Closet Lives

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

Years ago, I had a fling with an Austrian guy called Günter. He was not openly gay in Germany, but enjoyed being so with me here in London. (I have lived in London 30+ years.)  We had a great time, seeing London - including a few gay bars, most of which have since closed down - and getting to know each other better.  The affair only lasted two weeks, and then he returned to Austria. We kept in touch for a while, but there was no Internet then and neither of us was good at writing letters. (Post-Internet generations are so lucky in as much as it is so easy to keep in touch with people by e-mail, even Instant Messaging.) 

I have often wondered if Günter ever took the plunge and came out to family and friends as he was very unhappy about not telling them. He asked me what I thought he should do, but I never give advice, only express an opinion. If he was unhappy, I said, he needed to do something about it. He agreed, but seemed doubtful so I often wonder…

It is a curious phenomenon, unhappiness; hard, near impossible to put aside, but can and needs to be superseded by a life focusing on sufficient satisfaction if not joy to keep it in the shade where it belongs. Like many trite sayings, there is much truth in ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way.’ More often than not, the way is neither easy nor plain sailing, especially in the shorter term.

Whatever, it is always a good start, achieving peace of mind, in one sense if not another…and who knows what lies ahead?  Nor is it so different for gay people coming out of a dark, lonely, closet than for heterosexuals harbouring secrets they would prefer not to keep but fear the consequences of breaking their silence?  

Most if not all of us tell lies sometimes, but we are kidding ourselves to suggest it does no real harm. Oh, yes, we tell truths too.  The trouble is humankind tends to have different versions of each. Most lies - and just as many home truths - invariably hurt someone, somewhere. Better then to develop a greater affinity with truth, and be less judgemental even if it doesn't happen to coincide with our own version of it?

CLOSET LIVES 

Shadowy stalker,

haunting you day and night,

however hard you try

to put me out of your mind

with various distractions,

given that even the human spirit

(easy prey to convention)

sees me as a tough adversary,

never easily defeated

Whatever fine strategy

you may devise to put me down,

I come up with another,

and we lock horns, you trying

to beat me at my own game

while I play dirty, reminding you

of all you stand to lose

if you so choose to give the heart

its straining head

Yes, I play dirty, and well,

teasing inner selves with scenarios

that would have any victory 
of mine a petty, piecemeal affair 
compared any peace of mind

my silence offers, whose riptide 

ever closing in as you run

for cover, having known no better

than secrets and lies

Playing hide-and-seek in your space,

I am Conscience, its saving grace

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Thinking Outside the Box

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

I once asked two gay guys how they first got together, and this poem is – in effect – their story. It is one to which I, too, can relate if not quite in the same way, which is probably why it is a long poem. I found myself wandering Memory Lane and wondering whatever happened to a long-ago good mate of mine…

As some of us struggle with our sexuality, it is only too easy to imagine we are the only ones facing trial by conscience; a conscience moulded into shape over formative years when we had neither the experience to understand the implications nor the articulation to ask the right questions. Our elders and betters knew best, end of story.

As we grow into ourselves, strive for a sense of personal identity, we may well start to wonder how much of that identity comprises the real self and how much is the result of well-intentioned brainwashing. We ask of ourselves the questions we never thought to ask, often struggling with the answers our experience of the world so far feels inclined to offer; not just gay people of course, but many if not most of us who begin to question what we had been raised to believe was unquestionable. 

For gay men and women, the consequences can (not always) be traumatic…until we make a decision as to whether or not (and how) to move forward or slip quietly, unobtrusively, back into our comfort zone. The trouble is, the chances are it will no longer offer anywhere near the same the degree of comfort, no matter how conscientiously we address the task of playing hide-and-seek with human nature. 

THINKING OUTSIDE THE BOX 

A mate (among others) for years

kissed me out of the blue

and I sent him flying, left him lying

in a bloody heap on the floor,

ran to the door and into the street,

telling myself I was so angry I could cry,

and, yes, I did, but (much) later

After that, I ignored him for weeks,

satisfying the intense curiosity

of family and friend with a pack of lies

everyone seemed to swallow,

urging that we kiss and make up

quite oblivious to the irony of that phrase,

well meant, but like a knife in me

I missed him so much, the hurt in me

sent my mind rapidly spiralling

into dark places I had not been before,

yet among faces I easily recognized,

mouthing words I had only ever heard

in the school playground, on street corners,

folks taking the piss out of queers

How had I never guessed he was gay,

this good mate of mine for years,

with whom I had enjoyed doing the things

mates do, even chatting up girls now

and then (what on earth was he thinking?)

all the time, holding out on me, living a lie,

hidden feelings I could barely imagine

Imagine, though, I did as time crawled by,

dragging half-forgotten memories

into a pattern of sorts I had either missed

(or chosen not to see?) - revealing

as much about me as my former mate,

uneasy nights and restless days haunting

every move I made, ever word I said

I called at his house one rainy weekend,

much as per usual in the old days,

and his mother was so pleased to see me

I felt guilty for having stayed away,

feet dragging on the stairs as if leaden

as she showed me up to his room, his pain,

like a scar across his face, plain to see

What to say, where to start? I had no idea,

Having struggled with my feelings

to reach a (very) piecemeal understanding

of why I’d said and done what I had

and couldn’t undo or unsay so let instinct

have its way, let my senses run free wherever,

gave him a big hug, hoping for the best

He asked me nervously why I had come.

and it was only then I knew

why his loss had left me so empty a shell,

and how to fill it, mind and spirit

embracing a body hungry for such dreams

as I’d thought impossible, going there anyway,

much relieved he was kissing me back

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Closet Fear

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

Here in the West, it has been my experience that many gay people take freedom of sexual identity for granted.  True, there is no denying that homophobia is still alive and kicking. Yet, I have listened over the years to chilling tales of how it is to be gay in countries where same sex relationships remain a criminal offence (Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia and various African countries among many) punishable by a public whipping, prison or worse. I have learned to count my blessings…even during those low points in my life when they may otherwise have seemed too thin on the ground for much comfort.

The heart is a free country, not a prison; wherever its every beat expresses fear of exposure under pain of punishment, even death, that's more than an abuse of Human Rights, but makes any of any religious dogma advocating it the greater abuse or sin against humanity by far. Religion is meant to be an expression of love; no God of Love would condone hate crime in any shape or form. I left my local Church Sunday School for this very reason at the age of ten years, four years before I realised and acknowledged (to myself at least) that I am gay. 

It is a tragedy for the West that many if not most immigrant families bring their religious dogma with them, forcing their gay young people into the kind of closet public opinion forced me into years ago; one which resulted in a mental breakdown in my early 30's and a suicide attempt. Even now, I bitterly regret not coming out to family, friends and work colleagues, whatever their take on homosexuality,  until my early 40's.

CLOSET FEAR

No one can know we’re lovers,

(everyone sees us as good friends)

nor any peace of mind, given a love

that's taboo

No one can know we share a bed

whenever I stay over at your place,

taking each day as it comes, for good

or ill

No one can know we’re gay men

playing hide-and-seek with shadows,

one mind-body-spirit no less deserving

of nurture

No one must guess our secret,

war weary of judgmental stereotypes

dragging us down even as we recharge

its batteries

No one must catch a single look

between us that even hints at a story

that dare not be told though reworked

for centuries

No one must guess we’re lovers;

many would have us publicly stoned

to death to satisfy an inhumanity baying

for blood

Yet, we will lie, bodies entwined,

away from prying eyes and loose talk,

make love among far kinder hypotheses,

dream on…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

  

Homing in on Moon Craters (Day or Night)

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

Now and then, readers of one or other (even both) my poetry blogs  - all ages, both sexes, gay and straight - email to say they are in London or coming to London and would like to meet up for a chat (about anything and everything) over a few drinks or a meal. I always enjoy these catch-ups, have met some very interesting people and keep in touch if only by email. So feel free to contact me any time, even if a meet-up is never likely to be on the cards. While I don’t allow comments on the blogs, I will always reply to emails; a lively exchange of views and opinions is always fun.

My mother used to say that if something was worth saying, it was worth repeating. So, yes, I often comment on the blog how sad it is but true that many gay people still find it hard to be openly gay, more often than not because they happen to live in a gay-unfriendly home and/or school and/or work environment.  We may well be attracted to the same sex, but whether or we do anything about it can be the toughest decision some of us make in course of our entire lives. There are always consequences, of course, good and less good. We need to consider likely scenarios and ask ourselves how or if we are up for handling these. Doubts will persist until a decision is taken, but is a half-life of keeping up appearances a workable alternative?

In some countries, of course, gay relationships remain a criminal offence punishable by prison or even death.  Gay people have little choice but a closeted sexual existence in which case, better the human self in a closet than a cage…or worse. Even so, it is possible to be true to the self while paying lip service to everyday survival tactics.  I discovered that for myself as a youth and young man. It is stressful, yes, but sometimes necessary; those of us who can be freely, openly gay need to remind ourselves of that sometimes.

As regular readers will be only too aware, I was in and out of the closet for years before finally leaving it as an openly gay man in my late 30's. To this day, I am l haunted by those long-ago closet days. We should never presume to judge or condemn someone for NOT coming out, for whatever reason; it is a very personal choice.

Instinctively, during a crisis of self-awareness, we feel in dire need of a comfort zone, putting inner chaos in perspective with someone whom those same primeval instincts tell us is wrestling much the same crisis of  self-esteem, self-consciousness and, yes, sexuality.

Oh, but there is something particularly intoxicating about discarding inhibitions, giving sexuality (or imagination) its head with someone special among moon crater, as visible in sunshine as on a clear, starry, night … if we choose to look, and see.

HOMING IN ON MOON CRATERS (DAY OR NIGHT)

Moonlight at the window

like pale lips on a wine glass,

sipping without tasting,

teasing,  pleasing, as if enjoying

good company…

A tinkling laughter of wind bells
floating through

a half-cocked ear encouragingly,
no hint of mockery 

What are you thinking?

Are you wondering, could I be gay

and (if so) what to do,

come over and chat…or what?

Here we are, wallflowers

at some charity ‘do’ wrestling

an intimacy and affinity
with nature for a complete stranger,
no mere passer-by

Oh, but light music enough

to stir a body to mimic spring flowers

in parks and gardens

swaying in a breeze, sending out

mixed messages
hard to read through the misting-up
of one beer glass
after another, hoping (finally) to be rid
of a closet sexuality

Alas, chased by a cacophony

of muffled sounds, making an escape

through French windows;

a mercy, could well have been

so embarrassing…

Better like this, on the edge of time

and personal space,
making-believe I'm in a better place,
no matter the loneliness

Safer, more anonymous

than ever here, outside everything

and (almost) everyone,

no copycat reflections demanding

I circulate, chat, or opt out,

although of what, exactly, unable

to (quite) articulate,

as aware of your presence behind me,

an opening of swing doors

Earth Mother, killing doubts
and fears, insisting no time for tears,
(get my act together)
deafening all mind-body-spirit

with pin-drop silences

as together (if not quite together yet)

we go where passionate kisses

like garden scents invite us to make love

 among moon craters

Copyright R. N. Taber. 2004; 2015

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

Vice Versa OR G-A-Y, At the Cutting Edge of Reason

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

I sometimes receive emails from gay people (and their parents) who complain that I over simplify the act of ‘coming out’ as an openly gay boy, girl, man or woman. Apologies for that, but it is not the impression I try to give. On the contrary, I appreciate only too well how hard it can be for some gay people to be openly gay, especially if they happen to be living in a gay-unfriendly environment.

The first and (in my view) the most important step is that gay people should come ‘out’ to themselves. How they live their lives after that is up to them; that’s where choice comes into the equation. We do not choose to be gay, nature made us this way, but we do have to choose what paths we follow in life once we have acknowledged our sexuality to ourselves.

Gay, lesbian, transgender, bisexual or heterosexual, we all need to come to terms with the multi-facets of human nature and the human condition as it relates to us on a personal level and makes us who we are; once we acknowledge these and bring them together in mind, body and spirit, then and only then are we in a position to choose to make more or less of the opportunity to make more or less of our lives…as we are, not as others would perhaps have us be.

As I have said on the blogs so many times, our differences do not make us different, only human. While it may not always be easy to get other people to see that,  it has been my experience that life becomes a whole lot liveable once we see it for ourselves.

VICE VERSA or G-A-Y, AT THE CUTTING EDGE OF REASON

Told, a devil in me,
all but sold on the idea of my sexuality
as a travesty of morality;
cold, this body for want of intimacy,
grown old before its time, a fragile mind
at the cutting edge of reason

Conventions taunting me,
all but convincing me I entertain a parody
of humanity;
questions haunting me,
demanding of sense and sensibility
a lasting reconciliation

At odds with family
and friends, raging against a raw obstinacy
(all they ever see…);
a frantic  spirit in me
demanding the human right to be free
to be as I am, no one else

Time, applauding me
for going my own way, and purposefully
though remarked foolishly
by those who cannot (or will not) see
life is love,  and vice versa

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

G-A-Y, Worth Every Heartbeat

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

I once spent some time with two gay Muslims visiting London from Manchester where they were studying. I asked them how they felt about returning home to Iran.  While admitting to being scared, they were equally determined not to be parted.  

Could they live with having to keep a secret that could literally be the death of them? One replied, ‘It will not be a secret between us which is all that really matters. So we appear to play the game, toe the line, however you like to call it. No one needs to know or get hurt so long as we are careful. It will be very hard, of course, and very hypocritical, but worth every damn heartbeat.’

I often wonder what became of them…

G-A-Y, WORTH EVERY HEARTBEAT

Yearning you,
my whole body burning for you,
and yet I find myself turning
from you, told it’s the right thing
to do

Aching you,
this lonely heart breaking for you
where it would make a home
for you because it’s a right thing
we do

Yearning us,
my whole body burning for us,
yet I find myself turning
from us for every door slamming
in our faces

Aching us,
this lonely heart breaking for us
where little chance for us
in the cold, cruel light of history’s
take on us

Daring us,
hearts pounding, bodies burning
bridges for the crossing
of various socio-cultural-religious
divides

Applauding us,
bluebird of happiness singing for us
on every street, in every tree,
and sadness, too, for all gay victims
of bigotry


Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Growing Old with Pride

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

Readers often comment that I appear to be having a love affair with rhyme.

Is it ‘a generation thing’ they want to know, perhaps because most modern poetry is blank verse, and all the more abstract for it. Well, maybe it’s ‘a generation thing’ and maybe not. Whatever, I find rhyme a useful tool in getting my meanings across without the reader having to struggle to understand various abstracts.  As far as I am concerned, there are no hard and fast rights or wrongs about writing poetry except for critics of the nit-picking variety.

I do write blank verse occasionally, but I find rhyme - including internal and ‘hidden’ rhyme – brings me closer to the reader, and hopefully vice versa.

I will be 70 this year and get so fed up with people of my generation – gay and straight, male and female – heaving sighs of regret for all they haven’t done with their lives.  We need to harvest what we have done, memories of people and places collected along the way, and take pleasure in the trains of thought these generate instead of complaining about the quickness of time leaving us only too little of it to spare. Besides, it is never too late to start giving Time a run for its o'clocks...

A reader who says he hates rhyming verse also writes in now and then to ask, ‘why do you bother with the gay stuff?’ Well, why not, since I am gay?

Enough said…

GROWING OLD WITH PRIDE 

Much of life may have passed me by,

much of love left me (so) alone,

much of truth left me high and dry,

its flair for logic cut me to the bone

Much of time has seen dreams fail me,

much of space left me in freefall,

much of dogma done its best to nail me

to this tarred fence, that graffiti wall

Much of society, I’d prefer not to serve

much as a sentence without parole;

much of the world, we can but observe

turns on china plate or begging bowl

Much of my body has failed to treasure

harvest moons stumbled across,

much of my mind, to conventions told

a lion’s share of lies…at no great loss

Yet, for the life of me, adrenalin flows

for the loves it has known and live on

where a Joy of Being flowers and grows,

regardless of time, space, or reason

For much of me looking back with regret,

more of me lives for each new day;

more of me still, to nature, forever in debt,

not least for birthing me human and gay 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015