Void

I’ve seen the light as a nameless kitten –
One amongst many of a couple,
I still remember the care of my mother
Even if there was no time to cuddle.

It was the time my eyes just opened –
Without seeing play and cheer,
Just a couple of months before
Our little mother did dissapear.

Remained alone, me and my brothers –
Day and night we feared dogs,
Then, just like our weakling mother,
Hunger kicked us out of the box.

                        ***

I became a lone-wolf street-cat –
Walking from alley to alley,
Living on the waste of others’,
But I had a change of story.

One night, I met a grey figure –
Sitting at the pavement,
He looked on me with silent care,
And took me to his apartment.

I got a home under his bookshelf –
Full of Nietzsche and Freud,
The grey fellow fed me with milk
and named me: Void.

                        ***

The years went quickly like days –
My man was a strange one,
Sometimes sad, sometimes moody,
But we had a lot of fun.

There was always a weekly party –
With philosopher friends;
I myself was a part of this,
I wished it never ends.

On the nights, everyone was happy –
People laughing overjoyed,
Talking longly seriously, then laughing:
“Look, there’s looking us Void!!”

                        ***

I was always waiting the weekly parties –
Tho I also liked the silent nights,
Sitting next to my reading thinker
Hushing away his sighs.

One night, the party friends didn’t come –
There was a woman instead,
I spent such nights under the sky
While they were in bed.

Firstly, I was still happy for this –
Seeing my man ever happy,
But once the woman didn’t come,
The house became an alley.

                        ***

Silence sat on our days with my man-
Greyness stole all his delight,
I couldn’t hush away any of his sighs,
He didn’t read or write.

One night, I came home from roaming –
I was terribly hungry then,
Found my milk and food prepared,
But without signs of my man.

The house seemed and sounded empty –
I felt my man, but I was annoyed;
So I found him hanging from the ceiling,
Wishing I was never named Void.

Benyamin Bensalah

29.08.2020

Life and Death

Firstly, I experienced the death of my great-grandmother as a child;
it wasn’t sad, but rather shocking to see an inanimate body
and the mourning people around burdened with silence.
I couldn’t understand much of that picture that time,
but my mother was in grief and crying for a long;
she must have a lot of memories with her,
all reaching a dead-end road.

Then, my kind friend – our dog was beaten to death by my old neighbor;
she was my father instead of father and friend instead of friends,
a true mate that was hard to imagine to get so brutalized.
The shock seeing her missing dried up even my cry;
that time, I imagined how my mother might feel
when someone close disappears
and leaves a terrible hole.

Still a child, after the dog I loved, I saw the corpse of the dog I hated;
that huge dog been let out to the side when I walked daily
scared me and made the streets ominous, evil-holding.
I wanted to think of it as a big relief from my fear
that the big, evil dog won’t be around after me,
but I felt grief seeing its bloodshed death;
will it leave a same hole in someone?

Then, news of deaths came and went around with daily regularity;
in the broadcast Queens died, presidents, victims and criminals
as well as at school, acknowledging dead kings and poets.
I thought that great deeds leave a thing to remember,
not to let people die as a fly or a cornered spider,
but I quickly changed my mind at the museum
where generations lay without any memory.

Starting to grow, I realized many terrible things while just living;
terrible things like whole families, weekend parties
and such things I never could have in my life.
These left a hole greater than death itself;
leaving an unknown, missing hole in me,
a hole of me whom I could be,
saying: I never was alive.

Somewhat later, having assured that the holes of non-living remain;
they mark the person and it marked even my personality,
I tried to meet Death by my own, to rejoin the holes.
I failed and left but awkwardness of craze,
my close ones saw me abnormal
and saw no danger seeing me
as a hole, simply disappear.

With knowledge, I understood it later and it made more sense than any;
a person who didn’t live and left no experience
won’t leave holes or griefs in nobody.
All the synopsis-held memories,
all the heartbeat on the globe
like life and death in books
have no meaning at all.

Benyamin Bensalah

12.07.2020

Galactic gallow

Like the bacteria living on volcanic sulphur,
I am doomed to live in my dark sepulchre –
no visitors, no wind-brought flowers;
I am mourning alone the longest last hours.

I am breathing agony like vaporized mercury,
hoping that some day will come to bury –
bury every feeling that cannot be beared alone;
finally getting along with myself, finding a home.

I’ve marched in the Pluto’s coldest valleys,
burnt my heart away on Venus’ alleys –
my galactical travel in the dark matter
made me a living black hole; nothing does matter.

I could be promised with another solar system,
another parallel dimension’s enthusiasm –
but the beauty of nature taught me already;
the paradise is falling, so be steady.

A dead organic organism, I am, travelling,
either escaping or sometimes just dwelling –
I will find no place on Earth, nor in the space;
Here I am locked down, and I will face what I am to face.

Benyamin Bensalah

16.06.2020

Limbo cry: do WE still exist?

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

Kill myself or have a coffee?

Should I look for meaning in life if I know
I am following my own product?
Kill or beget; we are all following a flow –
Myself, I am barely able to deduct
Or anticipate the so-called reality I undergo.
Have I missed an important act?
A purpose I should have known a long ago?
Cup all of my years in your hands as a fact
Of that I was living, and throw ’em with a blow;
Coffee and cigarettes will distract me while you’re doing so.

(Should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee? – Albert Camus)

Benyamin Bensalah

03.05.2020

A Meaningless End

This is the end.

But the end started at the creation
of the first deoxyribonucleic acid,
of the first cellular life,
of the first material’s
formation.

This is the end.

The end was here from the beginning
at the enactment of beginning,
at the start of all existence,
at the emptiness
in the void.

This is the end.

The end of my deoxyribonucleic acids
of formed cellular creation,
of temporary learning,
of existence
begins.

Benyamin Bensalah

30.03.2020

Metaphormosis

It bugged me from the very beginning
that I wanted to be wanted,
listened to others who didn’t listen,
nor stopped for a while
to ask: what do you want?

Even so, I never got bugged in the ol’ routine,
doing and doing again and again
what has been said,
and hoping that it led
me, somewhere.

Debugging the truth, it did have led
as well as anything would have
because if I learnt something
is definitely that
it will always be someway.

So, the bug wasn’t in the system,
but rather it was me;
for what reason I would see
elsehow, while no one
disagrees?

This attitude turned me to a big bug
of nihilism and other ism,
anything related to carelessness;
to show up: you can ignore me,
I’m always the one who cares less.

Benyamin Bensalah

12.03.2020