Mixed Feelings OR Sexuality, Reason Not the Need

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2016 under the title 'Mixed Feelings'. Several readers have since pointed out that the title could be seen as misleading so I have added an alternative title, as I often do, to introduce the poem in the context in which it is mean to be read. I just hate it when people ask me why I am gay. I didn't choose to be gay, I am gay; it answers a need in me that defies any Q & A interrogation from anyone, including myself. Yes, at 70+ now I am no longer sexually active, but that is only due to my prostate cancer and doesn't make me a-sexual; I still have the heart and spirit of a gay man. 

By the way, many thanks to those of you emailing to ask how I am getting on with compiling a new collection of poems. Progress remains slow but sure. Years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer having messed with my thought processes and want of a good night's sleep combined with the stresses we are all under due to the coronavirus pandemic ... well, they don't help. wry bardic grin But I plod on, not least because I have no choice but I genuinely enjoy writing up the blogs and compiling poetry collections, not only for the welcome distraction they provide, but because they encourage me to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life.

Now, some people are naturally bisexual while others can relate to the opposite sex but prefer their own, yet feel - for whatever reason - unable to be open and upfront about it. Such men and women are frequently criticised by gay and straight people alike, but … who are we to judge?

The Japanese have a saying ‘I no naka no kawazu taikai wo shirazu.’ (Literally: A frog in a well does not know the great sea.)  In other words, people are satisfied to judge things by their own narrow experience for not knowing any different.

Regular readers will know I do not subscribe to any religion, but I had a Christian upbringing and I reckon Jesus of Nazareth was spot on when he told those anxious to sentence a woman to be stoned to death for adultery as according to the law, ‘Let him among you who is without sin cast the first stone at her.’ (John 8:7)

Enjoying same sex relationships is no sin, of course, simply a part of the complex whole that makes us human, and no better or worse for that than anyone else.

"O, reason not the need ..." (Shakespeare, King Lear)

This poem is a villanelle.

MIXED FEELINGS or SEXUALITY, REASON NOT THE NEED 

A day-tripper I met on vacation one day
said he much prefers sex with a man,

confided a part of him will always be gay

Married, two kids, no regrets for a way

of getting on with life as best he can,

a day-tripper I met in Brighton one day

He said he liked me (what could I say?)

Saw no betrayal of wife and children,

confided a part of him will always be gay

He needed to let his heart have its way,

(mine, playing catch-me-if-you-can)

a day-tripper I met in Brighton one day

At my hotel, he kissed my doubts away,
shed no tears for his loving a woman,

confided a part of him will always be gay

"I reason not the need, I heard him say,
"because I know I'm a good person." 

A day-tripper I met on vacation one day

confided a part of him will always be gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016; 2020

An Autobiography of the Human Race

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

We are all past-present-future in the flesh. We inherit certain genes and much of our approach to life is taken from historical figures who have made a deep impression on just as we, in how we live our lives, make an impression on others for better or worse; family, friends, casual acquaintances, even complete strangers. It only takes one moment in time when something we say or do strikes a chord in someone’s life that will play out forever.

We won’t all make the national archives, of course, but there is another, more extensive to the point of being inexhaustible archive that is the human mind-body-spirit, that key player in human nature that should never be underestimated; whoever and wherever we are, whatever our socio-cultural-religious background, gender or sexual persuasions, it is the backbone of a common humanity that has seen the human race also rise above all history has thrown at it, just as it will continue to do, even as the C-19 coronavirus continues to impact on us all.

This poem is a kenning.

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE HUMAN RACE

I walk with ghosts, night and day,

a presence as real to me as my own reflection

greeted in mirrors, shop windows,

still waters in dream-places keeping memories

and sometime companions alive,

urging mind-body-spirit like voices in the ear

egging urging me on, regardless

of any obstruction fallen or placed in my way

whether by accident or design

I talk with ghosts, night and day,

and they listen without interruption, just a nod

or shake of the head occasionally,

sufficient to persuade or dissuade any thoughts

to action or inaction gathering pace

demanding I look again or press on, regardless

where inspiration has landed a hit,

missed its mark altogether, deserves discussion

or better left to gather dust

I bare all to ghosts, night and day,

far more even than to those who know me best

if only because I dare not share

any part of me that takes its cue from the dead

for fear of being misunderstood

or (worse) denied a voice, left with less of a life

to speak of than even a ghost,

reduced to a skeleton in someone’s cupboard,

exhibit for some eager archivist

I am that past-present-future making of humanity

what it will, and am called History

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018; 2020

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

Pièce de résistance

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2015.

A reader once emailed me and asked the nature of my thoughts. For example, he wanted to know, am OK with being gay? Do I have regrets for being in my 70's now? He might as well have just asked if I am OK with being myself.

Yes, there is a part of me that is not happy with all I have achieved and not achieved. Who doesn't’ have regrets? I have more than my fair share, but being gay is not one of them. Coming out openly as a gay man, albeit waiting until my 30's to do so, is one of the relatively few aspects of my life of which I will always be proud.

PIÈCE DE RÉSISTANCE

Body, seeking love,

where doors closed to me

or slammed in my face,

warning I must know my place,

given an open sexuality

scorning all prejudice

and bigotry, daring to stake

my claim to co-exist

among the best (and worst)

humanity has to offer

Mind, anxious love

close not its open doors to me

or slam them in my face,

reaffirming that I have a place,

given an open sexuality

trusting prejudice and bigotry

will (eventually) accept

nature’s everlasting legacy

to history of the best (and worst)

humanity has to offer

Spirit, conspiring with love

to engage a kinder humanity

with the likes of me,

urge a smile on the face

of adversity, keeping it in place,

for taking pride in sexuality,

tasking prejudice and bigotry

with (finally) accepting

all the integrity of human nature

demands, that our differences

but make us human

Body, mind and spirit, steering us

through good and bad patches...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015; 2020

[Note: This poem has been slightly but significantly revised since it first appeared on the blog in 2015.} RNT

Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained OR Mind-Body-Spirit, Up for It

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2008 under a different title, and I have since revised it,  slightly but significantly.

Several readers have asked how I am progressing with the new poetry collection and if I have found a potential publisher. Well, progress is slow but sure, and I haven't given much thought to finding a publisher as I will probably self-publish again. As I have said before on the blogs, the majority of publishers here in the UK have never shown any interest in my previous collections; indeed, it would seem that poetry publishers in general are inclined to shy away from a volume that includes both general and gay-interest poems. I am toying the the idea of only making it available as an e-book, but may have just a few hundred copies printed as they have always sold. As always, time will tell if and hoe opportunity knocks. wry bardic chuckle

Meanwhile ...

Now, there's a lot to be said for letting  Waves of Wishful Thinking sweep us off our feet and having their way with us on tides of Here-and-Now. Oh, and there's no need to wait for Valentine’s Day to come around again either. wry bardic grin

'Practise is the best of all instructors.' - Pubilius Syrus (fl. 85-43 BC)

Have fun ... but be careful out there.

NOTHING VENTURED, NOTHING GAINED or MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, UP FOR IT

I slumped in a bar, drinking moodily,

in a tug-of-war with my heart,

longing to kiss the guy opposite me,

a target, if ever, for Cupid's dart

I contemplated chatting him casually

(be subtle while making a pass)

but fear kept getting the better of me

as I looked soulfully into my glass

Now and then I’d let my eyes devour

pecs pricking at a tight white tee,

felt myself blushing for sheer horror

at catching him observing me

Did I like what I saw, he softly asked?

(making my every nerve tingle);

I felt like a thief caught out, unmasked,

could but silently pray he was single

I could barely mumble something inane

(his laughter made me look away);

he still had a smile when I looked again,

one that seemed to want me to stay

He came over and sat right next to me

I took heart and we chatted a while,

mind-body-spirit engaging anxiously

in a mad tug-of-war with his smile

During that (half-hearted) tug-of-war,

fear began to drop away from me,

till sex such as I’d but dreamed of before

affirmed a new, gay-spiritual identity

We had a safe, sensual, delightful affair,

practising the finer arts of sexuality

for such a time as such sympathies care

to give love a free rein on its humanity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008; 2020

It is what it Is... or is it?

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

Now and then readers email me  to ask if I consider myself an atheist or agnostic because I am gay and, if not, why not…?

Over the years (I'm in my 70's now) I have lost count of the times I have been told by members of various religious groups that I will go to hell for being gay. A colleague at work once told me that she enjoyed working with me, and she was sorry I would go to hell (for being gay.) If we had not been in a busy public library at the time, I would have given her as good as I was getting, but I kept a tactful silence. If she interpreted my silence as a respectful one, she could not have been more wrong; her religion I respect, yes, its bigotry, no. Fortunately not all religious people are bigots, and I have felt privileged, indeed, to meet some of them.

So ... God is a homophobe? Evangelical Christians and the majority of Muslims are by far the worst, for being homophobic, but I exclude none. (While Judaism is inclined towards a liberal attitude towards LGBT issues, most Orthodox Jews stop well short of sanctioning LGBT relationships.) For this reason, I am publishing this post/poem on both blogs; it first appeared in 2017. Regular readers will know that I have every respect for all religious faiths, but as a human being (who happens to be gay) I have the right of reply ... don't I?

At school, 50+ years ago, we were once asked to write an essay about ‘Secrets’. This was preceded by a class discussion on the subject during which we were all agreed that secrets are hard to keep, especially from family and friends. Someone made an unkind remark about gays not being ‘out’ to which the teacher responded with a wry shrug that “Time outs us all, in the end. The trick is to get in first, before gossip and ignorance can do their worst.’ This comment certainly livened up the debate, but I missed most of what was being said for dwelling on the concept of Time ‘outing us all in the end.’ It is so true. Gay or straight, it is a rare person that has no secrets; invariably these come out, if not during their lifetime then in the course of events following their death.

I only came out to a few people until a bad nervous breakdown in my 30’s finally rid me of all self-consciousness about my sexuality. Even then, though, I trod carefully through what I had known for years as a minefield of public opinion. The breakdown had lasted several years before I found the confidence to face the world again. During this time, I explored human nature through avid reading and writing poetry, both of which had already stood me in good stead at university.

Being gay is, of course, only one aspect of human nature, one part of a complex whole. It has always been the whole that interests me although, obviously, I have a special interest in the gay aspect. Some gay people seem to find it strange that I write general as well as gay-interest poetry. But…why not? Being gay is a very significant part of who I am, yes, but I can hardly ignore the rest of me, those other parts that make me who and what I am. Well, can I...?

In my 70’s now, I often look back and wish I had done things differently (as in ‘better’) but I guess we are all victims of our circumstances up to a point, and my circumstances have often conspired against me. Yet, I am no victim in the sense that I made my own choices, albeit not always the right ones.

Many who subscribe to a religion have told me I will forfeit Heaven and go to Hell although I suspect we make our own heaven and hell as our lives take shape by our own hand. So is death the end of all things, I wonder? I have no idea, but as a nature lover, take comfort from the way nature nurtures itself, and spring follows winter. Love, too, never dies even as lovers and loved ones pass away. I suppose I put what Faith I have in nature and love rather than in any religion since, from both, I have always taken a strong sense of spirituality. As to whether or not that sense of spirituality is seen as a sufficiently positive force in my poetry  to pass into living memory after my death, only time will tell.

No agnostic or atheist, me, but a pantheist. 

IT IS WHAT IT IS…OR IS IT?

Time running out,

mind-body-spirit left floundering

among regrets

for missed opportunities, rushes

to misjudgement,

and plain, everyday mistakes

with consequences...

for there can be no payback

equal to the task

of making reparation for any flaws

in humankind

No sense of a God

likely to extend any forgiveness

to the likes of me,

unable to relate to any Heaven

(potential safe haven)

throughout a lifetime of struggling

to make sense of dogma

interpreted by Religion’s finest

as leave to preach

a Politics of the Heart making sense

of humankind

How then to approach

the End of Things in the absence

of any New Beginning

other than as some deactivated spirit

gone to ashes, dust,

someone else’s (imperfect) memory,

there to endure

a kindly ‘eternity’ that sits more easily

on the tongue than ‘death’

while advocating spiritual qualities

in humankind?

I have asked this of poems

that have dogged my every footstep

from child to senior,

no one answer offered (or confirmed)

but a sense of moving

through time (other than growing old)

acting out tales passed on

by ghosts about leaving footprints;

no one left behind

but (together) creating a continuum

called humankind

To each, our own way,

engaging with the greater mysteries

of life and death,

finding such comfort as we can,

pinning our finer hopes

on what’s better, kindlier, said

and done, wiser choices

than less so, promise nurtured

or left unfulfilled

for an indefinable social conscience

to define us as it will

Whatever, it is what it is, and Time

will out us all one way or another…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017; 2020

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

Getting the Better of Beasties under the Bed

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

Today’s poem last appeared on the blog in 2013, and caught my eye as I continue sorting poems for a new collection, hopefully later this year; it will not include most poems posted during the pandemic as I have many other  unpublished poems waiting in the wings, but they are already earmarked for yet another collection so long as I have time to collate it before the Grim Reaper comes calling. Oh, and, yes it will include gay-interest poems as do all my collections in spite of potential editors losing interest because they see gay-interest poetry as a retail risk. wry bardic grin

Many thanks to those of you who get in touch from time to time and ask about my prostate cancer.  In 2011, after being diagnosed, I opted for radiotherapy, but was unable to hold my water prior to treatment so began hormone therapy instead. I have injections of Zoladex about every 18 months and … so far, so good. I feel fine. Yes, I get tired, but that is partly because I need to get up at least several times during night for a pee so have all but forgotten how it is to get a really good night’s sleep. My memory is also affected, but I will be 75 later this year so no surprises there anyway, and writing poetry as well as doing word puzzles helps keep to thought processes in reasonably good shape. On the whole, no complaints. I have been living with prostate cancer for 9+ years now, and suspect I may well have survived the Covid-19 coronavirus back in early January when I had the symptoms but put it down to a very bad cold so just stayed indoors. Yes, I am stressed by the pandemic and its implications for all of us, but I have good reason to count my blessings.

Meanwhile...

Now, like many very young children, I used to force myself to look under the bed and in any cupboards to reassure myself there was no Beastie there waiting to pounce on me once I fell asleep.

Well, you will be pleased to know I no longer do that particular security check before settling down to sleep.  Even so, you will realise there is a Beastie of sorts that causes me some concern now and then. Yes, hormone therapy is managing my prostate cancer so far, but I am very much aware that the cancer is there inside me. Most of the time, I forget about it. Now and then, though, especially at night, I find its presence more than a shade unnerving so I do what I used to do as a child, and work a magic spell. I think of nice things, nice people, nice places, until my head is full of all things NICE that's sure to keep the nasty Beastie away. It a trick that also saw me through years of fearing family and peers discovering I am gay, not to mention falling victim to several gay-bashing episodes (called queer-bashing when I was a young man) should I let my guard down.

The trick has never failed me, and if I don’t get a good night’s sleep sometimes it’s invariably down to those calls of nature better answered than ignored. The same magic has seen me through the pandemic so far, too, so you might want to try it if you haven’t already; what often works for children can work just as well for adults too.

GETTING THE BETTER OF BEASTIES UNDER THE BED

There’s was a Beastie

under my bed, eyes glowing red

like a devil

in the fires of Hell,

willing me

to descend, put an end

to all living artifice,

make the ultimate sacrifice,

set the body free

(in other words, surrender

to the Beastie ?)

There was a Beastie

under my bed, looking for a way

to get into my head

and indulge its penchant

for mind games,

challenge me to defy

a necessary evil

or demand I answer why

I’ll not cave in

to the inevitable, dare me

do battle

There was a Beastie

under my bed; like a cancer

it has spread

news of its purpose

to my brain,

but there it was put to rout

(if not without a fight)

for Brain knows every trick

every Book (and more)

exposing Beasties sixk intentions

to a higher power

There was a Beastie

under my bed, face a puffy red

as it returns

to where there still burns

a welcome

for its kind if likely

to meet its match

in the human spirit, burning

more brightly than some

devilish hearth in the bowels

of metaphor

No Beastie under my bed,

for its recognising a lost cause;

though it feed on my body,

no true or lasting gratification

to be had where flesh

but a coat of many colours

lent by Earth Mother

to distinguish friend from foe

until our return

to Her womb, the likes of Beastie

denied entry

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020

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

P-R-E-J-U-D-I-C-E-S, Cultural Hangovers OR Gay in Hanoi

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

A reader from Vietnam has asked me to repeat a poem that has appeared on the blog before in support of LGBT people there who are made to feel second-class citizens and often disowned by their families for being brave and principled enough to leave that proverbial closet which may well have been their home for years.

‘Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender (LGBT) persons in Vietnam may face legal challenges not experienced by non-LGBT residents. Both male and female same-sex sexual activity are legal and are believed to never have been criminalized in Vietnamese history. However, same-sex couples and households headed by same-sex couples are ineligible for the legal protections available to opposite-sex couples. Although homosexuality is generally considered taboo, awareness surrounding LGBT rights has risen during the 21st century. Reports of discrimination against LGBT people are not uncommon, however, with about 20% of LGBT people reported being beaten by family members when coming out.’   - Wikipedia

It remains one of the twenty-first century's tragedies that there are millions in much the same position around the world, invariably due to socio-cultural-religious bias if not plain old-fashioned bigotry. 

P-R-E-J-U-D-I-C-E-S, CULTURAL HANGOVERS or GAY IN HANOI

To all appearances safe and sound;

the law, not anti-LGBT;

on the whole, though public opinion

much divided, most families

rejecting members daring to leave

the proverbial closet,

give human rights, equality, humanity

(and loyalty) a stronger voice

in the wider community, send ignorance

and inhumanity on their way

City of Peace, bitter divisions within

its ever-growing populace;

some applauding changes of attitude

from prejudice to support

for its men, women and young people

struggling with sexuality

against a backdrop of bigotry and hate

in this ‘Paris of the East’

where tree-lined boulevards give the lie

to a city at peace with itself

Brave are they who march for Pride,

asserting the rights of sexuality

to respect among equals, deserving

better than mere tolerance,

(especially where it masks hostility)

better to know your enemy

than feel sufficiently safe and sound

to Come Out, only to be left

seeking sanctuary among other rejects

who made the same ‘mistake’

Find mind-body-spirit waiting on the all-clear

wherever inhumanity would see gay folks live in fear

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

[Note: I have revised the original alternative title since the poem last appeared on the blog.]

"Humanity, Come on Down!" OR L-I-F-E, Make-or-Break Connections

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

More than once, readers have written in to ask why I don’t post more ‘nature’ poems instead of (often, it’s true) composing what has been called ‘so-called’ poetry that - in the words of one reader only recently - “…is just social comment.” I confess I take exception to the word ‘just’; besides, the arts are littered with social comment so why should I not join the fray?

Literature, music, art, ballet, sculpture … whatever … if anyone thinks it’s all entertainment, and nothing else, they are missing out on the whole of what any art form is about; there are parts to many if not most things - including human nature – and it is standing back to see-hear it as a whole that really counts.

Demonstrations here in the UK and the U.S protesting about the needless death of George Floyd, an unarmed African-American while being forcefully restrained by a police officer in Minnesota, have caused pain and anger beyond description; nor has either been appeased by precious little attempt at government level to pour oil on troubled waters. As for building bridges, well, hope springs eternal …

HUMANITY, “COME ON DOWN” or L-I-F-E-, MAKE-OR-BREAK CONNECTIONS

No matter the colour

of a person’s skin, their gender

or sexuality,

we all deserve no more (or less)

than to be treated

fairly if not equally at (and by) all levels

of human society

All mind-body-spirit

asks of the world is that it play fair,

be kind,

not impose such grim rites of passage

as racism, sexism,

hate crime against same sex relationships,

all stereotypes

Humanity is diverse

and that is how it needs to be or we

would want to know

how to make it (far) more interesting;

a common humanity

needs to respect such differences as it asks

to make us human

Take away respect

and we but give the worst of human nature

both nod and wink

to kill as well as give birth, ley anarchy loose

on streets that understand

any protesters would rather march in peace,

and be heard

The arts call on us

to pull together, be kind, give understanding

a chance to pave

the way for good intentions instead

of leaving them blocked

by socio-cultural-religious taboos, made to fear

recriminations

Human history

tells many a sorry tale of its wars and injustices,

but love, too,

reconciliation, grounds for hoping

that certain leading “Betters”

may yet touch base with those expected to settle

for the status quo

Any Here-and-Now

needs to be, open to change, and all its peoples

will never always agree,

but that’s where human nature comes

into its own, the jewel

in its crown, its capacity to hear and listen, look

and see

Human nature, get off your throne, earn your crown,

“Come on Down”

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

[Note: For any readers who may not be aware, "Come on Down" is a catchphrase from the television game show The Price Is Right; this poem also appears on my general poetry blog today..]

G-A-Y, Dance Moves

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

A reader asks if my poetry collections are still in print, Sadly, no, although I am hoping to publish revised editions at a later date. Poetry publishers did not want my gay-interest poems, and I was not prepared to publish a collection without any their being fairly represented. Eventually, I resorted to self-publishing (all) seven collections, but could only afford 200 copies of each at the time; they sold well, and I even made a small profit so I have no regrets. 

One U.S. publisher expressed an interest, but they seemed to think they were doing me a huge favour and could mess me around as much as they liked, so I withdrew. Another, expressed surprise that I write both general and gay-interest poetry … as if there is no more to any of us than our sexuality.

Needless to say, I eventually gave up on poetry publishers altogether apart from continuing to submit poems to poetry magazines for some years.

Now, a young gay man once confided that he was fed up with one-night stands ‘because they never lead anywhere.’ Ah, that may well be true enough, but nothing ventured, nothing gained, and more often than not sex will do just nicely. Besides, you never know …

DANCE MOVES

He caught my eye in a busy bar,

didn’t think I stood a chance

till he grinned and came right up to me,

asked if I’d care to dance

I had to confess to two left feet;

he laughed wickedly and loud,

grabbed my hand without another word,

and led me through the crowd

On the dance floor, I was aware

of people staring at us,

desire pulling strings on my arms and legs,

my heart doing somersaults

Lust, it was, dug its claws into us,

at mind-body-spirit it tore,

in a delicious frenzy of pregnant yearning

demanding more, more, more…

Lust it was, too, kept insisting

we skip coffee at his place,

strip each other naked at its feverish pitch,

submit to its ultimate embrace

All we wanted that crazy night

was sex, sex, and more,

no thought of love’s ever getting a look in 

never been in love before

As we lay awake the next morning,

he tightly squeezed my hand,

our kiss when it came confirming much more

than a one-night stand

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013; 2020