Eight Words, Four Seasons And I Am Old
Autumn beard
Invading winter
Spring memory
Summer gone
poem by Martin Lochner
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Invisible friend
mute
anger creased another
line
suffering
only us and something else
poem by Martin Lochner
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The boxer and the punisher
beating my blackness
into a exotic Avatar purple....
blistered firestone skin
that darkened with every thud
ol purple plum face
ol purple plum face
keeping it up against the golden gloves
of Mike Tyson
poem by Martin Lochner
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Let us do something else
Harbor tug gongs and the sound of hungry gulls
A salty breeze burns dry lips
the sweaty sun stings bare shoulders
and the glare tears sunglasses
but this toil here on the jetty makes me smile
determination keeps me on the fishing line
today I catch the biggest one
with ample amounts of whiskey
declare unto all
I’m on god damn holiday
poem by Martin Lochner
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The Life Of One Dandelion
Between two tightly paved
concrete slabs
I found a yellow dandelion
moist and rooted
In the mossy crevice where it grew
Feeling growing dread
That misty morning feet
Would crush her green spine
The little flower unperturbed
glowed Vermeer like
with a film of pollen gloss
It seemed oblivious to the
crushing threat
and stood there with a straight back
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poem by Martin Lochner
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My friend Sweeney
the roaring laughter
ridiculous tales
sold as the truth
he was unstoppable
those evenings at the hearth
we exchanged views
between a bottle of whiskey
as the mellow drink settled inside us
and the last red embers died
i saw his face damp and the heartbreak
of a thousand Irish families in it
rubbing he complained about allergies
telling me a limerick and cracking the seal
of another good label
poem by Martin Lochner
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the Battle for Cain
the old diesel engine
rambled along
pistons squeaking
dust on metal grease
feeling each ditch
shocking the kidneys
but we do not mind
because we are going home
forward daft stares
slug silence
not speaking
humor or horror
they drove us out
of burning Caen
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poem by Martin Lochner
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Elegy for Mothers Day: Beyond the Ashes
i touch your face,
feeling the uneven path
of creases
running my index finger
on suffering lines leading me
to your eyes
i feel lost in your eyes
abandoned in your weary
ocean
leaving the blazing shores
floating on sulphuric tides
we must feel pain in
ash comes from harbour side
wind still and silent the flakes
paints our faces grey
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poem by Martin Lochner
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Corporate plastics.Is it real?
Corporate introduction:
High heel severity…
neck tie suffocation ….
Killer looking
android smiling
Who is real and
Who is not….
Corporate drink
Styrofoam chicory
taste like coffee
Corporate meal
Chinese two minute
Noodle rush thinks
Board room sushi
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poem by Martin Lochner
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Scream: A brief History of Oppression Chapter 11 &12
11
The once fervent Dutch Reformed church and National party
That indoctrinated the young to support Apartheid
Change their ideology overnight and instruct the young
To have a forgiving attitude and to ask God’s grace for the
Terrible sins of the fathers
Teachers filling the Boer youth with angst decrying the lot of our people
Preaching our downfall and the suffering and humiliation to come.
Defeated talk of elders and parents
Spitting bitterness and hopelessness about any future
The young denouncing their culture and inheritance
Changing their names and learning English, playing British
Signs of insipid suicide in the eyes of tomorrow’s future
Principles fading and the overwhelming sense of being sold out
gall on the swollen tongue
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poem by Martin Lochner
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