Tag: deathwish

Moments of my life

Alone –
I am trapped in this moment
in a room with so called memories –
no good, none of them glittering, shining;
only pitch black and traumatizing.

Alone –
I am stuck in this moment
with all moments I have ever had –
all the lying compliments, planning
when people felt me like having.

Alone –
I am stuffed in this moment
of complete continuous failures –
it’s been only my pain growing,
and the chances I’m up to fooling.

Alone –
I am squeezed in this moment
by the fact that I failed –
that I am still among living
in a world I cannot be fitting.

Alone –
I am in this moment
where I have my children’s names –
and all the good I could be giving
but I regret the fact I am still living.

Benyamin Bensalah

07.02.2022

János Pilinszky: Cold world

This world is not my world,
just the compulsion of my body
getting me deeper and deeper as a worm
makes me dig into it.

That’s how I feed death,
and likely it is eating me;
my life is not mine anymore
it grows like wild meat upon my heart.

From every living created
sobering his eyes
so it sticks out, undisguised
giving up his vain shame.

The forever unknown
will eventually be homey.
Like withering on the autumn foliage,
its destruction embalms.

It’s a cold world, no man’s land!
And so tossed to the top
as scrap metal, still dead
ther are our hopes, the stars.

Benyamin Bensalah

04.02.2022

Translated from the Hungarian poem of János Pilinszky, “Kihűlt világ”.

Dezső Kosztolányi: Like someone who fell between the rails …

Like someone who fell between the rails …
And he feels his fading life all over,
while the hot wheels rumble with all power,
many-many oblique images are bursting up as a zigzag flare
and he sees, as he has never seen before:

Like someone who fell between the rails …
the infinite, distant life
says goodbye because it has become far fairy tales,
like someone who fell between the rails:

Like someone who fell between the rails –
wild panorama, awful pleasure –
between rails and between wheels,
the sad time rumbles over my head
and death thunders from afar,
for a minute I’m holding it, what is eternal,
butterflies, dreams, horrors, sweets:

Like someone who fell between the rails.

Benyamin Bensalah

05.11.2021

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Dezső Kosztolányi, “Mint aki a sínek közé esett…”.

Cyanide questions

I’d be happy if I had some cyanide –
who wouldn’t be tho?
Is it a normal thing to think or I should hide
that I’m not enjoying the show?

Can I even ask questions –
are we really allowed?
There are so many absurd suggestions
nowadays, done by the crowd.

It’s been a long time that I can’t follow –
where is it going?
It’s one of the pills hard to swallow
I know, and the list’s ongoing.

I was born without my consent –
aren’t we all after all?
But it’s still me who’s out of my own content
like a soul stuck inside a doll.

I’d be happy if I had some cyanide –
would not be anyone if I hadn’t, tho?
The fuss of anger, “I hope you die”
hits me every time “Oh, me too, me too”.

Benyamin Bensalah

01.04.2021

Weakling creeking

*the door creeks*

“Ah, I’ve been waiting it for weeks.”

“It’s surely the Reaper, my ordered undertaker.”

*waiting for nothing*

“Maybe, he has another job. The door creeked, but he sent one of his slow helldog to do the job.”

*the void avoids my thoughts*

“Hellhound or a fluffy bunny, stop me feeling so numbly dummy!”

“Somebody, take my thoughts and take my voice! Don’t let it to be my choice.”

*waiting*

*no creeking*

Benyamin Bensalah

28.06.2018

Waiting for the train

I’m waiting for the train,
Far away from the stations,
Far astray in sensations.

I’m waiting for the train,
In an empty thorny cover,
In the emptiness thrown over.

I’m waiting for the train,
Taken my last seat, the mud,
Taking no more worldly drug.

I’m waiting for the train,
Looking backwards nought,
Looking forwards no thought.

I’m waiting for the train,
There’s no other to wait for,
There’s no other to wait for.
I’m waiting for the train.

Benyamin Bensalah

19.03.2016

Attila József: Maybe I’ll disappear in a sudden

Maybe I’ll disappear in a sudden
like a wild trail in the woods.
I turned everything to sullen
on which I could make reports.

My budding childish body
was dried out on corrosive smoke.
Grief makes my mind foggy
if I’d find out what my results spoke.

The teeth dugged in me early
of the desire that had found a stranger.
Now, a vibrating remorse is coming lately:
I could have waited ten years more over.

Not even by defiance, I ever understood
the meaning of the motherly words.
Then, I became an orphan, a no-good
and laughed at my instructors.

My youth, this green wilderness,
I believed it were free and eternal
and now I’m listening in tears
the dry branches as they rattle.

Benyamin Bensalah

13.03.2021

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila József, “Talán eltűnök hirtelen” (1937).

Pre-sent

How? What? Why? I really dunno –
Though my life was already ready to go;
Drama, drama and goddamn traumas –
These drums are drumming under all my Sagas;
Dive and rise, dive and rise are all my rhymes –
These tenses tensed me all the times;
Crawling, falling, crawling, falling in a row –
Bowling the same boulder with a giant crow;
Wishing – hissing this has been such an Epic –
But despite all the witting, been just pathetic;
Missing love and dissing care –
Unlovable, self-aware;
Out of context just as sex –
My mental shutdowns just multiplex;
No social circles, nor any goals –
On my knowledge bigass holes;
Body? Housing? Dare to diss that thing? –
I’ve never been else than disgusting;
I tried to ignore, tried to die –
But I failed even to cry;
My nerves served me only disconcert –
Awkward, harmful as pervert;
I’d blame gods or Darwin’s words –
But it still constantly hurts;
I should quit and I am closing –
My life is the best thing for losing;
Even the thought is so pleasant –
No more drums of past and present;
No more future unpleasant Pre-sent.

Benyamin Bensalah

11.03.2021