As a little change in the Earth’s axis from the Sun
can turn the nicest weather into a tempest
so the little change in the tone of someone
can make a Jupiter-like silicone storm inside me endless.
Benyamin Bensalah
03.09.2020
As a little change in the Earth’s axis from the Sun
can turn the nicest weather into a tempest
so the little change in the tone of someone
can make a Jupiter-like silicone storm inside me endless.
Benyamin Bensalah
03.09.2020
Marching among people,
Sitting at hollow places,
Hoping this indifference is gone
Seeing no other faces
Just my old soul in a tea of Lipton –
I’m still young, but too feeble.
Benyamin Bensalah
03.09.2020
You who can’t hear the scream of silence;
The shrieking loneliness of days and nights,
You who can’t see the shades of indifference;
The invisible sadness in the ever smiling eyes,
You who can’t touch life in ceaseless roughness;
The dried out face that only in the heart cries,
You who can’t taste the rejoice as bitterness;
The rockbottoms of an endless precipice,
You who can’t feel the lifelong unpeace;
The homelessness in roof disguise,
How could you understand the words of mine’s;
The life inside a violin’s fall and rise,
How could you understand Peace;
A moment my heart so eagerly desires,
Being absent on me in the whiles.
Benyamin Bensalah
31.08.2020
Like biting into lemon over and over again,
Life squeezes fun out of my face:
Although my hand feels the round apple,
My eyes can see the rich peach,
The rapture of thousands of sweet colors …
But when I reach for them,
Take to my mouth the manna of Eden:
Bitter tastes try to let me know
That you’re in a very bad place,
This is not your world …
Benyamin Bensalah
16.07.2018
Translated from my Hungarian poem, “Mindig citrom”.
How I envy you all
Who can just ignore me,
Delete me from sites or apps,
Block my number and WhatsApp,
And see my face on Facebook no more
While I am glued, imprisoned with myself;
Not like you, I need to face me daily – again
And again feeling pity, disgust, nuisance, hate,
And weirdness, waiting eagerly my disappearance.
Benyamin Bensalah
20.08.2020
Don’t cry my dear mother,
Not even your love was enough to bright the world,
Don’t cry my lil brother,
I’m with you even from underworld,
Don’t cry my loved exes,
I’m in the place you wished me by your last word,
Don’t cry my cold lover,
There are fuckboys needing no emotional support,
Don’t cry my classmates, colleagues,
My place will provide others even better comfort,
Don’t cry my greedy father,
Money will come from other mysterious sort,
Don’t cry my dear friends,
This is my last silent detachment I created,
Don’t cry my employers,
There will be other slaves better graduated,
Don’t cry my world,
I am leaving a place that I always hated.
Benyamin Bensalah
19.08.2020
There’s an ocean hurricane of burden horrored thoughtless thinking and doubtful agonies,
waiting to take control of the last beam of mind and draw darkened realities;
whirling and whirling in filthy foulness and hellish sorrow –
what could ease it now if there’s no peace to borrow:
lock them inside poetry and remain hollow.
Benyamin Bensalah
10.08.2020
I’m sorry for I had to be born,
I’m sorry for the soul I hold,
I’m sorry how I lived in cold,
I’m sorry for these lines I told.
Benyamin Bensalah
23.07.2020
With a life so insignificant and lone,
being so familiar with the void,
I wonder how could I say no
if Death would visit me in person,
addressing me: Are we done? Let’s go.
Benyamin Bensalah
30.07.2020
I remember as a village member,
I cut a memorable road in the wood…
I remember as a walking wobbler,
Some deep thrill made shrill the route,
Covered by the blackness of Blackwood.
I remember as a faint bystander,
What a dark power had that wild park,
Beware-embraced, making my eyes sharp,
Taking its hideous darkness like a lark.
I remember with a tender temper,
Some river’s ripping ceased my shiver,
I – a thinker, harkened the silent timber,
How the water seduced me to drink her,
Whether I will fall to flaw, following her.
I remember as a deep slumber,
I answered the call, the fanfare, I heard;
The song of the fake stream was a lake,
A lake calling me with its narcotic ache.
I remember as I remember,
As if that freak lake wanted me to keep,
As if that deep lake… made me to leap.
The only I remember as a member of the lake,
As if I cut a memorable road in the wood…
Benyamin Bensalah
24.05.2016