Saturday, April 21, 2012

Remembrance



The Yellowish green liquid in my glass
Reminds me of you.

It looks like bile
Like cholera,
Like something bitter and rather unpleasant
And it reminds me of you.


©Naan Pocen

Breaking Through


I have found peace in my solitude at last.
I am no longer afraid of the silence
That screams in my soul.

I can embrace the void that lingers and attempts
To cripple my very spirit.
I no longer need a crutch in anyone.
For I have, at last realized that I shall always
Be alone yet never lonely.
And that I have no need to be afraid of myself.
Or of the darkness that sometimes
Eclipses my mind.

I have at last found rest in my aloneness
I no longer fear the loneliness
That never existed.


©Naan Pocen

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Shift.

You swallowed me in the depth

of your eyes,

And I melted in the waves

of your voice

As I tasted the strength

of your emotions.

Then,

In the madness of the

sweet, smooth rush

of this goodness

You embraced me in the

promise of your hold

And I believed in you.

But,

In my drunken stupor

to your fantastic promise

I kissed the dust

of your boots.

And while in my state of shock

...you run...


©Naan Pocen

Dusk Reminds me of YOU (Siobhan)

Gloom hangs in the air,

A lot too, lately.

Pain becomes almost cosy,

Even more so these days.

Dawn tells of my failed yesterdays

because mornings drag in bitterness,

cold and a crispy taste

of anguish,

and my emasculate will,

almost overwhelmed, summons it.

Yet with every dawn

Comes dusk,

A promise of the end of now,

Of the start of a tomorrow.

As dawn tells of my fizzled past,

I see in your innocence, an assurance for me

Igniting the flame

Of my extinguished inclination and

Dusk reminds me of you.


©Naan Pocen

I Dance Alone.

An angel with a cloven hoof
Played a tune with a mouth harp
That sent me waltzing across the floor
Stumbling about in search of a crutch.
The infantile idealism of youth
Talked in a wobbly, loose-jointed manner.
But I should have known that
Nothing is safe
To him who nothing is sacred.
Behind that toothy smile
Was a mind twisted and crooked as sin.
Drawing me in and almost drowning me
In my foolish naivety.
Yet I am no longer a reprobate.
I forgive myself generously.
But I'm a perpetual dancer
So I listen for another tune,
And while I eavesdrop on God
I purr ever so gently.

©Naan Pocen

More Than Meets The Touch.

There is a bit on trust,

You dont want to know,

And I am not telling.

Your eyes are closed,

You grope at the elephant

And grab a hold of its tail

That is all you understand.


There are fatter

Fleshier and even rougher sides

Than that skinny hairy tail in

Your hands.

There is more to me than what

You are caressing.

I wish youd look at me.

©Naan Pocen

I Sing

I sing the body electric

I sing the shock of doom and dreams eclectic

I sing visions of power

And the power of visions

I sing the spirit ruling

I sing the soul cooperating

I sing you!

©Naan Pocen

Friday, April 13, 2012

Becoming Me.

I've been staring at the sky all day
Trying to live off the sun's rays.
All I got from it was a headache .
I'm searching for the right end of the rainbow
You'd think it should be easy
See, as I am on the wrong end of it.

I saw the sun's faces. Smiles and frowns and
A couple of boo-to-you. It closed its eyes.
And I saw the moon rise with a purple smile
With cotton candy under its feet
I'm searching for some luck from the shooting star
Just a dash to help me stand.

I've been talking all day to the clouds
Especially the big, dark scary ones.
I've been pleading for some rain to cool off
This feisty soul of mine.
Can't seem to be predictable and it hurts
To be too simple to be understood.

I finally perceived as I prayed to the moon.
That it's totally pointless
To hope for what does not exist.
It's becoming quite predictable - this soul dance.
And the faster it gets, the clearer I see
That being a loner is becoming quite cosy
And it's becoming quite ME.

©Naan Pocen

I understand.

I feel the smell

of your heart,

I taste the sight

of its beat,

I see the feel of

Its ache,

Even as it pumps

I smell its touch,

I hear the taste

of its every move,

Because

Ive been where you

Are at.


©Naan Pocen

Saturday, April 07, 2012

I CAN'T


I can’t
Make crusty pizza dough
Nor spaghetti al dente

I can’t
Mix that perfect Martini
Nor sip Champaign like a pro

I can’t
Make the sun come out
Nor stop the rain from falling

I can’t
Pretend to be content
Nor feign indifference

I can’t
Stand the wild activity
Nor embrace the mad noise

I can’t
Open up any more
When there is nothing to let in

I can’t
Shut down and pretend
That the silence is OK

I can’t
Be content with so much
When all it represents is nothing

I can’t
Have it this way.

©Naan Pocen