I'm just a pocket poet.
No more good nights,
No more talks
About our future goals –
There’s no discussing,
Only chatting
Like a labored cussing –
Is it here, or we are cold,
Our blanket is unfold
Sewn from words untold –
There’s the blanket flying,
Distantly defying
The frozen drops of crying –
No more close thoughts,
No more decent talks –
We are gone in distant holes.
Benyamin Bensalah
02.02.2020
I need you, you don’t need me –
I feel you, you don’t feel me –
What heals you doesn’t heal me –
I believe you don’t believe me –
And you say I don’t get why you leave me…
Benyamin Bensalah
12.08.2020
All my once lover of mine!
All the broken worlds I left behind…
Are all cleared with this simple rhyme:
All villains are victims;
I don’t mind.
All murderers were murdered a kind,
Not literally maybe, but in their mind…
The cruel circumstances behind,
The helplessness of a preprogrammed mind,
And when they cried for justice,
The world replied: I don’t mind.
All villains are victims;
We’ve been destroyed under grind…
Like torturing a child
To turn into a torturer of the same kind –
Crying: why would I mind?!
Been accused for having lied?
Building a world and ruining it from inside?
Do you think this is what I strived?
Where were y’all to stop me, stop the child…
You know what… I don’t mind!
I’m remaining proud to wear the destiny of mine;
Since my childhood ages the pains abide –
It’s the world that made me such of a kind…
I’m the villain of my own life,
If there’s casualties, as a victim, I don’t mind.
Benyamin Bensalah
29.07.2020
Once, I told you I wished we were free to our will
to be together as I do want it still –
without made up social contracts as religions;
what does love do with ruling nations?
Meeting you was fate of coincidences, that
we were sharing in life the same debt
from our parents and ancestors, the curse
that we cannot be good, only worse.
I’ve almost accepted the curse as my nature
when I met your highly pure feature
to learn, and go, not to giving up to learn,
but our demons led to give up to earn.
Breaking under hardship, seduction and pride,
concepts of dignity, the weak human mind –
I don’t know what could push us away so far;
but both of us stopped fighting who we are.
“If we met in a bar”, “if I could turn back time”,
“returning seven years old, would I do the same crime?” –
such questions pop up with no sense of reality
because we have but pictures, then we see through our cavity.
We believed it’s over – even if I didn’t and don’t wish so,
call it martyrdom, dignity – I don’t think so;
we just gave up on reality that we both adored;
and now we are living hell for it with no reward at all.
How much suffering, a mortal soul could bear
until recognizing that forgiveness is our divine elixir;
forgiving for giving up on us, forgetting the pain –
just like a wicked god-story; repent or suffer in vain.
Benyamin Bensalah
11.05.2020
Another night in white smoke –
Looking at the stars that tell nothing,
Telling many foolish things about man’s nature,
But about us, nothing.
Another night in white smoke –
It relieves my soul that is my brain,
Curing a heart that now beats in someone else,
Take care of my world, darlin’.
Another night in white smoke –
How am I still here, so miserable,
The world around me is just pictures of my eyes,
Without you, nothing is real.
Another night in white smoke –
Finding a peaceful sleep to my chest,
I used to look at the mirror through you, having a soul,
Having a heart… and you know the rest.
Another night in white smoke –
It’s better now, but how’s the morning?
Oh, you who believe in God, tell him about your love,
That your love is dead and you are mourning…
Tell HIM, since he knows the best.
Benyamin Bensalah
17.09.2018
The abyss is too huge between you and me,
even if you managed to undress me.
I tried for a while to be the one for you,
even if sometimes it seemed untrue.
You think too easily and so you sense
your complex actions are fencing common sense.
For my emotions, a thousand thoughts wouldn’t be enough,
my actions are so few, I don’t tell to prevent the laugh.
The abyss is breaking, I’m waving from its side,
I really loved you, if I look inside.
My love is eternal, it will stay with you forever
but wee need to accept, this break won’t cease ever.
Many times, the break up hurts, as it will do now,
but there’s been worse than this, and will be better somehow.
We weren’t for each other the one
but then it will come, that person will come.
I’m thanking you every single minute,
I will not forget you, I promise. Salute!
Benyamin Bensalah
03.04.2020
Translated from my Hungarian poem, “Szakad a szakadék” (2008)
You made me a child. Vainly I was growing
thirty crying winters over the agony.
I can neither walk, nor I can sit around.
My limbs are dragging me, pushing toward you.
I hold you in my mouth, like a dog hold its puppy
and I’d like to flee from strangling.
The years that have been broken by my destiny,
are raining upon me in every moment.
Feed me, look – I’m hungry. Cover me – I’m cold.
I’m stupid – give your mind to me.
Your absence is piercing me, like the wind through a household.
Tell me – There’s no reason to fear.
You looked at me and I dropped everything.
You listened to me and my voice got stuck.
Dare not to let me be so recklessly uncaring;
letting myself live and die by myself amok!
My mother froze me out – I was on the doorstep –
I would hide inside me, I couldn’t tho –
beneath me stone and above me emptiness.
Oh, how I could sleep! I’m rattling at you.
Many people live who are insensitive like me,
still, their eyes let tears out.
I love you very much, since even me
I could really love myself with you.
Benyamin Bensalah
08.03.2020
Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila József, “Gyermekké tettél(1936).
Act I.
Two broken hearts, both alike in dignity,
In Algiers, where we lay our scene,
Were sorted, despite of their naive purity;
Their true blood judged them unclean.
The boy’d been a noble, humble creature,
Within his soul a hidden labyrinth,
One by one unwordly, magical features;
But his side was without any hint.
The girl’d been a loving, hoping angel,
Within her soul thirst to know,
Knowing no that knowledge is danger;
She learnt and taught sorrow.
***
The lovers were no lovers, but of God,
With plenty heart and true soul,
They wished a wish that sounded odd:
A simple life after their cruel.
Their parents’ old sins were their seal,
That had made trace to theirs,
When they met, they had a pure deal:
A white page after dark years.
Unhappiness is a lone, thirsty beast,
It dévores peace and love,
It may dress up for hundreds of feast:
Causing tragedies like above.
***
Frequency, true love and purity,
They are only blunt blades,
When it comes to cutting authority:
Without its parental aids.
This story is not a new story,
Romeo and Juliet,
Two broken hearts shorn of their glory:
Even if they healed when they met.
All their attributes of art and piety
Were burnt by an Ogre’s wrath
Who cursed every drop of serenity:
All that we ever, never hath.
Act II.
A year, two years before that they met,
Roux Meow didn’t know his Wat,
Even if his friend kept her captive;
Roux Meow’s been so inactive.
He had modest traits toward his friend,
Avoiding to look at his girlfriend,
So, the first time that he saw her;
Was in a club of writer-drawer.
They knew each others as fine friends,
They enjoyed that none pretends,
Then, when they started a new chatbox;
It was proven as it never stops…
***
In contrary, Jolly Wat has known her cat,
She saw him years before they met,
To avoid hot words, she liked his traits;
Dunno, what was the play of Fates.
After her man left with his funny cap,
Roux Meow came with another cap,
Changing the suits into shirts and kind words;
They made a new scene of lovely birds.
Such keywords flew around them in the sky,
As no-relationship, art and butterfly;
Their influence helped them to forget the past;
Their parents’ divorce and their ex.
***
Roux Meow’s heart was paralyzed by Palestine,
An adventure out of space and time,
While Jolly Wat was quartered by Qatar;
A nightmare-like bizarre terror.
These circumstances were like magnets,
Creating a collision like of Macbeth’s,
Two seemingly innocent playing with Destiny;
Calling their own blood as enemy.
He was a fighting lion on the Savannah,
She was just a flower- Subhanallah,
How come that ends bad something so good;
They only wanted a better mood.
Act III.
Darken forces came in form of his dad,
Whether God-sent or evil-sent,
Roux Meow and Jolly Wat became bad;
They’re born under a cursed tent.
His divorced father cursed and swore,
On her divorced mother’s lore,
How come that Meow wants a life;
After his dad’s life-long strife.
Roux Meow wished a pure marriage,
With some help that he merits,
While Jolly Wat just wanted carriage;
By someone whom she merits.
***
Roux Meow’s family like wild lions,
Sniffed around her little folks,
In their eyes, would ruin even diamonds;
Blackened everything their talks.
Roux Meow has no right to live, to love,
Jolly Wat has no right for thoughts,
Marriage is a mere marketplace of dove;
The family needs better attributes.
Her past is divorced and she is old,
Her family is a gypsy clan,
She uses magic and evil to hold;
Roux Meow as Peter Pan.
***
Roux Meow and Jolly Wat was asked,
So, are you pious fellow of God,
Then, ask God whether it will fairly last;
But we will against you working fraud.
Seeing the dark clouds coming near,
Roux Meow and Wat grieved,
They agreed to cut what has been so dear;
A beau world – no talk no stalk – leaved.
The world of her beautiful drawings fell,
His words of their world cleaved,
Their beautiful Algiers became itself the hell;
No “Let’s trick our mind, being naive’d”.
Act IV.
Roux Meow begged his monstrous house,
“Here I’ve come to choose my spouse-
Be upon my support for once in the life;
Let me face alone the lifelong strife.”
The dad: “Leave my house, leave my fam!
I won’t hear about your damn madame.
I swear on the Lord you’ll be both perished,
I won’t have peace till the girl vanished.”
Jolly Wat: “Oh, Roux Meow – Roux Meow!
I cannot find the why and how,
Why God sends us our blood as enemy –
While we avoided all His heresy?”
***
Despite of all maledictions and bad notes,
Roux Meow played Don Quixote:
He asked a favor from his sullen uncle,
To visit Jolly’s fam – they’re humble.
Though, Uncle Ashore had the same thoughts,
To separate the lovely folks.
So, he quickly put up the cloak of religion,
Asked for her dad from another region.
Roux Meow cried for him as his only hope,
Tho, they saw Roux under dope.
“The two families will have no relation!
Tebessians! What a humiliation!”
***
Racism clouds were not enough for them,
Fake-religion served the next slam:
“How dare you knowing her before me?
You wish to do adultery like me?”
As Uncle Ashore get the number of her dad,
(who’s been for Jolly Wat almost dead),
The Ogre Dad of Roux Meow rushed at him:
That his unknown daughter is a grim.
Oh, Roux Meow. Oh, Roux Meow, why?
Where is our Lord from the sky?
Is it really so sinful to wish to marry?
Disgrace is worse than cemetery.
Act V.
A cat-like brave man with a red beard,
A rabbit-like shyness in a hijab;
Worldly art of words she’d never heard,
That she colored by a design tab.
Two years of peace, Oh, Roux Meow,
Two years of peace, Oh, Jolly Wat;
They found in themselves a true fellow,
To talk ceaselessly since they met.
What could be the possible to cut the bound,
The bound of love that the fate created;
What could explain between them the wound,
The wound that the false faith created.
***
Curse on the course of fate, the parents,
And curse on the crafted faith of evil!
But, let me put no dirt on the pure events;
Say, Glory for this, even if it’s feeble.
Their past is not just past, but a dead future:
Wedding, fun, kids and what more;
Now, they are all just a hypothetical blooper,
And silence on two mouths or more.
Whether fate is stronger than faith?
Or contrariwise?
Are they for each other dead wraith,
Or they just silently revise?
***
Oh, Roux Meow! Oh, wise Roux Meow!
Look into the future, my dear.
Whether this is the end of the show,
Or the turning point is just near.
The now-dead, pious couple beaten by creed,
Shall they rise out of the tomb?
If yes, will they be sinful but ever-freed,
Or rather in a religious bloom?
Shakespeare fought for love and will power,
Ne’er for savages behind Ogric persuasion;
But fighting needs gun powder, not flower,
Nectars sweeten or cause intoxication.
Act VI.
A modern Romeo and Juliet we’ve become,
Said Roux Meow at last, numb;
Asking thousand questions like a dumb,
Thinking – thinking, taram-drum.
Is the sin in our stars, words or draws?
In our religion’s laws?
Or there were no sins at all, no flaws;
Was it perfect as it was?
Are there any others punished for their fraud,
Others than the two who loved?
Would they be punished, far, abroad?
Where is the Justice of God?
***
Life is a flow – with thousands of arms,
What if an arm suddenly charms,
Just follow the flow even if it harms;
You color the water with norms.
Either go with the flow or swim rather,
You can’t stop the course of water;
Up to you to be the sinner-swimmer lover,
Or the slave-sinless forgiver.
The truth of the end is at the end,
Then, the ends always depend;
So, worry on rather what is in the hand,
And focus onto live, not to pretend.
***
Roux Meow is Stoic, flowly flawless,
He loved for last; nevertheless;
Jolly Wat is a weaker-sex mistress,
She may regretlessly regress.
Tho’ the changes of their world is drastic,
Even if there’s no deadly tragic;
The sadness might make one pathetic,
And the other lunatic, gothique.
The sad story of a Cat and a Hare,
Written to be a lovely pair,
They will be ever for each, but where;
In silent prayers or a brave affair?
Benyamin Bensalah
22.06.2018
I am the young deer that has got out of the game –
Changing a lot after’, yet being all the same;
Might I have been lucky, not getting that shot,
Might my trophy on that wall had been my lost jackpot.
I had a young antler of a thousand great promise’ –
Brown eyes aglow and muscles of Adonis;
Might my eyes held the curse, within it a burning forest,
Might my quick moves bespoke I was an amorist.
I played the game in sage pose, looking through the forest –
Though, the wood deceived me, playing divine, modest;
Might the bait was too honest, letting run the game,
Might the wolfish hunter missed it, swallowing the shame.
I’ve become a shameful legend, a silent rumour –
At the table, the spice of some tasteless humour;
Saying: might we have been lucky, not getting that weak shot,
Might his trophy would be cursed, costing us a lot.
By the truth, he owns a noble, but wild venison –
Venomous while still vital, without comparison;
For sure, his antler’s mocking behind every tree you try to ignore,
While the forest itself is whispering his legendary lore.
Benyamin Bensalah
20.09.2018
maybe it’s only the care’s false glamour
to believe: it is good for someone that you are
maybe only for that you are in need of someone’s amour
to make yourself believe that still lovable you are
maybe you never wanted to find her
it wouldn’t even hurt you if you did not
now, as she could easily be yours, maybe
it’s more important that she can be lost
so that you no longer have to blame yourself
because nobody wins this euchre
maybe what hurts you is that she weren’t really yours
and yet, you could still manage to lose her
Benyamin Bensalah
01.02.2020
Translated from the Hungarian poem of Péter Závada, “Tán” (2011).
Benyapoesy 