My prince-apples

The wordly world is doggy-doggy,
You need a choice, oki-doki?
Boring bloke whose flavor’s labour,
Or just choose, to be daily lazy.

Life is ocean, harshing hardship,
Who gets on its board, gets bored,
But who are the king of larking,
Whose life’s used as the fund of fun.

Be polar, bipolar, open to the new,
No focus on hocus pocus of the news,
Otherwise, you’re wise nevermore,
You are not, to believe in every lore.

Be an absurb bird, absorbe you heard,
But select the fact without affect,
No attach! Not on a word, nor the world,
Be alone without a loan of anybody.

Give an “X” to the things you learnt,
Give no appearance to give up to learn,
Be the expert of experience, hence,
Your vitality is wit with crazy mentality.

Though the worldy world is doggy-doggy,
Health is before wealth oki-doki?
Choose a real mate, really anti-material,
You, Priceless Prince of Supriseness.

Guard your garden’s Prince-apples,
They are golden pieces of your world,
Through ’em you may throw more poems,
Since all you were right in is to keep writin’.

Benyamin Bensalah


Where everything’s black

It’s not that I thought myself so clever,
I’ve just been born onto another level;
Far from simple human feelings,
Far, where my quill sings.

Oh, now, I would wish more love;
I wish more acts into my love,
But… I’ve had nothing worth,
But my words.

Even if she said: I live in your words,
She skipped me and my worlds,
From one day to another;
I wish I’d died rather…

While my worlds were falling apart,
Me thinking of my sweerheart;
What more could I give her
If words couldn’t infer.

Now, see how my words newly raved,
From where my soul is engraved;
Wishing its unloved body back
Where everything’s black.


I’m wordless, like a true living-dead;
She stole all my words that I had,
Some described her and love,
Some a flower, some a dove.

Wake up, stupid! You last moron!
You still believe in the Koran?!
Where love is devil’s heel,
Wives marked by seal?

Burn down beliefs, humans, memories!
You won’t need their glories
When you will be there;
In that dark sphere.

There, you’ll find peace in Nothing,
Don’t cry for another thing;
Love? Who’d love you?!
An empty queue…

Poorly, your veins in words outpour,
No vehemence, no thing to adore;
A chador, and a picture is back…
But, again, everything’s black.


I know that place – I tried escaping,
Not me, but my mindless feeling;
That I have to live anyway,
But, for whom, I’d stay…

A bright smile blinded my moments,
There’s darkness in all continents;
See that you have nothing to see,
No kingdom, no Annabelle Lee.

Rather, find your joy in a smoke,
That helps enjoy any joke;
Even if it’s about life,
Or any other strife.

Search a dark place and breath in,
That’s where you’ll get in;
Digged by your gloom,
A perfect tomb.

The life is full of childish lies,
At my tomb, crocodile cries;
“I wish he’d come back”,
But everything’s black.


I’m not a person who sees the morrow,
Carpe Diem. Despite of sorrow;
I try to enjoy this shit,
Despite of every hit.

My eyes, my heart and my whole body,
Are looking for none, nobody;
They wish to die,
Wish to die.

Whether it was the lie of my dark soul,
It may have a bright goal,
To save my sanity,
My insanity.

Sillily, I’m afraid of seeing a Lily,
Even if my grave is chilly,
A flower may try revive
Me, with another lie.

Thus, get away with the colour,
Stop this living horror,
Never turn back
Until it’s black.


There are words echoing, Ohhh,
There are only words echoing;
From a lost world,
My only world.

“Try to trick your mind and that’s all”,
*I cry* trick to insanity, pal?
Trick it to imagine you?
All we went through?

I wish I could trick it like that,
Living a dream till I’m dead,
Then, a kiss wakes me up;
“I’m sorry, bud”.

All the pictures living in me,
All that I am living in thee,
Are somehow gone,
But not undone…

So, I curse this world with all its beliefs,
That have destroyed my only relief,
Only hope to have a life payback;
Payback of everything black.

Benyamin Bensalah


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



Dressed in the colours of void and in what everything been created,
Before the time true atoms could form,
I was there, wholesomely empty and perfectly isolated.

Problems had started with that prismatic nuclear storm
That in fusing colours sent my peace to fission,
Oh, of that galactic war’s physical-chemical reform.

Galactic years ahead falling stars became matter of superstition,
Feral protons and electrons made up a federal,
Referring my presence as a massive juxtaposition.

I’ve been asking and asking since that funless atomic funeral
That I could call as my very first nuclear decay,
Why my nature’d been unclearly declared as neutral.

The problem is more problematic than a highly charged cosmic ray
Coming, for me, meant as being decreased to a segment
Of a ghastly, unwanted, neither-this-nor-that dark social alley.

A nuclear interaction, keeping me needed as an unneeded content
Only to hold the candle for an atom
Of fundamental participles, states me as only a supplement.

Only, though I’m still an I’m-okay element in need of a positivite proton
To charge my dark emptiness,
Being less and too weak to be my own photon.

Atoms come and go, and nuclear reactions are merciless
As new groups get me negated,
Day to day I feel my charge less and less.

I’m a subatomic hero zero that goes with nothing, but the flow related,
Sometimes overrated or out of the norm,
But this is my neutral nature how I was created.

Benyamin Bensalah


The Scroll of a Troll

For the most of you, it doesn’t count –
The moment I made my first account
To a virtual world where I’ve been raised,
Enjoying how I was, by others, well-amazed.

Cool avatars and witty comments –
I do remember of those epic moments
In which, I got hundreds’ approving likes,
And rivals’ hateful, yielding, so sad dislikes.

It was me versus the world as usual –
Others judged me for I was perceptual
With the odds, the first time, on my favor,
Pawning all those hater, rager, blamer, raver.

I’ve become an undjudgeable judge –
A faceless ghost none could prejudge
I was, evil like a Sith and cool as a Jedi,
Leading the top tens and all my fellow ally.

Tho, for the most of you, it’s not a matter –
I’m just a toxic troll, a churlish chatter
Who’s as miserable as in real life,
Trying to virtually get a new life.

Just like one of the story of Marvel,
I’ve raised up in the middle of nowhere –
No one could forsee in the comments below
The advent of the cool and smartass Eskemo.

Even the name itself has held a riddle,
For the dumb middle class, too theoretical –
Eskemo is an ex-emo with cold nature on the world
While, at the same time, with enough fun to play word by word.

My avatar used to be Yagami Light,
Gently sending ignorants to benight –
Name by name, I fulfilled my Death Note
With taking dumb commenters to demote.

In my first home – The Demotivator,
I’ve become a highly outstanding leader –
People came to see me instead of the posts
Which just served me with fuel for my roasts.

I was starting and ending flamewars,
The cause, others’s lame reasoning, was –
I just said how stupid it was from my side
That, later, the viewers’ likes had to decide.

Those whom I roasted asked me less gently
Why I was such a jerk even if intelligently,
But the answer was just as in real life’s –
This is how I realise.

Away from the keyboard, I’ve been unbearable
Because my reasoning was so insensible,
Being an observing social element –
Without any sentiment.

But it has changed in front of the keyboard
Where social acts could be ignored,
Saying only the real facts –
Without aftereffects.

This is why, even if my saying was hurting
For those for whom reality is disturbing,
People started to like me –
For saying what I see.

Hence, I’ve found that virtual defence
Of saying freely my common sense,
I’ve had become Odysseus –
Fighting Captain Obvious.

I have become an emblem like Batman,
Fighting intolerant women and men –
The visitors oppressed by guano
Just have to cry up: “Where’s Eskemo?”

Joking all around like Joker,
I’ve condemned each excrete-poster –
By asking “WHAT IS THIS? What is that?”
Then, receiving “Yo momma’s so fat..”

I triggered the virtual freedom’s abusers,
But said: “This is my world, losers.” –
“My jokes are serious and black
No chance to take them back.”

For what I stated, I might have been hated,
But the friendship I made cannot be moderated –
Our community was beyond virtuality
That fought the net’s morality.

Oh, those flame wars below the comments,
Type by type my dear fellow wo and men’s –
I did make a cozy home there,
Idyll and bloody like the stories of Homer.

I’m just a troll and it’s just my scroll –
I have a wit that’s out of control
As online as in reality,
I’m the opposite of triviality.

Jokes and roasting are my clothes –
What’s in my mind no one knows
Since I am a reactor run by issues,
Producing the smartest clues.

I’m a clown at the same time –
For entertainment, I commit the crime
Of sarcasming and pejorisming,
Hoping that a better generation’s rising.

I’m a hero, a comment hussar –
By good reason I’m a user
For if I can’t change the real world,
I try to change the world can be surfed.

The doctors had no scroll-
I treat myself as a troll
With being part of the best community,
Living with any joke opportunity.

Benyamin Bensalah


The Sink

In front of the bathroom mirror,
On the terrain of self-terror
From those eyes which window
A world – an unworldly world.

I cannot say it – as a simple poet,
That I have no words to connect
To the stance I’m standing at,
But it’s hardly describeable.

I couldn’t catch there any feeling;
My facial expressions are deceiving,
No smile, no sad droll is revealing,
Just an empty poet on his own.

There, notwithstanding, syllables are expressing
A hidden, barren world – so depressing,
That has no space, no time at all,
Screaming: I’m alone.

At the sink where my elbow’s planking,
In the plughole where the water’s ending,
My thoughts follow-follow the flow;
Sinking thinking into my ego.

Going down, oh deeply, but the hole is seen so weakly,
Deeply, oh yes deeply, but there’s a dark place below,
And I am barely seeing any, any meaning
In the sink and what I’m thinking on…

Benyamin Bensalah


Pantoum of the Antihero

Gets no love the one who doesn’t love.
It’s not Karma, but simple logic.
Even if he does, it’s a sort of odds,
Making the canon candid.

It’s not Karma, but simple logic;
The misanthrope is alone –
Who doesn’t like water, will suffocate in,
Who doesn’t like life, will be perishing in.

The misanthrope is alone.
This is all a matter of nature-
One may hide in a mass like serpent,
Still being poisonous, threatening.

This is all a matter of nature;
The old song of yin and yang-
Darkness isn’t overthrown by brightness,
But they fulfill the scheme of destiny.

The old song of yin and yang-
The side uncursed by goodness
Is the side blessed with senselessness,
Extreme plainness and severity.

The side uncursed by goodness
Fulfills the dark side of the bright –
Without looking for doing the right
Since it’s all self-implemented.

Fulfilling the dark side of the bright,
Giving chance for the light,
And bearing all the dark of the moon,
He may be a hero, the antigone.

Giving chance for the light,
Getting no love while another does,
We – people – serve perfect bad examples
For there’s no hero without Antihero.

Getting no love while another does,
Even if getting that’s out of odds;
Darkness isn’t overthrown by brightness,
But each fulfills a scheme in destiny.

We’ve been and we’ll be gone even as antigone.

Benyamin Bensalah