Ghost poems

Have you ever read a poem
from the dying bed?
Have you ever heard a poem
out of the purest agony?

With thousands of poems
behind me,
with all my suffering inside me
I truly doubt you had.

Words are senseless,
it’s pain ruling,
we are under it already
like dead under the ground.

Expect me not,
to write a last poem alike
about this stance
that’s just as a writing ghost.

So, take any poem of mine,
then name it last
because I am dead already,
I am a ghost.

Benyamin Bensalah

29.08.2021

When a universe tears apart

I’ve never considered myself living,
but
I’m the most dead without you

I’ve never considered myself happy,
but
I’m the saddest without you

I’ve never considered myself hopeful,
but
I’m the most hopeless without you

I’ve never considered myself normal,
but
I’m the normalest around you

I’ve never considered myself concerned,
but
I’m the most concerned about you.

Benyamin Bensalah

28.08.2021

Co-ward

Standing on the edge of this forgotten galaxy,
we are guarding a life,
an innocent future
that we sent behind bars
to live on water and bread,
then we guard it with all powers
something that we didn’t let to live
that is already
in a place that has no escape,
but we are still guarding –
we don’t mind to look at it,
it would make us cry,
but we are the guards
who need to bear
the lost
of a life.

Benyamin Bensalah

25.08.2021

Mentalwreck

My aching flesh prison
carried me so long
on seas, through continents
seeking the holy anchor
that could keep me –
so wrong
all adventures have been
no more than false illusions
on a deserted island
with my mental wreckage
offshore.

Benyamin Bensalah

20.08.2021

Drown in distractions

The thunder of music cuts the clouds
it slits, but they still
it roars, but they still
the painful clouds of clamorous silence.

The murmur of movies drains the clouds
it blurs, but they still
it rains, but they still
and each drop screams up in silence.

The clatter of glasses blows the clouds
it whirls, but they still
it dopes, but they still
and each breeze stinks nauseous silence.

The crackle of cigarettes hides the clouds
it burns, but they still
it chokes, but they still
and each ashen knock groans in silence.

The amble of paces flees the clouds
it begs, but they still
it shakes, but they still
and each painful cloud shrills in silence.

Benyamin Bensalah

15.07.2021

Déjà vu

I’ve seen my own death
an infinite time,
I’ve seen my own life
an infinite time;
all imaginary.

The escape of myself
is imaginary,
that I can belong
is imaginary;
cruel reality.

My incapacities form
this cruel reality,
my emptiness forms
this cruel reality;
pain.

All I’ve lived with
is pain,
all I’ve served
is pain;
endlessly.

I’ve seen my own life
endlessly,
I’ve seen my own death
endlessly;
as imaginary.

22.06.2021

Benyamin Bensalah

LMB

Limbic system overloads.
Memory is full.
Blocked from further access.

Living-dying continously.
Meaninglessly.
Being a spiral of humans.

Limbo painted grey realities.
Merging with the void.
Bored of facing this alone.

Benyamin Bensalah

17.06.2021

Devils may cry

My indifference surpasses Earth’s billions species,
my wild philosophies boil hotter than Venus,
my grief’s still colder than Pluto’s deepest valleys,
my carelessness embraces the whole space;
still, there’s a crying child in me
who doesn’t want more than being loved
and told motherly that this is your very place.

Benyamin Bensalah

24.04.2021

The Age of a Dragon

Time has been no more just a deception.
Where are the uncountable years on chain?
How to count the unceasable pain?
What measure can contain all the knowledge
of one’s griefing observation
on the self and what imprisons it?

The world is no more than a foolery.
All the pain grew shield on our skin, still..
Still, the scars are under our scales;
they are graved into the heart –
no teeth, no claws can defend us from;
this ruthless form is meaningless.

Life is a ceaseless demolition.
There’s no defense from this dark magic;
it creates spears and useless scales against,
then some wizardry chains us in caves
because we burnt the bridges, burnt the gates,
but weren’t we created for that?

Benyamin Bensalah

18.04.2021