Spanish Eyes OR Gay on the Costa Del Sol

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

Today’s poem was written in 2004 and appeared on the blog some time ago at the request of ‘José’ for his partner Luis (both Catholics) who found it in my collection and enjoyed it. I have since made some changes and tried out the revised version on both men who have been in touch to say they approve and still love the poem. I can but hope other readers will too.

Some years ago, I met a Spanish tourist in London who has to be the mst straight-acting gay guy I have ever met. If we hadn't started chatting in a well-known gay bar, I probably would not have chanced a second glance his way. Oh, but the thrill of a holiday romance that would have us shedding inhibitions as sure as sunshine after rain, inviting us to go with nature and…enjoy!

SPANISH EYES or GAY ON THE COSTA DEL SOL

The rain in Spain, it kept falling,

holiday plans gone astray,

beaches all but deserted, wicked blue sea

turned an ugly grey by a killjoy sky,

summer waves crashing around the ears,

bars filling up with others like me,

alone, trying local tequila till someone

taps me on the shoulder

and I find myself being sucked

into his eyes, floundering

in his head, in the flow of his blood,

adrenaline rising like a flood,

wondering if there‘s an escape route

without (ever) really wanting one

In a stranger’s head, mulling home truths

I’d confronted, but never dared

act upon because it's not the English thing

to do, going against the grain,

fancying men while coming on to girls

with macho pals, giving the lie

to chat-up charms, longing to fall

into another man’s arms,

feel his kiss. Yes, just such a man as this,

now asking if I’ll teach him English,

blue eyes penetrating my last defences,

stripping me naked, rescuing me

from a closet childhood’s take on morality

to (finally) go free, and be myself

Earth Mother on cue, sun in a patch of blue

chasing dark clouds away just for us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2013

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in 1st eds. of The Third Eye, by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Epiphany at the Cliffs of Time

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

Now, regular readers will know that, after gay relationships were decriminalised here in the UK in 1967, I used to wonder how I would ever find the strength and self-confidence to shrug off the shackles of my closet years. They were, after all, formative years.

I had realised I am gay when I was just 14 years-old (possibly, albeit subconsciously, even earlier) and there I was, nearly 22 and suddenly I was legal! I should have jumped out of that damn closet and let the world know how awful it had been in there! Instead, I prevaricated, and was in and out like a Jack-in-the-box until my mid-30s when a severe nervous breakdown may have taken me to some indescribable Hell and back, but saved the day. Somehow, I came through it all in one piece and eventually clawed my way back into mainstream life, seriously bruised both mentally and emotionally, but clear where my path lay.

Meanwhile, 30+ years on, in countries like Russia, Iran and many African countries like Nigeria, Uganda and the Cameroon, gay people are living in fear of imprisonment, torture, and death. Our hearts go out to them all and our hopes for a better, safer, kinder future. May their leaders bypass their egos and look deep within themselves to find and act upon a sense of humanity and justice sooner rather than later.

One day… perhaps, thanks to those who have the moral courage to stand up and speak out  for LGBT men and women worldwide...at any cost.

EPIPHANY AT THE CLIFFS OF TIME

At the end of my tether,
hope at its nadir,
closer and closer to free fall,
at the Cliffs of Time

I feel only an emptiness,
no sense of peace
on the knife edge of identity.
at the Cliffs of Time

Suddenly, the spell is broken,
(who has spoken?)
waves of words rushing me
at the Cliffs of Time

Now, a lively light's exposing
all a mind's supposing,
a sketchy, existential life-art,
at the Cliffs of Time

Sick despair, failure, self-pity,
but rearing shadows
calling me, pointing fingers
at the Cliffs of Time

Selfies, but sneering, goading
my sexual identity
among fickle clouds gathering
at the Cliffs of Time

Yet, above it all a voice urging
I fear not, the tide’s
for turning, clouds reinventing
the Cliffs of Time

Ah, but I know well that voice;
it is Choice, ready
to call any bluff that's reshaping 
the Cliffs of Time

Am I or am I not better placed
than flotsam and jetsam
answering only to a tide's whim
at the Cliffs of Time?

Crying, 'Yes!' I'll dare turn away
telling the world I’m gay,
having (finally) found my voice
at the Cliffs of Time

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Profiling a Slippery Yellow Brick Road

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

[Update June 10th 2017: Theresa May has joined forces wit the DUP in order to stay in office. In one sense, I don't have too much of a problem with this as I still think she is the best person to get the UK the best deal in Brexit negotiations.Post-Brexit, though, will be another story altogether as, among other things, the DUP are known to be anti-gay and anti-abortion. The experience May can bring to Brexit negotiations will be invaluable. Once we have left the EU, I would, though, hope for and expect another General Election. Several readers have been in touch to ask who I blame for the current political chaos in the UK. Well, playing the blame game never got anyone anywhere fast. I will say this, though; if all those people who voted to remain in the EU truly believed in democracy, they would have accepted the result of the referendum. How can you say you believe in something ...but only when you are getting your own way? Jeremy Corbyn went for the populist vote and it paid off, but populism will not get the national debt down, nor will it help the UK in Brexit negotiations.] RT

Changing the subject drastically, prominent Cameroon gay rights activist Eric Lembembe was murdered in the Cameroon last week..

This man’s murder follows several attacks on the offices of human rights workers, including those working for equal rights for gay people. In a statement Human Rights Watch said: "We don’t know who killed Eric Lembembe, or why he was killed, but one thing is clear: the Cameroonian authorities’ utter failure to stem homophobic violence sends the message that these attacks can be carried out with impunity."

So much for the reader who recently got in touch to say he dipped into my gay blog, doesn’t understand why I bother with it, and suggests I ‘should stop celebrating my sexuality or whining about homophobia and just be grateful that gay people have never had it so good.’ In some parts of the world, yes, and in gay-friendly environments, but in other parts…

Did you know that seventy-six countries continue to criminalise ‘homosexual conduct’, punishable with prison sentences and hard labour? In five countries, the death penalty still applies.

Gay Rights have achieved much in the West although we dare not be complacent as there is much still to do to change attitudes  written on tablets of stone for the less enlightened among the  heterosexual majority worldwide.

Meanwhile…

Now, this is a very early poem that I wrote in 1987, included in my very first major collection in 2001, and have only recently updated. Much has changed since then regarding the politics of sexuality, and I am as grateful for that as anyone, but remain unconvinced there has been as much social change as we are asked to believe. Homophobia is alive and kicking, even in the UK, which is perhaps why (in spite of gay-friendly legislation) so many gay men and women (especially men) in the public eye (politicians, armed forces personnel, police, sports celebrities and the like) don’t feel they can be openly gay in case it has an adverse effect on their career prospects.

PROFILING A SLIPPERY YELLOW BRICK ROAD

Dancing, yelling,

making music, our naked joy

on show, celebrating

the latest unsubtle variation

of Dorothy’s rainbow

as released on a DVD stocked

by music store managers 

recently 'outed' ‘for daring

to throw open mind-body-spirit 

to all-comers

Jury’s still out, and the synods

I hear God’s keeping

an open mind, can't be unkind

to all those who like to take

bread and wine when they can

while suffering pricks 

of indecision when it comes

to religion for gay men

and women whom modernity

dares suggest are ordinary people

getting a life

So, what or who to believe...?

It’s only to be expected.

(they say) in a world where men

dye their hair, are known

to wear body spray, and society 

pulls out all its stops

else Equal Ops caught napping

on the front benches, and it can’t do

election counts any harm

to side with Gay Pride 's millions

if only by the way

Copyright R. N. Taber 1987; 2012

[Note: An earlier draft of this poem appears under the title 'Dorothy Who?' in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]

The Alphabet Cat

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

I was not a very confident child or young man. Put down by many because I had a bad lisp and a hearing problem no one was prepared to acknowledge, my idea of heaven was to be left alone on an island in the middle of nowhere with just birds and beasts for company. In my imagination, I visited that island many, many times.

As a teenager getting my head around being gay, at first I felt even more isolated from mainstream life than ever.  Gay people, I had been told all my young life, were among the lowest of the low.

Gradually, as I explored various closet outlets for meeting other gay people, I felt less alone and a whole new self-confidence began to take root. At the time, I felt that family, friends and teachers had failed me. My outlook on life was distorted by resentment. Slowly but surely, this resentment ebbed away. (Playing the blame game is never a good idea.).

Where I had been wary, even scared, I began to take strength from my sexuality. This was something I could understand, take on and win through instead of being the loser everyone seemed to take me for. Oh, it was hard, having to lie and be secretive about my forays into gay life, but I was discovering a new self or, rather, an old self that had been all but buried alive under layers of conventional and family ‘values’.  I was rewriting my own history even as I was creating it.

 It was a tough, but also very exciting time for me. Even so, I hadn’t quite overcome my native inhibitions and decided to visit my imaginary island for real, and stay a while, get as far away from everything and everyone dragging on my new found persona as possible. So I ‘migrated’ to Australia, which proved a mini-disaster after a nightmare voyage by sea during which I had never felt so lonely in my life before or since. Could this ne how I would feel on my island stripped of fantasy and engaging with the harsher realities of life? 

Much as I loved Australia, I did not like the feeling of being at best an outsider, at worst alone, one bit. Yet, this encouraged me to crawl out of my shell and take on not just my sexuality but also the world at large.

When I returned to the UK, I found a job, took speech therapy lessons, won a college place, ended up at university and was eventually accepted for a professional course that resulted in my becoming a chartered librarian. True, I was in and out of my gay closet like a Jack-in-the-box for a few more years before I came out to stay, but I was on the right track to realizing more of my potential as a human being than I had thought possible years earlier.

For me, the cherry on the cake is being openly gay and confident enough about my sexuality for fewer people to try and put me down for it. (There will always be bigots in the world who can’t see people for blinkers on both outer and inner eyes!)

I have fought off most of my demons and won. It doesn’t matter where we are in life so long as we find our way through its ups and downs and end up having achieved a sense of identity with which we can feel comfortable if not proud. It has precious little to do with fame or fortune, ethnicity or sexuality; it has to do with making time for finding out about ourselves and each other, and generally making the best rather than the worst of whatever life dishes us, which is different for everyone so it is pointless and misleading to compare ourselves with anyone else.

Pinocchio learned to take his conscience for a guide and Dorothy did much the same on the yellow brick road. Alternatively, a cat may well do nicely…

THE ALPHABET CAT 

A cat would sit on a mat

at the nursery door;

I found much comfort in that,

an ally in its purr

It would come with me

to the school gate

whenever I needed to explain

why I was late

My first day at the office,

and its bright eyes

would follow me as I made tea

and loaded photocopiers

It approved my first love,

one magical holiday

of sun, sea, sand, and (safe) sex

where G-A-Y rules OK

Oh, it’s always been there

on the same old mat,

encouraging (never judging) me,

going in or coming out

If it has a name, I’ve no idea,

but of this I’m sure,

it will be waiting for me on a mat  

at Earth Mother’s door

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; rev. 2012

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in  A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, 2005, rev. 2012.]

A Feeling for Bicycle Maintenance

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

Now and then, people get in touch to suggest my poetry lacks humour. Well, there is a wry humour running through many of my poems if you care to look for it and happen to be receptive at the time.

Whatever, never let it be said I’m not always up for a laugh…

Sadly, this is not an autobiographical poem, but one inspired by two guys who have been partners since one was 25 and the the other in his late 40's. Society may be judgemental, but love and close friendships are rarely inclined to take any notice. So let the local gossip machine go into overdrive, so what...? 

Each to his or her own, YES. <>

  

A FEELING FOR BICYCLE MAINTENANCE 

It was in a (gay) coffee bar

that he started chatting me up,

but he didn’t get very far

since I wasn't really into sex

any more

The young man was Tim;

we had fun teasing each other,

but my mind was less on him

than reliving the past in one cup

after another

He put it to me he liked older,

and older like younger, didn’t I?

I had to confess, mind 

and spirit care less where body 

so out of practice

It’s like riding a bike, he said,

and promised to give me a hand;

I insisted I'm too old,

he was mistaking brass for gold,

and it was his round

He drove me home in his car,

and parked right outside my house
(still massaging my knee);
I asked him in but needed to pee
and review the case

He suggested we go to bed

and I hadn't a clue what to say

till a disarming grin put me

in a spin, and the sex we had later
we still enjoy today

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Where Unicorns Roam

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

Firstly, many thanks go to those readers who send comments. I never publish comments, but read them all. Please remember that if you would like me to reply, send an email to the usual (above) address. Many comments are not genuine and include spam links that can spread viruses; others are just links to advertising. I did not want to be accused of publishing only the good comments so decided at the outset that I would publish none at all. Quite a few readers email me, though, and I have struck up some great email exchanges since starting the blogs and made wonderful new friends worldwide. Occasionally, some of these have visited London and we have met up to put the world to rights over a few beers or a meal. It has been a lovely way to meet people.

Meanwhile…

Now, several readers have asked where they can buy the novels serialized on my fiction blog. Many thanks for asking, but after a good many false starts, I gave up trying to interest literary agents or publishers and decided to post all my unpublished works on the blog rather than have them doing nothing and going nowhere on my computer. It is my intention to publish them as e-books (along with 2^nd (revised) editions of my poetry collections) at a later date. Meanwhile, anyone is welcome to dip into the fiction blog and see if there is a storyline that catches their interest.  Staying on top of various health problems make such demands on my time these days that I’m afraid I have yet (if ever) to finish writing Redemption, Book 3 of what was intended as a gay-interest crime trilogy, Blasphemy-Sacrilege-Redemption.

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/

Meanwhile...

It has been my experience that homophobes are often more angry with themselves than with the gay people they profess to deplore. More than once, when I was sexually active, I enjoyed close encounters with guys who had a great line in chat-up, but whose conversation on parting would go something like this:

HE (apologetically) I just can’t live that way, end of story. I’m getting married to a great girl who loves me to bits, What’s more, she’ll be a great wife and mother and an asset to my career.

ME (wryly) If you don’t mind my saying so, you have a very cold blooded attitude for such a hot blooded guy.

HE (shrugs) That’s life...

I never knew whether to laugh or cry.

Now, I personally know several guys who are openly homophobic and privately visit gay cruising areas. [Well, not as openly now that political correctness has driven so much bigotry behind closed doors.] How do I know? Because I have a gay friend who also visits those same places. One day someone may well ‘out’ them, but it won’t be me or my friend if only because how they live their lives is none of our business any more than how we live our lives is any of theirs.

True, I have met married men (and women) who love their partners and children to bits and see no harm in same close encounters of the sexual kind on the side, and I’m not a judgmental person. Even so, I have to say it smacks of betrayal to me. During my youth and early manhood, I had to keep my sexuality a secret from family and friends. Living that lie nearly killed me. As it was, as regular readers know, it culminated in a severe nervous breakdown in my early 30s during which I attempted suicide.

Maybe if more bisexual or essentially gay men and women were to confide in their opposite sex partners from the start, there would be less heartbreak all round? I have met such couples, and it never ceases to amaze me just how much love is prepared to take in its stride.

Without honesty, though, what chance does even love have? I often wonder how many of us live in something of a fantasy world and half expect to encounter a unicorn around the next street corner ...

WHERE UNICORNS ROAM 

His body relaxed,

the tip of his tongue stroking my lips

as we made love,

exploring, adoring, each other’s bodies,

oh, so tenderly at the start

then letting rip with pent-up passions

of the heart

It was our first time

and he gave no hint it would be our last

as we made love

in a manner that was sheer poetry,

desire in perfect rhythm,

naked flesh feeding on the pleasures

of wet dreams

We became as one,

riding a feisty unicorn over leafy meadows,

majestic mountains,

to lush, heather-scented slopes

leading to the sea

where we lay, spent, on a sandy shore

content in its embrace

I stroked his hair

where its flames but flickered in the hearth

he had made of my heart

and I longed to rouse his heat in me

again, again, again…

even as each wild, exquisite flame died,

one by one

He stirred, kissed me

till my mouth felt bruised by the intensity

of that long goodbye,

though not as I sensed he'd have it be

but much the same as I,

lying in sun-kissed sand, as if love meant us

to be together

That kiss was magic, its spell cruelly broken,

his mind bent on marrying a woman

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

The Zen of Self-Confidence

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

Family and friends don’t always understand that sexual identity is something we are born with; the only choice involved is whether we go with it or resist. Sadly, events beyond our control sometimes force that choice upon us before we are ready to make it; this can put intolerable pressure on any gay person. 

I did not do well at school and a teacher told me that I would never make anything of myself until I developed more self-confidence. "How do I do that, I asked?" "Start believing in yourself, for a start, Taber, and take no notice of those inclined to put you down because you are not as good at some things as they are. No one is good at everything, but we are all good at something. Focus on what you're good at, and the rest will come naturally." Well, it took a few years, but I got there in the end, and finally understood, too, that my being gay is an intrinsic part of who I am and no one but no one was going to put me down for it.

Wherever possible, it is always better (surely?) to take charge of our own life...or take it back, as the case may be....rather than let anyone else think they know what is best for us, however well-meaning they may be.

Did I say it was always going to be easy...?

THE ZEN OF SELF-CONFIDENCE 

Family and friends warned me against you,
said you were not a nice person to know,
that I was asking for trouble (it was so true)
and should keep my distance

After you called and we’d agreed to meet,
I confess I had reservations, but once
on your street and saw you (I arrived late)
these paled into insignificance

We talked as we walked slowly by a stream,
till consumed by the veils of a willow tree
where you took my hand (as if in a dream)
challenging my very presence

As you took me in your arms and kissed me
(well-intended warnings ringing in my ears)
so veils fell away, heart of the old willow tree
an epicentre of omnipotence

Your body offered far more than sanctuary
from demons pursuing me for years
as, passion for passion, our natural sexuality
laid claim to a godly inheritance

Earth Mother loudly applauding our decision,
love and season joined as one
in what was, is, and always will be a reason
to celebrate life’s magnificence

Let prejudice choose to see, say, do as it wills,
it knows little that dares not lift nature’s veils

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2016

[Note: First published under the title 'Epicentre' in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

Love, a Mind of its Own

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

Several readers have challenged this poem since it first appeared in my collection in 2004, and then on the blog in 2008. That no one challenges gay love these days seems to be the general view expressed here in the UK. What can I say except…don’t believe it!

Frequently, I wonder if some readers read a word I write. One told me only recently that I ‘should get real about the 21st century and stop living in the past.’ Oh, how I wish!

True, life can be better for gay people than it has ever been, here in the West at least, but not every gay man or woman, girl or boy has the good fortune to be living in a gay-friendly home/school/work environment. (Yes, even here in the UK where a Bill proposing gay marriage is being openly debated at Government level.)

If you are gay and from a socio-cultural-religious background that does not accept gay relationships ...well, it’s not easy to break away from all that. Some people choose not to break away at all. Fair enough, given that everyone’s priorities are different and we should all accept that. On the same principle, though, it is high time socio-cultural-religious groups who remain essentially homophobic learned to respect the rights of we gay people to live get on with our lives according to our natural instincts, not any religious dogma as imposed - or interpreted as being imposed - by Holy Books.

Yes, it’s easy enough for me to say, an openly gay man albeit still haunted by closet years that made no small contribution to a severe nervous breakdown in my mid 30’s. Even so, those of us who are comfortable about being openly gay should always remember that it’s not the same for everyone. We still have a long way to go before being gay is socially and culturally acceptable worldwide. Nor should I have to remind people like me that homophobia is very much alive and kicking in the so-called ‘liberal-minded’ West if increasingly less so than in other countries, especially where religion is used as a stick to beat free spirits into toeing its line, invariably by those who enjoy doing so for its own sake rather than out of any respect for human nature.

Love, thank goodness, is up for just about any challenge far too many among the world’s less enlightened minds continue to throw its way. Religion, for its part, does not have a monopoly on spirituality, nor can any dogma claim sole rights over the human spirit; the latter is an Open House. Wherever gay people feel as intimate a connection with any religion (as I do with nature) their conscience is clear; since no one but no one has the right to deny them access; as for any human thought processes that would, on human conscience be it.

LOVE, A MIND OF ITS OWN

Fingertips teasing

the spine, hearts skipping beats

twin balls tickling my own

between velvet thighs, tongues

creeping from mouths

anxious not to appear eager

for a parrying of wills

star-crossed lovers have braved

since the world began

Find free will alive
and kicking among like minds

as to who should love whom,

for Love has a mind of its own,
prone to inspiring the heart
to kinder choices than any forces

brought to bear on the ear,
or raised voices honed on holy books
by self-styled betters

The mind presuming
to know best, ever prioritising  

concerns of its own

in which it (invariably) has shares

reckons without self-taught
skills of lovers choosing to defy
any rules written in the first stones

denying equal rights to the heart,

be it straight or gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'A Challenge to Love' in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Where Now ...? OR Anatomy of a Sunset

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

We all make mistakes or wish we had done things differently as we go through life. We can but move on, and try not to make the same mistakes again although some will inevitably return to haunt us from time to time.

In my experience, few sights compare with a beautiful sunset for stirring up regrets for time passing, time lost, and our own shortcomings…

WHERE NOW …? or ANATOMY OF A SUNSET

Where do you go after sunset

(alone or with someone)

since that last time we met?

My heart’s asking, can’t forget

though we’re long gone...

Where do you go after sunset?

For me, alone, you came out,

and have you kissed anyone

since that last time we met..?

This lonely heart aches for it,

your body against mine…

Where do you go after sunset?

Once, time short if bitter-sweet;

ever after, no comparison

since that last time we met

Forsworn, the politics of regret

for putting love on the line…

Where do you go after sunset

since that last time we met?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2013

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title .Where Now?' in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]