A perfect influence

Surely we think ourselves less, my dear,
Since we see ourselves through just a wasted reflection;
What an eye cannot see is its sister’s tear,
So, do not doubt in your own perfection:
Now, I am your third eye – your mirroring lense…

Hear my voice as if your own mouth were speaking,
Feel my leading and hinting as your sixth sense;
Since I am a thinking being of seeing,
For me, the world is perspective, but non-sense:
Without sharing with you, my life is just wasted experience…

As all in the world is, with the world itself,
We are no more, but our own perception;
Just trick your mind as it’s tricking itself,
If there’s no, indeed it is God’s perfection:
Rejoice on being His perfection now and hence…

Benyamin Bensalah


An Absurd’s Conversation

Do you drink your coffee without sugar?!”
-I was asked by shock in my interrogator;
Like eating your soup without salt…
Like wearing your shoes without socks!”

I do, well, I do them all above …
-I answered with the greatest indifference;
Why are you trying to find meaning,
And pleasure in something that ends cruel?”

(End of Random Conversation)

Benyamin Bensalah


The mad poet’s planet

Have you met the mad poet who doesn’t deserve happiness?

The early moon-day skies are mothering cries on the mad pallet;
the reddest rivers will green many bluish ideas on this sad planet
like half-blood titans descending into mortal hermit
with eyeing minds on the infinite skies without permit.

Virtually toxicated images are raising altar for madness;
oddly faced gods will have painted former multiverses
storing like imagined jpgs of beauts’ bare badness
with brute-looking pngs’ sweet kisses of sadness.

Two decades of megatons are whiting on the horizon’s garret;
a new simulation will take place with an unchanged habit
working with the same colors of the sad, mad, bad pallet
with drawing circles until the pocket poet’s on this planet.

You have met the mad poet who doesn’t deserve happiness.

Benyamin Bensalah


Paying the pimp

Well… I’ve got a couple of ignores last year;
It is really confusing when someones just disappear
With all the good and paid attention still here as souvenir,
So, I felt it as a must to mention them while outpouring my tear:

At least, I tried to think about what poem they would deserve
For burning, burying, exhuming and excreting on my nerve,
But of course, I’ve found no bitch, slut, nor whore œuvre,
Not as if they would be handy any of that serve…

Nevermind. I’m already overdoing it
For someones who just really really do not merit it;
And I am actually descending down to their level with it
While mentioning the dick they deserve in the same line with my wit.

So, what could I tell? Of course, they can go to the hell’s deepest cavity,
Where they can find their mates with equal humanity,
But that’s still low price for causing my insanity,
So, let me not waste more of my originality:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You whose names rhyme with dogs;
Spaniel, Boglen, Chanel, Shiba Inu, Dalmatian, Chihuahua and all! Take it and fuck you.

Benyamin Bensalah


A girl on the bus

Despite of the hard matter of fact how empty I was,
Concerning all the suicidal feelings of nonsenseness
In a day that really has held me nothing about my future,
I’ve changed as if by a quick hush-and-pick magic wand,
By seeing a girl nothing particularly interesting in her,
But she changed me, my view, the structure of my mind,
All my world, all my problems, all that I have and hadn’t changed,
Changed, sublimated, stopped being and all renewed.

She and I changed our eyes, By what we changed our souls,
As if thousands of jokes were done, our eyes were laughing;
We appreciated each others by the science of love
That uses the environment as a strange ocean
In which we were the only humans floating, seeing each other,
Seeing and appreciating our styles that held nothing,
Nothing in special, but in a whole the fragments
Of music, culture and sophisticated manners
Built a bubble between her, me and the crowd.

She was so closed to the outside world and so open to mine,
My world that has just got destroyed and renewed,
Making me a new man, a curious man: What was that world about?
I’ve fallen in love as she did and I’ve become a Shakespeare again,
A Shakespeare who could do anything for his love,
I started thinking on the compliments not yet prepared
And building the world in her new blue colours,
Thinking of throwing myself into insane actions
That surely, surely would impress her – our new world,
But then she disappeared and I didn’t fall back.

Surprisingly, I didn’t fall back to my old world,
Having a girlfriend with thousands of problems,
But I have stayed in that new world alone with a smile,
With a smile that describes that yes there is hope:
You are still able to be a Shakespeare and yes,
I fell in love blindly, only with a mass of flesh and,
And some sophisticated compartment beside her langauge,
Langauge and langauges, the polyglotting that turns me on,
Yes, I am still able to get turned on, and I’m  happy.
Happy in that new-old world that holds no changes,
But still everything is seen in it so different…
Welcome, being the most intelligent creation with the most stupid mind.

Benyamin Bensalah


By Carpe Diem

By the corner of the pub,
By the shoes and on them the dust,
By the cup of tea and the fag of cigar,
I am Ceasar wihout owning a single dinar.

By the road I left now and then,
By the battles I failed as a young veteran,
By the failed strategies popped out of my mind,
I am bearing no tragedies above me, nor behind.

By all the knowledge acknowledged,
By all the ever refreshing rusty storage,
By the unknown mistery that I am living in,
I am not guilty of any by the misery made-up sin.

By the gods and things others adore,
By the long beards and women’s chadors,
By the lies about the never ending tomorrow,
I am not to believe but in today, even if it’s full of sorrow.

By the words leaving my meanders,
By those words reaching only others’ ears,
By all the pictures of tomorrow ending as a dream,
I am here to live but the today, by sayin at last: Carpe Diem.

Benyamin Bensalah