Cats and dogs

It rains drops,
drops of water molecules,
drops of Hydrogen and Oxygen combinations
with dust-like minerals and pollution
from the skies.

It drops rains;
rains of human feelings,
rains of coziness and shivering fevers
inside and outside of homes
been and never been.

It’s raining drops;
drops of eager-living hormones,
drops of synthetic concepts like poverty
with any form of possession
and with the lack of any’.

It’s dropping rains;
rains of drying happiness,
rains of sadness in a winter-like summer
with all the humanity
on holidays.

Cats and dogs;
it’s raining ceaseless happenings
it’s dropping away human-made humanities
and gives away paradise
for unknowing animals.

Benyamin Bensalah

02.04.2020

Finished, but unfinished

No one loves me, not even one,
Not an animal, not a human –
Monster, I’m called by the men;
Loving and being loved, it’s them…

No one feels me, not even one,
I’m not an animal, not a human –
Monster, I’m called by the men;
Feeling and being felt, it’s them…

No one hears me, not even one,
They’re not animal, not a human –
Monsters, they’re called by the man;
Seeing and hearing, it’s not them…

Benyamin Bensalah

11.09.2018

Ol’ Benyo

O’ good people, hither!
Send me down the river,
By a cold breeze that would make me shiver
If my heart were a heart, and my liver a liver.

O’ good life, thither!
I know we’ve been sévère,
But it could have been a hundred times shittier,
We’d say thanks for that we were here.

O’ good Benyo hièr!
You are no more here,
But we sing your songs that shiver,
And live without your heart or your liver.

Benyamin Bensalah

12.07.2018

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

Shapeshifting faces

I’ve met spiders in human form,
web-making and trap-setting.
Their venom feels you as a final blessing
what they’ve been actually for.

I’ve met flies flying around garbage,
birds catching them starving.
Cats murder nests, then just sitting
they wait for the applause stage.

I’ve met packs of dogs and wolves howl,
killed as individuals by snakes hiding.
On their bones votchures and ants parasiting
in a while of a sleeptime of an owl.

I’ve met fish eating fish in silence,
elephants walking miles for dying.
The rave symphony of surviving
is painted in a greenish violence.

I’ve met all these dangers of shapeshifters,
the wild abilities of molting.
Like chameleons changing, hiding and biting,
I’m the same shapeshifter of writers.

Benyamin Bensalah

28.10.2018

Wavery writing

I grab the pen,
In the sand.
On the beach.

As all the pens,
It depends,
How it ends.

The words just land,
In my hand,
Through the waves.

They try to mend,
My heart’s wound,
By their sound.

It madly sends,
Crazy bends,
Waves and graves.

The murmurs end,
When the wind,
Ends its trend.

The waves are grand,
Once God’s grant,
Then graves (a)gain.

My skin is brand,
I’m well tanned,
Though unplanned.

The pain must end,
What I planned,
Wave Goodbye.

The thoughts are banned,
It’s the end,
I can’t stand.

I drop the pen,
In the sand,
On the beach.

Benyamin Bensalah

10.08.2017