No senseless belief

I was scrolling up and down,
Looking for some particular verses-
From poems, books or famous quotes-
To face the world and use words versus.

Tons of words like raindrops
Splashed my face, the windshield-
Shield against the tiring emotions that
Hurt and hurt me, but never ever healed.

Then, I met a world of water
Where every word is a great ocean-
Reading Camus, Pinker, Schrödinger,
Trading awareness instead of emotion.

Benyamin Bensalah

13.06.2018

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

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

The Violin

The Violin
was amongst
my first inspirations
as a child
gifted by poetry,
instead of
happiness.
The childish poem sounded somewhat
like these lines, but in my mother tongue:
(Even if poetry
is a language itself.)
“My heart is like a violin with its cords;
When I’m easy on them, it plays kindly,”
(Nice metaphor;
wasn’t I a smart kid?)
“But when I force on it, it cries up and breaks,
Leaving every heart in a broken silence.”
(Oh, woow,
that’s the ol’ me.)
This is the poem on which I got the warning:
“Sane kids don’t write such gibberish larking!”.
That was harming,
but the world
harmed me more
than such words;
so, I didn’t stop
writing because of a
badly criticized
poem, named:
The Violin.
However, I felt
weird towards
that instrument
from then.
I watched weirdly
the rich kids
playing on them freely;
without nobody
telling to them:
You are insane
Doing what you do,
that rubbish larking.
That was hard to understand that time
why one’s art was seen crazy, and other’s playing was genius.
But after some materialistically and socially hitting slaps on my face,
I understood how it is exactly working with this terrible human race:
The rich that follows and serves the example of enjoying being
will be never replaced by the deep thinker wrapped up in grieving.
Realizing it was sad, but truth is enlightening.
This is why I returned to this magical instrument, now,
with its amazing sounds that leave my heart happily crying.
Just a decade and some years before, I was comparing my heart to those cords
that can make such a beauty the Earth is barely able to hold, within such a sadness,
within such a chance to fail and ruin everything, leaving rooms in heart-torn silence.
This divine instruments must not be played but by the devil
who knows what is true sin, and how gets fallen a daredevil.
Let the devil take the cords, let him take my heart with them, too.
I’ve needed no more than to truly know what is hiding in
this world and this heart that makes me love
a sad and gloomy while also pompous
violin playing.

Benyamin Bensalah

01.01.2020

Thinking behind bars

Imagine there’s no heaven below us but the sky,
Imagine there’s no hell beneath us but the ground,
And imagine there’s no truth what people talk about
But the reason we are here is to live and inevitably die.

What would you do in such a world?
Would you waste your time to cry?
Would you chase what you love?
Would you stay enslaved to the crowd?

The hippie is a madman, the lonewolf is a sadman,
The branding iron is parching on the skin of all of us,
The ideologies are blinding and envisioning all of us,
And every creature is free in their living but the man.

The day we were created the thought,
We damned what is living all about,
But this is only what I think,
And my thoughts amongst billions shrink…

…hey, let’s have a drink.

Benyamin Bensalah

28.07.2020

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

Waiting for Godot

What else reason brought us upon Earth than facts that
are so trivial, they are even barely believable;
we are none more than the result of animals’ breeding,
doing the same life-essential routines of eating-excreting – and
here, some of our smart arse would say
that we are SENT down to this place by reason that
is we are JUST better than all other livings even if
the facts don’t support this answer; firstly because there was no
question to be answered so arrogantly.
And the above fact that we, humans, defend so desperately our supremacy proves that
we are in deed just a scavenged mixture of nature that
are here just as any other being; temporarily
blessed by the moment and cursed by the next
in what we fall from the circling giant wheel of life; and
this is what we can call a fact
that is standing above beliefs and can start a discussion on what
we are doing here now in these moments that
happen, now, but in the next round they cease as we cease
to know the false facts that kept us believing in
the answer without question why we are here now.
Yes, this isn’t easy to face that there’s no meaning
in the job we take, our education or
the family we were living for;
immense reasons “keeping us alive” are just parts of this
confusion that hides the fact that we are here for
one reason that is to live and die; one
thing is sure above all the false-certitude that Death
alone is the only common variable between us that
is unavoidable, doubtless, assured and
clear as it is.
We are dying together from the first moment we
are to face this glance of time of living, or rather
waiting for reasons to be here;
for we never can know why we are here, but
Godot is coming, and we are either willing or not, but we are waiting it
to come

(“What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in the immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come –” Samuel Beckett – Waiting for Godot)

Benyamin Bensalah

30.06.2020

A memorable moment

I’ve just arrived to a memorable moment in my life –
Life, here, is not a period as mortals call their lifespan,
But rather, it is the shore of the course of knowledge –
To ask either heart-lessly or -fully: What is the virtue of life?

I’ve been not supposed to count the long steps
That I had already made next to that rich but capricious river,
That has made me ask questions after questions
Till now, when, it’s made me ask about me, how I’ve arrived thither.

Its query has come with a light breeze on my hands,
Creating tornadoes, twisters and hurricanes somewhere else;
As if it asked only a word: “How come you don’t care,
Then, you care about my moments more than anybody else?”

I knelt on the golden shore, looking deeply into the water:
I knelt at that concrete part of life as a few thousands had done before me,
Then, I read out the most conclusive words before we’d proceed:
Virtues: Live Long The Moment, Meet Death While You Are You, You Before Me.

Pulling my face out of the stream of thoughts hurt –
As if the whole universe has been amputated out of my soul,
Tho, hurtfully – thoughtfully, I knew that I have had to go:
I has been just Rousseau, Camus, Benyamin and a thoughtful dog on the shore.

Benyamin Bensalah

29.08.2018