is my world.”

I’ve got but one to accept flirt,
I’ve got but one to admit blirt,
I’ve got but one to write true lines,
I’ve got but one to hold my rhymes.

I’ve got only one to hearten my mind,
The others may die, I don’t mind.

No person can dirt in this lore,
No person can cause us sore,
No person, no, no alive;
They’ll be ignored and erased of life.

Benyamin Bensalah

29.10.2017

Somebody wrote this

So many times trying to change,
shapeshifting, reforming, rethinking
from age to age –
How old I might be so far?
How many of myself have died,
then rejuvenated again and again
already?

I wonder if there’s anyone who could tell me,
from my former lives
that who I am for real. –
All those people knowing someone,
then losing me
in great disappointment
has pity for a me.

Now, I am myself, but just for a while,
failing myself again and again. –
I don’t know who I am,
I don’t know who I was.
Just being, rebeing,
rebelling, deceiving
every body, including a self.

I wish I could be in war against myself,
so, at least, some of me could win,
but I hold no one in my hands,
inside me.
It’s empty,
and it was empty
for longer I could remember.

I wonder whether there was
a child of me,
an honest lover,
or anybody with belief
in that there will be a day
there will be more than a day
to be and die as some one.

Benyamin Bensalah

17.03.2020

Benyanatomy

My heart has been exhorted many times, a lot-
Avoid emotions if you stand on a material land;
Keep such feelings for your Christian God,
Or your heart will be cut across.

I’ve listened on no omen since I’ve got to be born,
I’ll die as my heart died – stubborn.

My soul has been exhorted many times, a lot-
Avoid emotions if you stand on a spiritual land;
Keep such feelings for your Muslim God,
Or your soul will crescently descend.

I’ve listened on no omen since I’ve got to believe,
I’ll die as my soul descended – naive.

My mind has been exhorted many times, a lot-
Avoid emotions if you wish to stand on the land;
Keep such feelings for your brain’s cloud,
Or your mind will be fully fooled.

I’ve listened on no omen since I’ve got my brain,
I’ll die as my mind fooled me – insane.

Benyamin Bensalah

25.06.2018

Metaphormosis

It bugged me from the very beginning
that I wanted to be wanted,
listened to others who didn’t listen,
nor stopped for a while
to ask: what do you want?

Even so, I never got bugged in the ol’ routine,
doing and doing again and again
what has been said,
and hoping that it led
me, somewhere.

Debugging the truth, it did have led
as well as anything would have
because if I learnt something
is definitely that
it will always be someway.

So, the bug wasn’t in the system,
but rather it was me;
for what reason I would see
elsehow, while no one
disagrees?

This attitude turned me to a big bug
of nihilism and other ism,
anything related to carelessness;
to show up: you can ignore me,
I’m always the one who cares less.

Benyamin Bensalah

12.03.2020

Village night

Dark, raw and cold is the night.
Surrounding and painting joy on my sight.

The noise is a deeply listening silence.
That has been – in daylight – a wild, mad trance.

The gray roads are sleeping in rest.
Forgetting the daylong toil and unrest.

Sleeping every man, every beast.
Maybe, my heart’s the only that still beats.

I’m energized from the tranquility.
Walking silently through the dark – mini city.

Lamplights cut the darkness sometimes.
On which the time’s committed a thousand of crimes.

Their old, weak and artifical glimmer.
Just makes the night more original and a way dimmer.

Those cracked concrete roads and glimmering lamps.
The sweeping-running world never waits for us saying thanks.

Now, the night is still silent, full of mountain air.
Thou, day to day, it’s being made unmade by a modern snare.

Thus, day to day I must wonder on the village night.
Since, it’s still a lone guard of the mother nature’s tranquilizer sight.

Benyamin Bensalah

29.07.2018

Translated from my Hungarian poem, “Falusi este” (2008)

Do Not Open

Guilt-pushed wet pillow on my face;
What have I done? There’s no trace,
But there must have something happened,
There must have something happened.

I don’t know much what’s going on;
I have no goal, no role I could be living on,
I’m just surviving day to day,
Day to day.

But today – tonight, I opened a file;
Full of photos of a guy with the same profile,
But he is stranger to me,
Stranger to me.

On the photos, he was with a girl;
I would lie if I say I don’t know her,
But I can feel nothing,
I can feel nothing.

I don’t know who’s that guy;
He was so happy, but how and why,
How is it possible,
It’s impossible.

I don’t know who they are;
Why are they so bizarre,
They are a copy of me,
Were a copy of me.

That guy was in love with her;
Then, why I can’t refer,
What’s going on,
What’s going on.

You hurt and destroyed her;
But I didn’t even know her,
No, it’s all your fault,
It’s all your fault.

I’m guilty and for sure I’m crying;
I wish I could be faster dying,
Rather than feeling guilty,
While it wasn’t me.

I don’t know that guy, nor myself;
That girl must have left our self,
I am alone with my pain,
Who am I? I claim.

I sleep some nights or glance my eyes;
It happens: everything resets as lies,
But I didn’t mean any of that hurt,
I should have put out an alert:

Don’t approach; I may be fine today;
But I’m a new person every day,
Making you happy for a while,
Then, putting you into a file
With a lost profile
That comes out rarely
Feeling guilty,
Unhealthy,
Crazy.

Benyamin Bensalah

29.02.2020