Casual Chat in a Greasy Spoon OR Impromptu Confession

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

Some heterosexuals are (still) all but obsessed with the belief they cannot possibly contract HIV-AIDS because they are not gay. Yes, it’s unbelievable, but true. When it happens to them, they haven’t a clue how to handle it. The same can be said for some bisexual gay men and women of course; a lot of gay guys, too, live in a complacent little bubble of their own making.

I have written many poems about HIV-AIDS but it was today’s poem that first appeared on both blogs in February 2010 which caught a reader’s eye. ‘Rudi’ apparently had a friend in denial about recently been diagnosed HIV + while being treated in hospital for something else. Rudi said, ‘It’s like he can’t believe it could happen to a super fit heterosexual like him even though he sleeps around and doesn’t always use a condom. It has never occurred to him that one of his casual girlfriends might have been infected by another casual male partner...as if he’s the only one into casual sex!’ Rudi added, ‘They have tried to help him at the hospital, but he won’t listen. He has convinced himself there has been a mistake, and they are a bunch of incompetents.’

Playing the blame game is always a waste of time. Rudi’s friend eventually came to his senses, saw his GP and a counsellor and got medication/advice. Just because people can live for years with the HIV-AIDS virus these days is no cause for complacency and is wholly dependent upon the right medication and a mature attitude to sexual responsibility.

Even talking to a complete stranger in a 'greasy spoon' café is as good a start as any although why so many straight guys seem to think we gay guys should be any more comfortable with the idea of HIV-AIDS than they are remains a mystery to me. Maybe they think that, because we have lived with the possibility longer and perhaps more intimately, it is ingrained in our psyche; forewarned, so to speak, is forearmed? There may even be something in that, but living with HIV+ is no easy ride for anyone.

This is an autobiographical poem and the guy who told me he was HIV+ plainly thought I’d be ‘a good guy to talk to’ because he thought I ‘looked gay’ and ‘would know about these things.’ I tried to reassure him and gave him some good advice for which he was grateful, but squirmed a lot. We shook hands when we parted, and he told me in a well-meaning if also very patronising way, ‘It’s been nice talking to you. Hey, you lot aren’t so bad, are you?’ I took it to be a rhetorical question and summoned a diplomatic smile.

By the way, Rudi didn’t say if he is gay or straight [does it matter?] but did mention that he is tested for HIV-AIDS on a regular basis, but a lot of his friends ‘can’t be bothered’ and/or ‘would rather not know anyway.’  Good for you, Rudi, and I hope you manage to knock some common sense into those idiots.

This poem is a villanelle.

CASUAL CHAT IN A GREASY SPOON or IMPROMPTU CONFESSION

I met a guy in a café one spring day

(me wearing a bright pink tee);

he blurted, "I'm HIV+ but not gay."

I’d just sat down, and chose to stay

despite his open hostility;

I met him in a café one spring day

He said he doesn’t do nice, no way,

to my ‘sort’ especially;

he blurted, “I’m HIV+ but not gay.”

I fought hard to keep my hurt at bay,

as he was upset and angry;

I met him in a café one spring day

“It’s down to you lot I’m sick today,

you’re no fit company.”;

he blurted, “I’m HIV+ but not gay.”

Sex is no game, and takes two to play.

we agreed (eventually);

I met a guy in a café one spring day;

he blurted. “I’m HIV+ but not gay.

Copyright R N. Taber 2010; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010. NB For anyone not in the know, 'Greasy Spoon' is a colloquial term for a small, cheap restaurant or diner typically specialising in fried foods.]

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

A (Gay) Winter's Tale OR Anticipating Summer

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

Lonely? Wintry days seem endless? Well, take heart, you just never know what’s around the next corner or even at the next taxi queue ...

A (GAY) WINTER'S TALE or ANTICIPATING SUMMER

Standing close to me in the queue,

buttocks pressing on my groin;

my sex aroused, I could but surf waves

of desire, riding blond highlights
among waves of his long brown hair;

if I’d stuck out my tongue,

it would have brushed the pale neck

gracing a denim shirt collar

like down of an angel’s wing making

moves on my heart’s reawakening

Moving forward in the queue till just

us pair, a lump in my throat hard

and throbbing like an erection (that, too)

as in craters of a full moon I made

frantic love…to you; a taxi pulled up

alongside us, your turn to vanish

into a darker side of town. You casually

asked if I’d care to share, and I could

but nod, anxious to pursue those highlights

in your hair just about anywhere

In the back seat, leg pressing against mine,

we gladly revealed our names - and

more. It was time, we both knew, to stop

playing games, answer a question

in the wing mirror’s eyes as the taxi

pulled up outside your door;

it was now or never. I yielded to temptation,

said ‘yes’ without further hesitation;

if only a one-night stand, I was well hooked,

my place in your bed long since booked

Wintry days (even in summer) all the warmer

for our being together

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2011

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

Suburban Hero OR The Good Neighbour

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

This entry is from my general poetry blog for October 2012.

Today's poem has not appeared on this blog before. I have nothing to add, but will let it speak for itself.

However, I would say to the reader who kindly says he enjoys many of my poems but thinks my collections would sell better and that I'd probably acquire a higher media profile within the arts media if I 'scrapped the gay poetry altogether...' Well, yes, you may well have a point. [Do I care?]

The reason I insist on publishing both general and gay-interest poems is because there is far more to anyone than how their gender or sexuality meets the eye, especially the judgemental eye. Yours truly,  for one, get fed up with the level of such short sightedness in societies worldwide.

SUBURBAN HERO or THE GOOD NEIGHBOUR

He was just an ordinary man, living
an ordinary life on an ordinary street,
and whenever we chanced to meet
he would always make time for a chat,
ask me (for example) did I know that
Mrs T at number ten had been ill again
with lumbago, old J at number five
caught a bug in hospital and was damn
lucky to be alive?

He was such an ordinary man, living
such an ordinary life on such a street
as you might expect to find anywhere
if you care to look beyond dull fronts
of ordinary houses, could be forgiven
for thinking no worse fate (surely?)
than this spending one’s days in such
predictable ways, the stuff of suburban
myth for centuries

He was such an ordinary man, died
only a few years ago in a road accident;
no complicated will, only a pre-paid
funeral insurance, a few items to friends
and the house to an HIV-AIDS charity
that found everyone confiding how they
had suspected he was ‘one of those’
but …immaterial, and the whole street
turned out for the funeral

Such an ordinary man, nothing special,
simply a nice, neighbourly homosexual

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Bks., 2012]

The Upbeat Heart

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

Today's entry is from my general poetry blog archives for September 2013.

You don’t have to be in the media spotlight to influence people, even society, for the better; big or small, every contribution counts and we can all make one.

Setting a good example can make a big difference; it may start off as a small ripple on a BIG pond, but it will spread. Much the same can be said for setting a bad example, of course, and we would all do well to remember that. At the same time, in various socio-cultural-religious respects, different people have different takes on what constitutes good and bad. I guess all we can do is engage with and trust our better, kinder, instincts. (At least the meaning of kindness is universally understood if not always much in evidence.)

Ah, but if we can see a ripple spread, we rarely get to see what difference our words and everyday behavior make. Take good manners for example; they seem to have gone out of the window here in recent years, but just saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to someone may well encourage them to do the same and so on, making more of us feel just that little bit better, even hopeful that this sorry world of ours might also take a turn for the better any time soon. Our differences, too, can make a difference to the much divided world in which we live and its splintered societies..by pulling together and creating a better world to pass on to those who deserve better.

This (revised) poem is a kenning. Like many of my later poems, this one is the more mature version of an earlier piece. So why publish the earlier piece? Well, it seemed a good idea at the time, and like many good ideas feedback has since shaped it into something much the same yet significantly different. 

THE UPBEAT HEART

How will it all end,

if they have their way, clerics

and politicians pulling me  

in all directions?

Will some fallen angel

pick on me and drag me away

or will a gentler spirit

have mercy, find a place for me

come Judgment Day?

Shall wolfish death

delight in tearing us apart

or strike swiftly

and cleanly at the human heart,

lost doves find their way,  

defy infernal dark, fly eternal light

or (conveniently) consigned

to mythology, out of human mind

and history’s sight

Not ours to know the how,

where, or when, but be glad to give,

learn, unite in Love and Peace

than passively wait Death’s turn

with us while our ‘betters’

play politics with common sense,

and the better, kinder, part

of human nature gets on with making

all the difference

I am that up-beat of the human heart

that gives humanity a head start

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2013

[Note: This poem has been substantially revised from an earlier version published in 1^st editions of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004 and subsequently in Ygdrasil:, a Journal of the Poetic Arts, May 2006.]

Getting Real with Dreams

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

Gay men and women have come a long way in the equality stakes since I was a schoolboy and young man forced into a cold, dark, closet because gay relationships were a criminal offence here (until 1967). Even so, many gay people around the world remain in that closet because they are growing up in a gay-unfriendly home and/or school and/or work environment.

I am nearly 70 now but well recall dreaming about being openly gay. Making dreams come true, though, is easier said than done; there is nearly always a price to pay. It is invariably a price worth paying, in the longer term at least. In the shorter term, it can take some family members and friends a while to get used to the idea; sadly, of course, some never do.

I often receive emails from gay men and women who seem to think I am living in the Dark Ages and assure me no one has a problem with same sex relationships these days. Where no one has a problem with their relationships, I am very happy for them. Unfortunately, it is not true for everyone. [If 'gays have never had it so good' why is it that many gay men and women continue to marry each other to keep certain family members, so-called 'friends' and religious/community leaders off their backs while pursuing as great a degree of self-fulfillment in sexual relationships as any closet relationship will allow?]

As I have pointed out before, and it is worth repeating, same sex relationships remain a criminal offence in many countries; in some, punishable by death. 

Even where gay relationships are legal, not everyone approves or hesitates to express their contempt, especially when taking certain socio-cultural-religious views into account. While I hope most if not all gay readers will enjoy the blog, it is especially intended to encourage gay boys and girls, men and women to feel  GOOD about themselves where only too often others, even loved ones, remain inclined to despise them for it. (I may have been openly gay for many years now, but recall only too well how that feels.) 

Being gay is not a personal choice, but simply how we are. Our only choice turns on how far we are prepared to admit even to ourselves that we are gay, and what (if anything) we are prepared to do about it. 

No one should be condemned for coming out of the closet; similarly, no one should be condemned  for remaining in it for whatever reason. We all have freedom of choice. Sadly, few of us are always able to choose freely.

Photo by A. B., 2015

GETTING REAL WITH DREAMS

Moon on still waters,

sky the deepest blue,

no stars to guide me,

only dreams of you…

Moon myths exploring

all shades of sexuality,

calling us out by name,

affirming our humanity

Moon on still waters,

bringing us together,

gay lovers redefining

our happy-ever-after

Moon myths exploring  

human time and space,

saluting its gay history,

boldly marking its place

Moon on still waters,

living, eternal, womb

for the Spirit of Love,

Earth, its lasting tomb

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Sometimes Sex Will Do

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

Now, one reader says his family and friends think he is ‘...shallow and some sort of sex addict because I play the field a lot.’ Well, he is only 19 so there’s plenty of time yet to think about settling down if and when he finds someone with whom he wants to spend the rest of his life. In the meantime, if you have a high sex drive, ‘playing the field’ beats jerking off alone any day!

The poem appeared on the blog I write especially for gay readers (everyone welcome) in May 2009. Since including it in my new collection, On the Battlefields of Love, another reader has been in touch to ask why it has not appeared on this blog ‘...if only because straight people need reminding about protected sex too.’ He has a point, and to be honest, I didn’t realise I hadn’t posted it here before.

It is a myth that only men (gay or straight) go looking for sex. Women ‘cruise’ too. Look around at your next party, disco or gig and you’ll see what I mean.

That’s ok. We’re all only human. Sexual frustration is natural enough and - so long as we take precautions (it’s not only HIV-AIDS that can result from unprotected sex and some venereal diseases can cause infertility) - satisfying it is nothing to get judgemental about.

Just remember, especially you younger folks, cruising rarely provides more than a one-night stand. No relationship based only on sex ever stood a cat in hell’s chance of lasting.

No, I’m not knocking sex. I may be something of a sheltered flower as I grow old(er) but I’ve made my share of making-hay-in-the-sunshine days…

Let's face it. Gay or straight, male or female, love can be elusive, and such is the chemistry between two people sometimes that sex more than compensates if only for the Here and Now. As for all our tomorrows...well, who knows?

This poem is a villanelle.

SOMETIMES SEX WILL DO

Come night falling on a city,
I took a road I didn’t know,
its lights looking out for me

Everyone kept smiling at me
like celebrities on show,
come night falling on a city

Self-conscious of a sexuality,
(companion to my shadow)
its lights looking out for me

I entered a bar half-hopefully,
willing my shadow follow,
come night falling on a city

A god dipped my immaturity
in a bright neon glow,
its lights looking out for me

In a vainglorious 21st century,
raising a glass to Soho,
come night falling on a city,
its lights looking out for me

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2016

[Note: For the benefit of overseas readers, Soho is historically a very gay-friendly area of central London. However, you can have a good time here whatever your sexual persuasion]

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