Cat-loife

Meow, it’s the new me now –
I’ll see – oh – you’ll see the new me now.
Don’t ask how, there’s no how-how,
But I’ll meow you my new tao:

Every day, there’s a new meowning,
I meow, making sure that it won’t be boring.
I uncurl myself and wash my whiskers,
Purring my soul with good whispers:

I’m so happy in this meowning,
Walking gently, and my fur is warming.
I’ll face the jungle with a tiger’s roar,
No one dares to ask what are my stripes for:

I bounce into the day like I am,
Proudly-loudly purring like a lion.
My mane is mine and the mane I am,
Being meowsome is my main domain:

I’m mild and kind like a kitten,
Even if it’s most of the time hidden.
Because I mind my own matter,
Avoiding the needless chatter:

I’m meowing since the meowning,
Just to break the ice of being boring.
If the boredom is still in my way,
I just gently paw away:

There’s no better escaper,
And there’s no fair enough keeper.
But, some warm holding hands
May fulfill my purre demands:

Rest and peace my life’s about,
If your place is not alike, rather let me out.
I’m faithed to live like a cat,
A natural aristocrat:

Tao is the only law with fun,
I roflmao all over where there’s sun.
Living all my nine lives in a row,
I’ve a cat-life, meow.

Benyamin Bensalah

11.02.2019

With the old brand

The old bold me wasted all his chances –
If I had any –
Seeing no escaping romances –
But I had many –
Crying for help dearly –
Having remained unimportant –
Declaring my fear clearly –
Notwithstanding ending in abandonment.

Benyamin Bensalah

20.10.2019

Worldly drugs

O’ God,

All that you left me just some wordly drugs…

In a world full of shadows;
A shape of a face – human like me,
A shade of a grace – as if she likes me,
Then, everything has been a play of shadows.

All left to me is some wordly drugs…

Braces and necklaces, all phosphorescence;
Discoball beyond a huge ball with music,
Sending down any impulsive fluid,
That’s my only quintessence.

You left me only wordly drugs…

I live with what you’ve written,
Enjoy then the misery of your hands,
Watch me to suffer; see how he pretends,
To enjoy your wordly drugs while just getting sicken.

Thanks God for the wordly drugs.

Benyamin Bensalah

07.07.2018

The Curse of Time

Woe on the time which is resting under the ground –
Been its graveyard tomb or sepulchar mound,
Been its object eulogy, or been ne’er mourned,
Been mouldered, or b’ing in a funeral morgue;
Woe on them, woe!

Woe on the time and its living framework –
Being the languid killing of a suicidal slice of time,
Being the laborious ploy of mine or thine,
Being any masque of pure waste of time;
Woe on them, woe!

Woe on the larval chances of the upcoming –
Bēon the unseen turn of a living second,
Bēon the unbirth non-living dead moments,
Bēon any biased prophecy of temporal or beyond;
Woe on them, woe on them all!

Benyamin Bensalah

11.11.2017

By Carpe Diem

By the corner of the pub,
By the shoes and on them the dust,
By the cup of tea and the fag of cigar,
I am Ceasar wihout owning a single dinar.

By the road I left now and then,
By the battles I failed as a young veteran,
By the failed strategies popped out of my mind,
I am bearing no tragedies above me, nor behind.

By all the knowledge acknowledged,
By all the ever refreshing rusty storage,
By the unknown mistery that I am living in,
I am not guilty of any by the misery made-up sin.

By the gods and things others adore,
By the long beards and women’s chadors,
By the lies about the never ending tomorrow,
I am not to believe but in today, even if it’s full of sorrow.

By the words leaving my meanders,
By those words reaching only others’ ears,
By all the pictures of tomorrow ending as a dream,
I am here to live but the today, by sayin at last: Carpe Diem.

Benyamin Bensalah

05.09.2018

Stoïc

I felt unfelt;
My world’s unheard.
Ignorance!
That embraced, beset me.

Stoical flow the life is;
A shoreless sea.
Water is water;
Be wavery or plane.

Why plaint,
On the surrounding sea?
Why plaint again,
If only desert is seen?

Time is a river.
Dip, sip, hit the water;
Immortal.
You are fooled.

Life is a diabolic vortex;
Amazing mazes.
Tunes are to seduce you,
A superfluous being.

If you hesitate,
Then you are near to cry.
If you make water,
The water turns into cry.

The life is stoic;
It unfeels, uncries.
I am Stoïc,
Unfelt, but not cried.

Benyamin Bensalah

23.08.2017