Upper-cut down

Upper-cut from life;
Unseen, unexpected, unbearable, early –
My teeth break like porcelain,
My hopes like mom’s dishes
Flying through the room towards me
Then, just passing by my head
Only the hurtful sharps reaching my back –
The pain was real once,
Now, it’s just one of the delirious memories
That let me remember
That I’ve got an unseen upper-cut from life
And I’m in a wheelchair now
From the mountain rolling down
With trees and animals waving towards me
A pitiful, confused good bye.

Benyamin Bensalah

24.04.2021

In sanity


It’s hard to remain sane
with a crâne full of thoughts
on how to be, and how not to
what to do, and what should have tho.

It’s hard to remain sane
and it doesn’t even pay it
I can’t, don’t even have to say it
how hard it is to satisfy anybody.

It’s hard to remain sane
with the people around us
playing, changing, randomly faking
while fighting with this insane brain.

It’s hard to remain sane
I did try it and I can say it
as someone who can see it
that being insane is much rewarding.

It’s hard to remain sane
with a crâne full of thoughts,
but those thoughts make you,
and at your senses; none fools you.

Benyamin Bensalah

13.04.2021

Evil within

I built the walls, burnt the bridges,
scorched the land, searched the witches,
ruptured the nerves, devoured the preserves,
starved the body, tortured the mind,
riped out the tongue, blinded the eyes,
left none behind, let none comeaforth,
I am alone, only of a sort;
still the enemy is knocking, mocking,
shocking, rocking,
burning, torching,
blinding, grinding,
hiding, overriding,
chasing, petrifying
within me
wherefrom I cannot flee
cannot feel
cannot live
cannot die;
and I just can’t…
anymore.

Benyamin Bensalah

06.04.2021

Ne’er no’ere

Science tells us, time and space are not the thing
that makes us dependent, but
we make them up, just to
feel dependent.

As not being depending on any or to any
time and space keeps drifting,
merging and vortexing
with you nowhere.

Even your cereblar synopses warp,
plunging you in sharp dark,
throwing in deep blaze
your dizzy image.

Childhood feelings, romance,
pain of bruises, torments
keep mashing up
your moments.

In such an end, you if you,
or rather your shadow
drift in nowhere
and nowhen.

Bensalah Benyamin

01.12.2020

A gathering for existence

The child, the innocent, the demure, the rebel;
the one who’s a saint, the one who gets out of trouble,
the thinker, the observer, the stupid, the fool;
the one who’s naive, the one who gets through the rule;
the happy, the joker, the depressed, the killjoy,
the one who starts the party, the one who’s up to blow,
the mortal, the worthless, the wizard, the disguise;
the one who’s listening, the one who always replies,
the social, the idol, the awkward, the manipulator;
the one who’s always there, the one who’s leaving later,
the one who wants to disappear, the one who wants to be greater,
the one who is healthy, the one who has wounds,
the one who’s curing, the one who just fumes,
the one who’s awake, the one who is deeper.

I suppose you wonder why we gathered up here now;
I just wanted to assure each other that we know
that you are all behind the one that no one can know,
that you are all the masks used during the show;
and you all exist even when the lights don’t glow.

If you ask, you are my ever favorite, Romeo;
you’ve caused me always the most memorable show,
even if you always pass the stage to Meursault
who roams in indifference and screws up the show,
the lights turn down and up again in a row.

I called you here, as I said, ’cause I want you to know,
you are the crew that lead us through the flow,
you are much more than the people written by Defoe,
because if you wouldn’t be there, I would be none too,
so, use this high moment to say each other hello.

All my personalities in a small mental room,
if someone asks what we went through,
no one could answer because we have no clue,
each of us are living only to survive the show,
and if there’s no show, we’re all just a hidden wardrobe full of costume.

Benyamin Bensalah

09.05.2020

The monster behind 04.26

My mother kept whispering sole conversations,
but it was me not talking to her instead;
my mother kept inside her emotions,
but it was me not making her express;
my mother burst out in crying-shouting,
but it was me who let her problems imbed;
my mother was whom I blamed for many things,
but it was me ruining her and my life instead;
my mother was fighting for me,
and it was me giving up instead;
my mother was the only who cared about me,
and it was me who turned passively careless;
my mother was who gave birth to me,
then it was me who never gave her a fine birthday bless.

In Memoriam of the great date of 04.26.1964.

Benyamin Bensalah

04.26.2020

You wouldn’t get it

All started with a smile
of an unconscious state of mind
led by hormone-made happiness
sealing a smile with sealing-wax
on a man of fusioning confusion.

All startled with a cry
of a subconscious mindlessness
led by  childhood-made  traumas
sealing cries with high unpaid tax
on a poor heart without happiness.

You wouldn’t get it
even if you could get into the mind
of collapsing blurred, fake-realities
sealed by the possible impossible
truth of all this has been just real.

Benyamin Bensalah

02.04.2020