Pocket sonnet

Pockets. What a goddamn godsend is it to possess!
The temporary holding of everything
that stacks the more and has the less –
all the things sent to abandoning,
all the things spent no how just as a waste,
all the things meant to be lost,
all the things temporarily displaced
pass-cross by while being tossed.
There’s no more meaning in the holder either,
so just keep your hands in those pockets
just as it has been done by the wicked creator
of the things possessed as maquettes.
   What else the hands in the pockets would signify
   than being and being ready to die?

Benyamin Bensalah

14.01.2021

Soulshard

Will the inken feathers see the sky ‘gain,
Have they scratch’d an ev’-flying art for us?
Mayb’ their fallenness is cursed to fall ‘gain,
And heav’nly words are just unseen for us.

Then, words coming by clacks’ and taps’ typing,
Won’t they face the coming oblivion?
What does matter the mechanical rhyming-
‘gainst our flesh and carbonate calcium?

Thou must know, as your seconds are in tomb,
Too, your soul won’t bright on earth for ever-
Your soulshards will unflame really soon,
You might hide and write ’em if y’er clever.

Do write! The daylights blind the blue-cloudy sky;
Tho’, your soulshards star e’er on the night’s high.

Benyamin Bensalah

08.11.2017

The devils are here

Hell will be one of the most well-known concepts ever:
is there anybody who needs to tell
empty feelings, pains and people who feed on each other,
and is there anybody to tell we are living hell;
all vain trials, hardships and sacrifices just to live happier –
the so-called gent are like the mademoiselle,
devils on Earth by sole purpose to hurt in- and exterior;
are not the lands better without us to dwell,
here, it is better to say, not us, but there are devils from hell.

(Hell is empty and all the devils are here – William Shakespeare)

Benyamin Bensalah

11.05.2020

Roux Meow et Jolly Wat

Act I.

Two broken hearts, both alike in dignity,
In Algiers, where we lay our scene,
Were sorted, despite of their naive purity;
Their true blood judged them unclean.

The boy’d been a noble, humble creature,
Within his soul a hidden labyrinth,
One by one unwordly, magical features;
But his side was without any hint.

The girl’d been a loving, hoping angel,
Within her soul thirst to know,
Knowing no that knowledge is danger;
She learnt and taught sorrow.

***

The lovers were no lovers, but of God,
With plenty heart and true soul,
They wished a wish that sounded odd:
A simple life after their cruel.

Their parents’ old sins were their seal,
That had made trace to theirs,
When they met, they had a pure deal:
A white page after dark years.

Unhappiness is a lone, thirsty beast,
It dévores peace and love,
It may dress up for hundreds of feast:
Causing tragedies like above.

***

Frequency, true love and purity,
They are only blunt blades,
When it comes to cutting authority:
Without its parental aids.

This story is not a new story,
Romeo and Juliet,
Two broken hearts shorn of their glory:
Even if they healed when they met.

All their attributes of art and piety
Were burnt by an Ogre’s wrath
Who cursed every drop of serenity:
All that we ever, never hath.




Act II.


A year, two years before that they met,
Roux Meow didn’t know his Wat,
Even if his friend kept her captive;
Roux Meow’s been so inactive.

He had modest traits toward his friend,
Avoiding to look at his girlfriend,
So, the first time that he saw her;
Was in a club of writer-drawer.

They knew each others as fine friends,
They enjoyed that none pretends,
Then, when they started a new chatbox;
It was proven as it never stops…


***


In contrary, Jolly Wat has known her cat,
She saw him years before they met,
To avoid hot words, she liked his traits;
Dunno, what was the play of Fates.

After her man left with his funny cap,
Roux Meow came with another cap,
Changing the suits into shirts and kind words;
They made a new scene of lovely birds.

Such keywords flew around them in the sky,
As no-relationship, art and butterfly;
Their influence helped them to forget the past;
Their parents’ divorce and their ex.

***

Roux Meow’s heart was paralyzed by Palestine,
An adventure out of space and time,
While Jolly Wat was quartered by Qatar;
A nightmare-like bizarre terror.

These circumstances were like magnets,
Creating a collision like of Macbeth’s,
Two seemingly innocent playing with Destiny;
Calling their own blood as enemy.

He was a fighting lion on the Savannah,
She was just a flower- Subhanallah,
How come that ends bad something so good;
They only wanted a better mood.


Act III.


Darken forces came in form of his dad,
Whether God-sent or evil-sent,
Roux Meow and Jolly Wat became bad;
They’re born under a cursed tent.

His divorced father cursed and swore,
On her divorced mother’s lore,
How come that Meow wants a life;
After his dad’s life-long strife.

Roux Meow wished a pure marriage,
With some help that he merits,
While Jolly Wat just wanted carriage;
By someone whom she merits.

***

Roux Meow’s family like wild lions,
Sniffed around her little folks,
In their eyes, would ruin even diamonds;
Blackened everything their talks.

Roux Meow has no right to live, to love,
Jolly Wat has no right for thoughts,
Marriage is a mere marketplace of dove;
The family needs better attributes.

Her past is divorced and she is old,
Her family is a gypsy clan,
She uses magic and evil to hold;
Roux Meow as Peter Pan.

***

Roux Meow and Jolly Wat was asked,
So, are you pious fellow of God,
Then, ask God whether it will fairly last;
But we will against you working fraud.

Seeing the dark clouds coming near,
Roux Meow and Wat grieved,
They agreed to cut what has been so dear;
A beau world – no talk no stalk – leaved.

The world of her beautiful drawings fell,
His words of their world cleaved,
Their beautiful Algiers became itself the hell;
No “Let’s trick our mind, being naive’d”.


Act IV.


Roux Meow begged his monstrous house,
“Here I’ve come to choose my spouse-
Be upon my support for once in the life;
Let me face alone the lifelong strife.”

The dad: “Leave my house, leave my fam!
I won’t hear about your damn madame.
I swear on the Lord you’ll be both perished,
I won’t have peace till the girl vanished.”

Jolly Wat: “Oh, Roux Meow – Roux Meow!
I cannot find the why and how,
Why God sends us our blood as enemy –
While we avoided all His heresy?”

***

Despite of all maledictions and bad notes,
Roux Meow played Don Quixote:
He asked a favor from his sullen uncle,
To visit Jolly’s fam – they’re humble.

Though, Uncle Ashore had the same thoughts,
To separate the lovely folks.
So, he quickly put up the cloak of religion,
Asked for her dad from another region.

Roux Meow cried for him as his only hope,
Tho, they saw Roux under dope.
“The two families will have no relation!
Tebessians! What a humiliation!”

***

Racism clouds were not enough for them,
Fake-religion served the next slam:
“How dare you knowing her before me?
You wish to do adultery like me?”

As Uncle Ashore get the number of her dad,
(who’s been for Jolly Wat almost dead),
The Ogre Dad of Roux Meow rushed at him:
That his unknown daughter is a grim.

Oh, Roux Meow. Oh, Roux Meow, why?
Where is our Lord from the sky?
Is it really so sinful to wish to marry?
Disgrace is worse than cemetery.


Act V.


A cat-like brave man with a red beard,
A rabbit-like shyness in a hijab;
Worldly art of words she’d never heard,
That she colored by a design tab.

Two years of peace, Oh, Roux Meow,
Two years of peace, Oh, Jolly Wat;
They found in themselves a true fellow,
To talk ceaselessly since they met.

What could be the possible to cut the bound,
The bound of love that the fate created;
What could explain between them the wound,
The wound that the false faith created.

***

Curse on the course of fate, the parents,
And curse on the crafted faith of evil!
But, let me put no dirt on the pure events;
Say, Glory for this, even if it’s feeble.

Their past is not just past, but a dead future:
Wedding, fun, kids and what more;
Now, they are all just a hypothetical blooper,
And silence on two mouths or more.

Whether fate is stronger than faith?
Or contrariwise?
Are they for each other dead wraith,
Or they just silently revise?

***

Oh, Roux Meow! Oh, wise Roux Meow!
Look into the future, my dear.
Whether this is the end of the show,
Or the turning point is just near.

The now-dead, pious couple beaten by creed,
Shall they rise out of the tomb?
If yes, will they be sinful but ever-freed,
Or rather in a religious bloom?

Shakespeare fought for love and will power,
Ne’er for savages behind Ogric persuasion;
But fighting needs gun powder, not flower,
Nectars sweeten or cause intoxication.


Act VI.


A modern Romeo and Juliet we’ve become,
Said Roux Meow at last, numb;
Asking thousand questions like a dumb,
Thinking – thinking, taram-drum.

Is the sin in our stars, words or draws?
In our religion’s laws?
Or there were no sins at all, no flaws;
Was it perfect as it was?

Are there any others punished for their fraud,
Others than the two who loved?
Would they be punished, far, abroad?
Where is the Justice of God?

***

Life is a flow – with thousands of arms,
What if an arm suddenly charms,
Just follow the flow even if it harms;
You color the water with norms.

Either go with the flow or swim rather,
You can’t stop the course of water;
Up to you to be the sinner-swimmer lover,
Or the slave-sinless forgiver.

The truth of the end is at the end,
Then, the ends always depend;
So, worry on rather what is in the hand,
And focus onto live, not to pretend.

***

Roux Meow is Stoic, flowly flawless,
He loved for last; nevertheless;
Jolly Wat is a weaker-sex mistress,
She may regretlessly regress.

Tho’ the changes of their world is drastic,
Even if there’s no deadly tragic;
The sadness might make one pathetic,
And the other lunatic, gothique.

The sad story of a Cat and a Hare,
Written to be a lovely pair,
They will be ever for each, but where;
In silent prayers or a brave affair?

Benyamin Bensalah

22.06.2018

Shikh-spree 129

C’est pour Bingo qui changea ma vie.
Si Dieu le veut je la marie…
Cette sonnette prouvante que je l’écrire,
Dit: je sens plus pur que Shakespeare.


I considered love as a waste of time;
Fearful and flaming tongues of fire,
Possessing it, as if it would be mine,
Raising, feeding it high and higher,
Pouring all the essence of my heart,
My mortal clay as frozen carcass,
Tryna seek for warmth at her hearth,
Dreaming without holdin‘ purpose.
But now! The fire is smooth as water;
It flows jingling as a secret source.
No, Bingo! Drink not it‘s hot! Wait her!
Wait for it in God’s sake and course!
As well, I am waitin’ for you Bingo, just keep it hot;
Wait and let no bliss for Ibliss, but keep it for God.

Benyamin Bensalah

26.04.2016