Glitched page

I’m like a semi-important page to print,
you don’t know why I’m important
by the second the queue gets stuck
I stay on pending with all the error before me,
then when you finally face the pain,
to restart the machine, you see the absence;
the absence of some semi-important page –
you search the folders for documents,
you try to track a trace on your browser,
but there’s nothing important alike,
then with a semi-sadness,
you accept to forget a page
that has never existed,
a glitch.

Benyamin Bensalah

24.10.2021

Ghost poems

Have you ever read a poem
from the dying bed?
Have you ever heard a poem
out of the purest agony?

With thousands of poems
behind me,
with all my suffering inside me
I truly doubt you had.

Words are senseless,
it’s pain ruling,
we are under it already
like dead under the ground.

Expect me not,
to write a last poem alike
about this stance
that’s just as a writing ghost.

So, take any poem of mine,
then name it last
because I am dead already,
I am a ghost.

Benyamin Bensalah

29.08.2021

Loveless essay

Love is the strongest amongst human instincts –
so beautiful and so urging
that gives meaning to this meaningless carcass;
however, instincts can be overwritten
such as killing the self is possible.

Love is complex and built up in us –
we saw it from our parents
at least those who’ve seen any;
for the ones who missed that chance,
love remains an abstract concept.

Love is built on beautiful insticts and ugly humans –
human constructs that judge,
select, favorize and exile the ones out of scope;
such outcasts may ask what is a body,
what is wealth or health in their depair.

Love is relied to something that is healthy –
so what responsability it is
to eager for it even if you are mentally ill;
infecting others with your ominous stance,
injecting all bad into something all good.

Love is blind and easy to anyone –
it’s a source of ecstasy to all,
but it’s a struggle to build it up;
some are lacking all above,
Welcome to Me.

Benyamin Bensalah

15.08.2021

LMB

Limbic system overloads.
Memory is full.
Blocked from further access.

Living-dying continously.
Meaninglessly.
Being a spiral of humans.

Limbo painted grey realities.
Merging with the void.
Bored of facing this alone.

Benyamin Bensalah

17.06.2021

Edging story

Monsters give birth to monsters;
they lay their eggs,
spread them with their acids,
scar them,
deface them with claws –
and when they leave the hive,
suffocating from terror,
facing a toxic world
that can’t surpass their own..
..their own toxic pumping
in their very heart
full of scars;
they say
mostly nothing,
but sometimes
they say:
yes, we are just monsters.

Benyamin Bensalah

17.04.2021

Hoppety voosh

Even my scars are from hard work,
not from blades,
I wear a wide smile all the time,
not crying for anyone,
my body is so pure and kind,
but my soul’s spoiled.

How to express I’m depressed?
I’m copying with happiness.
How to express I’m oppressed?
I can only flex.
Who would understand these all?
I’m in a constant fall.

I’m lost in a way that there’s no way;
I see colours, but everything’s grey.
I can say hey, but not tomorrow;
I am stucked up in my sorrow.
I would borrow… someone,
but… I’m already gone.

Benyamin Bensalah

10.04.2021

Evil within

I built the walls, burnt the bridges,
scorched the land, searched the witches,
ruptured the nerves, devoured the preserves,
starved the body, tortured the mind,
riped out the tongue, blinded the eyes,
left none behind, let none comeaforth,
I am alone, only of a sort;
still the enemy is knocking, mocking,
shocking, rocking,
burning, torching,
blinding, grinding,
hiding, overriding,
chasing, petrifying
within me
wherefrom I cannot flee
cannot feel
cannot live
cannot die;
and I just can’t…
anymore.

Benyamin Bensalah

06.04.2021

False Reality

The years are already blurry.
They create a false reality,
my mind. I don’t trust what it is saying though
like problems will disappear by tomorrow.

As a naive child, I hope so too
that I will live, and it is true
that I will see a tiny part of happiness.
I might clean my sight from stress.

I want to see it, but I can’t
because I know it wasn’t meant.
As if there were no tomorrow, it’s in hurry,
this decade is leaving me with a quick sorry.

I’m lost in the dark and I’m afraid;
I myself got myself chained,
and I know I could be anything better
if my light had just a bit flattered.

Alone, on the last word’s right,
I say I won’t reach more height
because here, even my self-hero flees
from my false realities.

Benyamin Bensalah

27.03.2021

Pooethics

Here’s the fellow who’s not mellow
Anymore
I’m born rotten and forgotten
Anyway
I had had poems, kind of solemn
Anyhow
But here I am with crying rhyming
Anywhere
I’m good in bad moods and vice versa
Anywise
I tried to be a smartass, but proven the least smartest
Anywhen
I’m still unknowing, and not going
Anywhither
I’m a born clown, pulling down
Anybody
I’m in a vortex, out of context
Anyplace
I can’t heal, I can’t feel
Anything
I’m surely nut and I am not
Anyone.

Benyamin Bensalah

01.04.2021

Benyapoesy · Pooethics audiopoetry by Benyamin Bensalah

When everybody goes to sleep

When everybody goes to sleep,
here I am me, all alone
with the only company, my phone
that doesn’t pop up, doesn’t beep.

When everybody goes to sleep,
here I am me, on my own
with the only company, the phone
that knocks up all the deep.

When everybody goes to sleep,
here I am me, on my throne
with having the world that others don’t
that none would like just a creep.

When everybody goes to sleep,
here I am me, being thrown
with company as a phone
that goes into the dark to sweep.

When everybody goes to sleep,
here I am me, the sweeping clown,
cleaning my own comfort zone
from awareness that’s never asleep.

Benyamin Bensalah

24.03.2021