Sometimes School Is Scary

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

Today’s poem last appeared on the blog in February 2011 and I have been asked to repeat it several times. I am posting it today as I was appalled to read how The Life in Scotland for LGBT Young People: Education Report  (2012) questioned 350 young people aged 13 to 25 about their experiences of being LGBT in educational establishments and is the biggest of its kind to date. The survey found that nearly 70% faced discrimination, especially in Education.  

I suspect much the same result if not worse would be revealed by a similar study of LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender) students across the UK. (So much our for Equal Opportunities and political correctness legislation; in my experience, authoritative support for both in real terms is applied very selectively.)

I regularly hear from young people still at school asking how best they can deal with a dawning realization they are gay. Whatever some parents and teachers might say, there are no acceptable excuses for not giving these young people the support they need and deserve.

In my schooldays, gay relationships were a criminal offence here in the UK so I just had to get on with it on my own; it was a living nightmare that went on for years and one I would not wish on my worst enemy. It is a terrible indictment on the 21^st century that homophobia persists in all corners of society across the world.

There are support networks accessible on the Internet these days, and I would urge any gay person being victimized for their sexuality to track down their nearest group; there is more than safety in numbers, not least an end to loneliness and a viciously eroded self-confidence.

Only cowards and bullies discriminate against people because they are ‘different’ in any way. As I have said on the blogs many times, our differences do not make us different only human.

It is high time the world’s socio-cultural-religious bigots got to grips with their humanity.

SOMETIMES SCHOOL IS SCARY

At school, I soon began to see
I was not like other lads,
(no chasing after girls for me);
at home, as on my bed I lay,
thankfully I faced up to reality,
finally accepted that I'm gay 

I tried to ask a teacher about it
but was told to look up stuff
in a book or go on the Internet;
facts helped but couldn’t solve
my dilemma, or assuage a guilt
I could see no way to absolve 

What, I wondered, should I do?
I felt frustrated and alone,
(school work slumped, me too
I couldn’t even think straight,
my only comfort (always on call)
in imaginings as I'd masturbate 

I'd see a boy in class each day
who’s hot looks and smile
haunted, taunted my being gay,
but after his best mate Trevor
took up with a regular girlfriend
we got to know each other 

Nervously admitting I was gay, 
I expected he'd run a mile;
he said he wasn’t, but it was ok,
even told me about a friend
who had formed a support group,
for gay folks at their wits end 

I joined the group, discovered
a whole new take on school,
learning, life, love and selfhood;
now, I don’t fret for being gay,
content to let nature run its course,
find true love, come what may 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011, rev. 2012

Give me a Clue

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

Here’s a very early (autobiographical) poem that I discovered a few years ago while clearing out my flat; I have slightly revised rather than rewrite. I was 17 years-old when I wrote the original version at a time when gay relationships were still a criminal offence here in the UK. In those days (as now) poetry was my lifeline, giving rein to pent-up feelings I could share with no one except others like me struggling to make sense of our sexuality. Some of us stayed the course; others, like Joey, caved into Mother Convention and the expectations of unsuspecting parents.

Joey is not his real name, but it is his birthday today.  He married a good 40 years ago and now has great-grandchildren. In the unlikely event he ever reads this post, he may remember me if I say he shared his name with the family cat (black, but for the tips of its ears that were white).

Oh, yes, I remember it well…

(Photo from the Internet)

GIVE ME A CLUE

Love was just a word

I’d heard people say, read about

in books, seen on TV

and movies in the middle row

at popcorn cinemas

Maggie is a lovely girl,

who lived just across the way

and asked me out,

but somehow I couldn’t see it, her
and me on a date 

Love was just a word,

kept drilling holes in my head,

burning my ears,

turning my skin red for tongues

ever wagging at me

Harry is a real nice guy

whom I’d known for years, 

(though not really well)
invariably making the queerest

impression on me 

Love was a just a word

making itself felt all the more

for wondering about Joey

and what he was doing, wishing

we could get together

I really didn’t have a clue

what life was meant to be about

(for me, at any rate)

till Joey sat next to me on a bus,

let his smile say it all

Love was just a word

I’d heard people say, read about,

seen on TV, in cinemas...

till we shared a kiss, Harry and me,

and it (finally) got real

Copyright R. N. Taber 1963; 2012

Talking Heads

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

Reading old poems is rather like reading through a diary. I recall the inspiration for a poem as if it were yesterday. In the case of today’s poem, I had exchanged meaningful glances with a guy on the London Underground on my way home from work. Sadly, that was all we ever did.

Yesterday, on the way home on the Northern Line from Waterloo after a delightful day out with a friend, I experienced a sense of déjà vu…

As soon as I got home, I looked up this poem and found myself wishing I’d had the same self-confidence then that I have now.

Alas, wrong time, wrong train, wrong age…BUT…more exciting events and the closing ceremony for a fantastic and truly inspiring Paralympics to look forward to tonight.

Well done team Para GB! I suspect you have changed forever (and so much for the better) the perceptions of many people with regard to those among us with various disabilities.

Oh, and let’s be sure to include disabled gay men and women, too, in all sections of society. There is more to all of us than our gender, sexuality, rece, religion ... whatever.  What you see is rarely what you get; too many people are so quick to make assumptions that they never get to see us for all we really are.

As for anyone (whatever their sex or sexuality) exchanging wishful eye contact with a potential kindred spirit on life’s journey - GO for it. (Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and everything to play for.)

TALKING HEADS

One finger brushes my hand
as if wanting me to understand
all your eyes long to convey
though you don’t dare  look up
from a page of your book
as your lips can’t even half shape
what they may or may not say
because you’ve not yet learned
the words for feelings gay

I dare let my leg press yours,
and feel scalding tremors pulse
through our bodies
like a series of electric shocks,
yet you will not look up at me,
keep licking your lips nervously,
feverishly swallowing the taste
of me, coming to terms (finally)
with an enduring curiosity

I freely let my gaze caress
your face, on sensual mouth place
a gentle kiss, full lips parting
to let my tongue explore, not reading
any more (if you ever were).
While heads, noses, ears, rush us
from all sides like attitudes,
you’re fiddling with a shirt button,
it’s a lifeline...

Come together if only briefly,
you and me against the Hydra

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2012

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original version as it appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]

A Matter of Life and Death

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

Today’s post is a response to several reader who have been in touch about yesterday’s post on my general blog so readers may want to take a look:

http://rogertab.blogspot.com/

A gay reader who says he enjoys dipping into both blogs says he cannot live without religion and God to the extent that he chose to ‘suppress [my] sexuality and go straight’. He does not say if he has been happy with that decision. Me, I cannot believe that any God would hold a person’s sexuality against them. Religions say God is Love do they not? Since when did love discriminate in such a way…?

Now, yes, I am still on a summer break until October 1st, but sometimes people get in touch and I feel a response on the blog is called for sooner rather than later. The greater part of today’s post (and the poem below) appears on both blogs today.

Several readers expressed dismay that yesterday’s post did not suggest people with any kind of cancer or potentially life-threatening illness put their faith in God. Well, no offence meant to anyone, but (as regular readers will know only too well) I don’t subscribe to a view as conveyed by any of the world religions.

An elderly neighbour asked me how I can ‘live without God’. I am not sure that I do. Although I reject any religious interpretation of God, I do not dismiss the idea that God is Nature and Nature is God in the sense that I derive much spiritual inspiration from a close affinity with nature that I have enjoyed since childhood.

As I have said before on the blogs, religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality.

‘Ah,’ said my neighbour, ‘but what do you mean by spirituality? It implies the existence of God, does it not?’

Well, not to me it doesn’t, at least not in any religious context. Defining a sense of spirituality is all but impossible. I can only say that communing in nature puts me in touch with a sense of identity beyond that which I recognize in any conception I might have of my known self; I am transported in a realm of time and space which may or may not be infinity and in which I feel at home and safe although I don’t understand why. It is enough just to be there a while before returning to the harsher realities of everyday life.

I had to agree with my neighbour that I hadn’t answered and only barely touched upon any kind of answer to her question. However, it was the best I could do.  Does she, I asked, have any clear answers to why we  are here and where we go once we leave this shell we know as the body? Can she define the human spirit? But all she could say was religion’s great strength is that it answers all such questions. Well, with all due respect, that is not good enough for me. I see nothing in religion but division and disrespect among Believers for those who follow a different religion or none at all.

As for answers to such questions, I well recall what a teacher at my secondary school once told me years ago. ‘Never be afraid of what you don’t understand, Taber ‘but look upon the act of trying to understand as a challenge. Believe me. You’ll be far too preoccupied to be scared.’

This poem is a villanelle.

A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH

When I leave my body, where will I go?
(I trust neither to Heaver nor Hell);
Does anyone care? Will anyone know?

Why is, I wonder, that we fear death so?
(Heart leaping at the tolling of a bell);
When I leave my body, where will I go?

Let my spirit soar high, never fly low;
(far beyond humankind’s battle yell);
Does anyone care? Will anyone know?

Where rain spring falls, I would follow
(Earth Mother sounding my knell);
Does anyone care? Will anyone know?

Rogue bird at a shoot, spoiling the show?
(As a kindly sandman taught me well)
Does anyone care? Will anyone know?

At the call to life, I could not answer, no
to surfing its angrily anxious swell…
When I leave this body, where shall I go?
Does anyone care? Will anyone know?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012