The Defiant Ones

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

Unfortunately, Blogger does not change the date of post-poems published as and when I (often) revise them.  Several readers have emailed to say they find this frustrating as they may well not chance to view the blog archives and read any revisions for themselves. I have therefore deleted the original post on which the poem below was first published and am reworking it as a ‘new’ post together with the revised poem (the second one below) so readers can compare, may even feel it’s worth browsing the blog archives sometime after all...?

the 2012 post included a link to a video on my YouTube channel relating to a poem about Oscar Wilde: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxcbIozftcE&list=UUSdhLgPQOsng2Xz8n5m0ViQ

[To go directly to my YouTube channel for other videos:

https://www.youtube.com/user/rogerNtaber/videos

As regular readers will know, I publish my collections under my own imprint because it would appear that poetry publishers are not happy with poems on a gay theme appearing alongside poems on other themes. Yet, poetry does not discriminate so why should we (or they?) Besides, I feel it would be hypocritical for a gay man to publish a collection of poems and ignore his sexuality. As I have often said on the blogs, as far as I’m  concerned, a poem is a poem is a poem and no theme is or should be taboo.  

Now, some readers may be interested to know that the original post in 2012 was published especially for ‘Enrique and Salvo’ who had been in touch to say they recently came out as partners to friends and family and ‘despite a few problems to start with, everything had settled down and they are “very happy.” I have heard from them again since; they are still together and “deliriously” happy.

 THE DEFIANT ONES (first version, 2010)

When I enter you and we are joined as one,
a fine spirituality embraces us,
centres us in a womb-tomb of earth, fire
and water, where we become as nature
intended, taking us into a vast eternal NOW
we feared until our sexuality confirmed
its identity

No longer afraid but glimpsing those ends
where new beginnings are made
to answer to the ghosts of childhood with wisdom,
where ignorance would prey on lovers
expected to lie down and die for each other

just as we lie here, you and I, chancing
a power of love far greater than the dictates
of religions, promises of politicians,
rhetoric of personal ambitions citing the prose
and poetry of a common humanity taken
from a a well-thumbed page in its history, praising
colour creed, sexuality and age,
coffin makers worldwide anxious to spread
the word that you and I would die for each other
than surrender to a lesser power whose lessons 
in glory but give the lie to our love story

If our bed be a coffin, better to die here and now
than with a lie on these twin lips we’ll kiss,
this flesh we’ll devour, its blood turned to wine,
our bodies as one

willing the world move on
and leave us alone

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: This earlier version of the poem below first appeared in my 6th collection, On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010 and subsequentlyo0n the blog in 2012 only to be significantly revised (see below) June 2021,]

THE DEFIANT ONES (Revised version)

It's as we make love and are joined as one,
a fine spirituality embraces us,
centres us in a womb-tomb of earth, fire
and water, where we become as nature
intended, taking us into a Here-and-Now
that we feared - until (finally) sexuality
confirms its spirituality, showing us a love
that is our eternity 

No longer afraid but glimpsing those ends
where new beginnings are made
to answer ghosts of childhood with wisdom,
where ignorance would prey on lovers
expected to lie down and die for each other
just as we lie here, you and I, chancing
a power of love far greater than the dictates
of religions, promises of politicians,
rhetoric of personal ambitions citing the prose
and poetry of a common humanity taken
from well-thumbed pages in history, praising
colour, creed, sexuality, gender and age,
coffin makers (worldwide) anxious to spread
the news that we would die for each other
before caving in to worldly powers whose bigotry
but gives the lie to our love story 

If our bed be a coffin, better to die here and now
than with a lie on these twin lips we’ll kiss,
this flesh we’ll devour, its blood turned to wine,
our bodies as one, the world embracing us
as of its own, not as stereotypes would cast us,
(‘freaks’ of nature but one) LGBT folks 
but asking to see the world move on in its time
end (all) hate crime

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010, rev. 2021 

[Note: Another reader asks why I post poems here only to revise them at a later date? I will try and answer that by way of a prose entry on my general poetry blog tomorrow. Meanwhile, both poems and an appropriately reworked version of the essentials of this post also appear on my general poetry blog today.] RNT

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]

Reading Between the Lines

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

Fort those readers who are less than happy about my carrying over some poems from my general poetry archives, here is a new one, written only a few days ago. I cannot expect everyone to like everything I write so feedback is really helpful. [Contact me any time at rogertab@aol.com with 'Poetry' in the subject field if you would like a reply or just leave a comment on the blog if you prefer to remain anonymous.]

Meanwhile...

Why is it so many people say one thing when they really mean another, often the complete opposite?A human trait throughout history, it is plainly one that political correctness encourages. It is so typical of many people when asked for a point of view that they try to suss out the questioner's standpoint first for fear of causing offence and/or being misunderstood and/or wrongly accused, and having to face consequences they do not deserve (or maybe they do...)

It would seem that honesty and free speech are among the first victims of any society whether supposedly democratic or otherwise. Yes, we need to care about each other, but not under false colours; in Romania, for example, LGBT communities have grown in recent years; it was named by Human Rights Watch as one of five countries in the world that have made "exemplary progress in combating rights abuses based on sexual orientation or gender identity. However, as we all know only too well, there can be no legislation for bad attitude.

I write this only hours after witnessing a so-called gay-friendly acquaintance I have known for years verbally abusing two young men for kissing in the street.I was walking on the other side, but could clearly see and hear the commotion opposite. When younger and fitter, I would have leapt to their defence, but the area is well-known for hate crime and the need for a walking stick in old age urges caution. Besides, the gay couple were clearly able to give as good as got even as they moved on from a small crowd that had started to gather, and was clearly not taking their side.

I went on my way, the sound of someone shouting, "Sickies, hell is too good for the likes of you!"

A phrase from Shakespeare's King Lear instantly sprung to mind, 'More sinned against than sinning.'

It will be interesting to hear what my longtime acquaintance has to say the next time we meet as I will not hold back from raising the subject...

READING BETWEEN THE LINES

There are many who will say

that being gay is a sin against humankind

and God

Humankind is judgemental

by nature, but does that fit in with a God

of Love?

There are many who will argue

that same sex relationships are unnatural

acts

According to whom, unnatural

as each to our own way of thinking, dogma

too?

There are many who (still) insist

it offends the eye to see two men or women

embrace

Oh, and why must any human eye

on embraces it finds offensive even go there

at all?

There is a majority who will agree

any words invoking LGBT images suggest ‘sick’

minds

Oh, and does a majority promote

healthy living in its rape of nature for capitalist

gratification?

There are few who support Equality

and Human Rights unconditionally, absolutely

no holds barred

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

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

Undercover OR Gay in Saint Lucia

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

Although I don’t publish comment (good or bad) readers sometimes include their email address in the Comments box and I am always happy to reply. Such was the case only recently from a gay reader who felt he had no choice but to leave the paradise island of Saint Lucia in the Caribbean  because of an LGBT-unfriendly policy making such relationships likely to face a significant prison sentence on conviction.

Gros Islet and Rodney Bay as seen from Pigeon Island (Wikipedia)

This poem is a villanelle.

UNDERCOVER or GAY IN SAINT LUCIA

Calypso, bending the ear like no other,
an ages-old paradise for many,
where LGBT locals gone undercover

Trad cuisine, making the mouth water,
cherished customs running free;
Calypso, bending the ear like no other

LGBT rights making no one's agenda,
boasting fine schools and university,
where LGBT locals living undercover

A book failing to live up to its cover,
(heads in the sands of its history)
Calypso, bending the ear like no other

Apollo charging us to love each other
(prejudice as far as the eye can see)
where LGBT locals living undercover

For paradise, substitute an ivory tower,
rejecting gay and gender identity;
Calypso, bending the ear like no other
where LGBT locals living undercover

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018

Home is a Closet OR Gay in Nairobi

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

I rarely visit gay bars these days, not least because I am 73 now and having to deal with various age-related health issues, arthritis and prostate cancer among them. Even so, I have always made a point of looking on the bright side of life and that will never change.  I have always enjoyed the convivial atmosphere of a gay bar, and felt safer there too. so am saddened that so many across London have closed in recent years.

Last summer, I happened to be in Soho and could not resist calling in at Comptons, one of London’s oldest gay bars. If you’re on your own and looking for a chat (or whatever) it’s not so easy to make eye contact with anyone these days as most people are glued to their mobile phones.  However, I did get chatting with two guys who were on holiday from Nairobi, and dreading their return given that  gay couples risk 5 to 10 years imprisonment in Kenya.

Kenya does not recognise LGBT rights so neither guy had dared confide in either their families or even many old friends. One mentioned that his mother was always saying ‘There’s no place like home’ adding ‘and don’t we know it!’ with such feeling, and a meaningful glance at his companion, that it brought tears to all our eyes. I asked if they had considered seeking asylum in a gay-friendly country, but both shook their heads and said they could not bear to leave their families behind in spite of everything.

International Conference Centre, Nairobi (Wikipedia)

African buffalo in Kenya (Wikipedia)

The poem is a villanelle.

HOME IS A CLOSET or GAY IN NAIROBI

Nairobi City, fine capital of Kenya

a thriving hub of business and culture,

no place for the gay or transgender

Brave vision of one, Jomo Kenyatta

(breaking free of colonialism forever)

Nairobi City, fine capital of Kenya

For all its bold, progressive agenda,

a success tale flowing on like its river,

no place for the gay or transgender

A feel for the pulse of all Africa,

the sightseer’s dream trip like no other,

Nairobi City, fine capital of Kenya

A National Park, hymn to nature,

diverse wildlife famous the world over;

no place for the gay or transgender

On the face of it, all one could desire,

growing population, heart beating faster;

Nairobi City, fine capital of Kenya,

No place for the gay or transgender

Copyright R N Taber, 2019

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

(Another) Crime Against Humanity OR G-A-Y, No Strangers to Hate Crime

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

The full horror of events in Orlando, Florida, in the early hours of one Sunday morning (June 12th, 2016) when a lone gunman opened fire in a gay nightclub, killing 49 people and injuring many others, some seriously, is only now starting to hit home among gay communities worldwide. 

If, as it would appear, the perpetrator was inspired by so-called Islamic State, it begs the question how many others are being similarly radicalised and groomed to commit other outrages just about anywhere in the world?

Gay or straight, we cannot be intimidated by the threat of terrorism even if, as many have discovered to their cost, it is no empty threat. All we can do is remain vigilant, report any suspicions to the appropriate authorities, and get on with our lives.

Yes, I have said much the same thing on other posts and in other poems, but as my mother (and my English teacher) used to say some 50+ years ago, if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating. Moreover, I do try to vary how I express much the same thing in poems, blog posts, and everyday conversation. (If I fail, I can only agree that I must be one of the most boring people on the planet.)

Tragically, crimes against humanity are nothing new and have been repeated, in one form or another around the world, through the ages; more often than not, they are politically motivated. Rubens’ painting, ‘Massacre of the Innocents’ relates to Herod the Great’s ordering the killing of every male child in Bethlehem in a desperate attempt to kill baby Jesus whom he saw as a potential threat after a visit by the Magi; according to the Gospel of Matthew. [Photo copied from the Internet.]

This poem is a villanelle.

(ANOTHER) CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY or G-A-Y, NO STRANGERS TO HATE CRIME 

A sickness of the human condition,

spread by terrorist propaganda

strikes at the heart of civilisation

Gay folks, out and about, having fun,

ever trolled by social trauma,

a sickness of the human condition

In a Land of the Free, Constitution

promotes a gun-toting agenda,

strikes at the heart of civilisation

Many oppose tighter gun legislation

in the light of the War on Terror,

a sickness of the human condition

Few voice concerns for a generation

where a biased, foxy, media

strikes at the heart of civilisation

Wherever discrimination and division 

fuelling a socio-cultural burner,

a sickness of the human condition

strikes at the heart of civilisation

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2016

(London, June 14, 2016)

Soldier, Soldier OR An Affinity with War Poets

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

Having been a gay boy and young man at a time when gay relationships were not only a criminal offence here in the UK but gay people were considered the lowest of the low, I am sometimes asked if I am bitter towards the human race in general about those (and subsequent) years. I asked myself the same question on my recent 70th birthday.

Yes, I was once, for a long time, but not now. Nor is it only because we even have gay marriage here in the UK now for much of the human race (given its heterosexual majority) still has a low opinion of gay people.

Years ago, at school my class was discussing the subject of age, I forget why. ‘What’s it like, getting old?’ someone asked of our teacher who was probably barely 40. “Much the same as any other time,” came the wise reply, “You can make peace with it or go to war with it, your choice. I advise the former, though, if only because it helps you think more clearly…”

Everyone laughed although I suspect none of us could have explained why, but nearly 60 years on I have to say he had a point.

SOLDIER, SOLDIER  or AN AFFINITY WITH WAR POETS

During wintry attic days,

I would wander Memory Lane

along with a toy soldier

that had kept me company

through ups and downs,

trials and tribulations, crises

and celebrations, tears,

fears, and multiple variations

on just about every theme

life challenges us with taking up,

rejecting out of hand

or putting aside for rainy days

in that Wonderland

where nothing really matters

but human identity,

regardless of creed, ethnicity

sex or sexuality

He stood by me,

the toy soldier, when you left

for someone new,

and my heart was near breaking

as I teetered at an abyss

of desolation, wanting to die

for the loneliness

of not hearing your dear voice,

cherishing your touch,

relishing kisses that had meant

so much for so long,

seeing no way clear to go on…

but the soldier

comforted me even as I cried,

urged me onwards,

head high, the badge of love

worn with pride

He reassured me,

the toy soldier, at my nadir,

it was no reflection

on my being gay that love

had abandoned me,

society slowly hand clapping

its decision,

observing my melancholy

with open derision,

but such is the way of life,

love, human nature,

that even positive thinking

is vulnerable to changes

of heart in others no less likely

to pander to prejudices

than dogmatic political, religious,

social injustices

Time to leave the attic,

said my soldier friend, shake off

the dust and breathe again,

leave wintry days to sad old men,

take a cue from spring rain

nurturing the kinder side of nature,

bringing flowers to bloom,

turning leaves green, waking us up

from hibernation,

making of life a celebration,

(no place for toys)

that men, women, girls and boys

may explore the beauty

of a world too busy arguing
this or that policy

to see to spreading the GOOD news

about diversity

Urged on by the soldier,

to victory over prejudice, hate crime,

bigots preaching what’s best

(while inciting a fickle human nature

to do its worst...)

exposing stereotypes for fake news

winning hearts and minds

to such differences as are no more 

than expressions of humanity,

personal identities for the sharing,

caring, earning... less fighting

over who’s right or wrong in history

but coming to heel,

letting ourselves feel for humanity,

access an innate spirituality,

make peace not war with creed,

ethnicity, gender, sexuality...

Together, we’ll seize the day by its poetry,
for homing in on a common humanity

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

A Gay Bashing

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

There is a strong case for this post/poem being on my other (general) poetry blog but it will appear here first, not least because I know of at least one closet gay reader who has participated in an attack on a gay man because he did not want to lose face with his so-called 'friends'.

Now, it is one of the many tragedies of modern life that there are (still) people and groups of people that are so screwed up as to want to see an gay or transgender person hurt, even dead.

Politics, religion, a common humanity…all have their part to play in getting the message across to certain pockets of society that gay and transgender folks are just ordinary people who want to be left to go about their daily lives in peace. How we like sex and with whom is our own business.

Does a perspective on how (or even if) we like sex loom large in our appreciation of society as a whole? Did I hear you answer, no? So why should it matter if a person is gay?

Gay people are not irreligious monsters, although some religions would (still) make us outcasts…or worse.

It is also a myth that gay people are paedophiles. Historically, the vast majority of paedophiles are screwed up heterosexuals.

So come on, you holier-than-thou brigade and you others too busy playing lip service to political correctness to see the wood for trees…give us gay people (among others, worldwide) a chance to prove our worth, yeah?

What’s that? Gay people have never had it so good, did you say?

In 76 countries, gay relationships are still a criminal offence and punishable by death in six. 

As with all forms of prejudice, the expression it takes is likely to turn on the socio-cultural-religious/ home-school-work environment in which people live…in a century that still has one hell of a lot to learn about love, peace, and a common humanity.

Gay bashing is not the only form of hate crime of course; none should be tolerated by decent people, local communities or countries worldwide.

 A GAY BASHING 

Found him late at night, bleeding 
in a street gutter, near dead

His fine features an ugly sight, 
white shirt turning red...
Called an ambulance, did all I could
to comfort, help ease his pain,
but it seemed a long time coming,
and he but barely breathing
as I struggled to speak, anxious
he stay awake, so scared 
for him that he close his eyes
never to hear a human voice again,
feel its warmth spread over him 
like my overcoat, not yells of abuse
chasing him down centuries,
spilling their ignorance and hate 
on streets much like this one
with more horrendous tales to relate
for any who care to listen

A light rain began to fall like tears
(a God of Love empathising?)

I, too, wept that he might even die
believing the world against him
and siding with its sick homophobes
even though a part of me knew
it was already too late - for them
as for him - given a world 
barely even paying lip service 
to LGBT folks in parts,
hearts sporting logos set in tablets
of stone, fronting public roles
that embrace liberality and equality
while inwardly egging on
the sheer bestiality of any criminality 
seen as justified wherever LGBT
spells SCUM, deserving no less,
no matter if (supposedly) we all of us
share a common humanity

Left near drowning  in a sea of sirens, 
we'll yet draw strength from straws

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2019

[Note: A much earlier version of this poem appears in  A Feeling for the Quickness of Time 
by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Better Late Than Never

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

Hate crime has always been with us, including physical as well as verbal abuse targeting gay people - especially gay men; whatever the motivation, it is never excusable. 

Everyone deserves to love and be loved - and I don't just mean romantic love either - whatever their colour, creed, sex or sexuality. As I get older, and living alone, I guess I should add age as well because it is love - past and present, in all its shapes and forms - that gets me up each morning and sees me carry on until it tucks me up in bed at night and sends a genial sandman to see me through to the next round...

Meanwhile...

Not romantically linked to anyone? Never mind, I can only repeat (remind you) that love comes in all shapes and forms. Most of us have family, friends, pets... If you have none of these, all the more reason to stop feeling sorry for yourself and let love touch your heart today and always. Better late than never...

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER 

A bitter winter sweeping

our city streets, country lanes

merging into nightmare;

me, having no idea where t
o go or what to do for thinking 
about you-me-us

Suddenly, I saw you there

smiling and grey,

like the winter sun, bursting

to re-appear, spread

some happiness for those

quick on the uptake,

seeking to refill our hearts 
with love than stand by

and watch them break 
for the sake of a bruised ego 
or haunting the brain

I didn’t know what to say,

lips frozen and blue...

Besides, how to tell how sorry

for our bitter quarrel 
over your being out to family 
and friends in the closet

neither of us willing to enter

into each other's points
of view, no surprise then 

that we exchanged a summer
of the heart for its winter

As I watched you cross 
towards me, I could 

but cave in, let love win,

proud to face the world
at your side, gay lovers taking
its prejudices in our stride

Copyright R N Taber 2005, 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Milk

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

Harvey Bernard Milk (May 22, 1930 - November 27, 1978)

An American acquaintance once expressed surprise that I count Harvey Milk among my heroes. He seemed to think it odd that an Englishman should rate Harvey Milk so highly.  Oh, but why not? Years after his murder, he remains a role model for gay people worldwide, not just in the USA.

Harvey Milk (Photo from Wikipedia)

No poem can do the man justice, but I hope you will enjoy this villanelle.

MILK

Inspiring hope and integrity,
freeing the natural self to run true,
a gay man called Harvey

Where hate crime stalks society,
see love and peace yet win through,
inspiring hope and integrity

No apology for homosexuality
(though its nightmares come true);
a gay man called Harvey

Where lies reworking history,
truth finds its allies (worldwide, too)
inspiring hope and integrity

Recruiting us all to the equality
a common humanity (still) aspires to
a gay man called Harvey

Helping expose world hypocrisy
(as our ‘betters’ frequently fail to do);
inspiring hope and integrity,
a gay man called Harvey…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013

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.]

G-A-Y, as Written in the Stars

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

This poem has not appeared on the blog since April 2009 and it saddens me today to post it for ‘Mark’ whose boyfriend was killed in a homophobic attack ‘...in his own country, by members of his own race and blinkered culture only a few years ago.’ I have no details. Tragically, the murder could have been committed by just about any ignorant, intolerant, homophobe anywhere in the world; there are plenty of them still, just as there plenty of gay men and women enduring pain and misery in secret for that very reason.

The poem was written for lovers everywhere whose love, for whatever reason, is frowned upon by family, friends and those in high places who have us in a stranglehold, yet could so easily change things for the better if they had any sense of human decency.

Countries like Uganda, Iran and parts of the Arab World may spring immediately to mind, but our hearts go out to gay men and women worldwide who live in fear of imprisonment and worse should their sexuality become public knowledge.Even in the so-called 'liberal' West, families are still divided by a son or daughter's declaration that they are gay. Oh, we have come a long way since I was a gay schoolboy in an era when same sex relationships were a criminal offence, but there is a long way still to go before our sexuality is universally accepted as something perfectly natural and incidental rather than a major issue.

It is high time certain people put their socio-cultural-religious bigotry aside and accepted the fact that we are all equal in a common humanity and that none of us can help with whom we fall in love. Here in the UK, for example, many immigrants bring their historical prejudices with them; the result is many scared gay boys and girls, men and women having to tread on eggshells between the world from which their families came and the one in which they are growing up.


G-A-Y, AS WRITTEN IN THE STARS

At the farthest edge of twilight,
where the sky a misty blue,
we’d haunt the shores of love
where dreams come true ...
We’d pause at its quiet places,
fall into each other’s arms,
enjoy Earth Mother’s embraces,
employ her feisty charms

Oh, kisses tasting of yesterdays
closing in on us like stars
shaping the world’s tomorrows
set aside for (all) its lovers!
Our bodies joined as day to night,
we’d surf life’s raging sea
at the farthest edge of a twilight
hinting at eternity...
Come splendid night, we’d lie
and wonder at its glories;
each star, a kiss shared by lovers
in other centuries ...
At daybreak, dreamers waking
to proceed as chisels to stone
at a love marked for the taking
once its battles won...

On a cruel sea of local dissent,
among wreaths of flowers,
we were despatched prematurely
to a place among the stars
at the farthest edge of twilight
where a misty blue sky
haunts the shores of such a love
as shared by you and I

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

Broken Rainbow

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[Update; November 2017: Lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) persons in Uganda have no specific legal protections. Activists estimated in 2007 that the Ugandan LGBT community consisted of 500,000 people. The Uganda Anti-Homosexuality Act  was passed on 17 December 2013 with a punishment of life imprisonment for "aggravated homosexuality". In August 2014, the Uganda Constitutional Court annulled the law. Nonetheless, LGBT people continue to face discrimination in Uganda. Households headed by same-sex couples are not eligible for the same legal protections available to opposite-sex couples. In February 2015 President Museveni signed the draconian Anti-Homosexuality Bill which called for repeat offenders to be sentenced to 14 years in prison and to make it a criminal offence not to report someone for being gay; the Bill was defeated in the Ugandan parliament and he has since said he will not pursue further anti-gay legislation.] 

In January (2011) you may have read or heard some media reports that a leading campaigner for Gay Rights in Uganda, David Kato, had been murdered. I (still) feel obliged to draw attention to what is happening in Uganda, not least because it upsets me greatly.

David Kato [Photo taken from the Internet]

Societies world-wide have a lot to answer for with regard to poverty, prejudice, peace, equality, HIV-AIDS...and more besides. At least some politicians do their best while others cruise along, content to play the blame game to distract attention from their own inaction. Yet others, we cannot help but observe, are plainly in politics for no other reason than their own egos.

Politicians in some countries - not just Uganda - put the 21st century to shame. The recent murder of David Kato in Uganda is more than a human tragedy; it is a crime against humanity and the likes of Giles Muhame (Managing Editor of Rolling Stone) deserve to be brought to book.

As if chronic poverty in Uganda isn’t tragedy enough, the persecution of gay people there continues to horrify the civilised world.

So what is the civilized world going to do about it?

This poem is a villanelle.

BROKEN RAINBOW

Under a broken rainbow,
tearful faces making their way
in this sorry world below

Find the seeds to sow
all those we’ve loved heard say
under a broken rainbow

Agreed, we’ve much to show
for packing prejudice on its way
in this sorry world below

By now, world leaders know
free speech needs to have its say
under a broken rainbow?

Areas (still) marked No-Go
for men and women who are gay
in this sorry world below

Where home truths fear to go,
political correctness has its way
under a broken rainbow
in this sorry world below

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

Carpe Diem

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

[Update June 4th 2017] Last night there was another  terror attack in London. Our hearts go out to survivors and the families and friends of all those affected by the awful events in the London Bridge area, The words Carpe Diem take on a even greater significance in the light of terror attacks around the world. Seize the Day, indeed. We cannot let terrorists dictate our way of life.  On the contrary, we must not only get on with our lives according to our various needs and aspirations, but also treasure every moment of being able to do so while taking nothing and no one for granted..] RT

From time to time people - including teachers - ask for a poem (on various social themes) and I try to oblige. This autobiographical piece one was written for a teacher who has asked for something "not too complicated” (they always say that) for a class discussion about gay issues.

True, the title might be 'complicated' for some young people but I think it is well worth taking a few minutes to explain. I will probably include the poem in my next collection - On The Battlefields Of Love - scheduled for publication in 2010.

[Note: Any readers who may wish to use any of my poems in any public arena – including a classroom – should contact me first: rogertab@aol.com [I rarely refuse permission but you are in breach of copyright if you go ahead without it. Besides, I like to keep track of when and where my poems are used in whatever context. Feedback, too, is always welcome; opinions good or bad, although it is always good to hear from readers on any subject even if they just want to say hello.]

CARPE DIEM

Growing up gay was a tough scene
(criminalised for years)
and when I came out in the open
made to run a gamut of tears

My mother, an open-minded woman,
tried to meet me halfway,
but even she said I should tell no one
I thought I was (not am) gay

I did as my mother asked, kept quiet
about my emerging sexuality,
mind, body and spirit ripped apart
by conflicting views of morality

Although my mother’s death a blow,
it also set me free;
no reason now why none should know
how I saw myself, the real me

Some people appeared not to mind
but a look in their eyes
suggested they were but resigned
to putting on a front, telling lies

Other people were downright hostile
but at least I knew where I stood,
wouldn’t win them over with a smile
but maybe a well-chosen word?

I care what people think, of course I do
and take note of what they say
but far more important is staying true
to the real me, its seizing every day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

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