Tag: madness

The bint

With my bare eyes bent,
On the street roaming,
Here I am.

A veiled flagrant bint,
Like silken flowing,
There she is.

See! Evil eyes sent,
Phantoms’ appraising,
Here’s a ghost.

See! Hunger’s advent,
Phantoms appraising,
There are men.

A bare moment spent,
Centuries seeming,
Here she is.

My eyes are still bent,
Hers are challenging,
There’s a bogle.

Like a fairy’s scent,
Heavenly tempting,
Here she is.

Fragrance of fresh mint,
Alfresco meeting,
There she is.

How long glance she sent,
I gave up counting,
Here’s a ghost.

The phantoms were pent,
I am triumphing,
There she is.

Now and then she went,
My head is turning,
Here I am.

I had been a gent,
Now we are meeting,
There’s the bogle.

Her lip’s in vile bent,
They made me loosing,
Here’s a ghost.

I need to repent,
There’s no one seeing,
Where is she.

My bare eyes are bent,
I feel am diving,
Where I am.


Benyamin Bensalah

24.08.2017

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

Probably somebody popped up in my mind

Probably somebody popped up in my mind –
Among all those possibilities
Out of the void,
Among all those responsibilities
I try to avoid,
There’s a beam of trust
That holds every doubtful thing as a whole,
That gives me and only me a role,
That keeps me human after all –
Monsters must or must not be alone –
Keeping you as my mortal and eternal goal.

Benyamin Bensalah

10.10.2018

Deposits

Like sprinkling dust on the paper,
Moulding itself into mud;
Sound the words of the pauper,
Forming his tears into flood.

His need is not a bigger pocket,
Or a fam of a good blood;
His thirst made him a bitter poet,
Being lost in the flood.

Flood of a baby’s first cry to the world,
Seeing everything newly indifferent;
He wishes for a straight world unwhirled,
Wishing not being so different.

Dirting the paper with stolen words,
From sloppy worlds of others;
The pauper gets deeper in his thirst,
And goner in others’.

Sodden paper-pieces in the mud,
Like flood-brought thrashes;
But they didn’t came with the flood,
Just from a former poet’s ashes.

Benyamin Bensalah

17.09.2018

A glance in purgatory

“Benyamin, I want you to speak.”
Still darkness and silence.
“Tell me what is wrong.”
Sounds are reflecting from the deep.
“I won’t give up on you. Speak.”
My inhumanity is awakening.
“Are you listening to me?”

*I am obliged to listen since you speak.*
“Your stance is hurting me.”
*I am sorry?*
“What is wrong?”
*What is wrong?*
“You are not the same.”
*I am who I am.*
“…”
*I just need a little silence.*
“…”
*Don’t worry about me.*
(Neither I do, nor about you.
Also, if you can’t give up on me, I can do.
As well as on you.)

Is there any regret?
*No.*
Emptiness.

“Benyamin, I want you to speak.”

Benyamin Bensalah

11.10.2017

Enough

Ain’t say more…
I won’t listen anymore;
Every plasma inside me burning
Screams up in one word: “ENOUGH”.

Ain’t say more…
None of the livings listened
When I tried to articulate: I’m different,
Now, my tries outpour in one world: enough.

Ain’t say more…
It’s the end, listen to me;
My presence has been a torment to me,
As for all of us, then, end listening: enough.

Ain’t say more…
Just listen to my absence;
It has no sound, nothing all at once,
Then, believe in my nonexistence: it’s enough.

Ain’t say more…
The memory is horrible,
Maybe, just as I was, only a bad riddle
That a child enjoys, but the others scream up on it: ENOUGH.

Benyamin Bensalah

28.08.2018

Firestorm and Rays

I woke up this morning to my half world is in ashes,
I took my first step in the burning embers -my room crashes,
The cinder was sitting with a heavy burden in my eyelashes.

I wanted to open the door of the ex-house I remembered,
Now, my home is just sounds of clashes – everything is emeber’d.
Oh! The world is over, by which once I was sheltered.

Outside, a tempestous firestorm cut the ways…
Oh, God! A burning maze that eats the one who stays…
Oh, God! I am in your hands, then show me your rays.

Benyamin Bensalah

16.01.2018