Enraining

I’ve been in an acid rain.
From the start.
Tap-tap, tap-tap.
Every drop falls.
Through my coat.
Through my face.
Into the heart.

I’ve been sitting in a pit.
It rains sadness.
Ha-ha, ha-ha.
Every drop laughes.
Into my ears.
Into my soul.
Through madness.

I’ve been waiting death.
To come.
Tak-tak, tak-tak.
I can’t wait.
In the years.
In the pains.
How long they last.

Benyamin Bensalah

20.11.2016

Rods of Sadness

I’m sucking on the rods of sadness;
My palate says no,
My lungs say so,
My heart says so,
Every reasonable mind would say no
While the void inside me says:
YES, YES, YES.

Benyamin Bensalah

17.01.2020

Sad Dog

Like an injured dog having no sort,
Knocking about the world for resort,
I walk on the dark sides of the streets,
My sight sweeps the paper of the sweets.

This is the sole world that I’m trynna avoid,
This desolation cures my spiritual void,
The dark peace feeds my eagerness,
To care no more or even less.

So the solution here is solitude,
Carelessness while getting screwed,
Sober stupor agaisnt the cruel world,
Living on the surface of the underworld.

Seldom as Cerberus I walk on the earth,
A shadow-like monster seeking worth,
Searching life by trice of headness,
Finding no thing but sadness.

Anon, I fit another canon,
Being a sullen Hungarian dragon,
Tho, I barely bite, I do without sorry,
So, I rather remain on chain and write my story.

I’ve found my place now on an empty chair,
But I live in the blank looks everywhere,
I’m planting, and sadness is my seed,
I’m a sad dog having no breed.

Benyamin Bensalah

06.02.2017

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

10.01.2020

The Deep Embrace

Even if its sea is silver-
And golden is its shore,
I should never be going there-
To the sea of sore and sorrow,
Not anymore.

Where faceless phantoms sing-
Lunatic nightmares,
My place desires but to sink-
Deep into the wares and blue,
More and more.

Their song is about people-
Hurting, violating,
Their air is violent, purple-
Breathing, exhaling the hate,
More and more.

Reaching the charmed deep-
Their hate is fading,
Fades the desire to weep-
To be living down the surface,
More and more.

Even if its sea is silver-
And golden is its shore,
I should never be going there-
To the sea of sore and sorrow,
Not anymore.

Benyamin Bensalah

23.09.2017

On the borderline

I am neither happy, neither sad;
I’m an empty – empty lad,
Waiting for some and someone’s care;
But having got it, I barely care.

It’s hard to believe that I’m loved;
I hate myself un- and be-loved,
Fearing that this hate is catching;
And I ever remain unmatching.

None could bear being so burdened;
I fear and seek abandonment,
Being burden on my own and else;
Death offers the only solace.

I’m on the borderline of living and dead;
I’ve pushed away everything I had,
Unknowingly who I am, but it’s not an excuse;
I have only social misuse.

I doubt if ever I could share this life;
Should I ever share this life,
While words are so easy to share;
But what being shares despair?

Benyamin Bensalah

10.10.2019