Out of Africa OR P-r-e-j-u-d-i-c-e-s, Weapons of Mass Destruction

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

Feedback suggests that a number of new readers have been visiting both poetry blogs since the coronavirus, COVID -19, began to spread around the world, forcing many of us to stay at home and find new ways of distracting ourselves from the harsh realities evolving all around us. One reader writes: "Homosexuality is a sin, and trying to pretend otherwise simply because the cap happens to fit you, is nothing short of pathetic ..." Another reader writes, “The coronavirus is also a pandemic, right? Only there is nothing new about it.” Yours truly can but echo the latter comment, arguing - as regular readers are well aware - that our differences do not make us different, only human. RNT

Now, there will always be those opposed to change, especially where certain aspects of socio-cultural-religious dogma are concerned. Thankfully, though, common humanity (and science) invariably gets the better of them or civilisation as we know it (or think we do) would never have developed, albeit it still has a way to go ...

Today’s poem is not new to either blog, but one I have been asked to repeat (after some revision) by several gay-friendly as well as gay readers from various African (and other) countries; to those readers who email me from time to time, asking why I feel any need to support gay people in what someone recently referred to as 'this Golden Age of Equality', it perhaps offers an answer. Sadly, even well-meaning legislation (and religion) can only go so far in tempering that too-common element of human nature called bigotry. (I am gay, yes, but ask any woman or victim of racial abuse about this Golden age of Equality...!)

As I have said many times on my poetry blogs - in both poems and preambles - a minority of readers who get in touch from time to time in support of the vilification of LGBT people will just have to get used to the fact that we are all part of a common humanity

Evangelical pastors preaching homophobia and worse across the world - not least, much of Africa - have to be among the worst diehards. They have much to answer for, and bear no small responsibility for anti-gay legislation in many countries; such is their influence that a newspaper editor in Uganda once called for the deaths of known gay people.

David Kato (Uganda) and Eric Lembembe (Cameroon) - both gay activists - were murdered in January 2011 and July 2013 respectively; the number of gay-related killings across Africa is likely to be much higher.

But there is hope for us all yet. Evangelical leader and author Jen Hatmaker publicly changed her views on gay marriage in 2016. Both a Facebook entry calling for LGBT acceptance and comments about supporting same-sex marriage in an interview led Life Way Christian Stores to quit selling her books.

 “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”- Martin Luther King

“Hypocrisy and distortion are passing currents under the name of religion.” – Mahatma Gandhi]

"The death of dogma is the birth of morality." - Immanuel Kant

"From the beginning men used God to justify the unjustifiable." - Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses

“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.” - James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time

“Animals don't hate, and we're supposed to be better than them.” - Elvis Presley

OUT OF AFRICA or P-R-E-J-U-D-I-C-E, WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION 

'Kill the homosexuals!’

a local pastor cried;

and true to his words,

many gay men and women

have since died

"Homosexuals are sinners!’

the impassioned pastor yelled

at a congregation

that took up the cry, would

see us killed

"Homosexuality is an evil!"

the demon pastor screamed,

‘and no known cure

so kill it, and let its sinning

be redeemed

‘Man shall with woman lie!’

The pastor furiously exhorted

his flock to heed verses

from Leviticus, Christ’s coming

conveniently aborted

Someone in the congregation

dared point out that Christ said

we should love

and help our neighbours, not

wish them dead

‘Blasphemer!” the pastor cried,

near hysterical, refusing to relent

on a demonising

of homosexuality undermining

the New Testament

Africa, why are you (or is anyone)

even listening…?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020

[Note: This poem first appears under the title ‘Out of Africa’ in the 7^th and (so far) last of my mixed general/ gay-interest collections, Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012; it was inspired by a Channel 4 ‘Despatches’ program, Africa, the Last Taboo, 2010, and is also repeated on my general poetry blog today.]

Forever, Blowing Bubbles (On Cue)

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

Who doesn't love blowing bubbles? Whoever, wherever we are in the world, whatever our socio-cultural-religious or, yes, sexual persuasion it is an opportunity tomindulge ourselves in being ourselves; nor is it ever too late to learn certain dance steps or re-learn them, as the case may be ...

“Dancing in all its forms cannot be excluded from the curriculum of all noble education; dancing with the feet, with ideas, with words, and, need I add that one must also be able to dance with the pen?” - Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols

"Two bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves. They flickered out saying: "It was worth being a bubble, just to have held that rainbow thirty seconds." - Carl Sandburg, Bubbles, in  'The Complete Poems of Carl Sandberg' 

"Miracles happen every day. They bubble up from their hidden source, surround us with opportunities and disappear." - Deepak Chopra 

This poem is a kenning. 

FOREVER, BLOWING BUBBLES (ON CUE)

I creep up on cold feet

(love to blow bubbles in a cynic’s face)

lead them a lively dance

away from querulous urban sprawl,

where open spaces beckon,

prose fields beside satire’s streams

where songbirds give the lie

to dashed hopes, impossible dreams,

cruel whispers in the ear

Oh, how I love to play games

(preferring pretty bubbles to drab tears)

especially hide-and-seek

among trees looking on with a grin

where open spaces beckon;

though telegraph poles might trespass,

along with mobile phone masts

and utility pipelines crowding our space,

we’ll not let them get to us

I play tricks on cold feet

(bubbles like eyes winking mischievously)

lead them a lively dance

away from heads-you-win-tails-I-lose

looking glass wars

in dusty rooms, opening up windows

to let back in the heady smells

of honeysuckle and freshly mown grass,

Earth Mother in on the game

Call me Passion, whose cue the lyre of Eros

arousing its life forces for better, for worse

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

[Note: This poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.] RNT

Caught Out

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

Not one of my best poems but, having been the victim of my share of homophobic attacks over the years, one I felt compelled to write 

Even as we all find ourselves social distancing and doing our best to defeat the Covid-19 coronavirus, readers around the world continue to get in touch to say they have been the victims of homophobic attacks. Yes, it’s scary; it has happened to me, too, but not in recent years, possibly because I am in my 70’s now and the cowardly thugs no longer see me as a target; they forget the power of the written word. Homophobia rocks self-confidence, but we have to get on with our lives rather than let the sick ‘machos’ win, yeah?

As for those religious fundamentalists and evangelical types advocating hell and damnation for homosexuals and tearing the socio-cultural-religious fabric of societies apart ... they are no better than those thugs who resort to physical attacks on LGBT people. Indeed, they are worse since they are using the darker elements of socio-cultural-religious (and political) forces to suit personal agendas; the latter invariably found wanting to say the very least.

Society is a matter of you-me-us, a collective responsibility; parents, teachers, politicians, religious leaders ... all have their part to play, each in their own way. We may think we cannot contribute much to what is a global consciousness, but we need to remember that  ripples spread, and even a little can go a long way.

CAUGHT OUT

Some say it’s cool to be gay,

there are laws to protect you and I;

blood and bruises say they lie

Thugs came with baseball bats

and chased us, my gay friend and I,

gesturing abuse at the sky

They beat us, six gutless morons

yelling how all gays deserve to die,

yet we survived to expose the lie

Some say it’s cool to be gay

in a brave new twenty-first century

professing to respect sexuality

Whatever, we’ll not be put down

(for long); the human spirit endures,

catching humanity out for its lies 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2020

At Home

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

As the  C-19 coronavirus pandemic persists, albeit.(hopefully) on the wane, many if not most of us are struggling to cope on a daily basis, none more so than those who have lost loved ones; grief is hard enough to bear at the best of times, but as things are, even family members are not always able to attend either morgue or funeral to say their last goodbyes. I understand that, and yet do we ever need to say goodbye to love? I think not, for love never dies.

I often refer to a 'posthumous consciousness' in my blogs and poems; some people prefer the word 'ghosts'; it is more than a form of remembrance, but a continuum wherein 'live' contact is made between the those who have lost each other through death or whatever. Where love is concerned, this has to be a positive thing although it has to be said that not all our ghosts mean well.

Love, as I have said many times (I am often hauled over proverbial coals for repeating myself!)love comes in all shapes and sizes; platonic or sexual, people or places, pets, even possessions of sentimental value ... They often influence how we behave and think, often without our even realising it. The presence of people in our consciousness, though, we can usually recognise and acknowledge if only to ourselves; I say 'usually' because complete strangers of whom we have little or no memory, cam also play a part in hoe we live our lives by deeds done or words said that may well not have seemed so important at the time ...

The human consciousness is a continuum, and mortality does not change that for any of us, regardless of who or where we are in the world, whether we subscribe to any religion or not; is is one reason why I often refer to a 'common humanity' in various blog entries and poems, for which I am often taken to task,not least because I am gay, and many people cannot relate to that; it is not a question of relating to any person's particular qualities, though, but to the person as a whole and/ or the whole they personify. Far too often, human nature will home in on a part or parts of a person's character or personality, take that for its whole and judge it accordingly. Perhaps that is why humanity is so divided, in so far as we make too many assumptions about people in a favourite pastime for many that involves rushing to judgement.

Whoever, wherever we are in the world and whatever our socio-cultural-religious or, yes, sexual persuasion, we all deserve better than to be subjected to a rush to judgement that may well not even come close to the truth. Truth, too, dare I say, cannot always be assumed to be absolute; it, too, comes in various shapes and forms depending on from whose perspective we are looking at it?

AT HOME

The day you died,

I so yearned to follow you

across time and space,

create our own special place

in the universe

Yet, even as I wept,

my tears like your kisses

on my face,

created our own special place

in the universe 

Like fresh spring rain,

tears and kisses conspired

with love and death

to return its ghosts to Earth

in living verse

Yes, even as I sleep,

my tears like your kisses

on my face,

we make ourselves at home

in the universe

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013; 2020

[Note: This poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.]

Single, and Growing Old OR As Good as it Gets

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

Readers sometimes contact me and ask me how I manage to stay positive. So am posting this poem by way of reply. I will be 75 later this year, need a walking stick following a bad fall in 2011 and  have prostate cancer which has been treated with hormone therapy, also since 2011, so am constantly needing use the loo, plus I have some arthritis in my bad leg and in my neck.

I have done battle with depression all my life, even as a child. It may well be a complete stranger to many people having to contend with the physical, emotional and economic consequences of the Covid-19 corinaavirus, but it and I are old adversaries. 

For years, I lost more battles with the BIG D than I won until a GP said he had no problem with patients who suffered from depression staying on an antidepressant; in the past, I had taken them until I felt better and then come off them... until the next time. What works for one person may well not work for another, of course, but I tried this approach and have not had a serious bout of depression since. 

Regular readers will know that, looking back to early January, I can now see that I had all the symptoms of what was almost certainly a milder version of the C-19 virus even if it did not feel 'mild' at the time. But it was winter, the time of colds and flu and there was little if any talk of a pandemic then. I simply put it down to a bad cold and stayed indoors. Yes, I am finding the C-19 pandemic very hard to deal with on a daily basis, but mostly due to the necessity for social distancing, not seeing friends and having to avoid public transport (I don't have car) especially as I live alone. 

Obviously, there are many people a lot worse off than me, but I can empathise with anyone who has difficulty trying to look on the bright side of life.  Growing old, for start, is definitely no picnic, but it’s only fair to point out that the same can be said of life in general. Some people in some parts of the world have a relatively easy life compared with those in other parts; some individuals appear to sail through life where others constantly find themselves swimming against an unremitting tide.

“How do you cope?” I once asked a young disabled friend some years ago. “Mind over matter,” he replied, “Think good, feel good,” he added with wry grin, and this from someone in pain 24/7. It was sound advice, and I make a point of following it. 

On bad days, the love of those closest to me, past and present, helps me through any pain and subsequent, frustration, depression ... whatever. I only wish I had done likewise back in 1979 before I suffered a mental breakdown and attempted suicide. Even so, I am convinced it was love that saved me then, and sustains me now, even though I live alone and have no partner. (I only had a partner for a short time, and that was many years ago although our feelings for each other continue to sustain me just as they did before he was killed in a road accident abroad.) As a result of my suicide attempt, I was unconscious for a good 35 hours, and I seem to recall his and my mother's voice calling me back. Both, long dead. Call it a fantasy if you like, but even the doctors said I am lucky to be alive ...

“The positive thinker sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible.”
– Winston Churchill, My Early Life, (1874-1904)   

SINGLE, AND GROWING OLD or AS GOOD AS IT GETS

Can’t get out and about

too easily now, a walking stick
needing to take the strain

when the rest of me lets me down,
and that’s as good as it gets

Can’t hear or see as well

as I could not so very long ago

but hearing aids and specs

get me by (now, wherever did I put

the darn things...?

New technology remains

a mystery not designed for old folks

who struggle to master

even the basics, a failing memory

chasing P-I-N or password

Growing old, no easy task,

gets harder by the day, yet a feeling

for life, love. and nature

inspires, and more than gets me by, 

cur for mind-body-spirit 

I draw upon all the love
that has seen me through the years
(in all its shapes and forms)
until it all but mends this poor frame,
and that's as good as it gets

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018; 2020

[Note: This post/ poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.] RNT

Facing up to Life

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

The poems on my general poetry blog address anyone and everyone who enjoys poetry, regardless of  who or where they are in the world. I write up a separate gay-interest poetry blog as well because I am a gay man and recognise that many people might not be interested. Interest works both ways, of course, and feedback suggests that few readers of this blog dip into my general blog (although I have posted poems of particular interest to LGBT folks there from time to time,) A friend of one such reader has asked me to post today's entry on the latter here as well. So, here goes ...:.

Like many if not most of us, I am close to desperation as the Covid-19 coronavirus persists even though there are signs that it is starting to abate. I miss being with friends and am finding my own company increasingly unbearable. Only by engaging with an inner self that has always been a more positive thinking force than its human host, am I able to recover sufficient  self-confidence to not only face the day ahead, but even write a poem.

I have always been plagued by self-doubt. As a child and young person at school many years ago, any self-confidence I was able to muster would soon be undermined by one thing or another. My perceptive of ‘pitch’ deafness was not diagnosed till my early twenties, and this did not help; time and time again, I was made to look a fool by not hearing or mishearing what people said, whether they be family members, friends or school teachers. I had no way of knowing how the pitch of someone’s voice or surrounding acoustics could affect how I perceived what someone said and, in turn, what response was required. When I realised that I am gay, I was almost as inclined to put myself down for it as most people were in the 1950’s, and many still are although they might well deny it for fear of being seen to contravene any equality and /or political correctness legislation.

While I can only speak from personal experience, I have had many a conversation with people of all genders, ages and socio-cultural-religious backgrounds who, for whatever reason, have had battles with self-confidence all their lives; hopefully, we ain more than we lose, bit it is invariably the latter that continue to haunt us.

So how do we overcome a lack of self-confidence, faith in ourselves, and any subsequent self-consciousness that makes us wish the earth beneath us would swallow us up in certain situations? My Religious Education teacher,  a Mr Partridge, who ‘regretted’ but did not hold my inability to identify with religion against me, told me on the day I left forever that “Those unable to reach out to God, for whatever reason, have no choice but to reach out to themselves, that is to say the inner self. The chances are, they will touch and draw upon such physical and spiritual life forces beyond all understanding.” I was sceptical the time, but now in my 70’s, I have to say it is among the best advice I have ever received.

When nature and/ or human nature takes you to the edge of some existential abyss, take heart, dear readers, look to your inner self, and you may well be pleasantly surprised at what you may find there.

This poem is a kenning. …

FACING UP TO LIFE

Let good times roll,

and find me responding

in kind as, indeed,

much the same whenever

life they take a turn

for the worse, although be sure

I will default to positives

before the harshest negatives will get

the better of me

See bad times persist,

and find me smiling through

if only to conceal

an everyday struggle within

to rise above however

mind-body-spirit defaulting

to autopilot by way

of blocking any such feelings likely to get

the better of me  

Yet, there are such times

in the human condition effecting

system failure,

demanding I call on whatever

native skills as left me

to restore working order,

rise above any sense of failure likely to get

the better of me

Above all things, I, Inspiration am set the task

of encouraging mine host to but do as I ask

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Society, Judge-and-Jury

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

For many of us, one of the worst aspects of the current pandemic is that bars and restaurants are closed and there is nowhere to meet up with friends, catch up and enjoy socialising; it has left a lot of people feeling lonely and isolated, especially those of us who live on our own. 

Me, I use my imagination and let phone chats take me back to places I love to visit with friends.  I missed out on my teenage years because we moved when I was 13 years old, I lost touch with old friends and found it hard to make new ones. In those days, I was an avid reader so I used to make friends with characters in my favourite novels, and it helped ease my loneliness. During the pandemic, I might watch a favourite TV program and transport myself into it, even interact with some of the characters. Such are the lengths to which loneliness can drive a person, but who cares if it works and we feel better for it? Mind you, we have to keep an eye on our marbles at the same time and make sure we are not losing any.  <>

A popular local gay bar has been closed here now for about 5 years and is much missed, not least by yours truly. When I commented as much to a gay-friendly associate a year or so ago, he pointed out that there was less need for gay bars now because "Being gay is acceptable these days and there are laws to protect LGBT people. Political correctness means anyone can feel safe anywhere so why have bars specifically for a gay clientele?"  

Well, for a start, political correctness is a non-starter for many people; they may not risk saying so in a public place, but many are as homophobic as they have ever been. Besides, no one understands the whole LGBT ethic as we do ourselves. We feel comfortable in each other's company and if you want to relax and enjoy yourself, being able to relax ia every bit as important as being able to feel safe.

A Chinese friend once commented that he loves going to Chinatown in central London, not just for the food and the people but for the pleasure of being able to make himself understood in his own language. LGBT people speak the same language. However sympathetic a straight person might bt towards LGBT folk they don't speak our language in a sense that they will never relate to us inquie the same way one of our own can.  Yes, LGBT folks fall out with each other, some even actively dislike each other, but that's human nature, it has little if anything to do with sexuality.

Another thing about gay bars is that people are more willing and happy to talk to each other. (No, not necessarily chatting people up although some of that too ...) Before the coronavirus pandemic, I used to enjoy going into a local pub on my own and just chatting to people over a few drinks. In later years, though, I stopped going there because everyone would inevitably be  too engaged with playing games or chatting on their mobile phones to even look up and engage in the kind of eye contact that would so often lead to a friendly chat even between complete strangers. 

So, yes, I think there is as great a need now for gay bars as ever.

This poem is a kenning.

SOCIETY, JUDGE-AND-JURY

I take pleasure in torture.

oh, but slowly, relish the torment

of closet regret, trap of his

or her making, rarely deserving
of finding me here,
bent on making sure any dash
for freedom premature
or (worse) a botched job ending
in floods of tears

If I show mercy sometimes,

it is but part of a darker strategy

intended only to deceive,

paint a prettier picture, convey

a false sense of security,

draw them in who think to know

the inner self better than I,

preferring to gloss over any truths
that fail to flatter

Simply get what I mean,
not what I say, together we'll see
LGBT on its way,
no matter political correctness
finding me wanting,
as no few public figures fronting
the world's religions
and its political persuasions relate
to my way of thinking

Call me Society, self-styled judge-jury
(still) finding LGBT "Guilty!"

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2020

[Note: If you enjoy the poem, you might want to dip into my general poetry blog sometime at https://rogertab.blogspot.com/ ]

Happy-Ever-After, a Positive Thinking Mindset

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

Everyone, thank goodness, is different or the world would be a very boring place, but as I have said since I began writing up the blogs ten years ago, our differences do not make us different, only human.

When I first came out to the world as a gay man, many people told me I was exchanging one lonely world for another, would end up a lonely, bitter person living alone with no family to help me through the ups and downs of old age. Well, yes, I do live alone, but I am not bitter in spite of continuing hate crimes against LGBT people worldwide; all the more shame on the world for that. Many religious groups, have much to answer for by suggesting that love is selective by nature in so far as we LGBT folks deserve to be excluded.

I do not have any family members to support me, either, having never had much in common with most of those remaining while others - intentionally or unintentionally - have always given the impression they are of a homophobic bent.

No, blood is not always thicker than water, while nothing can be stronger than two people bonding with love and companionship, whether as lovers or close friends; we should never underestimate the power of platonic love nor friendship in the true sense of the word. As I have said many times, love takes many shapes and forms; people, animals, pastimes, hobbies, favourite places (dare I say even poetry?) all have their part to play in getting the better of any bitterness threatening to set in because the mind is (too often) inclined to dwell on regrets for things left undone in this life than taking any pleasure from all we have done.

As a gay man, I may be but a small cog in a big wheel, yet coming out of that wretched closet years ago and taking my place in helping the wheel turn my way has been worth every heartbeat; much as I regret the inability of some people to respect my sexuality, well, c'est la vie, and bitterness never got anyone anywhere worth going to in the first place.

I am not well these days; while my spirit remains as feisty as ever, mind and body are slowly but surely succumbing to the stresses of old age. I will be 74 in December and, no, that is not old BUT hormone therapy for my prostate cancer since 2011 is taking its toll and I struggle sometimes to keep mind, body and spirit in sync with each other.One day, the cancer will catch up with me, and I decided long ago that I would not tolerate a mind-body-spirit in free fall; rather, I will take a one-way trip to Dignitas in Switzerland. Some readers may be horrified while others will know how much I value quality of life above life itself; my only regret would be leaving friends behind (readers too) and I can but ask them to remember that -  for me, at least - it would be a fairy tale ending in so far as I would be embracing death as I have embraced life... for better, for worse, while enough is enough.

Meanwhile, so long as the COVID-19 coronavirus continues to leave any poems left in me, you, dear readers (of both poetry blogs) will be the first to know.

HAPPY-EVER-AFTER. A POSITIVE THINKING MINDSET

Once upon a time,

home was a lonely closet,

Freedom banging

on the door to be let out,

yet Fear

always getting the better

of a mind-body spirit

keeping faith with humanity's

common capacity

for peace, love, and kindness

above all else

I sought it here, there,

everywhere, a life force

to close divisions

if not heal them, by agreeing

to differ instead

of choosing to throw stones

at glass houses

while expounding a belief

in extending peace

and goodwill (if not love)

wherever

Once upon a time,

I took the proverbial bull

by its horns,

and fled my lonely closet,

still scared

of a world as likely to shun

as embrace me,

but resolved to take a chance

on human nature

being far better and bigger

than bigotry

World (still) running low

on happy-ever-after endings

for LGBT voices

crying "Enough is enough!"

in a world (still)

preferring to play deaf

whenever it suits

to any God-given reassurance

that (all) humanity

deserves Happy-ever-After

endings

Whatever, I am as I am,

and all that I am is as free to be

what I am as any other

in a world feeding its children

Happy-ever-afters,

that can, indeed, suffer

its harsher realities

for touching base now and then 

with such life-forces

as have love's best interests

at heart

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

No Place like Soho OR or G-A-Y: Here, There, Wherever

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog several years ago and is re-instated especially for Salvo who has emailed to say that home is a South London bed-sit and social distancing is making him very depressed. "I often go to a gay bar in Soho and love meeting and chatting with other gay guys there, maybe more sometimes, and miss all that terribly as I haven't lived here long and haven't made any  friends locally."  I empathise, of course I do, not least because I have battled with depression all my life (I will be 75 this year) but need must ...

If you are not having to self-isolate, do get out as much as you can; a brisk walk can do wonders for morale. You might try keeping a diary of good days and bad during the pandemic, anything to help distract you from feeling lonely. TV and radio are godsends, but only up to a point.

We all need to find ways of distracting ourselves from the awful situation to which we are waking up to daily at the moment. As I say on my general poetry blog today, "I am using the necessity for social distancing during the pandemic to look at and (sometimes) revise or rework old poems. I miss being with friends, of course, but I like to think of my poems and you, my readers, are friends  too; it helps me feel less isolated as I live alone and would almost certainly be feeling very lonely otherwise."

Until my eyes started to get tired so easily, I was an avid reader, mostly of fiction, and the characters would become friends. I was - inwardly if not outwardly - a lonely child and reading was  more than a pleasure, it was a lifeline. While most public libraries and bookstores are closed at the moment, talking books are available online and many public libraries have digital versions that can be accessed by library members. You might even want to try serialised versions of my own novels on my fiction blog:

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2016/05/news-updates-fiction.html

Feedback suggests that some readers who simply enjoy poetry also dip into my general poetry blog ... although it also suggests that the majority don't. <>

https://rogertab.blogspot.com/

There are plenty of blogs other than mine that might interest you, of course, so why not do a search and see what's on offer?

In the absence of all else, happy memories can be as companionable as they can also be a comfort. Since I passed 70, I often enjoy a trip down Memory Lane. I rarely venture on to the Gay Scene these days, but can always rely on some lively  memories to feed me wonderful daydream, and in glorious rainbow colours ...

I have lived in London, UK for many years, 30+ of  these in Kentish Town (London Borough of Camden). I would often go to Soho when I was younger, its Gay Scene second to none. Like me, it has something of a jaded feel now, and gay friends in the know tell me the Gay Scene has shifted to Vauxhall (South London) although I reckon Soho can still give any of its rivals a good run for their money.

For me, there really is no place like Soho.

This poem is a villanelle.

NO PLACE LIKE SOHO or G-A-Y: HERE, THERE, WHEREVER

Here, there, wherever I go,

gay bars far and wide,

there’s no place like Soho

It's G-A-Y in San Francisco,

but I’m on a Soho ride;
here, there, wherever I go

Though a club in San Diego

sure puts the ‘I’ in Pride,

there’s no place like Soho

Some people, they hate us so

(blame a cultural divide?)

here, there, wherever I go

,
G-A-Y, an all-colourful show,
its history, my sure guide;

there’s no place like Soho

Sunsets, fading to a pink glow,

on gay icons sorely tried;

here, there, wherever I go,

there’s no place like Soho

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Mind-Body-Spirit, configuring a Common Humanity

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

A reader once wrote in to say that my poems are not "real poetry" but "...more by way of social commentary." He or she adds that "I enjoy most of them anyway, but would like to see more nature poems ... especially as you claim to be inspired by nature." So, should a poet be precluded from making social comment, given that we live in a world where nature's greatest threat is human nature, not least by way of much the same flaws that threaten various societies across the world?

This poem is longer than I anticipated for its having taken on a life of its own - as some poems do - even as I was writing it. Feedback suggests that my longer poems are less popular with readers, but who is a poet to ignore the demands of his or her poem?

As regular readers well know, I remained in the proverbial closet until my early 30's when the upside of a nasty mental breakdown was (finally) seeing my way clear to letting the world know I am gay and finding a new self-confidence in refusing to be put down for it a second longer. In the course of my breakdown, for all its less savoury aspects, I managed to shed the self-consciousness and fear imposed during formative years by a society preferring established 'norms' to any 'differences' or 'irregularities' seen by a statistical majority as bringing said 'norms' into disrepute. 

Is it not high time societies worldwide accepted the very diversity of human nature, in the absence of which their populations would probably suffer early heart failure from the stress of sheer boredom?  

While I subscribe to no religion, I was raised a Christian and know my Bible, in which words attributed to Jesus of Nazareth come to mind time and time again: "Judge not, lest ye be judged."

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, CONFIGURING A COMMON HUMANITY

They would often place me

as homosexual, and I'd hotly deny it,

acknowledging only to myself

a sexuality as much a part of who I am

as any other aspect of identity

configuring a common humanity in all

its colourful diversity

Oh, how family would discuss

behind my back as to my sexuality,

as if it really matters

in the Grand Scheme configuring

bright, beautiful, dark or ugly

as we try to make our own way in life,

the less prejudged for it

Oh, and who are they who

would shape us as they would

justify first impressions

of who we are, how best we can

assert ourselves, play fair

by loved ones, return in good measure

something of...what?

Does humanity ask of us to do

for others without due reciprocity

only to deserve no reward

for our endeavouring to compensate

for its shortcomings, any failures

to ‘measure up’ mean a change of heart

out of the question?

How come, out of the question

when losing face matters less (surely?)

than being true to ourselves

and advocating a common humanity

as far as humanly possible?

Yet, fools rush in, much as our 'betters' do

for fearing covers blown

No cover, LGBT masquerading

as ordinary people, simply a matter

of fact, if less digestible

to some than the flesh of bird or beast

that never did them harm

other than looking them pitiably in the eye

for exposing naked truths

Weary of going undercover, LGBT

comes out, comes clean, comes face to face

with such bigotry and hate

as eats the perpetrators up, spits them out

after the way of followers

of fashion courting converts via prime time

media hits across the world

Where bigots may well place me 

as homosexual, I'll nod and cheerfully agree,

acknowledge my sexuality

for being as much a vital part of who I am

as any other aspect of identity

configuring a common humanity in all

its colourful diversity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Glad to be Gay

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

Many thanks to those of you who have been in touch to say they are enjoying my fiction blog:

I wasn’t sure if serialising novels online would work, but am delighted to have a slowly but surely growing readership. By the way, 'Dog Roses: a gay man's rites of passage' was the first novel I ever wrote. Since no publishers showed any interest, I am especially pleased by positive feedback from my fiction blog readers:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/news-updates-fiction.html

People often ask if I am disappointed not to have been 'recognised' by various media sources and seem to think I should feel a 'failure' as a writer. Well, no, given that I have no real interest in success or failure in that sense, but only in the sense that I enjoy writing, and it has worked well as creative therapy for my depression for as long as I can remember. I enjoy a modest reputation as a poet worldwide and that's a welcome bonus. If anyone reads and enjoys my various forays into fiction , well, that's another.

Meanwhile...

‘Ellis and Trey’ have asked me to repeat today’s poem that last appeared on the blog in 2010 because '...being a couple of dreamers, we just love it.' Many thanks for that, both of you, also for your kind comments about my poems.  Your signed, personally inscribed copy of Tracking the Torchbearer is on its way.

As for today's poem, I remain convinced that homosexuality is in the genes. How else to account for millions of us around the world from all kinds of socio-cultural-religious backgrounds?

GLAD TO BE GAY

By chance, I met a man, 

a stranger (yet not so) was he,

with sparkling eyes

like sunlight on lonely sea;

he paused, spoke words

I longed to hear, inviting me
to swim there, he and I together
(Oh, ecstasy!)

He laughed, told me to relax

and not be afraid, this handsome

man, eyes as sharp as any

kitchen blade. He took my hand, 
suggested we walk a while,
enjoy nature at its charming best 
a smile to die for banging on drums
in my chest

In the shade of a sycamore, 

we paused and he stroked my hair, 
this stranger in whom I saw
my alter-ego, and in the sheer bliss
of being with him
and that first kiss when it came

was so like a baptism that I forgot
yo ask his name

Gently, mouth to mouth, 
he pulled me to my trembling knees,
tears like raindrops

feeding Earth's natural life forces;
lovers for a day

till time spirited him away, 
a chance encounter that left me   
glad to be gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Confessions of a Sandman' in 
Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; it subsequently appeared on the blog under a different title that I recently revised again. Regular readers will know that I struggle with titles ...]