Gay Gets Real

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Even in the West, being openly gay is not as easy as some people try to make out; in other parts of the world it remains at best a taboo subject, at worst a criminal offence that can lead to incarceration in prison or worse.

Much depends on whether or not we grow up in a gay-friendly environment; a supportive network of family and friends can male all the difference. Sadly, not all gay people (could be anyone, anywhere) are fortunate to have this.

There are still far too many misleading and offensive stereotypes flying around that persist in attaching themselves to less enlightened minds among the heterosexual majority. We have come a long way since the dark days of my youth, but there is still much to do before being gay no longer has no stigma whatever attached to it in anyone’s mind.

Meanwhile, the more open we can be about the gay ethic and the fewer people that prefer not to stand up and be counted (for whatever reason)...so much the better for everyone.

GAY GETS REAL

I was but a moving image,

all substance gone,

yet convincing enough to pass

for a whole person;

my mouth let fly with words

for unperceptive ears,

limbs in sufficiently good order

for most labours

People looked into my eyes

and saw what they chose,

invariably a misplaced metaphor

for themselves;

beyond a conditioned will

to live up to its name,

my humanity was but a virtual

ploy in a computer game

Even when I discovered love

and found my own way

in life, it screwed up the works

for being gay…

or so I was told by webmasters

vying for my attentions,

but I’d escaped virtual mode,

ignored their directions

No longer a moving image,

all substance restored,

I see, smell, hear, speak, relate

to the world…

for all its frailties and failures,

and comprehend

how learning from its strengths

matters most in the end

[From: On the Battlefields Of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

Please note: All my poetry titles are still in print, but only on sale in the UK.

There will be no further print runs of my poetry titles except for the latest, Tracking the Torchbearer; I hope to upload e-editions to amazon later this year. Second editions will not be available until after publication of a final print collection in 2015; these will contain revisions of some poems and only be available as e-books. 

Meanwhile, signed copies if 1st eds. can be obtained from me at a generous blogger discount; this applies to overseas as well as UK readers. 

Contact: rogertab@aol.com with 'Blog Reader' or Poetry Collection' in the subject field (or the email will not be opened). 

  

Yesterday Man

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

A beautiful day here in the UK! My thoughts stray to summers past and...

Well, knows what the future holds, even for someone my age? There is, after all, a creative phenomenon commonly referred to as positive thinking...

YESTERDAY MAN

I used to wonder if I’m really gay

till I saw him on the beach one day,

blond hair bleached by the sun,

blue eyes laughing at everyone, a smile

that ran up and down my spine,

lips I’d rather taste than wine, a body

so trim and tight, I fell for him

at first sight, and it felt right

I had a hard on every day

that holiday. At night, we’d make love

in the wildest dreams,

bodies joined with such warmth

and passion, I couldn’t believe

a conversation I overheard between chavs

about poufs, queers, shirt lifters,

faggots and pervs...

I contrived to crash into him,

let his beauty enter me with all the ecstasy

of a fruit flavoured condom

and his voice seduce me out of my shell.

Hadn’t I been in hell for ages,

taunted by questions of sexual identity?

Well, here was an angel sent

to answer me!

I guessed he was straight,

and wouldn’t have dared say a word.

Besides, I was scared.

One day, in the water, he accused me

of staring and I blushed

to the roots of my hair. He just laughed

and pulled me down till I thought

I’d surely drown!

I thrashed and fought like a fish

caught on a line, but he very quickly

calmed me down with a grin

though I all but panicked again as his arms

held me close and the waves

cried out, ‘Yes!’ Nor did he have in mind

a race to the shore, we both

wanted more...

Seems like only yesterday, I used

to wonder if I’m really gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2012

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised since it last appeared on the blog in 2010 and an earlier version that appears in 1^st eds. of  First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002; 2^nd ed. in preparation.]

Please note: All my poetry titles are still in print, but only on sale in the UK.

There will be no further print runs of my poetry titles except for the latest, Tracking the Torchbearer; I hope to upload e-editions to amazon later this year. Second editions will not be available until after publication of a final print collection in 2015; these will contain revisions of some poems and only be available as e-books. 

Meanwhile, signed copies if 1st eds. can be obtained from me at a generous blogger discount; this applies to overseas as well as UK readers. 

Contact: rogertab@aol.com with 'Blog Reader' or Poetry Collection' in the subject field (or the email will not be opened). 

  

Open Road

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Being openly gay after years in a cold, dark, closet at a time when homosexuality was a criminal offence here in the UK is probably the most liberating experience I have ever enjoyed or ever will...

I had always enjoyed wandering open roads and being close to nature, but it took finding my way to re-asserting a sure sense of direction in my own eyes as well as everyone else’s to make me feel complete.

Oh, yes, I was sure...

Some readers may be interested to know that I read this poem among a mixture of gay-interest and other poems on the 4^th plinth in London's Trafalgar Square a few years ago; it was my contribution to Antony Gormley’s One and Other ‘live sculpture’ project during which 2,400 were invited to do their ‘own thing’ on the plinth for one hour 24/7 during the summer of 2009:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T

OPEN ROAD

Found myself one day

on a road I did not know;

kept walking anyway,

no place else to go

Past fields once green,

houses an ugly, silent grey;

landscape obscene,

ash on the clay

Bend after bend, afraid

of all I knew I’d surely find,

down to land mines laid

of the political kind

Sick of unholy collusion

contrived daily for His glory

(no matter our religion)

God, but history

So, no sign of salvation

or even a lifeline in prayer;

any hope of redemption

reduced to metaphor

Suddenly, I began to see

as if in a fog starting to clear,

it wasn’t the road but me

going nowhere

Woken from a nightmare,

I was just in time to discover

Apollo tugging at one ear,

a fool at the other

Sunlight, an open road,

from bedlam took me away

as I walked unafraid

into a new day

[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, 2007]

All my poetry titles are in print, but only on sale in the UK.

There will be no further print runs of 1st eds. except for the latest, Tracking the Torchbearer; I hope to upload e-editions to amazon later this year. 2nd eds. will not be available until after publication of a final print collection in 2015 and will only be available as e-books; these will contain revisions of some poems. Meanwhile, signed copies if 1st eds. can be obtained from me at a generous blogger discount; this applies to overseas as well as UK readers. 

Contact: rogertab@aol.com with 'Blog Reader' or Poetry Collection' in the subject field (or the email will not be opened). 

The Ballad of Neighbour Joe

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Today’s post appears on both blogs today. The poem has not appeared since 2010, but if Google’s statistics are anything to go by, it is one of the most popular poems I have posted since I started the blogs in 2007/8. Reader ‘Wyre’ (that’s a Welsh name, surely?)  has asked me to repeat it for a gay friend who is apparently working all hours and never has time to browse the blog archives, but 'likes to look in on the latest post before he goes to bed.'

Thanks for that, and here’s a BIG hug to you both from yours truly.

Many people, even these days, don’t even begin to understand the gay ethic while their knee-jerk reaction is to dislike or at least be suspicious of anything they don’t understand.

We can but try show by example that G-A-Y is O-K.

THE BALLAD OF NEIGHBOUR JOE

I hate queers, neighbour Joe

once said to me, they’re perverts,

don’t you agree?

Not really, I had to say, especially

as I’m gay

He stared, glared, eyes wide

as saucers, lost for words although

his expression said it all;

at last, he managed to get a grip

and curled his lip

Queers deserve to be shot,

he snarled at me, and decent folks

would agree;

I took you for decent, I have to say

but you’re…gay?

I nodded, said conversationally,

so you’ll be getting a gun to shoot me?

He shook his head.

You’re a nice enough person, he said,

I don’t wish you dead

Tell me, he wanted to know,

what it’s all about, this being gay?

Sounds sick to me…

I was taught to loath and despise

(he whispered) ‘sodomy’ 

You have a bad attitude,

I felt inclined to tell him straight,

I’m a top man, me…

but it’s my job pays the mortgage,

not my sexuality

Why should what my partner

and I choose to get up to in bed

matter to you so?

He shook his head, rubbed his jaw,

finally admitted…

I’ll be damned if I know.

You’re right, said neighbour Joe,

it’s none of my business;

blame it on that old song and dance

called ignorance

We shook hands, went on our way,

good neighbours to this day

[From: On The Battlefields Of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

Note: All my poetry titles are still in print, but only on sale in the UK.

There will be no further print runs of 1st eds. except for the latest, Tracking the Torchbearer; I hope to upload e-editions to amazon later this year. 2nd eds. will not be available until after publication of a final collection in 2015 and will only be available as e-books; these will contain revisions of some poems. Meanwhile, signed copies if 1st eds. can be obtained from me at a generous blogger discount; this applies to overseas as well as UK readers. 

Contact: rogertab@aol.com with 'Blog Reader' or Poetry Collection' in the subject field (or the email will not be opened). 

Bold Italics

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog before and I am posting it in response to a request from reader ‘George’ who complains that I never mention sadomasochism and accuses me of being judgemental. Now, I have never been a judgemental person, and various men and women into mutually consensual sadomasochism are among the nicest, kindest people I have every known.  

Let’s face it. Gay and heterosexual female as well as male couples have enjoyed S & M sex games for centuries. It is, I suppose, only an extension of a role-play that many of us enjoy. A burning desire to act out our fantasies (including sexual fantasies) in a safe environment is hardly uncommon.

I had not intended to include an S&M poem in my first major poetry collection, but after a friend accused me of being judgemental in this respect, I changed my mined; a slightly different version is in the gay section of the book, but could just as easily be in any other.

So what do people get out of sadomasochistic experiences? I am told by those who indulge on a regular basis that it can be a very spiritual as well as sensual experience if also the only way they can enjoy sex.  

Medieval monks would frequently scourge themselves with a flail, ostensibly by way of atoning for their sins; I believe the practice continues to this day in some monastic orders.  Some years ago, I met a former monk who told me he only left his order after finally acknowledging to himself that he would scourge himself chiefly for sexual gratification.

Some people, of course, simply enjoy receiving or inflicting pain as a sexual stimulant although I suspect there is a degree of atonement involved by the giver as well as the receiver; it is not uncommon to physically and/or psychologically lash out at others when, in truth, we are subconsciously lashing out at ourselves but will not acknowledge the fact.  

S&M practices are, of course, open to abuse. I am not concerned with that here except to say that I once had a gay friend who enjoyed relatively light S&M but was always meeting people who were  not honest with him and would deliver a heavier version that he was up for. He disappeared some years ago, and I never heard from him again.

Be careful out there, yeah?

BOLD ITALICS

Tie me up and gag me,

the strength of your personality

dominating,

the splendour of your body

subjugating,

the heat of our passion

titillating;

A common vulnerability, picture

of base humility

sending shivers down the spine

that thrill me

Oh, ecstasy!

Let hands, mouth,

tongue spill me into craven oblivion;

captives of our heat;

desire and pain an all-consuming

sensuality twinned

with a sense of spirituality,

only to deposit us

in Time’s spittoon once

we are...

Done

Copyright R. N. Taber 2000, 2012

[Note:  An earlier version of this poem appears in 1^st eds. of Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001; 2^nd  ed. in preparation. NB 2^nd editions of my poetry collections will not be available until after publication of a final (print) collection in 2015; they will contain revisions of some poems and only be available as e-books.]

A Tree Speaks

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Some readers may be interested to know that I posted a video and a new (voice-over) poem to accompany it on my You Tube channel yesterday:

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

Feedback suggests that some readers cannot access You Tube so I have also posted both on my general blog today:

http://rogertab.blogspot.com/

Meanwhile...

Here is another new poem about surviving depression which can hit any one of us anywhere at any time regardless of colour, creed, sex or sexuality. An older gay reader - 'Earl' - has been in touch about his depression only recently but depression can, of course, strike at any age.

I have been feeling very low lately and struggling to keep a deeper depression at bay. As regular readers will know, creative writing always helps. If I can just begin to write a poem, working on it over a period of hours, days even, gives me a sense of achievement.

It doesn’t matter if the poem or novel turns out to be good or poor; what matters is that sense of achievement keeping my head above water in a hostile sea.  

Any creative work can help keep the pitch black depression at bay; there are many shades of grey to pass through first and a sense of creating something can restore colour to a seemingly colourless life. 

It doesn’t matter what we try; it can be writing, composing, gardening, catching up with the decorating or making a paper aeroplane...Nor does it matter if we don’t finish whatever creative task we’ve set ourselves, so long as we find the motivation to try; if things don’t work out for one reason or another, we just have to dig deeper, rediscover some motivation and try something else.

Never contemplate the notion of failure. Failure is losing the will to have a go at this or that through no fault of our own but an inability to cope. Failure is not even being able to feel that we want to try, which usually means we have put ourselves through all those murky shades of grey and are well stuck in that pitch black pit we call depression; the only way out of it is to heave any sense of failure as far away as we can, give ourselves a well-deserved pat on the back for that, and then look long and hard within ourselves for the will to try something, anything that will help put our lives back on an even keel. We shouldn’t be afraid or ashamed to ask for help either; being able to find the words to ask for help means we are half-way towards making a full recovery already.

Sadly some people don’t begin to understand depression and think we can be jollied out of it. In the end, though, it is down to us whether we sink or swim.

Did I say it was easy?

It has rained a lot lately. A tree outside my front window is a vivid leafy green and daily plays host to songbirds of all kinds. One day, it reached out to me with a life-line, and a GOOD feeling I had been looking for but hadn’t experienced for a while made me grab it with both hands...

Consequently...

A TREE SPEAKS

An old tree outside my window

assures me all year round

Earth Mother’s looking out for me

because in me she’s found

someone who cares, always hears,

is always there for her

as she’s always here for me

(so speaks the tree)

An old tree outside my window

assures me every day

Earth Mother’s always here for me

and doesn’t give a damn

about sex, sexuality, creed, colour

or what age we are

if we’ll be here for her always

(as she for us)

An old tree outside my window

has many tales to tell

how Earth Mother has shed tears

for the likes of me

who sought refuge in religion

but found no sanctuary

only a self-centred expectation

(no salvation)

An old tree outside my window

took me to its heart;

Earth Mother would not have me

thrash at life in pain,

but as sun and rain nurturing

the natural world,

seeks to inspire the likes of me

(so speaks the tree)

An old tree outside my window

has wiped my tears,

falling much like autumn leaves,

leaving my branches bare

through a bleak winter of despair

until love songs, like spring rain,

would have us rework our history...

(so speaks the tree)

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Covenant With Love

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

This villanelle has not appeared on the blogs since 2010 and a number of readers have asked me to repeat it during the past six months or so. For this reason, this post is duplicated on both blogs today.

I have to say I am delighted that a good many readers of both blogs appear to share my passion for villanelles. [For some of you who hate them, I will be posting a new poem tomorrow that isn’t a villanelle.]

COVENANT WITH LOVE

Though saddened hearts would break

and HIV-AIDS a rising toll,

love, with loss, its peace shall make

Watch ripples spread on heaven’s lake,

sun and moon, fair heart and soul,

though saddened hearts would break

Come disease, fate, or God lives take,

anger, grief, like burning coal,

love, with loss, its peace shall make

See a light from dark, its prison break,

let better times roll…

though saddened hearts would break

Though we live for living’s own sake,

no matter affairs of the soul,

love, with loss, its peace shall make

Let the world’s worst its own forsake

and healing be our goal;

though saddened hearts would break,

love, with loss, its peace shall make

[First published in Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

All my poetry titles are still in print, but only on sale in the UK.

There will be no further print runs of 1st eds.except for the latest, Tracking the Torchbearer; I hope to upload e-editions to amazon later this year. 2nd eds. will not be available until after publication of a final collection in 2015 and will only be available as e-books; these will contain revisions of some poems. Meanwhile, signed copies if 1st eds. can be obtained from me at a generous blogger discount; this applies to overseas as well as UK readers. 

Contact: rogertab@aol.com with 'Blog Reader' or Poetry Collection' in the subject field (or the email will not be opened).