It’s not working well

It’s not working well…
My knees fell
To where
I had had a puddle.

It’s not working well…
In that puddle,
My soul should dwell,
But now, there’s a well.

It’s not working well…
In the well –
Deeping  until hell –
There’s no water.

It’s not working well…
From the hell,
Sounds come up to rebel,
Antipersonnel.

It’s not working well…
I’m unwell,
Infidel,
The well is my chapell.

Benyamin Bensalah

09.09.2018

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

05.09.2018

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

30.10.2017

The Mirror of Darkness

Tonight is not a particular night;
This is a night among the nights:

I woke up in the middle of darkness,
Not knowing what to do with my own darkness;
So, I lit up a cigarette and faced the mirror:
There was only darkness in the mirror,
And a half face blazing up time to time –
Sometimes, we just want something to happen, it was a time.

I was thinking of summoning Bloody Mary;
I hoped for a ghost girl appearing behind me –
Something that signs me that I’m not alone.
But, the only monster closest around me
Was me, nothing, just me alone.
No ghosts, no robbers, no Bloody Maries.

It was not new to me that monsters were not real,
But it’s always surprising that I am –
Finding myself always as my own Boogeyman.
We’re in need of Satans, devils and evil polititans
To avoid facing the mirror of darkness;
That reveals only us and us again.

These are dangerous thoughts,
Knowing about the darkness in the man;
Because we’ll see Satans, devils and evil polititans
In us, and so as in every man.
Once seen, there will be no more hiding;
We will meet darkness again and again and again.

Benyamin Bensalah

07.02.2020

A decade prolongation

I am hearing
about suicidal feeling
from every corner,
people living on the border
of living and dead
being depressed.

I am also seeing
people monthly leaving,
but never disappearing
in suicide attempts.

I guess I’m not healing,
but I don’t get the feeling
of regularly trying to kill
the self.

I – once I tried it,
more than a decade behind it,
and I never tried it
again.

Because
when I tried it,
I was serious about it,
and I already died in it
and I cannot be revived
again.

Benyamin Bensalah

04.02.2020

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

31.01.2020

Limited words on a finite-limitless story

The happier she is, the more it will be her fault;
The sadder I am, the more I will be the victim
While it’s my guilt – it is always me and me
Who cannot get through of his thoughts.

My reasoning has weakened already;
I can only blame my long misery
And myself and myself again
For running in obscurity.

My words are limited;
I wasted so many
But not on her
Not for her.

Because;
It was
For
U.

(I just only wish if I had some more words
Like a thousand or a quadrillion
Turning back time again
To tell you I’m sorry.)

Benyamin Bensalah

28.01.2020