Martin Lochner

Rookie (28 April 1978 / De Doorns)

Biography of Martin Lochner

Poetry came as an essential need to me.A slight exaggeration will be that it came into being to save a battered repressive state. The status qua was anti social behaviour and an angst to express my deepest longings. Increased depression and the toying idea of suicide floated in my thoughts and my screams was internalised or behind a closed lavatory door. A sense of life dominated by nihilism and utter negativity prevailed.
One day by sheer coincidence I observed a book that was dumped in a waste bin and after closer inspection I found it to be a book of poetry by Allen Ginsberg. Howl and other poems saved my emotional being from complete nullification. Liberating and powerful was that reading in that the poet shed his being for me to see without any inhibition.
I can never repay the debt of the beat poets but can show a new life of expressiveness and exuberance that thirst on life and its experiences. I learned that each experience painful or happy is valuable beyond measure and that we must embrace the bitter and the sweet.
My poetry is a reflection, comentary even a riposte of these happenings in the life of an individual. That individual is me sharing without inhibition my greatest vulnerabilities of my inner self.
Martin Lochner was born in the Boland region in Southern Africa. He was educated in a railway community that was stoic conservative and ignorant to the method and appreciation of poetics.
He currently studies at the University of South Africa and recently completed his studies at the Jack Meyer Academy of Arts.
He is a residential poet and collaborator for the Poetry Group Facial expression group and enjoys the international but strong bonded community it provides.
He has published poetry and essays in Magazines all over the world and looks forward to the day that he publishes his first book of poems.

Martin Lochner's Works:

Lyrical Passion Poetry
Sparkbright Updates

The Children Of God

a sweet eyed
boy stared at me
standing swaying
at a township crossroad
ripped, dirty
clothing that gave up along time
ago to be washed, mended and to
be cared for
rewarding me

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