High Seas Rescue

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

Now, I've met many people who have managed to turn their lives around in a constructive, positive way, survived high seas and made it to a safe shore. In my edition of the Book of Life, they and their like are its real heroes, whatever their gender, sexuality, ethnicity or socio-cultural background.

True, getting the better of the darker self is never easy...and all more heroic for that. 

HIGH SEAS RESCUE

Once I didn’t give a damn

about where I was or who I am,

even less what I was doing

or where I was going, the kind of life

I was generally leading…

no time for forward planning

or positive thinking,

content just to get high on drugs,

and binge drinking, no matter

the cruise liner I am on is sinking;

suddenly a cry, ‘Abandon ship!’

dived into the dark high seas of hell

and woke up in hospital

Among the survivors, only I

lived to tell the sorry tale of a life

that had no meaning,

everyone in it long past caring

about what I was doing

or where I was going, the kind of life

I was generally leading…

no time for forward planning

or positive thinking,

content just to get high on drugs 

and binge drinking, no matter

I’m close to hitting self-destruct

and time running out

Those wasted years made me

the kind of person I try to be now,

telling everyone I meet how

life only has purpose and meaning

when you’re kind and caring,

make time for forward planning

and positive thinking…

say ‘no’ to getting high on drugs

and binge drinking,

offer a helping hand to others as you

would have them do,

if only to be saved from drowning

in those killer seas too

[From: On The Battlefields Of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

Stormy weather

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

I am repeating this post just as it appears on my general blog. (See also that blog's archives for January 2013 as listed on the right hand side of any blog page.) I will be 74 in December, and it is a tragedy of any Here-and-Now that there will always be bullies if only because it is among the worst aspects of human nature. It is worth remembering, though, that all bullies have a weak spot - fear of exposure to a less than sympathetic authority and having to face consequences for which no bully has the stomach, not least of which is further exposure to their more discerning peers.

[Update: 26.9.2019: Only six years have passed since I published this post/poem on the blog, but during that time bullying has raised its ugly head time and again on social media. Boys, especially, are inclined to suffer in silence, probably having been raised to think it isn't macho to tell tales out of school, but no small number of girls as well. Bullies are sick; reporting them is actually helping them to focus on what and who really matters in this life. So never suffer in silence. Tell a parent, teacher, best friend...someone you can trust to help you find the moral courage to do whatever needs to be done to expose the bully for the cowardly scum he or she is, and put a stop to it if only to prevent them putting someone else through the hell they are putting you through.] RNT

The main reason I am on the blog today is to recommend tyDi's great song/ video on You Tube  about some of the worst aspects of modern life that continue to plague many of us, especially young people, homophobic bullying among them. In case you haven’t found it yet, I urge you to go to:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CseffFUSAkg

I am 67 years old, and yet it wasn’t so different when I was young. What does that say about the world we live in, eh?  Even so, change is happening and people are becoming more aware of bullying and how it can drive people over the Edge of Reason into the Abyss. More importantly, come what may, love and the better, kinder, side of human nature continue to assert themselves over bigotry and ignorance.

Now, while I’m here…

I find writing increasingly stressful at the moment as my cataracts are getting worse. This poem is an early piece that appeared in several poetry magazines, 1996-1998, before I included it in my first major collection. Regular readers may be surprised to see that I made more (conventional) use of upper case letters at the start of lines in those days. I wrote it one stormy day while sheltering from the rain in a bus shelter.

I suspect the ‘rush of images had as much to do with seeing Derek Jarman’s amazing film 'The Garden' (1990) a few days earlier as a sense of nature ‘rushing’ me into…what? Writing a poem, maybe…

STORMY WEATHER

Cloud faces grimace;
lifelines leafing
through pouring rain;
fantastic canvas
leaping at the eye;
rooftops dripping
(sweat of heavens);
rhythm of children
braving a temporary
freedom

A rush of images
as ever seen;
Van Gogh, Jarman
each to their own
spirited inspiration;
distant thunder
rumbling our fears
while (reprieved)
we try to pass it off
as living

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2017

[Note: This poem has been slightly but significantly revised from the original version as it appears in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000]

Mind-Body-Spirit, Renaissance

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

Today’s post was written in 1998, and is based on events that took place many years ago. 

Now, it has always been one of life's greater tragedies that just about anyone can be subjected to bullying by ignorant cowards who have no respect for their victim’s sex, sexuality, ethnicity, creed or even age.

Although bullying went on in schools even when I was young, there is no escape from it these days as the bullies taunt their victims on their mobile phones and social media sites. Some children and young people have even been known to commit suicide as a result of being bullied, adults too.

Parent and schools must spare no one’s sensitivity, but make their children confront the awful circumstances of bullying.

As for the bullies themselves, plainly they have psychological problems and need help to overcome them, but that does not mean we should go softly, softly with them; exposing them for who they are and condemning their actions unreservedly would be a good start. For far too long, various School Heads and parents have been in denial about bullying taking place under their very noses.  

Bullies may be in a minority among children and young people, but it is a very significant minority that needs to be tackled before they carry their sick ways into adulthood.

Now, we all have our own ideas about 'Heaven' but  is it not the Here-and-Now that matters most and making that as comparable as we can with whatever concept we might cherish regarding what may come later? No bullying culture - at school in the workplace or wherever - should be tolerated and needs must be nipped in the bud or else the young bully may well grow up to be an older bully. 

Anyone being bullied should find the courage to seek help and support. there is no shame in that, any shame rests with the bully. 

The worst punishment for any bully is public exposure for being just that, a bully. 

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, RENAISSANCE

Local park, lonely tree,

child looks up in a bloody pool

who should be at school

Tall, grown old,

branches outflung

at a brave new world;

small and sad, kid in uniform

hugs a photograph

before taking a penknife

to scratch out a life

on rough bark. Tree submits.

Hanging skylark lets out a cry

as chick-in-the-nest

prepares to fly

Climb, climb!

Terra out of mind.

bullies down our way, chaff

on the wind …

Tears for mum and dad and pal

heffalump.

Gran and grandpa, show ‘em all,

not afraid to jump.

A still, small voice 
whispering in the ear,

‘Look! Beyond that runny nose

there has to be
a way clear to confide bully fear 
in someone near

and (who knows?) eventually

make it disappear.’

And it did, I know.

That kid at the Hanging Tree

long ago, but walked away

free...was me

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2010

[Note: An earlier version of this poem (written in 1998) appears under the title 'Heaven Can Wait, in Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]

Queer as Folk

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

There was a time when bullies scared me. Thankfully, I discovered that most bullies, especially the homophobic ones, are even  more scared of themselves than I was...

When I was a young man, 'queer' was a term of abuse that the bigots among us would throw at gay men. While I remain uncomfortable with the word, it is good to see how it has been reclaimed by the gay community and reinvented itself for the better.

The poem tells a true story.

QUEER AS FOLK

He was a bully

and I was the coward

too scared to ever
stand up to him though 

he’d call me names,

say all queers should be

shot for the social

vermin they are, to hell
with equality

He led a local gang

that drained every nasty

word he said, awful

things he did, like booze
to an alkie...

He was their god

in whose mind’s sewers

they would freely dive,

invariably come up smelling
of show roses

One day, I turned

a bend, saw him coming

my way on his own,

dived into an alley

and just kept running...

It was a dead end!

He had me cornered,
no point yelling for cavalry
or expecting mercy

He was less sure

of himself on his own,

brow (rid of horns)

starting to sweat,

no one egging him on;

I’ll never know why

but I hit out with my fist,

missed, froze, was aghast, 

fearing the worst

He lunged at me

and we fell to the ground,

his breath on my face

challenging my lips

to let rip with a sound;

I lay still, eyes shut,

way past caring, passively

waiting for the beating

I’d long been expecting

to start...

No blows rained

where I lay in naked terror,

only a kiss on my mouth,

more reassuring even

than a hot shower;

my eyes flew open

and a face homing nervously

in on mine belonged

to someone else, far more
scared than me

Did I have a choice?

No, I struggled to reason,

pinioned to the ground

and dare not resist

this mad, appalling passion;

how could it be true,

these bodies, this rhythm ours,

a growing sureness

and frantic heat, ramming
heaven’s towers?

Spent, we lay,

unable to find a single word

to explain, knowing

anyone might

come by, but no one did;

once on our feet,

he blurted out an apology,

exposing how scared

we’d both been of a restless,
dormant sexuality

He kept his word

and I never knew what lies

he told his cronies, only

that love and hate

went their separate ways;

we never understood

how we felt about each other,

nor were we ever friends,

me and the bully who became
my closet lover

  

[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

A Fighting Spirit

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

Some of you may have read how a father here in the UK recently hanged himself just eighteen months after his son took his own life following rumours about his sexuality. Following his son's death, he began an anti-homophobic-bullying campaign, winning an award from the charity Stonewall for his efforts. It would appear, however, that he was finally overcome by grief.

Two lives lost because homophobia is alive and kicking.

Homophobic bullying (indeed, bullying of any kind) is always hard to deal with, yet deal with it we must, but not alone. Half the battle is telling someone what is happening and fighting the bullies together. There can be no worse feeling than being bullied and trying, but failing, to handle it alone; feelings of humiliation, anger and fear are bad enough, but even worse is an appalling sense of helplessness and loneliness.

As I have said before on the blogs, asking for help is not a sign of weakness; on the contrary is a demonstration of maturity.

It is rarely easy to develop a fighting spirit when, at heart, we are peace loving individuals, but life often demands of us that we do just that. Openly gay men and women will always be vulnerable to the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority; a fighting spirit is not only necessary for our survival, but also shows the bullies and homophobes that we can play mind games too. There is a lot to be said for beating an enemy at his or her own game.

So if any readers are being bullied, DO confide in someone and get help. You are also welcome to let off steam by contacting me any time at rogertab@aol.com with 'Blog Reader' in the subject field.
Talking and/or writing through our thoughts invariably helps clarify them and go a long way towards restoring our self-confidence; in this case,  confidence in our sexual identity to the extent we can even begin to see a glimmer of light at the end of what may well seem a long, dark tunnel.

Did I say it was easy?

A FIGHTING SPIRIT 

Once I hid my true self away
because I’m gay,
frightened to run the gamut
of what people might say,
raised to believe I should be
ashamed, that folks
would see in me someone
to despise. It took me
years to realize they are wrong
who fail to understand
that sexuality has to be genetic
or how else to explain
so many gay men and women
the world over?

I got angry about taking cover
from what some people (still) have to say
about being gay

Now I show my true self openly
because I’m proud
of who I am and an integral
part of that is being gay;
I’ll not hide my true self away,
will run the gamut
of what people might say
(if I must) preferring
to trust in a common humanity
than voices calling
from shadows, goading us
to bigotry in the name
of this or that religion or culture
the world over

I grew weary of taking cover
from what some people (still) have to say
about being gay

Yes, some people will look at me
and gossip
about my sexuality, say
gay people should be more discreet,
in spite of so-called equality
and Human Rights
because it isn’t fair on those who
continue to insist
it is a crime against nature or sin
against religion
for men to make love with men
or women with women
though love fight its way through
the politics of division

[From: On The Battlefields Of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

Gay's The Word

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

As LGBT History Month 2011 here in the UK draws all but to a close, I am duplicating this post on both my general and gay-interest blogs today. After all, each and every one of us is, like it or not, part of a common humanity. Moreover, whatever our first language, the human spirit common to us all must get very confused sometimes by our multiple uses of the same words, not to mention disappointed by what often comes across as a pathetic dependence on and/or misuse of them; a good few people don’t seem to have cottoned on to the fact that the name of the game is meaningful communication, not hot air.

Furthermore, while it may be a cliché, it’s true that actions really do say more than words, bearing in mind of course that they include good, bad, and vomit-ugly. [For me, the latter description not only fills my mind with ghastly images of war, genocide, massacre, torture and the politically motivated killing of people around the world simply trying to exercise their human right to protest, but also violent street crime and bullying of any description on our very own doorsteps.]

Whatever...

Among language’s collection of weaponry (and armour) humour has to be one of my favourites. Like people, it comes in all shapes and forms; like the more formidable wordsmith, it addresses all kinds of people from all kinds of backgrounds. Sadly, it also encourages stereotyping. At the same time, its greater irony lies in an ability to make people laugh even while the more discerning (?) eye may well see nothing to laugh at. Ah, but perhaps the more discerning eye should take a nap now and then anyway while we let ourselves go with a flow of less demanding insights?

So...in spite of several readers implied criticism of my following fellow blogger Edwin Black’s audacious posts, I refer you to his blog again anyway at: http://bardicblackspot.blogspot.com/; it provides food for thought along with a healthy chuckle at life and ourselves.

Meanwhile...

It is so true (another cliché); it’s not what we say but the way we say it that counts. Even so, I have to say that I, personally, remain uncomfortable with expressions like ‘fag’ and ‘queer’ but that is probably a generation gap issue. (I was born in 1945 and grew up in a very homophobic society, one  that necessitated my entering the proverbial closet when, at 14 years-old, I realised I am gay.)

When I was a youth and young man, there were so many cruel jibes and sick names hurled at homosexuals (including ‘queer’ and ‘fag’) that it was a huge relief when ‘gay’ came along. Now I read about gay men and women writing ‘Queer ‘poetry and talking about the ‘Queer Community’ and though I have to live with that, it will always make my stomach heave.

I can understand homosexuals in eastern countries preferring ‘queer’ to ‘gay’ as many there see ‘gay’ as already hijacked by westerners. Here in the West, though, I see it as tantamount to a betrayal of our early history. As for ‘fag’ the very sound of the word oozes contempt, but as I don’t live in the USA I guess it doesn’t really matter as I rarely hear it used here except by visiting homophobes. Yet, if gay Americans are okay with it, who am I to find fault?

Yes, I dare say my sentiments do express a minority point of view among gay men and women in the West. [Do I care?]

I suspect it may well be confusing for even the gay-friendly among the heterosexual majority when the language of G-A-Y appears to run the entire gamut of A-Z.

Ah, but as they say in the North of England, 'There's nowt as queer as folk!"

GAY’S THE WORD

On vacation in New York
they called me a fag
and I shrivelled up inside;
on the streets of Brixton
someone yelled, “He’s queer!”
(Just like my dad);
guys in a bar cried, “homo!”
because I walked in
wearing a ribbon with pride;
women at work
got lewd, something about
wasted manhood

I felt a clammy mist closing
in on me, unsure
what to do...till someone said,
“Hey, you’re gay, yeah?
Me too.” and his warm grin
let the sun back in...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2011

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in  First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]