Falling in with Nature

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

Maybe it was the aspiring poet in me or simply because I have always been partially deaf, but even as a child I was easily contented with my own company, especially with my head in a book or communing with nature. While my mother was OK with this, my father was critical of what he considered to be unbecoming for a boy. Thankfully, my brother was more ‘masculine’ so that took the heat off me a bit. Needless to say, my relationship with my father was never a good one; there was no father-son bonding, probably due his being a product of a generation scarred both by war and even more misleading and misguided stereotypes than my own would see.

Children, of course, only come to understand such things in time. Meanwhile, they can but rely on adults to point them in the right direction; what is right for them, that is, not, the mentoring adult. Fortunately, my mother was cut from a very different cloth to my father and I survive to tell the tale.

I grew up with very mixed feelings about how I should approach the world, family life and (not least) myself. Perhaps that is why I love everything about the natural world; for all its unpredictability, it exudes relatively less than its human counterpart. On the whole, nature also suggests a greater sense - for me, anyway - of being on one’s side; at least, not against anyone simply because he or she has a mind-body-spirit of their own that may not be in sync with some socio-cultural-spiritual ‘norm’.

I grew up, too, believing that being gay was abnormal simply because it was ‘different’ and was never more glad of the sense of spirituality nature has always inspired in me. While my mother could not have cared less, the same could not be said for the rest of my immediate family nor even some people I looked upon as friends.

As a gay man in my 70’s now, I am so glad attitudes towards homosexuality continue to change for the better in many countries, even among the more discerning within intrinsically homophobic cultures. Alas, there is no room for complacency; more education is needed about how -, whatever our colour, creed, sex or sexuality - we are all part of a common humanity and all, each in our own way…different.

Reports of further legislation to re-enforce Equal Opportunities and Political Correctness may well suggest steps in the right direction in many respects, but you cannot legislate for bad attitude which, in turn, invariably stems from ignorance of the issues involved and/or a point-blank refusal to enter into any points of view other than one’s own. Enter, Education… if  only to show that what is often taken for liberalism is, more often than not, plain common sense in the absence of which any real (as in worthwhile) communication between certain people, peoples and cultures  is likely to prove but illusory.

As for my scepticism, that remains part of who I am, too, and most likely always will. At the same time, I am also a very positive thinking person; a contradiction, some will say, but then what’s one more contradiction in a world whose elected (or self-appointed) spokespersons  contradict themselves for much if not most of the time…?

Gay or Straight, Earth Mother is a friend and ally, but we (all) need to remember that - like most if not all of us - she will be pushed only so far before she will start hitting out if only in self-defence of all creatures great and small.

FALLING IN WITH NATURE

I’ve heard folks say I should get real,

and I do as needs must…

Yet, I love to talk to flowers,

let them know I am here for them

and care if they live or die

much as I, too, could have someone

care for me, watch out for me

as I make my way through passages

of time and space among crowds

jostling to be first in line for whatever

best is yet to come as rumoured

by those assumed to be in the know

if only because it would appear

they have the ear of someone said

to really count for something

in a greater scheme of things as full

of promise as sparing on detail

nor so much as a mention of any Plan B

lest investors in social conscience despair

of profit margins

I’ve heard folks say I should man up,

and I do as needs must…

Yet, I love to spread wings, fly

among (all) birds over cities, towns,

and dreary suburbs top heavy

with killer-by-stealth pollution,

escape to the countryside,

take off with ducks, swans and the like

on its waterways, nature’s answer

to frantic airport runways…

comment on city carbuncles, enthuse

about country cottages, get angry

about global warming, especially where

powers-that-be in denial refusing

to put it on various agendas just in case

they lose votes (or face) among any

who couldn’t really care less so long as

they don’t miss out on rewards of a (very)

pecuniary nature

I’ve heard folks take me for a sceptic,

and they would be right…

Yet, I’ll believe a sunset’s promise

of sunny (or stormy) days in the wings

before I’ll trust a politician’s word

that the shape of things to come is safe

if not (quite) secure in party hands,

preferring to take my cue from such cloud

and bird formations as nature inspires

from time to time by way of suggesting

we make appropriate preparation, less need

for reparation  the powers-that-be

may well have us make for what turns out

to be their (only human) mistakes,

ours, too, if only for hearing what we want

to hear than what mind-spirit

would  take us to task for, a falling in 

with the commoner (if only human) failings

of contemporary society

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

Climate of Fear: a Chechnya Diary

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

Whatever Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson’s visit to Russia has or has not achieved, it is good that he has focused world attention on Human Rights abuses against LGBT people in Chechnya.

Lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender rights in Chechnya have long been a cause for concern among human rights organisations such as Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch. As a part of the Russian Federation, many of Russia's LGBT laws apply. However, Chechnya is a semi-autonomous republic within Russia's borders, with its own legal code, and the state imposes the death penalty (officially suspended) for men in homosexual relationships. In addition, there are few protections for LGBT citizens, and the government encourages the killing of people suspected of homosexuality by their families.

There are, of course, other countries where LGBT people continue to be persecuted. Here in the so-called ‘liberal’ West, even pro-LGBT legislation is not enough to prevent homophobia from raising its ugly head, especially among some families and communities where various religions professing to be all about peace and love prove – time and again - to be unfit for purpose where LGBT people are concerned.

CLIMATE OF FEAR: A CHECHNYA DIARY

We live and love behind closed doors,
afraid to fling them open wide
even to family in case they might guess
our secret, become accessories
to the fact that we are gay, criminals
in the eyes of lesser gods

We live and love as every chance allows,
stealing precious moments
in secret places, away from prying eyes
and faces that would paint
us as demons in a world of humans
who seek to know no better

We live and love as nature reassures us
we may, day after day,
concealing our dread of discovery by bigots
who would see us dead
rather than acknowledge our place
on the world’s greater stage

We live and love, meant to be together
as sense and sensibility
collude to wish us well with our every blink
of an eye, twitch of a smile
daring broad daylight until darkness falls
on kisses worth dying for…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

Snowfall

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

Snow is a mixed blessing; fun for kids and skiers, treacherous on untreated roads. Life , too, can be a mixed blessing, fun and treacherous at the same time…

SNOWFALL

It snowed that December Day,

(I remember it well);

precious moments, frozen in time

(wasted on braving it out)

All smiles, jokes and laughter

(camouflage for pain))

among ashes heaped like snowflakes

on a once-upon-a-love-affair

We shook hands, shared a hug

(as old friends might);

snowflakes like kisses on our cheeks

(life’s heat fast turning cold)

We’d agreed needs must we part

(where first we’d met)

a shutting down of blinds on sunshine

as snowfall to any hint of spring

As you turned and walked away

I glimpsed tears falling;

for you, for me, for us, I’d ask myself?

No answers, only more snow…

For years, I’d put on a happy face

(if always hurting inside)

until a day a sparrow called me O-U-T

and I (finally) dropped the act

Yesterday, the first snow of winter

left me vividly recalling

that other snowfall, and two gay lovers

scared to come in from the cold

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

Nature Boy

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

Maybe it was the aspiring poet in me or simply because I have always been partially deaf, but even as a child I was easily contented with my own company, especially with my head in a book or communing with nature. While my mother was OK with this, my father was critical of what he considered to be unbecoming for a boy. Thankfully, my brother was more ‘masculine’ so that took the heat off me a bit. Needless to say, my relationship with my father was never a good one; there was no father-son bonding, probably due his being a product of a generation scarred both by war and even more misguided stereotypes than my own would see. Children, of course, only come to understand such things in time. Meanwhile they can but rely on adults to point them in the right direction; what is right for them, that is, not, the mentoring adult. Fortunately, my mother was cut from a very different cloth to my father and I survive to tell the tale.

I grew up with very mixed feelings about how I should approach the world, family life and (not least) myself. Perhaps that is why I love everything about the natural world; for all its unpredictability, it exudes relatively less than its human counterpart. On the whole, nature  also suggests a greater sense - for me, anyway - of being on one’s side ; at least, not against anyone simply because he or she has a mind-body-spirit of their own that may not be in sync with some socio-cultural-spiritual ‘norm’. Having been raised to think being gay was terrible because it was ‘different’ I was never more glad of the sense of spirituality nature has always inspired in me. While my mother could not have cared less, the same could not be said for the rest of my immediate family or even some I looked upon as friends.

As a gay man In my 70’s now, I am SO glad attitudes towards homosexuality continue to change for the better in many countries and even among some intrinsically homophobic cultures. Even so, there is no room for complacency; more education is needed about how - whatever our colour, creed, sex or sexuality - we are all part of a common humanity and all, each in our own way…different.

Legislation to re-enforce Equal Opportunities and Political Correctness may well be steps in the right direction, but you cannot legislate for bad attitude which, in turn, invariably stems from ignorance of the issues involved (making the case for education) and/or a point-blank refusal to enter into any points of view other than one’s own.

As for my scepticism, that remains part of who I am, too, and most likely always will. At the same time, I am also a very positive thinking person; a contradiction, some will say, but then what’s one more contradiction in a world whose elected (or self-appointed) spokespersons contradict themselves for much if not most of the time…?

NATURE BOY

I’ve heard folks say I should get real,
and I do, as needs must…

Yet, I love to talk to flowers,
let them know I am here for them
and care whether they live
or die, much as I would have someone
care for me, watch out for me
as I make my way through passages
of time and space among crowds
jostling to be first in line for whatever
best is yet to come as rumoured
by those assumed to be in the know
if only because it would appear
they have the ear of Someone said
to really count for something
in a greater scheme of things high
on promise, short on detail,
scarcely a mention of any Plan B
as a better option if likely to adversely
affect profits

I’ve heard folks say I should man up,
and I do, as needs must...

Yet, I love to spread wings, fly
among (all) birds over cities, towns,
and dreary suburbs top heavy
with killer-by-stealth pollution,
escape to the countryside,
take off with ducks, swans and the like
on its waterways, nature’s answer
to frantic airport runways…
comment on city carbuncles, enthuse
about country cottages, get angry
about global warming, especially where
powers-that-be in denial refusing
to put it on various agendas just in case
they lose votes (or face) among any
who couldn’t really care less so long as
they don’t miss out on rewards of a (very)
pecuniary nature

I’ve heard folks call me a born sceptic
and they could well be right...

Yet, I’ll believe a sunset’s promise
of sunny or stormy days in the wings
before I’ll trust a politician’s word
that the shape of things to come is safe
if not (quite) secure in party hands,
prefer to take my cue from such cloud
and bird formations as nature inspires
from time to time by way of suggesting
we make due preparation, less need
for reparation such as any powers-that-be
might have us make for what turns out
to be their (only human) mistakes
and ours for listening to what we’d prefer
to hear rather than what any mind-spirit
might undermine for being less out of step
with the commoner (if only human) failings
of contemporary society

A dreamer, me, perhaps, though some folks
see only that I'm gay....

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

G-A-Y, At Home and Abroad

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

As regular readers well know, I belong to a generation raised in an era that saw gay relationships as a criminal offence; homosexuality was a dirty word and gay-bashing more prevalent a hate crime than even racist motivated attacks. In some parts of the world, times have changed for the better although, as most if not all of us have discovered the hard way, there is no legislating for human nature's being accountable to itself.

Yes, there are now many gay people of both sexes whose families and friends have no problem with their sexuality, but there are also many others who - by whatever means, for whatever reasons – are made to feel they have no choice but to say nothing; a choice all the more tragic for being made not out of any real sense of shame for their sexuality but real love for those unable or unwilling to accept it. Like it or not, those socio-cultural-religious bigots who persist in any LGBT relationships need to accept that they always have been, and always will be integral to any society' social history. 

Many people insist ‘blood is thicker than water’. While I have good reason to dispute that, I prefer, in any case, to believe that true love, if not always the stronger, is by far the better and worthier match for hate and hate crime any day, and the more enduring. A favourite quote of mine, all the more profound for its simplicity, springs to mind:

‘Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.’ - Martin Luther King, Jr. [A Testament of Hope: the Essential Writings and Speeches]

“Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.”- James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

G-A-Y, AT HOME AND ABROAD

At home, G-A-Y

was a dirty word (or worse);

at school, fuel

for the bullies and bigots,

and scapegoats

for home truths in dark closets;

at work, something

best left hanging out to dry

in staff rooms

Slowly, but surely,

political correctness entered

the arena,

pro-LGBT legislation,

a warning to certain 

socio-cultural-religious forums

bent on feeding

feelings for hate crime as milk

to a new-born

Slowly, but surely,

G-A-Y began winning hearts

and minds …

if only among those intuitive

of formative years

surreptitiously (or openly)

shaping various

forms of socio-cultural-religious

nemeses to order 

At home, G-A-Y

becomes no less of a dirty word

for being ignored;

at school, it might well be OK

with (some) parents

but only for staying well clear

of the curriculum;

at work, still making the best

of good intentions

On the street, G-A-Y

starting to coming out, get a life,

despite the bullies

and bigots hogging headlines

meant to expose flaws

in any social history if (invariably)

perpetuating stereotypes;

Stonewall forever chipping away

at tablets of stone

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

A Diplomatic Perspective OR Gay in Bulgaria

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

I have met people from all over the world in London, one of many reasons why I love living here even if is overcrowded and the air pollution is killing people. A few years ago I met a young man from Bulgaria who expressed open amazement at ‘how easy it is to be gay in London.’

“Is, Bulgaria very gay-unfriendly then?” I asked.  “Not openly no”, he told me, “and it is not illegal to be gay in my country. Even so,” he sighed, “It is not easy to be gay in my country either.”

Is it easy to be gay, anywhere, I wonder? Easier here, perhaps, or easier there…but easy…? 

More often than not, gay men and women worldwide invariably find themselves swimming against this or that socio-cultural-religious tide even in so-called ‘liberal’ societies while those that are less liberal turn a blind eye to homophobia or find ways to encourage it without appearing to abuse our human rights to extremes. Some societies, of course, are still living in the Dark Ages and make us out to be enemies of the people…especially where that particular epithet belongs to those in positions of influence and power who just love to work the moral high ground, especially when it pays off so well.

National Theatre, Sofia (Bulgaria)

[Photo taken from the Internet]

This poem is a kenning.

 A DIPLOMATIC PERSPECTIVE or GAY IN BULGARIA

I dare anyone to suggest
I discriminate against this person
or that, yet am brazenly
(if diplomatically) selective
about whom I serve
when push comes to shove
on such occasions
as there are reputations to me made
or all but broken

I dare, indeed, well able
to run rings around any opponent
whose first language
is not mine, for none so effective
as the rhetoric of reason,
designed to conceal motivation
while worthy enough
at face value to be well researched
for future reference

I defy anyone to find fault
with how I do my job, taking care
to keep within boundaries
obvious even to less moral citizens
found strutting our streets
as if they were foreign investors
taking us for a ride,
there are a variety of ways
to skin a cat

You know me, always on the case,
appearing to side with justice…


Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

Answering Back

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

Regular readers know full well that I do not subscribe to any religion. I consider myself a pantheist , preferring to take a (strong) sense of spirituality from nature in whose life forces I do not discount the work of a greater power. At the same time, I respect all religions, even though few (if any) respect neither my being (actively) gay nor my agnosticism. We are all free to make our own choices in life and should not be so quick to condemn any into which we cannot enter ourselves…for whatever reason. (It has been my experience that many people who insist they are not judgemental, prove by way of word and deed to be among the most judgemental. We are all different and it is our human right to be different.

I have met gay people from various socio-cultural-religious backgrounds who remain in the closet regarding their sexuality for fear of offending religious leaders who cannot reconcile sex and sexuality with religious. My understanding f God is that no God would want these people to suffer as they do, some terribly, from a sense of guilt no God worthy of the name would impose upon anyone.

More than once it has been put to me that I should put aside my gay ways and reconcile myself to a way of life likely to find favour with God as laid down in Holy Books; in my case, the Holy Bible. God, though, did not write any Holy Books, humankind did, and who’s to say how much was lost in translation and/or shaped in such a way as most likely to appeal to select writer/s and readers alike.

ANSWERING BACK

Being gay is no sin
a priest told a gathering
of gay men, women,
and gay-friendly souls;
the sin, it lies
in practising (gay) rites
of sex, even worse
for taking such pleasure
in them as cannot
(ever) be justified in the eyes
of any God
according to any religion
whose dogma
needs must be respected
by all followers,
no exceptions made for a select
minority of gays

Being gay is a life force
in me, spoke up someone
among the audience,
just as that blessed sense
of spirituality
I have (always) taken not only
from my religion
but also such life forces
all around us…
as in nature’s predilection
for renewal…
nor less so in a common humanity
whose needs,
(spiritual as well as temporal )
deserve common respect,
no exceptions made  for a select
minority of clerics

The priest begged
to differ, quoting passages
from Holy Books
that rang hollow for being taken out
of context and century,
even dogma, given its intention
to underwrite  
a sense of peace and love taken
from life forces
common to mind- body- spirit,
bent on reinforcing
a spiritual well-being independent
of any religious dogma,
audience reserving a human
right of reply,
likely to fall on many a deaf ear
in Church arenas

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

Only Human

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

A friend of mine is afraid to be openly gay because he is a Catholic. He deserves better from a religion to which he is devoted.

While Pope Francis is a BIG improvement on his predecessors, and a welcome one, the Catholic Church (among others) still has a long way to go as far as relating to LGBT people. For any socio-cultural-religious authority to suggest being gay is OK so long as we are not having sex is not only absurd, but also offensive.

The Archbishop of Canterbury, too, is among those who have made this unrealistic comment about same sex relationships; as an attempt to portray Christianity as showing a more enlightened attitude towards LGBT communities worldwide, it fails miserably. (Whatever else Jesus of Nazareth may or may not have been, he was no bigot. On the contrary, he was an open-minded, openhearted humanitarian from whom we could all learn a thing or two, regardless of colour, creed, sex or sexuality.)

I am not disrespectful of religion although I subscribe to no religion myself. However, is it not high time all the world’s religious leaders got real about the kind of world we live in and imposed less hypocrisy and guilt on followers struggling to reconcile their faith and sense of spirituality with how they live their everyday lives? Homosexuality has long been a thorn in the side of world religions, not least, I suspect, because it forces them to confront an intrinsic hypocrisy. 

Millions of gay men and women among active Christians and other religious-minded people around the world still feel they must remain in the closet, are made to suffer a lifetime of guilt imposed on them by a blinkered religion that cannot relate to a native sexuality and its natural need to freely express itself. Various closed-shop religions proceed to pass judgement on us; many have our blood on their hands.

Thankfully an increasing number of religious-minded people, gay and heterosexual alike, understand that having little or no vision beyond narrow boundaries that pass for dogma does humanity no favours. Religion should be an open door for anyone to enter (or not) as they choose; for those who choose to enter, it deserves better than to be transformed by its so-called 'betters' into an open prison.  

Some years ago, I asked a gay-friendly Catholic priest why he did not feel the same antipathy towards actively gay people as many of his fellow priests. He looked me in the eye and said, “Belief is a life force for good. Some people mistake believing in Belief for Belief itself, and then it becomes dead wood if not a liability.”

What about people like me who subscribe to no Belief?” I could not resist asking.

He shrugged and said, “All part of a bigger picture on the same canvas,” before adding, ‘Whatever, it is people who count, and by people I mean as individuals because we are all different. Lose sight of that, and no Belief is worth whatever Holy Books you may have thought you found it in. People deserve better…, he paused, “…and so does religion.”

Now, there was a priest I could look up to and respect even if I could not share his Belief.

Sadly, many if not most religious leaders interpreting and imposing a religious dogma that undermines the integrity of LGBT relationships still have no real understanding of the very message of peace and love it is sending out to followers worldwide. We are all of us (they, included) only human.

ONLY HUMAN 

Who will praise His Holiness,
above Earth Mother’s cries of protest
among gay victims of HIV-AIDS?

Let hypocrites gather en masse,
(keen to put their faith to a litmus test)
who will praise His Holiness

Will the Bishop of Rome confess
any blame for a kinder acolyte’s unrest
among gay victims of HIV-AIDS?

In the papacy, he’ll surely press
the devout to place unquestioning trust;
who will praise His Holiness

Oh, but among the lapsed, no less
anxiety to have consciences put to rest
among gay victims of HIV-AIDS

Among the lasting parables of Jesus,
a Good Samaritan puts compassion first;
who will praise His Holiness
among gay victims of HIV-AIDS?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010
  
[Note: This poem was also posted on my general blog at the time. I received a number of abusive emails, but am delighted to say that these were considerably outnumbered by emails from gay (and straight) men and women who feel their religion lets itself down by failing to openly acknowledge the integrity (including sexual integrity) of LGBT people worldwide.] 

Sexuality, all Caged Up and Demanding O-U-T

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

This is not a new post but one I deleted from my general blog after receiving several troll-type emails. I usually ignore these, but friends advised me to post it on my gay-interest blog instead while continuing to link to it from to it from my Google + site as previously. Then I though, why should I? So I have re-posted it on my general blog. At the same time, friends are probably right in suggesting it will be of more interest to gay readers...

Now, we talk about 'blind' instinct, but there is a native instinct that know us better than we know ourselves, and it is anything but blind; it has a clearer sense of what to do in situations where any brooding, thinking self hasn't a clue.

In February 1969, I sailed for Australia (as a would-be migrant) on the SS Southern Cross from Liverpool. While it was a huge mistake in many ways, it was also one of my better decisions.

In short, I was running away from the UK - and a family that had no idea of how much of a psychological mess I was in or of share their of blame for it - rather than going to Australia. 

Gay relationships ‘between consenting adults’ had been decriminalised in 1967  but it would be many years before society as a whole began to accept us, if grudgingly. I had left school five years earlier but saw myself as having no career prospects and was still a long way from becoming truly reconciled with my sexual identity. Apart from a growing sense of isolation, I felt hurt and angry. Significant though sexual identity may be, it is but a part of a greater whole. (Why should the greater part of me be made to feel it needs to apologise for what, after all, is no one else's damn business?)

While I will always have a great affection for Australia and the people I met there, I arrived with neither enough money nor qualifications to fulfill my dream, even in the longer term. During the six-weeks crossing, however, I’d had plenty of time to think and reflect on my motives. I found myself homing in on home truths that appalled me. Was I really such a coward?

So, yes, on the face of it, Australia was a disaster but I returned to the UK not (quite) with tail between legs but as different person, more self-confident than I had ever felt before and determined to shape my life in a positive way. In spite of a severe nervous breakdown in my 30’s, I like to think that, in general, I have succeeded.  (I have battled with depression all my life but any gay angst has only ever been part of the emotional equation albeit a vital one.)

It is up to all of us - gay or straight - to make the best of things, not the worst, and be positive about ourselves, each other and life in general even when the immediate future may be looking on the bleak side. That’s when the human condition comes into its own, now a pussycat, now a roaring lion. Mind you, everyone has lapses of self-confidence in self and in humanity from time to time, including me.

If the journey to Australia nearly 50 years ago was a nightmare, my stay there was an epiphany. My return to the UK marked the kind of new beginning the poet in me had been yearning for without any real sense of either the what or the how, only the why. Moreover, I no longer felt that gay-interest poetry is something for which I should feel any need to apologise; a poem is a poem is a poem just as a person is a person is a person ... regardless of gender and sexuality. 

Yes, it was a long way to go to find myself, true, but well worth it ...

SEXUALITY, ALL CAGED UP AND DEMANDING O-U-T 

Mouth gone dry, sweat
soaking the brow;
I am left wondering
why it should attack now,
this animal lust
for freedom, open spaces
far, far, away from city faces
and grubby streets

Mouth gone dry, sweat
soaking the brow;
I am left wondering why
it should strike now,
this hunger for adventure,
need to prove something
although what or to whom
remains to be seen

Mouth gone dry, sweat
soaking the brow;
I am left feeling excited
if scared of a caving in
rather than a pressing ahead
with some heady fiction 
well aware its return thread
so easily broken

Looking to play the hero
or merely wishing
to please myself for once
instead of always
putting head before heart,
doing the ‘right thing’
but right for whom after
all's said and done?

Rage, burning, a life-long
learning in flames;
passion, a feisty yearning
to escape this caged-up 
non-life, a Here-and-Now
parody of a lion’s den
where the mouth gone dry,
sweat soaking the brow

Who is it, this other 'Me'
writing up emotions
half killing me to admit
in these early hours
where conscience seeks
respite in its humanity
as if its poetry were indeed
a match for its sword?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2017

[Note: The last stanza has since been added to the original version of this poem that first appeared under the title, ‘A Poet’s Diary’ in  The Third Eye by R. N. Taber Assembly Books, 2004; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

The Hunt, Metaphor for LGBT History

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

I have always thought hunting with hounds is a sick sport. Maybe that’s because I have a tried and tested empathy with any animal on the run; having been the victim of homophobic attacks in the distant past, I know how it feels. Some of us would get away by the skin of our teeth, of course, as I (usually) did, but not everyone escapes uninjured (or worse) and the trauma may well haunt a person all their life.

In some parts of the world (countries like Uganda and Iran, for example, to name just two) gay people have to hide their sexuality, yet are often sniffed out by bigoted forces and don't live to tell the tale. It is a tragedy that shames the civilised world. Sadly, it is as all too common a tragedy for unprotected species in the animal world as for gay people living in an intrinsically homophobic environment...or anyone else seen as fair game by those who choose to interpret this or that socio-cultural-religious take on life as justification for the unjustifiable.

[Hunters] take unbelievable pleasure in the hideous blast of the hunting horn and baying of the hounds… Erasmus (1466 - 1536)


THE HUNT, METAPHOR FOR LGBT HISTORY

I hear a horn,
the baying of hounds,
thundering hooves,
need to run and hide
if only I can

Closing in on me,
horn, hounds, hooves;
scarier still,
a stench of humans
laughing

I need to pause
but the only rest for me
will last forever
once laughter catches
up with me

My legs fail,
drag me to a sanctuary
of friendly bushes
but the frothing pack
sniffs me out

The lead hound
pauses, poised to leap
for my throat,
now strikes, and all
I hear is laughter

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Human Spirit, Wings of the Day

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

In my 70’s now, people often refer to me as being in the autumn (even early winter) of my years. Well, physically, yes, of course I am, but there is a spirit in me (as in all of us who know better) that beats its wings and sings its heart out just as if it were spring…

Gay or straight, we all get old; the trick is never, but never, let anyone make you feel old.

HUMAN SPIRIT, WINGS OF THE DAY 

Bursting into spring

come a skylark into song

at the first subtle hint

of a new day’s spreading

its wings

Up, up, and away

like that beautiful kite

we'd fly in a breeze

on daisy hilltops, spreading

news of us…

across cornfields,

and chuckling streams,

busy, smoky streets,

touching base with lovers

like us ...

Demanding heads

in sand look up, take note,

spread the word

to watch out for us settling

nearby…

listen to epic tales

ever worked and reworked

by history,

world taking us to its heart
or not ...

Sailing into spring

on a nightingale’s lullaby

come the first hint

of twilight at a day’s folding

its wings

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

S-T-E-R-E-O-T-Y-P-E-S, Faux Pas

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

I am often asked - as in an email only yesterday – to send a DVD of my poetry reading on the 4th plinth in London’s Trafalgar Square back in 2009. (My contribution to sculptor Antony Gormley's 'live' sculpture project that ran 24/7 over 2400 hours that summer.) Sky Arts refused to supply plinthers with a record of their performance on the grounds that the entire web stream is archived in the British Library.

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T  [For now, at least, this link needs the latest Adobe Flash Player  and works best in Firefox; the archives website cannot run Flash but changes scheduled for later this year may well mean the link will open without it. Ignore any error message and give it a minute or so to start up. The video lasts an hour. ] RT 3/18
   

I always love to hear from readers so feel free to email me at rogertab@aol.com  [NB If you use the 'Comments' link but would like a reply, please include your email address.]

Meanwhile...

Now, it is good to pause and look back every now and then if only to remind ourselves how things were and how far we have come...so long as we don’t stop moving forward, reminding ourselves, too, that not every man and women across this sorry world of ours enjoys the freedom of speech and lifestyle they deserve.

Once a (young) closet gay man, I used to have an affinity with caged wildlife. (I am 71 now and still do.)  It was as if I were locked in a glass cage through which everyone could see although whom they saw was not me at all. I guess that’s why I hate zoos. I am a conservationist, yes, albeit one who prefers to see wildlife monitored for its own protection while remaining all but as free as nature intended.

Oh, and to all those readers who regularly email me to ask why I persist in 'harping back' to hard times when LGBT people have never had it so good, I can only say (yet again) that it all depends whether or not you live and/or work in a gay-friendly environment.

Gay men and women are not the only ones to suffer stereotyping of course. Society is too fond of stereotyping anyone who doesn't appear to follow so-called 'conventional' patterns of behaviour, encouraged by a headline hungry media. It has to stop. This is the 21st century, for goodness sake!

"A forest bird never wants a cage." - Henrik Ibsen

S-T-E-R-E-O-T-Y-P-E-S, FAUX PAS

As a youth, I dreamed
I was happy, set free
from a sad, lonely cage,
killing me softly

As a youth, I dreamed
of a world living free,
of any cultural prejudices
treating me harshly

As a youth, I dreamed
of a day I’d run free,
finding another gay man
to kiss life into me

As a youth I dreamed
a world on my side,
glad (for all its bigotry)
I hadn’t yet died

Older now, I still dream
we all may be free
to fly cages like the one
that almost killed me

Copyright R. N. Taber 1973; 2017

[Note: Written summer 1973; rediscovered and revised, 2009; 2017.]

(Gay) Pride (still) Breathing New Life into Old Ways

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

[Update June 4th 2017]While our thoughts and hearts go out to all those affected by last night's terror attack in London, we are also reminded not to let anyone attempt to pull our strings, neither terrorists nor bigots. In a free world, no one wears strings. If we allow others to influence us, on our own heads be it. We need to be aware, though, that there are those who see influence as power and power, as we all know, is easily abused.] RT

Regular readers will know that I did not come out to the world (only a select few) until my late 30’s, not least for having been raised in a gay-unfriendly home and school environment.

A boy at my school who had been surrendering to a desire to kiss other boys, albeit on the cheek, was made to undergo electric shock treatment to ‘cure’ him of any ‘homosexual tendencies’’ this, alone, was enough to keep me in the closet! Among crowds, I felt like a ghost, walking unseen with an increasing sense of other ‘ghosts’ all around me. They visited me in my dreams, these ghosts, and I sought them out in my spare time, discovering old haunts where we would meet and comfort each other emotionally and sexually. In this way I discovered how to ‘cruise’ along with the best.

It took a bad nervous breakdown in my late 30’s to (eventually) remove the blinkers I had been made to wear all life and get real about my sexuality.

Gay-unfriendly legislation in some parts of the world and various socio-cultural-religious obsessions a with the heterosexual ethos means that there will probably always be closet ghosts: I sense them wherever I go, make eye contact with some and we exchange signals of recognition and wishful thinking, much the same as men and women do when attracted to each other, albeit  invariably but passing glances because, once out, no gay man or woman wants to share their life with some ghost in a closet; been there, done that, got the emotiona scars to prove it.

In my 70’s now, I still walk with ghosts, but none of the closet variety; any hauntings now are of an inspirational nature, voices in my ear across centuries of their being abused and misunderstood simply because the less initiated prefer to home in on one aspect of a person’s identity - his or her sexuality - failing altogether to appreciate the whole person. Words of wisdom in my ear, indeed, prompting me to look the world in the eye, unashamedly gay, and that’s my business, no one else’s; not an employer’s and certainly not a cleric’s. (The prevailing notion in some circles that being gay effectively undermines our ability to do a good job or any - related or unrelated - sense of spirituality is absurd; it always was, of course, but especially in a so-called ‘progressive’ twenty-first century.

Thanks to successive pioneers determined to give gay men and women a voice, G-A-Y can take its cue from O-U-T, refuse to be cowed by divided societies worldwide and feel proud to keep company with all gay-friendly souls...past, present and future.

Common humanity will yet get the better of socio-cultural-religious bigotry. 

(GAY) PRIDE (STILL) BREATHING NEW LIFE INTO OLD WAYS

Walking out

where few had walked before,

talking with those

with whom few had talked before,

sharing secrets

few ever get to share in a lifetime

of repression

Treading dreams

where many had dreamed before,

fed nightmares

no psychiatrist ever quite understood

because they know

only the theory, nothing of living

in fear of shadows

Ghost, a scrapbook

of would-be memories, fictions

I’ve sought to act out

in closets with doors I’d leave ajar

for light enough

to read minds by, assess potential

friends and enemies

Loneliness,

gamut run, nor safety in numbers

or (quite) free to talk

as we walk (as we do anyway) given 

public opinion

inclined to portray the same profile

hanging us out to dry

Returning

to places that defy any returning,

in memory

of exorcising demons once hell bent

on destroying me,

but I resisted, fought back, live

to tell the tale

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

Poetry Live

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

[Update) March 25, 2017: Not everyone who visits the blog also visits my Google Plus page where I have been posting links to posts/poems from both blogs on a daily basis. A reader has  emailed to say he had heard about the poetry reading but had no details. Sorry about that! He also said he would still like to make a donation to Prostate Cancer UK as his late father had prostate cancer, and he is having tests for it himself. Sadly, cancer does not discriminate! Good luck, Ian, and stay positive!

If there is anyone else out there who enjoys my poems on the blog/s, please help if you possibly can. My page will remain a while longer; every little helps its team in supporting men with prostate cancer, gay and straight alike - and their families - across the UK

Well, the poetry evening is well done and dusted. Only about a dozen people came, but we enjoyed ourselves. (There's nothing quite like live poetry.) Everyone seemed to appreciate my choice of poems and we all got on well during a 30 mins refreshment break which was really nice as some people had only just met for the first time. If the arts are meant firstly to entertain and secondly to offer food for thought, feedback suggests the evening was a success on both counts.

For me, personally, it was hard work involving weeks of preparation but a labour of love so I'm glad I went ahead with it despite being a bag of nerves...which, thankfully, steadied once I got started. This year marks sixty years of getting my poetry into print, given that my first published poem appeared in my school magazine summer 1957. I have also been living with prostate cancer for six years (treated with hormone therapy).

I've recorded the poetry reading although I daresay some editing of the resulting voice file will be necessary.  (I hate the sound of my own voice so will leave that to my friend Graham who shoots and edits the videos on my You Tube channel.) Hopefully, blog readers will (eventually) be able to link to it.]

.....................................................

I did not have the confidence to read in public for years. However, after a few years of occasionally performing Open Mics at Farrago Poetry evenings in London, I found the self-confidence to accept invitations to give readings around the UK (2003-2014). Only weeks after a reading in 2014, I had a bad fall and have spent much of the last two years learning to walk again. I can get out and about quite well now with the aid of a walking stick, for which I am truly thankful as my left ankle had sustained a complicated fracture and I was warned I might never walk again. Oh, but I love walking and am stubborn enough to defy any harbingers of doom. Even so, I did not expect to give another poetry reading.

Now, this first poem appeared in Visions of the Mind, Spotlight Poets (Forward Press) in 1998 and subsequently in my first collection,  Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001. It is an early piece, written in the summer of 1976 during which I gave an impromptu reading of it in Trafalgar Square to a friend (and several appreciative passers-by who paused to listen.)

POETRY LIVE

Words 

to music, out of words on

sun rising in the eyes 

of that ragged-eared mongrel

at George’s door
tongue lolling, nostrils a-smoke,

smelling us out

Words

to music, out of words on
letting carnival hot dogs
substitute for garden scents,
make easier the stink 

of various matter-of-fact slop-outs

in the gutter

Words

out of choc-smeared mouths
in Bank Holiday sunshine;
kids in glad rags spilling
on the streets like bin bags;
shirtsleeves copper seems anxious
to get chatty 

Poetry

Copyright R. N. Taber 1998; 2017

I never dreamt that 30+ years on I would be reading a selection of my poems in Trafalgar Square, this time to a global audience via web stream as my contribution to Sir Antony Gormley’s ‘live’ sculpture project, One and Other (2009) sponsored by Sky Arts. To view, click on:
http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T    [NB: Sept 19, 2019: Today, the British Library confirmed that the link blow to the 4th plinth reading in 1999 is no longer available as the video is incompatible with an updated IT system. However, I am assured that the video still exists, and B L hope to make it available to the public again one day. Fingers crossed, and watch this space.] RNT

L-I-F-E, Stings of Irony

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

'…Let none admire
That riches grow in Hell; that soil may best
Deserve the precious bane.' (Milton, Paradise Lost (Book I, lines 690-692)

Precious Bane is probably as well-known for the novel of that name by Mary Webb as its place in Milton’s epic poem. It refers to the love of money, which, as Webb’s heroine, Prue, records, blights love and destroys life; the title also refers to her deformity, a cleft lip which she comes to recognize as the source of her spiritual strength. [A cleft lip is sometimes referred to as a harelip  (as happens in the novel) considered insulting as it compares the deformity in humans to the normal cleft lip of a hare.] 

Now, I am not suggesting that my being gay is any kind of deformity although it has been put to me by various bigots that's precisely what is! Political correctness, for all its frequent abuse, means well. Moreover, for me, personally, it encourages the spiritual strength I take in being gay from both nature and the kinder, more discerning side of human nature. (Fortunately, the latter is in greater supply than the media’s focus on it is often inclined to suggest.) Over the years, though, I have been teased, bullied. verbally and physically abused for being gay just as, since a bad fall in 2014 at the age of 67. I've been on the receiving end of much the same more than once because I now need a walking stick.

In so far as political correctness is intended to put a stop to insulting comments and behaviour, it works well enough for the most part  ... at least to outward appearances.

Bad attitude is only half the problem. Too many people use the political correctness card to turn tables in their favour when it is they who are at fault. Time and again, various authorities (who should know better) side with guilty against innocent, perpetrator against victim rather than risk a bad press. Here in the UK, for example, there is far too much walking on socio-cultural eggshells these days; without being seen to do so, of course, although I often wonder just who it is in the driving seat that thinks they are fooling anyone ...

Wherever there is no legislation for political correctness, the darker side of human nature continues to flex its predilection for insults, prejudice and bigotry. On the other hand, of course, you cannot legislate for bad attitude which simply proceeds to do a good job of keeping out of public sight and hearing ... and is more than capable of  keeping up appearances where the media is concerned.

Whatever social card a person chooses to play - sexuality, race age, gender etc. -  in order to turn tablea and portray themselves as victim rather than perpetrator, justice needs to prevail, and be seen to do so.  I worked with the public for many years and endured more than my share of verbal abuse from people whose behaviour I'd make clear I wasn't prepared to tolerate so they would call my manager, play their card ... and nearly always get an apology while I would be made out to be in the wrong and look a complete fool. 

Oh, well, c'est la vie. We positive thinkers can but prefer to believe that forces for good will always get the better of those for bad (in the end, at least) if only to avoid drowning in a sea of cynicism.

L-I-F-E, STINGS OF IRONY 

Once, in another country,
we spoke of love and being gay
in a world where sexuality
has no need of political correctness
to leap to our defence

We lay beneath a willow tree
shedding tears for the likes of us 
having to justify even love
in the glare of a political correctness
meant to educate bigots

Oh, but so many excuses
(all perfectly legitimate of course)
playing political correctness
at its own game so none dare criticise
for fear of causing offence

Hypocrisy, no mean weapon
in upholding the various integrities
of socio-cultural traditions
passed off as icons through centuries
of human division and abuse

Ah, but who are we to accuse
those who may accuse us of offending
all they hold dear if only
because it makes them feel secure, safe
from all talk of LGBT rights?

Oh, yes, we may well speak up
where political correctness established
despite all its back-stabbing, 
self-styled ‘betters’ fronting and calling
on socio-cultural immunity

As for the world’s higher clerics
seeking handouts even among the poor,
no need for a satirical press
where actions speak louder than words
and both contradict each other

Around the world, ordinary people
whisper behind closed doors of being gay,
in love and free where sexuality 
can’t even call on political correctness 
to try and put the record straight

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017



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