http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
For the benefit of any new readers, I should perhaps explain that I also some upload historic as well as current blog posts to Google Plus. I regularly add and remove these so readers can access up to about 30 poems without having to trawl 1,000+ poems on my blogs. It seems to work well, and feedback has been very encouraging so I will continue:
https://plus.google.com/118347623673930289606/posts
Regarding my You Tube channel, it appears that some viewers have not realized they should keep the sound on to hear the poems I read over the later videos nor that the poem is also included in the description that accompanies each video. Hopefully, this information will add to your enjoyment as Graham and I have a lot of fun shooting the videos and writing the poems. We don’t have a state of the arts video camera, though, so don’t expect a BBC level production:
http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber
Today’s poem was written in 1976, the year my mother died, and a time when I was in and out of the closet like a jack-in-the-box, and only ever open about my sexuality to certain people in certain places at certain times in my life.
My mother was OK about my being gay, but felt it was best kept under wraps and my brother and father should be kept in ignorance, although I would be very surprised if they had not already guessed. Since I’d had an appalling relationship with my father since childhood and my brother (at the time, anyway) was openly homophobic, I sensed she was probably right. It would take a severe nervous breakdown three years later before I finally came ‘out’ to everyone in the early 1980s, and to stay.
Re-reading this poem, I think it gives a sense of my confused torment at the time. It is a harsh indictment on the twenty-first century that there are countries and pockets of democratic societies, too, where gay boys and girls, men and women, are experiencing much the same torment. We can but hope common sense and humanity will prevail and the whole world will, in time, become a more gay-friendly place.
I AND I, A FEELING FOR SEXUALITY
Don’t wax lyrical about loneliness
says the Man
tell’em just what it can do,
how it will
kill the eye, give the lie
to that so-smooth brow
you’re
scrubbing at;
Don’t make out
it doesn’t pain you
to prepare for another day
no different
from yesterday, unless
that face you’re
making
cracks!
Okay, run a comb through your hair
says the Man
and straighten your tie
just so...
Here’s your jacket,
maybe we’ll
make it?
Come, come...
No, no, don’t throw it
at the cat
or rip your throat
like that,
you’ll tear my shirt.
Now we’ll be
late
for work
Don’t swear at me
says the Man,
it’s not my fault
you can’t
stand the closet
any more. Now, get off
that floor.
Yes, now!
Oh, and blow your nose, you’re getting
on my nerves…
Copyright R. N. Taber, 2000
[From: Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]
For the benefit of any new readers, I should perhaps explain that I also some upload historic as well as current blog posts to Google Plus. I regularly add and remove these so readers can access up to about 30 poems without having to trawl 1,000+ poems on my blogs. It seems to work well, and feedback has been very encouraging so I will continue:
https://plus.google.com/118347623673930289606/posts
Regarding my You Tube channel, it appears that some viewers have not realized they should keep the sound on to hear the poems I read over the later videos nor that the poem is also included in the description that accompanies each video. Hopefully, this information will add to your enjoyment as Graham and I have a lot of fun shooting the videos and writing the poems. We don’t have a state of the arts video camera, though, so don’t expect a BBC level production:
http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber
Today’s poem was written in 1976, the year my mother died, and a time when I was in and out of the closet like a jack-in-the-box, and only ever open about my sexuality to certain people in certain places at certain times in my life.
My mother was OK about my being gay, but felt it was best kept under wraps and my brother and father should be kept in ignorance, although I would be very surprised if they had not already guessed. Since I’d had an appalling relationship with my father since childhood and my brother (at the time, anyway) was openly homophobic, I sensed she was probably right. It would take a severe nervous breakdown three years later before I finally came ‘out’ to everyone in the early 1980s, and to stay.
Re-reading this poem, I think it gives a sense of my confused torment at the time. It is a harsh indictment on the twenty-first century that there are countries and pockets of democratic societies, too, where gay boys and girls, men and women, are experiencing much the same torment. We can but hope common sense and humanity will prevail and the whole world will, in time, become a more gay-friendly place.
I AND I, A FEELING FOR SEXUALITY
Don’t wax lyrical about loneliness
says the Man
tell’em just what it can do,
how it will
kill the eye, give the lie
to that so-smooth brow
you’re
scrubbing at;
Don’t make out
it doesn’t pain you
to prepare for another day
no different
from yesterday, unless
that face you’re
making
cracks!
Okay, run a comb through your hair
says the Man
and straighten your tie
just so...
Here’s your jacket,
maybe we’ll
make it?
Come, come...
No, no, don’t throw it
at the cat
or rip your throat
like that,
you’ll tear my shirt.
Now we’ll be
late
for work
Don’t swear at me
says the Man,
it’s not my fault
you can’t
stand the closet
any more. Now, get off
that floor.
Yes, now!
Oh, and blow your nose, you’re getting
on my nerves…
Copyright R. N. Taber, 2000
[From: Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]
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