Caught Out

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

Not one of my best poems but, having been the victim of my share of homophobic attacks over the years, one I felt compelled to write 

Even as we all find ourselves social distancing and doing our best to defeat the Covid-19 coronavirus, readers around the world continue to get in touch to say they have been the victims of homophobic attacks. Yes, it’s scary; it has happened to me, too, but not in recent years, possibly because I am in my 70’s now and the cowardly thugs no longer see me as a target; they forget the power of the written word. Homophobia rocks self-confidence, but we have to get on with our lives rather than let the sick ‘machos’ win, yeah?

As for those religious fundamentalists and evangelical types advocating hell and damnation for homosexuals and tearing the socio-cultural-religious fabric of societies apart ... they are no better than those thugs who resort to physical attacks on LGBT people. Indeed, they are worse since they are using the darker elements of socio-cultural-religious (and political) forces to suit personal agendas; the latter invariably found wanting to say the very least.

Society is a matter of you-me-us, a collective responsibility; parents, teachers, politicians, religious leaders ... all have their part to play, each in their own way. We may think we cannot contribute much to what is a global consciousness, but we need to remember that  ripples spread, and even a little can go a long way.

CAUGHT OUT

Some say it’s cool to be gay,

there are laws to protect you and I;

blood and bruises say they lie

Thugs came with baseball bats

and chased us, my gay friend and I,

gesturing abuse at the sky

They beat us, six gutless morons

yelling how all gays deserve to die,

yet we survived to expose the lie

Some say it’s cool to be gay

in a brave new twenty-first century

professing to respect sexuality

Whatever, we’ll not be put down

(for long); the human spirit endures,

catching humanity out for its lies 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2020

Facing up to Life

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

The poems on my general poetry blog address anyone and everyone who enjoys poetry, regardless of  who or where they are in the world. I write up a separate gay-interest poetry blog as well because I am a gay man and recognise that many people might not be interested. Interest works both ways, of course, and feedback suggests that few readers of this blog dip into my general blog (although I have posted poems of particular interest to LGBT folks there from time to time,) A friend of one such reader has asked me to post today's entry on the latter here as well. So, here goes ...:.

Like many if not most of us, I am close to desperation as the Covid-19 coronavirus persists even though there are signs that it is starting to abate. I miss being with friends and am finding my own company increasingly unbearable. Only by engaging with an inner self that has always been a more positive thinking force than its human host, am I able to recover sufficient  self-confidence to not only face the day ahead, but even write a poem.

I have always been plagued by self-doubt. As a child and young person at school many years ago, any self-confidence I was able to muster would soon be undermined by one thing or another. My perceptive of ‘pitch’ deafness was not diagnosed till my early twenties, and this did not help; time and time again, I was made to look a fool by not hearing or mishearing what people said, whether they be family members, friends or school teachers. I had no way of knowing how the pitch of someone’s voice or surrounding acoustics could affect how I perceived what someone said and, in turn, what response was required. When I realised that I am gay, I was almost as inclined to put myself down for it as most people were in the 1950’s, and many still are although they might well deny it for fear of being seen to contravene any equality and /or political correctness legislation.

While I can only speak from personal experience, I have had many a conversation with people of all genders, ages and socio-cultural-religious backgrounds who, for whatever reason, have had battles with self-confidence all their lives; hopefully, we ain more than we lose, bit it is invariably the latter that continue to haunt us.

So how do we overcome a lack of self-confidence, faith in ourselves, and any subsequent self-consciousness that makes us wish the earth beneath us would swallow us up in certain situations? My Religious Education teacher,  a Mr Partridge, who ‘regretted’ but did not hold my inability to identify with religion against me, told me on the day I left forever that “Those unable to reach out to God, for whatever reason, have no choice but to reach out to themselves, that is to say the inner self. The chances are, they will touch and draw upon such physical and spiritual life forces beyond all understanding.” I was sceptical the time, but now in my 70’s, I have to say it is among the best advice I have ever received.

When nature and/ or human nature takes you to the edge of some existential abyss, take heart, dear readers, look to your inner self, and you may well be pleasantly surprised at what you may find there.

This poem is a kenning. …

FACING UP TO LIFE

Let good times roll,

and find me responding

in kind as, indeed,

much the same whenever

life they take a turn

for the worse, although be sure

I will default to positives

before the harshest negatives will get

the better of me

See bad times persist,

and find me smiling through

if only to conceal

an everyday struggle within

to rise above however

mind-body-spirit defaulting

to autopilot by way

of blocking any such feelings likely to get

the better of me  

Yet, there are such times

in the human condition effecting

system failure,

demanding I call on whatever

native skills as left me

to restore working order,

rise above any sense of failure likely to get

the better of me

Above all things, I, Inspiration am set the task

of encouraging mine host to but do as I ask

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Curtain Rising on a Sense of What's What

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

This entry is from my general poetry blog archives for June 2014; like many such recent  entries, it could just as well been published on either blog, given that people are people are people, whatever their sexual orientation or socio-cultural-religious background. Many if not most of us would agree, of course, while just as many others continue to judge LGBT people differently. Do any of us have a given right to judge another person, least of all for their sexuality?

Sometimes we wake up and wonder why we bother. Time then to force ourselves to prepare for another day, throw open curtains and windows, breathe in deeply, imbibe the sweeter sounds and smells of life and let them inspire us...in spite of everything that seems to be working against us.

Now, nature may well be as fickle as humankind, but we have but to open our minds to acknowledge its capacity for life, love, and peace to feel invited and inspired to share in it all … and let sheer willpower do the rest, albeit with a native inclination for positive thinking in the driving seat.

No? Try it, and see. It has worked wonders for me over all of 70+ years, even getting me through a bad nervous breakdown in my 30's.

Did I say it was easy ... ?

CURTAIN RISING ON A SENSE OF WHAT'S WHAT

Human hearts top-heavy,

so needing to give expression
to an ache in the soul,
but no one to listen, everyone
playing pass-the-parcel
with us to avoid being put
on the spot or delivering us up
to an answering machine

Come, let's at least try

to appreciate how Earth Mother
does her best for us

Sunshine in a misty rain

making pretty flowers grow;
heavens shedding tears
for us even while raising smiles
on human faces
etched with pain if only
for having gone that extra mile
and been let down

Longing for loved ones

far away (or dead) to give us a hug,

make everything all right

Listen! The trees are singing

in country, city, and town;

Look! Children laughing, playing,
lovers wishing on stars,
Life forces ever reaching out to us,
inviting us to share in it all,
though human nature play us
fair or foul

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Curtain Rising in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

Listening in, Anyone?

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

While many of my poems are concerned with LGBT issues, others could easily have been posted on my general poetry blog. Oh, and why not? As I make the point time and again, there is more to all of us - LGBT or straight - than our sexuality. Just as a person is a person is a person so, too, a poem is a poem is a poem, to take as we find, no rush to judgement or totally misleading stereotypes affecting how we receive either person or poem. (Yes, well, hope springs eternal...)

Given the title of the poem, I should perhaps emphasise - as a significantly if only partially deaf person - that everyone has an 'inner' ear responding to our sensibilities and imagination rather than sounds.

I have been so pleased by the number of readers dipping into both blogs since I have been posting from the archives of one to the other recently.

Expect the occasional new poem/s in 2020, while some of you may like to explore the archives for either or both poetry blogs; these are listed and can be accessed on the right of any blog entry. Oh, and if you ever feel like sending the link to anyone you know who enjoys poetry, be my guest, and many thanks.

Compiling revised editions of my poetry collections will take time, but I will let you know as I complete each one and publish it online.

Happy New Year everyone, and many thanks for your support over the last 10 years.

LISTENING IN , ANYONE?

Another day, another year
as hope springs eternal, catching every tear
that falls, echoing every cry
from the heart for us to treat each other
better than either history
or contemporaneity attempts to remind anyone
who’s listening in

Another day, another year
of an everyday striving to at least appear
at one with a world
tearing us apart with its relentless aggression
against those unable to fit
into our preferred window on life, love, equality
in this or that society

Another day, another year,
pulling mind-body-spirit together, the better
to take each rise and fall
as it comes, keep looking on the bright side
of life, no matter how
we read graffiti on our walls, the good-bad-ugly
sides of human history

Another day, another year,
resolutions made in good faith upon the strokes
of midnight, ear bashing
those with the best of intentions among us
on our way to the bar,
a licence to kill time before it gets to exposing us
for wishful thinkers

Another day, another year,
and more of life's epic poetry writing up humanity,
(warts ‘n’ all, no one spared)
spelling out expectations for future generations,
assuming it’s not too late
to wipe Graffiti Earth clean, rework personal space,
let us breathe again


Copyright R. N. Taber, 2019

[Note: This poem appears on both poetry blogs.]

Christmas, Hall of Mirrors

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

Yes, a new poem today, appearing on both poetry blogs.

We all like to think we have fewer flaws than the next person, but it is invariably true of many if not most of us. Let’s face it, human nature is flawed, not least because we often have reason to believe it has let is down, even failed us with its complex set-up of contradictions, deceptions and preoccupation with appearances. We can but do our best to overcome these, and most give it our best shot; sadly, this often falls short of its target or misses it altogether, not always our own fault, but down to our target being human and we human beings adept at misreading signs in any shape or form. Many a close relationship has failed dur to those concerned failing to see the bigger picture; indeed, often enough, any picture other than they expect to see it, regardless of how the other person’s expectations. Too few people talk things over, but prefer to think that appearances speak for themselves.  Oh, but appearances rarely do…

Now, what has this preamble got to do with Christmas? Well, as much as it has to do with daily life all year round, but more so because it is a religious celebration; religion is meant to be about love, peace, and goodwill as well as (mutual) tolerance and understanding to all, not just the select few that share and practise our own socio-cultural-religious views and/or approach to life and people. While sharing and caring may well bring people closer, it should not follow that ‘outsiders’ are exempt from the caring aspect which, in my experience, especially with regard to my being gay, has so often been the case. Even so, there have been notable exceptions, supporting my view that religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality; the human spirit is far greater than the sum of all its stereotypical misnomers upon which most world religions are inclined to base conversion tactics. I have nothing against religion except where its followers disrespect those who refuse to enter into its dogma, for whatever reason.

Whatever, ENJOY the seasonal festivities whoever and wherever you are, regardless of religion, race or sexuality; like it or not, we are a common humanity, and more commonly flawed that many if not most of us care to admit, yours truly being no exception.

CHRISTMAS, HALL OF MIRRORS

At Christmas past,

wary of all we might see. Memory Lane

not always the pleasure

we would have it be, certain moments

in time best left for dead

than revived, reawakened, reinvented,

turned into pulp fiction by a mind-body-spirit

arguing against redemption

At Christmas past,

revisiting ghosts, letting them stir us up

with wooden spoons,

mixing fairy tales, Santa Claus, and elves

into an indigestible fudge

of broken promises, missed opportunities,

playing blame games as leave mind-body-spirit

to filter the consequences

At Christmas past,

calling on ghosts to move on, leave us free

to travel Memory Lane

as it used to be, enjoy fun snowball fights

among long-ago peers,

gifts and fairy lights on Christmas trees,

messaging home comforts and joy to passers-by,

carollers, and rough sleepers

Christmas Here-and Now,

calling upon all we Children of Earth Mother

to embrace the twin spirits

of Peace and Goodwill, and play our part

(no matter big or small)

in showing the wariest and fragile of hearts

a global consciousness that needs must prioritise

an inclusive human kindness

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2019

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

Earth Mother, a Carer called Hope

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

This poem/post is from my general poetry blog archives for January 2012. Life can be tough, cruel even, but hope springs eternal, and is always on hand to help us rise above it all...if we let it. Yes, sometimes our hopes are dashed, but Hope always has a plan B; look for it within a human spirit's greater predilection for peace and love, common to us all whatever our race, religion, gender, or sexuality; we have but to seek-find-listen-hear...our choice, our life, our future so let it be a triumph for positive over negative thinking, yeah?

Regular readers will know that many years ago, when I was in my early thirties, I had a severe nervous breakdown and became suicidal. I overdosed on paracetamol and was unconscious for thirty-six hours. I awoke in such pain that I somehow found the resolve to make my way to my nearby GP’s surgery but only recall telling a receptionist I had taken an overdose before I passed out again to wake up in hospital the next morning. 

It was stupid thing to do. Yet, desperation rarely if ever recognises stupidity. 

In hospital, I felt guilty and ashamed for taking up a bed and the nurses’ time. The nurses were brilliant and could not have been kinder, which made me feel all the more ashamed of what, after all, is a very selfish act. 

Yes, selfish. Yet, desperation rarely if ever recognises selfishness either.  

For the first and only time in my life, I saw a psychiatrist who was actually very helpful. [I have seen several who have been a complete waste of time.] It would be several years before I recovered sufficiently to think about finding another job, and years more before I began to feel all but fully recovered.  I have looked upon every day since as a bonus. 

I survived all this with the support of some good friends and a faith in Earth Mother of which I had  had temporarily lost sight in a maze of feelings to which I could scarcely relate, and where I had lost all sense of identity. Various factors contributed to this sorry state of affairs, not least growing up in a gay-unfriendly environment although this was but one of many; a significant hearing loss no one appreciated, including myself as a child and an appalling relationship with my father played their part. Even so, I was an adult and needed to take responsibility for myself instead of playing the blame game and sinking into self-pity. I like to think I learned that lesson as time passed and I got a life. 

Anyone driven to despair, whether or not they contemplate suicide, will know that it is hard if not impossible at the time to rationalise either cause or consequences. It is an illness for which the only cure must come from within. Yet, so often, those in despair fail to find the strength they need to go that last mile. But if strength fails them, so too does human nature. Even these days, mental illness is regarded with suspicion and scepticism. 

I was lucky to have some good friends and Earth Mother looking out for me.  My despair had been a long slow burning fuse that was bound to ignite a powder keg of sheer chaos in me sooner or later. There were casualties other than myself, and I can only hope they, too, survived to continue making the best of life, people and circumstances; a philosophy that saved me and taught me a valuable lesson. 

So if you know anyone caught up in a downward spiral of depression and despair, please don’t give up on them, but lend a helping hand to being them back to mainstream life. There are no shortcuts, and the journey is likely to be a long one; in my case, years, and I’ve still a way to go yet. I have travelled a long way along that road, and am grateful for all the help I’ve had in making every step. But among all the good memories, there will always be bad ones that will try to pull us down and sometimes succeed however hard we resist. 

When I started to recover from my breakdown, many people thought I was ‘cured’; as if I’d had a bad dose of flu and was now okay. 30+ years on, I hear from and about other people in much the same position. So much for progress in real terms; that is to say in human terms...

Earth Mother image taken from the Internet

EARTH MOTHER, A CARER CALLED HOPE

I sat by the sea contemplating suicide
when a woman in green came and sat by my side.
stayed quite still, didn’t say a word;
my head, it rang with a gull’s shrill cry
as if echoing the heart’s screaming to be left to die,
no hanging on to this useless body

The woman in green didn’t look at me
but continued to exude that youth, life and beauty
I’d once loved, become my enemy;
following her gaze to a misty horizon,
I entered into a way of seeing altogether unknown
where the sea wore a green velvet gown

Grey hair streaked with a sunset’s glow
above eyes as teasing a blue as those I used to know
and pink lips urging me not to follow;
where once the sea, now a patch of grass
beneath an old tree on whose leaves of painted glass
nature would work its magic for us

Vanished, just as suddenly as it came,
knowing memories will keep murmuring your name
(sea of grass, leaves of glass, the same);
suddenly, I am bursting with a desire
to live (even love?) again, like an autumn leaf on fire,
its story all but told, waiting on another

I laughed aloud, forgetting the Woman in Green
and turned to explain, but she had already gone

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Tuning into Nature

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

A reader has asked why I often hyphenate several nouns to imply they are one; for example,  mind-body-spirit, past-present-future. It is because I see them as inseparable one from the other, a continuum in which we human beings are pivotal, for better, for worse ...

Someone else has contacted me with a very uplifting story which he suggests I may like to record as a poem. Well, always up for a challenge, me, and I hope you will enjoy the poem below. It appears this reader belongs to a culture that is not gay-friendly, to say the least. He came out to family and friends a few years ago when he met his first love. Sadly, many of the former rejected him for it. After a few years, the relationship ended, not least due to the reader's being estranged from most family members and friends. In recent years, though, he has found love again with another man. By now, it appears many who previously rejected him have come to terms with and are reconciled to his being gay.

The reader writes, “It is wonderful that my new partner and I can enjoy an almost normal life among those we love, although not everyone. We cannot pray as we would like, my partner and I, but prayer does not need four walls, neither does whatever divinity with whom we identify as God … Your poems are very clear on this, and we are grateful for your support even though you are not a religious person …” He goes on to ask  that “poem or no poem” I bring his story to the attention of readers on both blogs on the grounds that “ … too many people reject gays because they do not understand us and it is human nature to be wary of what we do not understand …” (So, true!)

So, here we go, with a poem I plan to post on my general blog tomorrow. I do post gay-interest poems there from time to time although feedback - and audience figures - suggests they are not well received by the majority of readers. Feedback also suggests that relatively few readers of this blog often dip into my general poetry blog, which I find very sad. After all  - as I have said before on the blogs, and probably will again -  a poem is a poem is a poem just as a person is a person is a person, regardless of gender or socio-cultural-religious persuasion.

“When you reach the end of what you should know, you will be at the beginning of what you should sense.” ― Kahlil Gibrán, Sand and Foam

" Your head is a living forest full of songbirds." - e.e.Cummings

TUNING IN TO NATURE

Trying the door, but it slams

in my face as if to say I’ve no right

to enter here, where you are,

no matter if pulse and heartbeat set

on breaking the record

for breaking the time barrier

in the wink of an eye,

catching yours on a late tube train,

devil take the hindmost

Curtains at the window closed,

shutting me out, a cold wind siding

with you against me,

pulse racing, heart beating faster,

and faster, like competitors

in a race, running for running’s sake,

doesn’t matter where or why

nor that blue skies are poised to fall

at destination Endgame 

Shut out, yelling to be let in,

pulse and heartbeat at fever pitch,

a voice ringing in my ears,

telling me to ease up, enjoy the sun

on my face, wind in my hair,

embrace nature and human nature

just as we’d embrace each other

in a home we made with loving care,

meant to stay open all hours

Turning away, tears falling

like acid rain, somewhere a bird

trying to tell me I’ll love again,

not what I wanted or needed to hear,

after a gay love affair ended

and brought me low, but brought

here today, all the more 

happy-proud for having (eventually)

taken a songbird at its word

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Nerves of Steel OR Gay in Karachi

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

The most important Human Rights award in Italy was awarded in December 2017 to a gay Muslim activist who was originally from Pakistan. The Italian Coalition for Freedom (CILD) chose Wajahat Abbas Kazmi as ‘Young Activist of the Year’

Wajahat Abbas Kazmi with notification of his award. 

(photo from the Internet)

Some years ago, I spent a very enjoyable evening in a gay bar where I met two guys from Karachi. I was pleasantly surprised as the only Pakistanis I had encountered previously were aggressive homophobes. Recently, I met up with them again while they were visiting the UK. It seems the tide is (very) slowly turning in Pakistan where there are more gay activists campaigning for acceptance and equality within the wider community than even just a few years ago. It is heartwarming news although always disquieting to discover that some parts of the world continue to disrespect Human Rights and get real about life in the 21^st Century. 

NERVES OF STEEL or GAY IN KARACHI

Nerves of steel, here, in Karachi

where life may take a cruel turn any day

such as we, savaged for our sexuality

Born a good person, and born free,

yet living a lie (since truth denied its say)

nerves of steel, here, in Karachi

Absurd, that any 21^st century city

should count among its taboos being gay,

such as we, savaged for our sexuality

Family, neighbours, look up to me,

yet mind-body-spirit as vulnerable as clay,

nerves of steel, here, in Karachi

Victims of a contemporary society

where majority bigots (even as they pray)

such as we, savaged for our sexuality

No regard for a common humanity

(of socio-cultural-religious icons an array);

nerves of steel, here, in Karachi,

such as we, savaged for our sexuality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018

Falling in with Nature

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

Maybe it was the aspiring poet in me or simply because I have always been partially deaf, but even as a child I was easily contented with my own company, especially with my head in a book or communing with nature. While my mother was OK with this, my father was critical of what he considered to be unbecoming for a boy. Thankfully, my brother was more ‘masculine’ so that took the heat off me a bit. Needless to say, my relationship with my father was never a good one; there was no father-son bonding, probably due his being a product of a generation scarred both by war and even more misleading and misguided stereotypes than my own would see.

Children, of course, only come to understand such things in time. Meanwhile, they can but rely on adults to point them in the right direction; what is right for them, that is, not, the mentoring adult. Fortunately, my mother was cut from a very different cloth to my father and I survive to tell the tale.

I grew up with very mixed feelings about how I should approach the world, family life and (not least) myself. Perhaps that is why I love everything about the natural world; for all its unpredictability, it exudes relatively less than its human counterpart. On the whole, nature also suggests a greater sense - for me, anyway - of being on one’s side; at least, not against anyone simply because he or she has a mind-body-spirit of their own that may not be in sync with some socio-cultural-spiritual ‘norm’.

I grew up, too, believing that being gay was abnormal simply because it was ‘different’ and was never more glad of the sense of spirituality nature has always inspired in me. While my mother could not have cared less, the same could not be said for the rest of my immediate family nor even some people I looked upon as friends.

As a gay man in my 70’s now, I am so glad attitudes towards homosexuality continue to change for the better in many countries, even among the more discerning within intrinsically homophobic cultures. Alas, there is no room for complacency; more education is needed about how -, whatever our colour, creed, sex or sexuality - we are all part of a common humanity and all, each in our own way…different.

Reports of further legislation to re-enforce Equal Opportunities and Political Correctness may well suggest steps in the right direction in many respects, but you cannot legislate for bad attitude which, in turn, invariably stems from ignorance of the issues involved and/or a point-blank refusal to enter into any points of view other than one’s own. Enter, Education… if  only to show that what is often taken for liberalism is, more often than not, plain common sense in the absence of which any real (as in worthwhile) communication between certain people, peoples and cultures  is likely to prove but illusory.

As for my scepticism, that remains part of who I am, too, and most likely always will. At the same time, I am also a very positive thinking person; a contradiction, some will say, but then what’s one more contradiction in a world whose elected (or self-appointed) spokespersons  contradict themselves for much if not most of the time…?

Gay or Straight, Earth Mother is a friend and ally, but we (all) need to remember that - like most if not all of us - she will be pushed only so far before she will start hitting out if only in self-defence of all creatures great and small.

FALLING IN WITH NATURE

I’ve heard folks say I should get real,

and I do as needs must…

Yet, I love to talk to flowers,

let them know I am here for them

and care if they live or die

much as I, too, could have someone

care for me, watch out for me

as I make my way through passages

of time and space among crowds

jostling to be first in line for whatever

best is yet to come as rumoured

by those assumed to be in the know

if only because it would appear

they have the ear of someone said

to really count for something

in a greater scheme of things as full

of promise as sparing on detail

nor so much as a mention of any Plan B

lest investors in social conscience despair

of profit margins

I’ve heard folks say I should man up,

and I do as needs must…

Yet, I love to spread wings, fly

among (all) birds over cities, towns,

and dreary suburbs top heavy

with killer-by-stealth pollution,

escape to the countryside,

take off with ducks, swans and the like

on its waterways, nature’s answer

to frantic airport runways…

comment on city carbuncles, enthuse

about country cottages, get angry

about global warming, especially where

powers-that-be in denial refusing

to put it on various agendas just in case

they lose votes (or face) among any

who couldn’t really care less so long as

they don’t miss out on rewards of a (very)

pecuniary nature

I’ve heard folks take me for a sceptic,

and they would be right…

Yet, I’ll believe a sunset’s promise

of sunny (or stormy) days in the wings

before I’ll trust a politician’s word

that the shape of things to come is safe

if not (quite) secure in party hands,

preferring to take my cue from such cloud

and bird formations as nature inspires

from time to time by way of suggesting

we make appropriate preparation, less need

for reparation  the powers-that-be

may well have us make for what turns out

to be their (only human) mistakes,

ours, too, if only for hearing what we want

to hear than what mind-spirit

would  take us to task for, a falling in 

with the commoner (if only human) failings

of contemporary society

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

L-I-F-E, Stings of Irony

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

'…Let none admire
That riches grow in Hell; that soil may best
Deserve the precious bane.' (Milton, Paradise Lost (Book I, lines 690-692)

Precious Bane is probably as well-known for the novel of that name by Mary Webb as its place in Milton’s epic poem. It refers to the love of money, which, as Webb’s heroine, Prue, records, blights love and destroys life; the title also refers to her deformity, a cleft lip which she comes to recognize as the source of her spiritual strength. [A cleft lip is sometimes referred to as a harelip  (as happens in the novel) considered insulting as it compares the deformity in humans to the normal cleft lip of a hare.] 

Now, I am not suggesting that my being gay is any kind of deformity although it has been put to me by various bigots that's precisely what is! Political correctness, for all its frequent abuse, means well. Moreover, for me, personally, it encourages the spiritual strength I take in being gay from both nature and the kinder, more discerning side of human nature. (Fortunately, the latter is in greater supply than the media’s focus on it is often inclined to suggest.) Over the years, though, I have been teased, bullied. verbally and physically abused for being gay just as, since a bad fall in 2014 at the age of 67. I've been on the receiving end of much the same more than once because I now need a walking stick.

In so far as political correctness is intended to put a stop to insulting comments and behaviour, it works well enough for the most part  ... at least to outward appearances.

Bad attitude is only half the problem. Too many people use the political correctness card to turn tables in their favour when it is they who are at fault. Time and again, various authorities (who should know better) side with guilty against innocent, perpetrator against victim rather than risk a bad press. Here in the UK, for example, there is far too much walking on socio-cultural eggshells these days; without being seen to do so, of course, although I often wonder just who it is in the driving seat that thinks they are fooling anyone ...

Wherever there is no legislation for political correctness, the darker side of human nature continues to flex its predilection for insults, prejudice and bigotry. On the other hand, of course, you cannot legislate for bad attitude which simply proceeds to do a good job of keeping out of public sight and hearing ... and is more than capable of  keeping up appearances where the media is concerned.

Whatever social card a person chooses to play - sexuality, race age, gender etc. -  in order to turn tablea and portray themselves as victim rather than perpetrator, justice needs to prevail, and be seen to do so.  I worked with the public for many years and endured more than my share of verbal abuse from people whose behaviour I'd make clear I wasn't prepared to tolerate so they would call my manager, play their card ... and nearly always get an apology while I would be made out to be in the wrong and look a complete fool. 

Oh, well, c'est la vie. We positive thinkers can but prefer to believe that forces for good will always get the better of those for bad (in the end, at least) if only to avoid drowning in a sea of cynicism.

L-I-F-E, STINGS OF IRONY 

Once, in another country,
we spoke of love and being gay
in a world where sexuality
has no need of political correctness
to leap to our defence

We lay beneath a willow tree
shedding tears for the likes of us 
having to justify even love
in the glare of a political correctness
meant to educate bigots

Oh, but so many excuses
(all perfectly legitimate of course)
playing political correctness
at its own game so none dare criticise
for fear of causing offence

Hypocrisy, no mean weapon
in upholding the various integrities
of socio-cultural traditions
passed off as icons through centuries
of human division and abuse

Ah, but who are we to accuse
those who may accuse us of offending
all they hold dear if only
because it makes them feel secure, safe
from all talk of LGBT rights?

Oh, yes, we may well speak up
where political correctness established
despite all its back-stabbing, 
self-styled ‘betters’ fronting and calling
on socio-cultural immunity

As for the world’s higher clerics
seeking handouts even among the poor,
no need for a satirical press
where actions speak louder than words
and both contradict each other

Around the world, ordinary people
whisper behind closed doors of being gay,
in love and free where sexuality 
can’t even call on political correctness 
to try and put the record straight

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017



…

Crossroads

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

Although spring is just around the corner, we still have to turn that corner; winter is not done with us yet.  Such (more often than not) is life…

So let’s cheer ourselves up with the thought that life may well be an up and down, round and round, mad roller-coaster ride, and there’s invariably another corner to turn, but who knows what might be waiting for us there?  A shock perhaps, it’s true, but not all shocks are of the nasty kind. We could well be in for some wonderful surprises....

Such as what, did you say? Well, read the poem and find out...

CROSSROADS

Once, wrestling me in seemingly playful fun,

you crossed a (visibly) invisible line;

no time to resist before your lips kissed mine,

sending all my senses into a mad spin

You quickly broke away, a tortured expression

in tearful eyes conveying no chagrin;

we had been friends for years but never spoken

of anything as scary as sexual attraction

My heart leapt, our first kiss rippling my body

like swathes of sunlight on a feisty sea;

I could scarcely breathe for an incredible pain,

all the more incredible for my letting it in

We neither wanted to go back to how we were,
struggled with lust, love and fear,
love getting the better of demons on the brain,
bringing home truths into the open...

Madly, anxiously, I savoured your lips on mine,

all our senses in the same mad spin

through twin lives never quite the same again

for the crossing of a (visibly) invisible line

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Crossing the Line' in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]

Home for Christmas

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

I am not a Christmassy person, but no spoilsport either and will always wish everyone a very Happy Christmas/ New Year, and mean it. 

As an agnostic,, I don't celebrate Christmas in any religious sense. As a poet with a strong sense of spirituality - that I take from nature - I enjoy taking stock of my life at this time of year, counting my blessings and glossing over numerous flaws in the status quo.

On Christmas Day, I like to be on my own (yes, really!) strolling down Memory Lane and re-living the GOOD times while allowing myself time to be sad for the bad times. I like to remember those I have loved and lost, again dwelling on happy times together while not attempting to stem any tears.

If I spend Christmas with anyone, I feel obliged to make an effort rather than quietly surrender to any feelings of sadness and let them pass of their own accord.  I am not a sad person. On the contrary, I am a very positive thinking, lively guy. No one, though, can be positive thinking and lively all the time so when I feel sad, I let myself BE sad, and the sadness quickly passes, invariably replaced by happy memories to which the positive thinking, lively, part of me can more easily relate and build upon. Christmas brings many sad memories rushing back; I need to let them rush past me so I can enjoy the many happy memories I have shared with those I may have loved and lost but who sustain me still. 

We hear about families and friends getting back together for Christmas...but poles apart again by New year's Day. Let us never forget that love is not (and never has been) just for Christmas or any other religious festival where it needs to make an appearance. Any love worth having is worth saving, even if that means having to agree to differ with loved ones and accepting that our differences don't make us different, just human...

New Year? Well that's a different story altogether, celebrating a whole twelve months ahead to enjoy with friends and rediscover the true meanings of peace, love, and joie de vivre...

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS 

I’d hear talk of Christmas,
and my heart would sink for memories
of so many lonely Christmases
since love walked out of my life and family
never understood

I’d hear carols at Christmas,
and my heart would skip a beat or two
for recalling happy Christmases
when love took centre-stage in my life,
nothing else mattered

Friends planning for Christmas,
with smiles on their faces for all the fun
of such joyous Christmases
as once I had, and never (quite) abandoned
by fate, chance, love…

Christmas Eve, everyone rushing
for last minute buys, and then back home,
ever hopeful of Christmas
fulfilling its promises of peace and goodwill
around a festive table

Me, I hear talk of Christmas,
and my heart leaps  just for remembering
our conspiring with Christmas,
we total strangers, one starry Christmas Eve
of rediscovering love

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

G-A-Y, Worth Every Heartbeat

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

I once spent some time with two gay Muslims visiting London from Manchester where they were studying. I asked them how they felt about returning home to Iran.  While admitting to being scared, they were equally determined not to be parted.  

Could they live with having to keep a secret that could literally be the death of them? One replied, ‘It will not be a secret between us which is all that really matters. So we appear to play the game, toe the line, however you like to call it. No one needs to know or get hurt so long as we are careful. It will be very hard, of course, and very hypocritical, but worth every damn heartbeat.’

I often wonder what became of them…

G-A-Y, WORTH EVERY HEARTBEAT

Yearning you,
my whole body burning for you,
and yet I find myself turning
from you, told it’s the right thing
to do

Aching you,
this lonely heart breaking for you
where it would make a home
for you because it’s a right thing
we do

Yearning us,
my whole body burning for us,
yet I find myself turning
from us for every door slamming
in our faces

Aching us,
this lonely heart breaking for us
where little chance for us
in the cold, cruel light of history’s
take on us

Daring us,
hearts pounding, bodies burning
bridges for the crossing
of various socio-cultural-religious
divides

Applauding us,
bluebird of happiness singing for us
on every street, in every tree,
and sadness, too, for all gay victims
of bigotry


Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Reconciliation OR To Hell and Back

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

The pressures on any relationship from critical outsiders can be harsh, even heart-breaking; sufficiently so sometimes to weaken even the ramparts of love.

There are bound to be times when one or other of us in a relationship cannot withstand these pressures.

Breaking up is tough on anyone. We need to be strong, and man up. Not always easy.

Oh, but the joy of reconciliation once we join forces and prepare to repel all invaders threatening our shared private space where (gay or straight)...Love rules OK.

RECONCILIATION or TO HELL AND BACK

In the water, ugly face looking up at me,
bags under the eyes, tramlines on the brow,
mouth crooked (the queerest expression)
firing questions that passed over my head
to join songbirds providing a free display

of nature’s grace and splendour, yet cannot
move me to tears of joy where but wistfulness,
confined to a hell of mind-body-spirit

In the water, a told-you-so sun mocking me,
bags under its eyes, reeling from a freak storm
that struck without warning as a beast might
stalk and surprise its prey. Shivering now despite
the afternoon’s clammy heat. Scared, yes,
paralysis inviting the beast to circle and tease,
whites of its eyes curiously familiar, threatening
the worst, but move on, leave me alone

In the water, your face smiling up at me,
bags under the eyes, tramlines on the brow,
mouth crooked (the queerest expression)
putting answers to me that whirl in my head,
join seabirds in a free display of nature’s
grace and splendour, a feisty summer spray
in my eyes depositing its passion on my tongue,
lyric of an all-time favourite love song

Reconciled, we strolled a lake’s leafy shore,
scared of being gay and in love no more

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2005; 2013  

[Note: An earlier version of this poem under the title 'Reconciliation' appears in 1st eds. of A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.] 

LGBT, a Global Consciousness

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

Not so long ago, someone  expressed genuine concern that I will go to hell for being gay and rejecting a ‘decent’ way of life.

The way I see it, we make our own hell here on earth if we so choose. As for any heaven…who knows?

As for LGBT men and women rejecting a decent way of life? Who says so? For a start, people who know no better.

If bigotry - in all its ugly shapes  and forms - is not weighing heavily not on the world's conscience, it damn well should be.

LGBT, A GLOBAL CONSCIOUSNESS

Some say there is no room for LGBT

men and women in a place some have chosen  

to call Heaven since no God would condone

the carnality enjoyed by the world’s gay men

and women. (Holy Books, manuals of spirituality,

inspiring judgement on homosexuality…?)

So who are they who rage against LGBT

neighbours brazenly ‘betraying’ a natural gender

to which we are born, love to pit humankind

against its own on the grounds of this culture,

that religion, claiming to fly with doves yet siding

with hawks? Blameless, just human…?

Voices, raging on against an LGBT ethos,

suggesting we can but rely on political correctness

to win the day (no hiding place for hypocrites);

raised voices proclaiming gay men and women

cannot be forgiven their awful ‘sinning’ in the face

of this convention, that culture or religion

Let them speak who claim to know how God

will have His way with men and women who are gay;

no matter who, all humankind deserves a voice

since each of us, gay folks too, blessed with choice

as to what we do, where we go, and how we interpret

Holy Books on peace and love

Too many voices competing with each other

to be heard, obeyed, believed honest, fair and good,

coining the rhetoric of this culture, that religion,

paying a piper to play the tune we all love to hear

who choose to be led by the nose through passages

of time, its corridors of power

Yet, body-mind-spirit offers its human host
no finer wisdom than access to the greater freedom

to be as it would be (not as others might see)

lending conscience and heart a rare peace and love

for an affinity with nature, discovering in its seasons,

a bitter-sweet raison d’être

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015; 2018