Let it hurt if it has to hurt

My heart is an empty stack,
For what, only myself deserves smack,
But it hurts.

Whoever falls into it
Will hang with me in it,
Such as: but it hurts!

My life’s a lifeless winter,
It’s snowing my head so sinister,
But it hurts.

My venom broke out if it would dare,
If there were anger, would you dare,
A lord of pain who hurts.

Although fate would finally give a way,
I’m not waiting only to give away,
So, let it hurt if it has to hurt.

Benyamin Bensalah

29.12.2017

Translated from my Hungarian poem, “Fájjon ha fájni kell.”

Bee-ing

Sometimes, I feel like a little child…
        Such who mourns even the bee after getting stung…
Then, sometimes… I feel like the bee…
        That has nothing to lose and stings any one near…

Benyamin Bensalah

13.06.2018

Accidental me

Once upon a morning dreary,
On a wibbly-wobbly urban prairie,
I hit the road barely fearing –
As the fool who has no fearing –
And there came a car.

In a sudden, asking is it the end,
I wasn’t surprised, but how to pretend,
While I am always steering –
Just as badly as the driver’s steering –
My emotions behind a striped bar.

Since the moment was so sneaky,
And the car’s break creaked up creepy,
I had no time for fleeing –
At least for the people seeing –
If it was not just imaginaire.

In that second’s timeless land,
I had no social expression to send,
Signing I’d like to remain living –
Lying that I’m a just human being –
So, I just stood bare there.

And behind that timeless scene,
Angry drivers and people were seen,
Aiming at me standing there –
A guilty criminal sharing his despair –
A social monster without cover.

Benyamin Bensalah

18.11.2018

The weak point of pathos

If my disappointment dressed in wrath,
It would rumble in hell-flames and chaos,
Reaching the gates of the seven heavens
Asking for justice with the blood of pathos.

All good feelings made out of nothing-
Just as the lightsome grab of a baby’s hand,
Or either heavy as a smile, making compliment-
Shall be enclosed far away of the worldly hell of pathos.

Since, the heavenly drops of happiness
Are drunk up by stone hearted human greyogles,
Playing hazardous games with my rare happiness,
And leaving me in a chaos-like hellfire with my dear pathos.

Benyamin Bensalah

23.08.2018