Seek and Hide

Hide and then seek again,
Play and then re-play again,
Talk and then meet up again,
Learn and then take exam again,
Work and then change work again,
Buy things and then buy more things;
Infinite loop of doings
With finite scope of ownings
of the last peekaboo,
of the last win with value,
of the last astonishing taboo,
of the last bought thing seen as new,
of the last intercourse we are able to do
Leading to play and don’t play again,
Breathe and don’t breathe again,
Seek meaning that hides again,
After days until a day again,
Till not waking up again.

Benyamin Bensalah

06.10.2020

When you are not needed

When you are not needed,
You just make up things,
When you are not needed,
Things fulfill your days,
When you are not needed,
Dreams are just some things,
When you are not needed,
Things are just distractions,
When you are not needed,
Goals are just made up things,
When you are not needed,
Things are just frustrations,
When you are not needed,
Nights reaveal there are no things,
When you are not needed,
Things just fall apart,
When you are not needed,
You just wait the end of made up things.

Benyamin Bensalah

17.09.2020

The fight of life

Nothing matters in this life,
Just to show up yourself in the strife.
A win could easily satisfy,
A brute who’s familiar with the vie.

A lose hardly fags out a fag,
Who has friend and facebook tag.
Nothing matters in that strife,
Just to get out of it damn alive.

Dying is fair deal for a lame,
Who doesn’t fit this fighting game.
Also living makes little sense,
With victorious sadness in the glance.

Nothing matters in this life,
Only-only if one matters in the life.
Nothing matters in this strife,
Only-only if one matters in the strife.

Benyamin Bensalah

18.04.2016

Pierre Reverdy : Late in life

I’m hard

I’m tender
  
                             and I lost my time
                             dreaming without sleeping
                             sleeping while walking

wherever I passed by
I found my absence
I am nowhere

Except the nothingness
but I’m hiding at the top of the bowels
At the place where the lightning has hit too often
a heart where every word left its keenness
and where my life drops to the slightest move.

Benyamin Bensalah

13.09.2020

Translated from the French poem of Pierre Reverdy, “Tard dans la vie”(1960).

Always lemon

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”.

Eye of a corn

Pop.
The first left.
Pop. Pop.
The second and third.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Going becomes a hype.
Pop.
Another one.
Pop. Pop.
I feel it salty to leave.
Pop.
I feel fever to go.
Pop.
Hot pressure.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
They go with pleasure.
Pop. Popop.
What’s going on?
Popop. Pop. Popop.
Is it a must to go?
Pop.
My ears are buzzing.
Pop.
The world’s reeling.
Pop.
Silence.
Pop.
Silence.
Silence.
Maybe, it’s the last.
Silence.
Maybe, it’s over.
Sure.
We are in safe.
Stayed many of us.
Out of the yellow mass.
Yes!
I told you.
Don’t mess with me.
Silence.
Alas!
Pop.

Benyamin Bensalah

15.05.2016

A significant moment

There are times when you want to see a movie
just for a scene or for an image,
to listen to a song, to recite a poem
just for a line, just for one word
that gives meaning to all.

As there are times when you live with someone
just for that colorless, wordless moment,
compared to the years being so insignificant,
still that moment means all what is life,
saying that you are needed.

Benyamin Bensalah

18.08.2020

Soulful Account

I want to believe that there is a soul inside me,
Not just a preprogrammed instinct;
Learning and storing that are later called as me,
While I’m still just a mass of matter.

Molecules of Water, Nitrogen and Carbon,
Fluorine and Ammonia linked
To Phosphorous, Sulfur, Sodium and Silicone
Do build me up to mere matter.

Then, where does hide that so-called spirit,
Inside the heart or the mind;
Flowing in my blood’s or nerves’ circuit,
In-between the former or latter?

And then, what is its equivalent exchange,
What value holds the bad- or goodness;
Is it quantum-built, occult or else-strange,
Or rather, am I just a bladder?

It would be great knowing about souls,
Believing I’m not mere emptiness;
But all I know is matters with their roles,
And that all, for me, doesn’t matter.

Benyamin Bensalah

30.04.2019