Decent World

By Martin Lochner

Decent World is a collection of tough poems. Each bleeding comes from a heart desperate to name the truth of my life, revealing that in their very telling has set me on a journey at once, terrible and fine. I might even venture, redemptive. For within these words is a searching, relentless but pure, to find healing, not only for me, but for all whose throats have been cut, by others as well as by themselves. A journey at last become whole for all of us. This is a book of truth that has come to this writer through no easy or virtuous paths, it is presented to you as such, and does so unashamed and without any apologies.
This is our journey, so join me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Apr 9, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469193588

Martin Lochner

Martin Lochner stays in Cape Town, South-Africa. He is a trained fine artist and currently studies at the University of South-Africa. He published poems in various international literary journals and recently had his first Chapbook “Kalahari Blues” out by Free Penny Press.

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by Martin Lochner.

ISBN:                   Softcover                    978-1-4691-9357-1

ISBN:                   Ebook                        978-1-4691-9358-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Artist: Dex Hannon

Title: Demons Out. Sometimes the rage cannot be contained

Acrylic on Canvas 2010

www.brokentoycompany.co.uk

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

0-800-644-6988

www.xlibrispublishing.co.uk

[e-mail]

302259

Contents

Dedication

Cubist etching of Somalia

Like hope

Reading courageously

Laundry room

Elegy for my first love 1987

A letter, poem and remorse

The Poem

Touched

The poet’s cafe

Elegy for the ashes

Sacrificial lilies—the deceit

The booth

Finding Jesus

The power and the glory

Little apple rolling

Dead Ford Blues

Metro express

The rail that divides us

That gleaming rail

It is mine

Understanding

Awkwardly I am

Paper Tiger

The marching song

Instructing Men on Power

The river flows

Is there then no forgiveness

In a decent world

Poetry?

Dysfunctional

Perfect day

Tree

I only want you when I die

After listening to Wagner

When I die

Flashback still

Rembrandt And The Study Of Light

Reinstating Sanity By Introducing Silence

Scream

Blue print haiku

After effects

The cockroach piper

Haiku Storm

Grand Central

Loaded drummer girl

Refraction

The poet

18/10

Bipolar

I am Paradox

Space

Dedication

I want to thank Deanna Piowaty, Patricia Donahue, Christol Gertse, and Amy Samuels that helped me with the proof reading and editing of the my Manuscript. Thank you for all your advice and support. I want to also thank Dex Hannon for the book cover illustration. And last but not least my patient wife Verna whom understood that this was a path of healing and consoled me when it got tough.

Cubist etching of Somalia

What do you see when you look at us

Do we seem desolate and wiry

hungry, skeletal, wrapped in a

thirsty skin?

Do you think

we are already dead

by the vying vultures looming

and the putrid smell lingering?

Yes, their clockwork floating and circling,

a matter of time waiting for last breath.

We are hidden behind flat Picasso eyes

Voids devoured within the cubist black,

carved, fragmented suffering.

Remove our funeral masks if you can

to reveal eyes that are moist and shiny,

Our starving souls bear the truth and

affirm we are still alive, hoping.

Like hope

At the start of your life

Even the odds aren’t that good

That before your first birthday

There is no comfort in the hood

Sucking is done, gone anxiously fast

A luxury momma cannot afford

By drunken daddy doesn’t last,

You fuckin bitch get a job!

He screams as he releases his anger

Kicking empties against the fridge

Sounds like impending danger.

Clueless and confused, missing jigsaw pieces

You try to fit together the meaning of your strife

So by