Writing as catharsis

In a land of some other order

Posted in Poetry, Prose, Ranting and rambling by Lachlan R. Dale on June 13, 2014

Habana Vieja (Old Havana, Cuba) by Pablo Cholka http://cholkafotos.blogspot.mx/

In a land of some other order
Rum soothes the soul while
The heat of the day drains away
Both motion and motivation.

Beasts of iron rumble by as,
Breathless and bleary-eyed,
I walk through streets of stone.

Strain as I might, I see only surface light.

Oblivious to pulse and warmth,
And weightless in my sense of self,
The vacuum of language encloses
Like a shawl.

I drift through the city.

As stray dogs scavenge and
Street hustlers hiss, I hear
Only noise and non-sense.

No one pronounces my name.


An unpleasant condition

Posted in Poetry, Prose by Lachlan R. Dale on July 19, 2013
Flooded forest near Bucharest.

Flooded forest near Bucharest.

This state is defined by a hollowness and a distance.
I feel as if a shell; lacking substance; my consciousness
Registering little but a faint, weak pulse of light.
The internal void sucks me inward; I lurch from
It’s gravity. From all angles it pulls toward the centre
To devour; a vacuum constant and unrelenting.
Externally, things seem to be at a distance – I cannot quite touch them.
I seem to float through space; I cannot be sure of my grounding
Nor of my centre. Dizziness strikes me often.
Try as I might I find it impossible to connect with
Other human beings. Their glares piece through me.
The thought of another’s thought paralyses me.
Few things can reach me. People speak to me but
I simply am not there. Occasionally I might have some brief
Pass through the silence – but the breach is quickly repaired
Leaving my isolation complete once more.

My essence is ash to be blown away by a
Light autumn breeze. The immense density of void
that was once my centre is impossibly cold.
When I search myself I find nothing that has not been
Obliterated. Memories evaporate. I am transitory.
I am without worth or mass or substance. I am a process,
A transition of atoms whose state will soon pass.
I feel little but weakness as the sheer expanse of the
Void. Exhaustion crushes me. Indifference paralyses me.
At times I feel physically ill – as if some poison were
Coarsing through my veins; some manner of toxin
Weakening my bones, attacking my mind, plaguing
My thoughts. Each morning I awaken from a silent,
Dreamless sleep – but I am not rested. A cruel
Hoax. I yearn for respite, for solace, but am not
Sure where to look for them. When I play music
More emotion seems to pour from me than ever.
I am a point of collapse by the end of each song.
The effect is cleansing, but soon fades. I will try
To sleep once more to hope to arise in a warmer
Morning’s light. I will watch my thoughts. I will
Be patient and wait and hope for this to pass.