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

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.]

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

Dance Partners OR G-A-Y, Back to Nature

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

A former Archbishop of Canterbury, Doctor Rowan Williams has been quoted in the UK press as being okay with gay bishops so long as they remain celibate. Isn’t that rather like saying they can own a car so long as they don’t drive it?

We are often told (yes, even these days, in the 21st century for goodness sake!) that homosexuality is ‘unnatural’…and celibacy isn’t?

Here’s another poem from the Taber archives, written just a few months before I left school. I would have been 18 years-old at the time and have only recently knocked the original into shape if only to satisfy the poet I am now as compared with the scared, confused, far less articulate teenager I was then. Along with other poems I’ve written, at all stages of my life, it shows a determined lifting of guilt and an awakening realisation that I was not the disgusting person I’d once been given to believe gay people were. Even so, my brother, for one, was always making crass remarks about homosexuals. It didn’t help.

To be fair, I don’t think my mother ever told him or my father I am gay although they may well have guessed but never asked me outright. I suspect it would have made no difference. Whatever, I wasn’t going to pander to their homophobia. I was an emotional and psychological mess already without making things worse. Could they get any worse, I used to wonder? They did, of course, but managed to weather even the worst storms that would hit me in later life.

Thankfully, then - as now, 50+ years later - writing as well as nature came to my rescue, not to mention some delightful gay men …

Even in those dark days when gay relationships were illegal, I found a very special and meaningful acceptance in nature; only rejection and/or worse was on the agenda elsewhere. [Religion was never an option for me but this had nothing to do with my sexuality and wouldn't have been even if I were not gay.  Even so, had I become the Christian of my upbringing, I would not have let being gay come between me and God, whatever the majority of Christians might say.]

No, I didn’t find love among the trees; that came years later. But I discovered how sex and people can be beautiful, also not everyone is a homophobe and being gay is neither ugly nor unnatural as I’d been given to believe at home, in school and just about everywhere I went for years.

“The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.”- Ralph Waldo Emerson

DANCE PARTNERS or G-A-Y, BACK TO NATURE

We ran into trees

when no place else to run

and sought comfort,

found a deep peace and love

others would disown;

the trees, they welcomed us,

gave us sanctuary,

sang to us of another world

of long, long ago,

no less harsh in many ways

yet where its peoples

made time for its saplings,

proud of them all

We talked to trees

when no one else would listen

to what we had to say

and the trees, they understood

how it is to live

under threat, day after day,

subject to the whim

of who decides this, derides that,

claims to know

what’s in our best interest

in the longer term;

the loudest voice, but hollow,

an axe sure to follow

We danced with trees

after being escorted from the floor

for dancing cheek to cheek,

thought indecent behaviour then

by the less enlightened

among a heterosexual majority

inclined to see red

at any hint of homosexuality,

no thought for humanity,

(at best a well-staged sideshow);

morality a priority;

survival, left to a subjectivity

as dispensable as trees

Let the world grow old, memory pass,

the last trees left will watch out for us

Copyright R. N. Taber 1963; 2010; 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Kill the homosexuals!’

a local pastor cried;

and true to his words,

many gay men and women

have since died

"Homosexuals are sinners!’

the impassioned pastor yelled

at a congregation

that took up the cry, would

see us killed

"Homosexuality is an evil!"

the demon pastor screamed,

‘and no known cure

so kill it, and let its sinning

be redeemed

‘Man shall with woman lie!’

The pastor furiously exhorted

his flock to heed verses

from Leviticus, Christ’s coming

conveniently aborted

Someone in the congregation

dared point out that Christ said

we should love

and help our neighbours, not

wish them dead

‘Blasphemer!” the pastor cried,

near hysterical, refusing to relent

on a demonising

of homosexuality undermining

the New Testament

Africa, why are you (or is anyone)

even listening…?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020

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