Imagination, the Agony and the Ecstasy

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

A reader has asked me to repeat the link to my poetry reading (for an hour) on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square last year as part of Antony Gormley's One and Other: 'live sculpture' project: 

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T   [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that the video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] R.N.T

Meanwhile...

Here’s another poem from the Taber archives, discovered in an old exercise book last year and revised but not substantially. The original was dated February 1964 at a time when homosexual relationships were illegal here in the UK. I would have been 18 years-old. Regular readers will know what a rough time I had during those dark, closet years. I guess it is why I empathise fully with people - especially young people - who feel unable to be openly gay for whatever reason.

I still feel guilty about being in and out of the closet for years before I finally came out to stay. It was hard to shrug off all that ugly baggage I was made to carry during my younger years. Sadly, even tragically, it is no easier now for gay men and women world-wide who grow up in a gay-unfriendly environment.

During those awful closet years, I never spoke out against homosexuality as some do (to cover their tracks perhaps?) but was acutely aware that it wasn't enough....

IMAGINATION, THE AGONY AND THE ECSTASY

I see him almost every day
yet dare not let him see how
I’m lusting after him

Sometimes he’ll chat to me,
his every casual word churning
my stomach

His voice tickles my tongue
then trickles down my throat
like juice from a pear

Sometimes we shake hands
and it’s enough to put my mind
in a frantic spin

Oh, to strip off his all clothes
and feel hungry fingers tugging
excitedly at mine!

Gladly, I’d let the glory of sex
with this god from over the way
be the death of me

Instead, I can only fantasize
about my lips descending on his,
pinioning him

He’ll move on, perhaps turn
at his front door, wave, smiling,
sticking the knife in

Copyright R. N. Taber 1964; 2010

Asylum OR Flight of the Phoenix

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

In the 1970's (when I confess I was too scared to be openly gay) I was told time and time again that 'gays no nothing about love, only sick sex'.Nearly five decades later I am still hearing about much the same thing being said behind closed doors...from gay boys and girls, men and women who find themselves in much the same hellish situation as I did all those years ago. Why behind closed doors? Because western societies have pro LGBT legislation and no one wants to be called out for bucking the trend or, worse, taken to court.

There have been a number of high profile cases here in the UK and across Europe involving gay people fleeing their countries of origin because of persecution, including execution, against gay men and women there. Take the case of Bisi Alimi, for example, forced to flee Nigeria after receiving death threats and granted asylum in the UK two years later. Why such cases take so long to be settled appals me. We should not hesitate to give asylum to gay people in such situations…or anyone else genuinely fearing persecution in their own country for their views or sexuality.

Bisi Alimi (photo from the Internet)

At the same time, it is my view that fleeing even the world’s worst trouble spots is not a good reason enough to offer unconditional asylum….or where do we stop? Economic migrants especially should return to their own countries once conditions there are seen to be clearly improving. As for the EU's policy regarding Freedom of  Movement with inadequate (if any) border checks...that is a terrorist's ticket to ride for which, in my opinion, Angela Merkel and her EU colleagues have much to answer for.

We invariably hear the world referred to as 'civilised' So can we expect more love, peace, respect for each other's differences and less hate, jealousy and greed? Oh, but I wish!  Tragically...fat chance, I guess.

Now, I don't have a problem with immigration as such, but we accept too many immigrants and asylum seekers here in the UK who are clearly set on ‘playing the system’ so… all the more reason for the system to be changed…radically and soon…if only to be made fairer and more appropriate for everyone concerned. As things stand, it strikes me that many genuine people are being turned away while the fraudsters (including a significant number with terrorist sympathies) manage to get into the country.

For my own part, I regret the way the UK seems to have all but turned its back on Commonwealth countries regarding trade as well as immigration in favour of an EU in whose governing bodies and courts fewer and fewer people I talk to have any faith whatsoever. The coalition government here has put a cap on EU immigration; this is necessary and should have been applied sooner since we are, after all, only an island. But where a cap is most needed (e.g. on arrivals from some Middle Eastern countries) it does not appear to apply.

As it is, the UK is regarded as a soft touch, if not a laughing stock, by would-be and successful immigrants alike across the world. Worse, a (very) significant minority of successful immigrants persist in complaining that their cultural or religious needs are not sufficiently met here and/or that the West is decadent and deserves their contempt. Mostly, these are economic migrants who thrive here and see no reason why they should be in the least respectful to our existing laws and customs.

Oh, but I guess there is no really pleasing some people. If I were to go and live in another country because it offered me a better life than my own, I hope I would be grateful and respect its ways, not expect it to comply with mine.

There is so much hypocrisy too. In my area of London, for example, there has been a significant influx of Somalis in recent years. In my experience, many if not most Somalis are homophobic (if no more or less so than others from various ethnic minority backgrounds). Yet, there is an area of Hampstead Heath near where I live that has been a cruising ground for gay men, especially late at night and in the early hours, for many years. These days, I am assured by gay guys (of all ethnic origins) who go there that the majority of men seeking sex are…yes, Somalis! While I'm sure not all Somalis are such hypocrites - every corner of the world has its share - it just goes to show…

Me, I accept and have every sympathy with the fact that that, sadly, many gay people are unable, for various socio-cultural-religious reasons, to be openly gay. At the same time, I have only contempt for those same people who persist in pandering to cultural expectations by expressing homophobic views in public.

This poem is a villanelle.

ASYLUM or FLIGHT OF THE PHOENIX

Home, where the heart is,
history in the making,
building better countries

Life, with new neighbours,
old enmities forsaking;
home, where the heart is

On all, the onus of peace,
new dawns breaking,
building better countries

Our origins, surely, precious
embers for the raking;
home, where the heart is

Invited to feel good, at ease,
same dreams for the taking,
building better countries

Love, where we choose,
(differences equably debating);
Home, where the heart is
building better countries

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Asylum' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005; alternative title added 2010.]

The Black Swan

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

This poem first appeared on the blog in June 2009 and several readers wrote in to say they have never seen a black swan. Well, I can assure you they exist. There is a pair of black swans in the Regent’s Park here in London UK and quite near to where I live.

The poem, of course, has precious little to do with black swans …

THE BLACK SWAN

Once, a tree as if lit by candles
in the middle of the day,
sunshine lighting its every leaf
above where we lay;
his skin like black swansdown,
full lips demanding of mine,
a heady sexuality toasting Apollo
in summer wine

Passion spent, we dared dream
of a lifetime together
till he woke to the bitter-sweet
reality of ties and culture;
he’d married a woman for whom
he felt a love very different
than he swore to me, transcended,
as if heaven sent

Like candles snuffed out by clouds
across the sun,
we dared linger but as gods of myth
come and gone,
a dream never really ours to share
(staying together, growing old)
passing us like the hands on a clock
of white gold

A summer rain soaking us through
to love’s eternal glimmer,
we rose, kissed and walked away…
but not together;
years on, I pointed out the same tree
to a friend, its candles lit
by a lake where we saw a black swan
gliding, in peace, with its mate

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

Let (Gay) Love Dare Speak Its Name

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

Update (June 27 2016): regulars readers will know that I do not subscribe to any religion. Even so, I ahve always said that religion and homosexuality should not be seen as mutually exclusive; where they are, it is religion that is found wanting. I am very encouraged, therefore, on behalf of gay Catholics worldwide, by Pope Francis' recent remarks.He said Christians owe apologies to gay people and others who have been offended or exploited by the church, remarks that some Catholics have hailed as a breakthrough in the church's tone toward homosexuality: "I repeat what the Catechism of the Catholic Church says: that they must not be discriminated against, that they must be respected and accompanied pastorally." - Pope Francis at a press conference aboard the papal plane returning from Armenia at the weekend.

Meanwhile...

Today's is essentially autobiographical. I had no idea he was a priest when I met him. It was like something out of that wonderful movie 'Priest' although neither of us can compare for looks or charisma with Linus Roache (who plays the priest in the movie) or Robert Carlyle (his lover). During the course of our relationship, I found myself considering the whole Catholic ethos and becoming increasingly disturbed by it.

My main objection to the Catholic Church had always been its condemnation of homosexuality and the use of condoms in a world that has to live with HIV-AIDS together with what I have always considered to be a conveniently customised attitude to ‘sin’. I had not given much thought to its priests themselves.

As far as I am concerned, there is nothing unnatural about homosexuality. Sexuality has to be in the genes. We are born this way, although what we do about it is down to us. Celibacy, on the other hand does strikes me as being unnatural. If Catholics feel they should follow Jesus Christ’s example, fair enough. But how do we know for sure that Jesus was celibate? Because the Bible makes no mention of it doesn’t mean He never had sex. After all, while He may or may not have been the Son of God, he lived on Earth as a man. Sex is, after all, a very private matter between two people. Besides, it has nothing whatever to do with His coming to tell the world about a kinder God than portrayed in the Old Testament and thus encourage a more compassionate, understanding relationship between individuals, races, tribes, communities, whatever…than, for the most part, humankind has ever felt inclined.

My priest lover left the Catholic Church. Yet he still thinks of himself as a man of God…and why shouldn’t he? He and his partner have lived happily together for some years now and while erstwhile Catholic colleagues might begrudge them their happiness I feel certain God doesn’t.

[Note: Regarding Catholicism, I feel successive popes have a lot to answer for, and am always wryly amused by the way in which my blogger colleague Edwin Black chooses to make his feeling son the subject known via his satirical blog: http://bardicblackspot.blogspot.com  His 'Temptations of the Flush' (also available as an e-book on Google Play) may be outrageous, but - as all satire intends - it is also very thought provoking.]

It is yet another tragedy of contemporaneity that - even in the so-called 'liberal thinking' West - LGBT folks are forced by home/ society environments to live out their lives in a closet, often without even a regular partner to make it bearable.

LET (GAY) LOVE DARE SPEAK ITS NAME

My love for a priest
dare never speak its name;
though he loved me too,
he’d hang his head in shame
when I’d plead (tearfully)
that he acknowledge me

My love for a priest
ran deep and true for years;
though he loved me too,
begged me never leave,
he was not a man to wear
his faith on his sleeve

My love for a priest
could not survive his guilt,
taught that his sexuality
sucks up to an immorality
his congregation so deplores
it slams shut its doors

My love for a priest
could not hope to compete
with a religion bent
on encouraging deceit,
suggesting our God bless
who would disown us

My love for a priest
could not survive the closet
his Church imposes
and I found someone new
to love and acknowledge me
as I needed to be

Our love did not revive
after he finally left his Church
to reassure gay folks
cast out, that God gives up
up on no one, will always wait
for us at Heaven's gate

If God is Love, we should dare
speak its name anywhere

Copyright R N Taber 2010, 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title Let Love Dare Speak Its Name in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

Hindsight

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

Long before I realised I am gay, I was very self-conscious of my failings on both home and school fronts. I wore horrible glasses for years, had a bad lisp that was not all but obliterated with speech therapy in my 20's and a hearing problem neither I nor anyone else understood until I was referred to a specialist, also in my 20's. Other kids would often make fun of me although I pretended to take it in my stride and with good humour. Once, it was all too much for me and a teacher found me sobbing in the cloakroom. 'I wish I wasn't so different from all the other kids,' I confided. 'Being different makes you vulnerable,' she said, 'Start believing in yourself, Roger. You'll see, others will soon catch on and start respecting you for it.' Sound advice, from the only female teacher in the whole school.

Here’s another poem from the archives, rediscovered in an old exercise book last year and slightly revised (where I couldn’t read my handwriting!) and gave it a title. It was written in 1982 as I was beginning to emerge from the other end of a severe nervous breakdown and probing my past for ways of exorcising certain ghosts that continued to haunt me.

I should add that my ghosts were (and still are) a mixed bag of downright vindictive, placidly benign, incredibly friendly and spiritually inspiring. Consequently, a crude but demonstrably effective self-assessment took place over many weeks as I undertook to sort the good from the bad.

Even in those days, I found no peace of mind in religion so turned to nature instead. I refer to God in a very loose sense, a synonym for rather than a source of spirituality. Some people would call me an agnostic or atheist, even a pagan, while I prefer to think of myself as a pantheist.

HINDSIGHT

I lay under a sycamore tree
sunshine cascading down on me
like a slide we used to play on
when we were just children;
it was by the sycamore tree,
sunshine cascading down on me,
you slid into my embrace,
childhood gone, youth in its place

I lay under the sycamore tree,
sunshine cascading down on me,
watching an angel take a turn
on the slide we’d made our own;
the angel whispered in my ear
home truths I didn’t want to hear,
told me time would pass me by
once life had me hooked on a lie

I lay under the sycamore tree,
sunshine cascading down on me,
conscience in as slippery a skin
as the slide we had finally chosen,
one long, lovely, secret summer
bringing us ever closer to each other,
into as sweet an intimacy sliding
as an angel sending God’s blessing

We took a decision that day
to tell the world we’re proud and gay,
vowed to run its gamut
(no matter who or where or what)
of societies not on our side,
where prejudice and history preside,
humanity in as slippery a skin
as the slide we’d finally forsaken

Yet, you reneged on that vow;
it was years on before I discovered how
to look society in the face
(fellow members of the human race)
while you married, had children,
chose a far more slippery slide to play on
than you’d shared with me
long ago under the sycamore tree

Ugly road signs now, the old tree cut down
where a roundabout leads in or out of town

Copyright R. N. Taber, 1982; 2010 (Rev. title 2017)

Head Over Heels

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

I was seventeen when I wrote today's poem. I only slightly revised it after rediscovering it on an old exercise book in 2010. It does not appear in any of my collections, but I plan to include it in a final collection - Diary of a Time Traveler - that I am already collating for publication in 2015 when I will hit 70. 

It was sheer hell having to keep my sexuality a secret (gay relationships were still illegal in the UK then) but I was having a great time discovering its potential for love and romance.

Never let anyone tell you a gay person can't do romance; the heterosexual majority has no monopoly on that any more than it has on love. 

Oh, yes, and half a century on, I am still a shameless romantic...so I was thrilled to discover only recently that there is a new Doris Day album called My Heart available on cd with songs from 1985/1986 that I had not heard before. Doris must have been in her sixties then, her voice as magical as ever. 

HEAD OVER HEELS 

Long before I even knew it,

I was in love with you

Long before I dared show it,

I was in love with you

I had tried closing mind-spirit

to feelings left by
wet dreams I dare not confess

for playing the fool,
haunted by the impossible,
but my body had other ideas,
and dreamed on

Once I understood

the true depth of my feelings,

I struggled to deny them,

put them out of heart and mind,

resume friendship’s ways

without love’s precious bane

burdening me so,

making believe I could break free

of love’s sweet slavery,

binding me to you more fiercely

with each passing day

even as I remained in denial 

that I am gay,

so binding were the ties

of childhood, carrying its lies 

into an adulthood, 

tearing itself apart for shame,

my heart refusing 

to acknowledge male bonding 

by any other name - until

a day came we lay down on a patch 

of grass in a friendly wood, 

sunshine bringing the trees alive

with a music and poetry 

of love awakening in me a desire 

I could ignore no longer

I leaned over, kissed you

and closed my eyes, waiting

for a rush of rage

(even blows) to show me
the sheer futility
of loving you, my being gay,
world as it is

Your touch when it came

was a long, gentle kiss

Love’s bliss, when it came,

no sweeter than for us

Copyright R. N. Taber 1963; 2010

The G-Word, where Opposing Ideologies Converge

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

As regular readers know, I have a strong sense of spirituality. I take it from nature. All the world religions - with the exception of Buddhism, which I see more as a philosophy than a religion - are far too divisive and hypocritical for my liking. Even so, I can respect other people’s points of view, including their perspective on religion. So why can’t more of those people respect mine?

By the way, my rejection of religion has nothing to do with my being gay. I made up my mind about religion as a boy, long before my teenage years and learning to accept that I am gay. Just as well, eh? Few if any religions would have welcomed me with open arms unless I was prepared to tow their particular line. Nature, on the other hand, makes no such demands and embraces us unconditionally…much as one would expect of God, yeah? [Thankfully, many religious-minded people do just that, putting compassion, understanding and respect for other people’s views and ways of life before the dogma, ritual and politics of religion. It has been my experience that various leaders - at various levels in various religious hierarchies – could learn a lot from them.]

This poem is a villanelle.

THE G-WORD, WHERE OPPOSING IDEOLOGIES CONVERGE

Whatever ‘God’ means to you or me,
within or without religion’s walls,
no time or space there for bigotry

Whatever it may be we call eternity,
it can but answer freedom’s calls
whatever ‘God’ means to you or me

Be sure our stand for sexual identity
find allies in any heaven’s halls;
no time or space there for bigotry

In this world, look where humanity
stumbles and falls…
whatever ‘God‘ means to you or me

It’s love lets the human spirit go free
where religion’s engine stalls;
no time or space there for bigotry

Afraid of death we should never be,
against love’s light, it but palls;
whatever ‘God’ means to you or me,
no time or space there for bigotry

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