Disaffected Youth, Wasted Lives

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

This poem is taken from my general poetry blog archives for September 2014; archives are listed on the right hand side of the appropriate blog's page.

Most young people - whatever their race, culture, religion, gender or sexuality - are decent, honest, and hardworking, but there is also high unemployment among young people and that leaves some disaffected with society so they join gangs or become targets for radicalisation; violence becomes a way of life until something (or someone) happens that helps them back into mainstream life and a more positive, fulfilling sense of personal identity.

Many young people have to deal with various prejudices in their society while still in the process of growing up and having to come to terms with its harsher realities; where the latter affect them personally, they may well also suffer rejection or the fear of rejection by family and/or peers, as a consequence of which they turn to drugs and/or crime by way of concealing a deep-rooted inferiority complex, even shame, where neither are applicable but for the worse aspects of human nature prevalent in societies worldwide for centuries.

We hear much talk of 'progress' in this 21st century of ours, but invariably with reference to science and technology; sadly, human nature has not progressed anywhere near enough despite the efforts of the many good people in the world able to take others as they find them without rushing to artificial judgement as prescribed by various socio-cultural-religious conventions or dogma.

While there is no excuse for violence, it is high time politicians, religious and community leaders among others (parents, too) looked more closely at its roots and took responsibility where society is failing so many of its young people. Some do, but rhetoric is not enough; actions really do speak louder than words. 

This poem is a villanelle, written in 2014 so its content is nothing new; what is new are successive cutbacks in spending (here in the UK at least, since the financial crisis of 2008)) on such related national and local Government budgets as make provision for policing, extra curricular activities in schools, youth centres, apprenticeships, grants for professional and vocational training places etc. I rest my case...

DISAFFECTED YOUTH, WASTED LIVES

Got my hands on a knife, a gun,

spread the word,

didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin

Shouting at just about everyone,

no one heard;

got my hands on a knife, a gun

Needed to prove I was someone,

earn street cred;

didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin

At first it gave me a buzz, was fun,

but all that disappeared;

got my hands on a knife, a gun

A gangster movie set let me down,

(mustn't show I'm scared)

didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin

Macho mates weep to see my crown

dripping blood ...

Got my hands on a knife, a gun,

didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: This poem is a villanelle, written in 2010 so its content is nothing new; what is new are successive cutbacks in spending (here in the UK at least since the financial crisis of 2008) on such related national and local Government budgets as make provision for policing, extra curricular activities in schools, youth centres, apprenticeships, grants for professional and vocational training places etc.]

Coming, Ready or Not

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

I have been posting poems on the blogs for ten years now. A few years into the writing them up, a reader asked why I have two blogs, especially as I have made the point more than once that a poem is a poem is a poems just as a person is a person is a person, regardless. I could not agree more, but feedback had suggested (and continues to do so) that many gay readers share a home computer and have not yet felt able to discuss their sexuality with family and friends while they are still thinking it through themselves; for this reason they will not risk accessing this blog...for now, at least. I have tried to compensate by posting gay-interest poems on my general blog from time to time; is is not insignificant that feedback suggests these have been more kindly received in its latter than earlier years. All readers have to remember, too, that gay readers from 65+ countries access my blogs, and in some of these countries same sex relationships remain a criminal offence, punishable by a lengthy prison sentence, even death.

At the same time, feedback also suggests that a good many heterosexual readers never access this gay-interest blog because, as one readers puts it, "I would not want people to get the wrong idea."; this, from reader who says he has no problem with gay people, and describes himself and his girlfriend as "a very gay-friendly couple". So what is he worried about, that visiting a gay blog might suggest to someone that he is bisexual? It would certainly open up an interesting discussion about sexuality if the other person were to voice their suspicions. Ah, but such is human nature that the chances are they would not if only for fear of causing offence. It remains a sad fact of life in the 21st century that  our sexuality can still cause offence to some, if not many, unless it fits neatly into some conventional box labelled 'Heterosexual'.) Communication demands two-way traffic. Human nature is - and has always been - as hung-up on certain 'taboos' as its faux stereotypes; nor is sexuality the only taboo, of course, any more than LGBT folks are alone among those paying a heavy price for road works signalling one-way traffic on the communication highway.

For awhile, at least, I will try publishing posts/poems on both blogs unless a poem is overtly gay in content to the extent it is unlikely any die-hard heterosexual would want to read it anyway.

Here we go then, with a poem I published on my general blog only yesterday, but if you want to read the preamble that precedes it there, you will need to go to the blog at: 

https://rogertab.blogspot.com

COMING, READY OR NOT

Patch of sky, a brilliant blue
among autumn leaves of red and gold
marking nature's 'live' show
for seeing eye and listening ear
to share one last fling
of a year's fruitfulness before winter
comes (for better, for worse)

Clouds gathering, anxious
not to play second fiddle to a spectacle.
of bright silvery sunlight,
like tears in time's eye, a curtain
sure to fall yet anxious
to be seen entering into the feisty spirit
of things, no missing out

Curtain down on autumn's
show of defiance meant to drive home
its alliance with all things
bright and beautiful, all creatures
great and small, promising
renewal despite a winter as certain to take
its toll as snow sure to fall

Barely have autumn's players
taken a last bow than a cruel north wind,
come to see them on their way,
stirs an out-of-sight, out-of-mind ethos
intended to undermine
any mind-body-spirit that might see itself
as the greater life force

Nature, though, is not yet done
with us, relying on its evergreens to bring
to mind its promises, the likes
of robin redbreast to keep eyes and ears
alert to that same spirit
of hopeful discontent that has seen humanity
rise above its worst winters

Curtain rising, all in due course,
but what is this? An empty stage, no players
rehearsed to act out another cycle
of life personifying humankind's attention
to nurture while promoting
a well-meaningfulness, stage name 'Progress'
for want of a better moniker

It is in the nature of humankind
to improve its lot, no matter the cost, whatever
it takes, but plenty signs already
of nature's ability to match any human spirit,
consequences for consequences,
cost for cost, winner takes all, and may the devil
take the hindmost, ready or not


Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

[Note: Feedback - to rogertab@aol.com - is always welcome, and I will always reply to any genuine comments or questions; any spam will be ignored and instantly deleted.]

G-A-Y, Inside-Out OR Life Forces, Poetry in Motion

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

Every now and then, a young person emails me to say they are gay, in their teens, and have no idea what to do or where to turn. Many are convinced parents and peers will turn against them. Believe me you are not alone. When I think back to when I was 14 years old and realised I am gay, the whole closet ethos threatens to overwhelm me all over again.

In many areas, in many countries, there are support groups that did not exist when I was a teenager in the 1960's; search the Internet and try and make contact as this will enable you to meet other young people in the same situation. As for parents and peers, they may well surprise you, they may even  have observed for themselves that you might be gay and have been waiting for you to talk to them about it, not wanting to raise the subject themselves for fear of being mistaken; if not, yes, they may be hostile at first, but this could be an initial shock reaction. Remember how long it took you to come to terms with being gay and allow them,too, time to get used to the idea.

Never underestimate the power of love and friendship.

Sometimes, of course, family and friends refuse to accept gay people, even within their own family circles. This degree of rejection is incredibly hard to bear, but we need to build on the same strength of willpower and character that brought us out of that awful closet in the first place. Believe me, there is a life to be had and enjoyed out there, and there are many good people who gladly take others as they find them whether they be gay, straight, transgender...whatever. We are stereotyped by many, and it is often the stereotype that is vilified, not the person. Whatever, it is we LGBT folks who are so often made to suffer for that ignorance and bigotry.

To LGBT people around the world, I say this. Never, but never let anyone else put you down or make you think any less of yourself for your sexuality. Where staying in the proverbial closet is necessary, for now at least, confide in someone you can trust wherever possible; this may be a close relative, friend or perhaps a teacher less likely to be judgemental than most. Failing that, and failing the availability of any known support groups in your area, be guided by your better instincts and plain common sense until such a time as you can see your way clear to put closet days behind you once and for all, as I did, although, in hindsight, I should have done so years earlier.

No escape from the closet, for whatever reason?  There is an LGBT grapevine in every environment, so keep an ear out for it if only because a closet shared is a crisis halved. I was a psychological mess for years, but listening out for the grapevine and being part of a closet community probably saved my sanity while I wrestled with all the other issues - good,bad and ugly - with which life tests us at any age, but especially when we are young, emotionally inexperienced, and so often made to feel out of our depth.

G-A-Y, INSIDE-OUT or LIFE FORCES, POETRY IN MOTION

His finger brushes mine
across the desk we share in class
and I can feel his gaze
on me out of the corner of an eye
but cannot, dare not
meet it, for fear someone might see us
and guess the turmoil in me

Can it be that he's gay
this classmate I'd joke with about
all sorts, and our laughter
would spread right through me
like fizzy lemonade
on a hot day, its bubbles applauding us
as we sail through the air?

Can it be that I'm gay too,
but how do I know, and what to do
if his finger means business
and he wants to take our friendship
beyond such felt horizons
as assailing  bleary, but half closed eyes
come some know-it-all dawn?

Barely attending the lesson,
the farthest corners of our eyes engage,
attempting to read between lines
blurred by mixed feelings for years,
given our having been raised
to believe one step beyond male bonding
a step too far, the Devil's work

I look away, and so does he,
eyes wide shut, if seeming to look ahead
at our teacher, her lips moving
but any sound coming out drowning
in a sea of intimate images,
and such cries as could easily be of ecstasy
as for help from poor swimmers

Final bell, school's out, mates
on the way home, chatting about nothing
in particular if only to steer clear
of all we need to coax out into the open
from a suffocating closet,
too close for comfort, too real for fantasy
feeding on a vulnerable innocence

Taking a shortcut down an alleyway
we've walked every day for years, turning
to me in tears, giving me a hug
and I hug him back, not a word passing
between us, our first kiss
when it comes, winging us across s history
that once dare not speak its name

A companionable silence descending
as we emerge from that alleyway, bonding
in a new sense of togetherness
transcending our Here-and-Now in ways
defying poetry, prose, gesture,
any spoken word or 'live' art to even attempt
lending expression to its intimacy

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Crossing Red Lines

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

I am often criticised for being 'too personal' in my poems, not least for my frequent us of the first person singular.

Any 'I' in a poem of mine is invariably a global 'I' inviting the reader to engage with both me and the poem. Yes, there is much of me in my poems, but there is also much of what I have learned about nature, human nature and the human spirit across all walks of life. Suppose I were to use 'one' instead of 'I'?  Immediately doors slam shut on any intimate engaging with the poem. The reader is free to agree or disagree with any poet's point of view on whatever matter a poem may touch upon, or even deliberately ignore, the better to get a reaction.

A poet's intention is always to engage with the reader, offer food for thought, hopefully open doors of mind-body-spirit closed to him or her for whatever reason. [LGBT folks may have more than their fair share of having to bang on doors this or that society or home environment would prefer to remain shut to them, but no one - whatever their sex or sexuality - has a monopoly on closed doors.]

Now, I left school in the early 1960's. Some 50 years later I received an email about my poetry from someone who had been a sixth former when I was still a fourth former. He recognised my photo and I visited him several times in my home town where he still lived, alone. It transpired that he had been as attracted to me as I had been to him all those years ago. We were both well into our 60's by then and unwell, any physical attraction eroded by time and circumstances. Even so, we enjoyed reflecting on how our lives may well have taken a very different, quite possibly better turn - in another time, another place, given that neither of us would have hesitated to cross those particular red lines of the day, had we but felt free to even acknowledge the nature of them.

You can imagine my feelings when I received an email only fairly recently from a young person still at school and struggling with their sexuality. I could but urge him not to feel bad about being gay, but stay positive, and look online for any support groups in his area. I so feel for anyone in some lonely closet obliged, for whatever reasons, to wear another face to family and friends in whom they do not feel ready yet to disclose their sexuality. My closet years were long, long ago, but I remember them as if they were yesterday; the pressure of living a secret life, and the loneliness. Even now, I find it hard to believe there are young people around the world experiencing much the same in a so-called modern, forward looking twenty-first century.

CROSSING RED LINES

Getting ready for school,
knowing I'll soon be with him again,
our secret love, gagged
by socio-cultural-religious dogma
anxious to share blinkered
views of a world feeding dogma
to mind-body-spirits unwilling to toe
its red lines

Sitting next to him in class
much, of the lesson flapping at my ears,
like a sail in a moody breeze
as I struggle to steer a course to heaven
alone knows where, conscious
of his knee against mine now and then
if but to draw my attention to a songbird
at the window

Oh, how I feel for the bird,
singing its song, and no one to appreciate
its beauty for mind-body-spirits
made to play deaf to such music of life
as left to free spirits at windows
on a world with finer learning concerns
than finding peace of mind, his forefinger
brushing mine

Desks drawn close, our fingers daring to say
it's OK to be gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Leap of Faith OR Peace in Our Time

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

Apologies for the length of this post, but it seemed a good idea to publish the poem here at the same time as answering a number of queries regarding my fiction. (Some of my novels will be of special interest to gay readers.)

Since I first learned to read at 4 years-old, I have been an avid reader, especially of fiction; it offered an escape from certain realities of home life, not least an appalling relationship with my father.  At the same time, I have always enjoyed poetry; my mother would often recite dramatic poems like The Highwayman (Alfred Noyes) and The Ancient Mariner (Samuel Taylor Coleridge) at bed-times as well as or instead of reading a story.

My first poem appeared in my secondary school magazine in the summer of 1955 when I was 11 years-old; ever since, I have always thought of myself as something of a poet. At the same time, my passion for reading fiction remained my chief raison d’être throughout my childhood, teenage years and young manhood; as I became aware of being gay in a society where gay sex was a criminal offence, so the greater my need for escapism. [My partial deafness was also a factor in my hunger for fiction, given that I was constantly mishearing and consequently being misunderstood; at times, my reality was kind of hell.]

The more I read, albeit more fiction that non-fiction, the more I felt an affinity with the darker as well as lighter experiences of its various protagonists; I would often identify with the former and take heart from their (eventually) overcoming the worst of times while the latter encouraged me to develop a wry sense of humour which would carry me through many a humiliation down to both my hearing loss and being verbally abused for being gay. 

A teacher at my old secondary school was something of a mentor. I had confided in him about my sexuality as he was one of the few people in my life that I felt I could trust. I also told him about the conflict within me between distancing myself from a Christian upbringing and my feeling closer to nature than I ever did to religion. "Whatever," he said with a wry smile, have faith in yourself, Taber. Learn to trust your better instincts and feelings, and the rest will follow. What doesn't seem right to some people, doesn't make it wrong, just so long as it feels right to you." On the whole, I hated my schooldays, but I had some of the best teachers a very confused teenager could wish to have.

I wrote the poem below while thinking about my first Gay Pride march and writing my first gay novel, Dog Roses. The book was never published except on the blog. No publishers were interested, but that did not matter because by the time I had finished writing the poem, I realised why I needed to write it in the first place; it was as if the poet in me was telling me to stop thinking about exploring human nature through fiction, but get on with it, give it a go. I have no regrets about leaving a permanent job for what would now be called a zero-hours contract so I would have time to do just that. (In those days, there was plenty of work available.) I have enjoyed every minute.

For anyone interested, my gay-crime novel ‘Blasphemy’ has been published on Google Play: 

https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Roger_N_Taber_Blasphemy?id=mNlsDAAAQBAJ&hl=en_GB

- although I have also reinstated it (in two parts) on my fiction blog after many requests to do so, and will not be uploading its sequel, Sacrilege, (see my fiction blog in serial form) to Google Play. For more information about my fiction, see below and:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/news-updates-fiction.html

Someone once described the act of Coming Out as a leap of faith. How true that is. I took that leap  om my first Gay Pride march years ago, and never looked back.  It was was truly a leap of faith; faith in myself and that I was committing to a good life, one of which I had been in denial (to most people) for far too long. On that march I experienced a new sense of completeness and personal freedom that dispelled any lingering doubts as to whether or not being openly gay was right for me. For me, yes, but I can see only too well where others are coming from who may feel it's not the right move for them, especially any gay people living in a gay-unfriendly environment. Even so, there is no feeling quite like shedding the shackles of misinformed formative years...

This poem is a villanelle.

LEAP OF FAITH or PEACE IN OUR TIME

Find G-A-Y coming out for peace with pride

against the language of bigotry

till the language of hate has no place to hide

Wherever so-called ‘betters’ presume to decide

(and judge) on matters of sexuality,

find G-A-Y coming out for peace with pride

Challenging holier-than-thou types sure to side

against love perceived as immorality

till the language of hate has no place to hide

Among voices debating Convention as guide

and role model in a token reality,

find G-A-Y coming out for peace with pride

Questioning laws passed to incriminate, deride

and silence any significant minority

till the language of hate has no place to hide

Defining all humanity wherever cultures collide

in the course of world history,

find G-A-Y speaking up for peace with pride

till the language of hate has no place to hide

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

MY NOVELS

DOG ROSES; a gay man’s rites of passage

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2011/07/dog-roses-chapter-one.html

(Gay-interest)

BLASPHEMY: a novel

[Crime/Gay-interest] - Also available as an e-book on Google Play..

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2012/01/blasphemy-synopsis.html (Synopsis)

https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Roger_N_Taber_Blasphemy?id=mNlsDAAAQBAJ

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2018/02/blasphemy-novel-by-roger-n-taber.html (Pt 1, blog)

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2018/02/blasphemy-novel-by-roger-n-taber-part-2.html (Pt 2, blog

SACRILEGE

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2012/10/sacrilege-chapter-1.html

(Crime/Gay-interest; sequel to Blasphemy, continues the adventures and misadventures of Laurence Fisher; only serialised on the fiction blog.)

LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2011/10/like-theres-no-tomorrow-synopsis_3445.html

(Crime/Mystery)

CATCHING UP WITH MURDER

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2012/01/catching-up-with-murder-novel-synopsis.html

(1st Fred Winter [crime/gay-interest] novel)

PREDISPOSED TO MURDER

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/predisposed-to-murder-synopsis.html

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2012/04/predisposed-to-murder-chapter-one.html
(2nd Fred Winter  novel)

MAMELON (Book One):

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/mamelon-fantasy-novel-synopsis.html

(Fantasy)

MAMELON (Book Two):

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2016/12/mamelon-2-chapter-one.html

MAMELON (Glossary of Names and Terms used):

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/mamelon-glossary-of-names-and-terms.html

:

Schoolboy looking for a Friend

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

Regular readers will know that I had realized I am gay by the time I was 14 years-old. As a teenager and young man, I despaired of being gay. I was not ashamed, but gay relationships were a criminal offence and I saw no future in being far more attracted to my own sex than to women. It took me some years – and a nervous breakdown – to  fully understand that I was not the one at fault but the society in which I had grown up. Even so, I was in and out of that awful closet for years and it was not until my late 30's  that I came out and stayed out. 

Being openly gay was (and still is) a liberating experience although it would take a good few more years yet before same sex relationships – even marriage – would acquire legal if not (entirely) social, cultural or religious acceptance here in the UK.   Now, at 70, I can still vividly recall those early years in the proverbial closet and feel for those gay boys and girls, men and woman around the world who, by no fault of their own but the genes with which they were born, are made to feel obliged to remain there.

It will be to the 21st century’s credit if, at least by the end of it, the heterosexual majority worldwide has come to terms with the fact that all gay people deserve better than to be discriminated against simply for their sexuality. 

SCHOOLBOY LOOKING FOR A FRIEND

The world is a dark place,

its nature shows a cruel face,

neither time nor space 

(it seems) for someone like me?

Yet, the world is a huge place

and nature has a kind face 

so a time and space (surely?)

for someone like me

The world is my enemy,

its nature dead set against me,

fat chance against history

(it seems) for people like me?

Yet, somewhere, a friend

will (surely?) fight
to the end of time and space 

for people like me

Not by nature's grace 

are we come to this dark place,

but by human nature's bias
against people like us;

yet sun shines and moon,

and a time soon enough

needs must humanity open up 

to people like us

Where do we (all) go from here?
Need to do better, try harder...

Copyright R. N. Taber 1963; 2018

[Note: Written 1963 (while still at school); rediscovered and revised 2018.]

Prelude to a Coming of Age

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

This poem takes me back to when I was about 13 or 14 years-old, and it struck me for the first time that I was (far) more attracted to boys than girls.

Those adults, especially parents, inclined to assume that children and young people don’t know their own minds regarding sexuality (and much else besides) need to think again, and think through what it means for a young person to acknowledge he or she is gay.  

As for parent-child relationships, gay or straight, is it not, after all, no more or less than a question of love?

PRELUDE TO A COMING OF AGE

Saw a boy and girl kissing

under a blossoming cherry tree,

and wished it were me

I longed for such an embrace,

to hear words of love in my ear,

and wiped away a tear

Oh, for those lips on mine,

fuelling this frantic desire in me

to be yours, to be free…

They made a fine couple,

pink confetti blowing in a breeze

driving them to their knees

I could only turn away,

but imagine a lovemaking divine

and wish it were mine

Saw a boy and girl kissing

under the blossoming cherry tree

and wished she were me

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: This poem first appeared under the title 'Acknowledging Sexuality' in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]

Angel at my Shoulder

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

I first fell in love with another guy when I was a teenager back in 1962. He was killed in a motorcycle accident. Gay relationships were a criminal offence in the UK then so I had to mourn him alone. While he was not the love of my life, I still think about our relationship even now, some 50+ years later.  He was on my mind, too, when I wrote this poem some time later, originally as a song lyric with friends with whom I hoped to co-write a gay musical. The musical never saw the light of day (story of my life!) and we all went our separate ways.

Photo taken from the Internet

Later, I revised the lyric slightly as a poem and it appeared in an anthology prior to my including in in my second collection. Recently, I felt it was crying out to be (slightly, but significantly) revised again.

 ANGEL AT MY SHOULDER 

When I'm lonely,

you're the angel at my shoulder;

when the going gets rough

I take my strength from you;

you're a joy, an inspiration

in everything I do. I’ve loved you

from the start…

When you gave me change

for the telephone, I gave you back

my heart

When I'm hurting,

you’re  the angel at my shoulder;

you're the one who soothes

this savage breast. Time and again,

you ease my pain,

inspire me to try and be better man;

If I’ve screwed up many times

in life, to hell with the rest,

sweet angel at my shoulder, you're

the best

When I’m happy

you’re the angel at my shoulder,

and it’s only because

I know you're always there…

Sometimes, I cannot see

for looking where you are, panic,

and lash out in cold, dark, fear

till I hear you whisper a love poem  

in my ear, my guardian angel, my own

bright star 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2013

[Note: A slightly different version of this poem first appeared in an anthology Chasing Dreams, Poetry Today (Forward Press) 2001 and subsequently in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002]

Keeping the Faith

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

Many gay people are still growing up and living their lives in a gay-unfriendly environment so reconciling themselves to being gay is far from easy; they are haunted (as I was as a youth and young man) by stereotypes that continue to attach themselves to gay men and women across the world.

Some of us manage to break free of the sexual identity imposed on us by formative years in schools (and families) hostile to gay relationships.

Sadly, many don’ …

Sexuality has to be in the genes or how come killions of LGBT people around the world, from all walks of life ... ? It is high time certain cultures and world religions acknowledged this and ceased rto persecute gay people, forcing them to choose between keeping up appearances and living a closet existence or the freedom any mind-body-spirit deserves. Religions of the world preach peace and love to all. Excluding gay and transgender men and women, boys and girls and refusing to accept the  integrity of our sexuakity is nothing less than sheer hypocrisy.

As you know, I am not a religious person, but of this I remain certain ... God is no homophobe.

KEEPING  THE FAITH

A man may try to love a woman,

and does, but the heart always knows

if it lies

My heart sang songs without words

for keeping faith with its tears

as it went through all the motions

of passion but none came even close 

to true love

A man may try not to love man,

but does and the heart, it always knows

why it cries (for all it has missed)

and will sing songs about secrets and lies,

but no one ever hears

as it goes through all the motions

of paying lip service to such stereotypes

bigots perpetuate

Yet, to love takes two and a heart

beating true can no more resist another

than time its tides, chipping away

at a heart made of clay moulded in the image

of its ‘betters’

When he and I kiss, my heart sings

songs of joy, for (finally) keeping faith

with being gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013

A (Gay) Senior's Take On Schooldays

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

Most schools are on a half-term holiday here in the UK, and I can’t help wondering how many gay boys and girls are fretting about their awakening sexuality just as I did many years ago. (I was born in 1945)

When we are teenagers, we think we are alone and no one could possibly understand let alone share our distress. Yes, even these days it is rarely easy (never say never) to acknowledge we are gay, especially if we happen to be living in a gay-unfriendly home or school environment.

The irony is that, if only we knew it, there are sure to be other gay boys and girls in our school, maybe in our class even, running the same gamut of life changing emotions. 

Being gay is just part of who we are, and the sooner parents and everyone else accept that it is no one’s fault, no one is to blame and there is nothing unwholesome or unnatural about being born with a gay gene…the sooner we can start playing happy families, friends and neighbours again.

Is this poem autobiographical? Well, there are autobiographical elements in many of my gay-interest poems. So how much really happened and how much is pure imagination? Now, that would be telling…

A (GAY) SENIOR’S TAKE ON SCHOOLDAYS

We were naked in the showers

after Gym at school

and I could barely keep my eyes

off him

Although best friends for years,

at the same school,

I’d never felt anything like this

about him

Desire invaded my exposed self

like an alien from Mars,

yet I knew it meant me no harm

or him

Later, we sat next to each other

during Maths

and when his leg brushed mine

I froze

The teacher asked me a question

I couldn’t answer,

hadn’t been listening, my mind

elsewhere

We did our homework in my room

as we often did,

and each time he glanced my way

I nearly died

Homework done, time to turn up

the rock ‘n’ roll,

and jive like mad along with some

top pop idol

We had a friendly fight on my bed

as we often did,

but now it was an intimacy too far

and I kissed him

Kissed him hard, holding him down,

taking in his heat,

reluctantly letting go, by now afraid

of him

Head in hands, an awesome silence

killing me

till a whisper in my ear made it OK,

he wanted it too

We were lovers for but a short while;

in the end,

he decided he preferred girls, I’d lost

my best friend

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013

No Voice In The Classroom

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

I read recently that homophobic bullying is on the increase among young people. I see no end to it, especially in a multicultural society, until parents face up to the fact that there are gay people out there and a child of theirs might even be one of them.

Here in the UK we have gay-friendly legislation, but relatively few parents will entertain the prospect of any classroom discussion about gay issues. Until they get real about the world we live in, gay people worldwide will be deprived of a voice in the classroom where perhaps it most needs to be heard;  our children and young people deserve better than that. Education is a broad church and students need to be taught how life IS, not how various socio-cultural-religious groups would like it to be. 

As a teenager, I agonised about being gay because I had been taught at home and church that it was unnatural and a sin. I would not wish that on any young person. If I had learned that there are gay people from all walks of life around the world, it would have made a huge difference and I would not have spent what should have been among the best years of my life feeling  confused, ashamed, angry ... and scared of family and peers discovering my sexual identity. Anyone objecting to homosexuality being included in any school curriculum should feel ashamed of themselves for failing to give their children a more complete view of life as it is. 

NO VOICE IN THE CLASSROOM

We were fighting for real

when suddenly he kissed me

passionately on the mouth

and I lashed out confusedly

at my impotent alter ego

My body thrilled to his kiss

(so unexpected though it was)

but my mind flatly rejected it

for I had been taught only this,

that gay is ugly, dirty, sinful

My fist crashed into the face

I so longed to cup in my hands

and be spirited (safely) away

into corners of time and space

free of judgmental inhibitions

In a smoky mist, I saw him flee,

unable to call him back, my feet

(like my tongue) stuck fast…

his kiss continuing to engulf me

in the sheer ferocity of  its heat

That night I felt the two of us

making love with such intensity

there was no room for shame

as I braved giant waves of reality,

surfing desires  denied for years

The next day I waylaid him,

stumbled over a tearful apology

as gently, warily, he drew me

into his arms, joy in our sexuality

letting all conscience go free

It was a time of stereotypes

feeding off society’s prejudices

so we never dared go public,

any world for schoolboy lovers

kept waiting on its education

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013

G-A-Y, of an Age OR Sexuality, an Affinity with Mind-Body-Spirit

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

As regular readers will know, I had realised I am gay by the time I was fourteen years-old and was sexually active with other boys and men throughout my teenage years. It would have helped to be able to take this over with someone instead of being forced into a closet by so-called public opinion. In some parts of the world, public opinion may have shifted for the better, on the face if it at any rate, but the closet is still there for anyone growing up in a gay-unfriendly environment to hide in and/ or be tossed into like an unwanted item of clothing and/or have the door locked behind them and only allowed out for communal meals or prayers.

The old adage is unfair and morally reprehensible that children should be seen and not heard, and if older people are living longer so children are maturing more quickly. I will be 68 years-old on the next winter solstice, and it has been my view for more than half a century that to suggest a teenager is still a child is an error of judgement in law, principle, and the minds of many among those said to represent ‘public opinion’.

These days LGBT young people as well as older men and women can look for a local support group and/or forum on the Internet in the absence of a close relative or friend with whom they can discuss their sexuality. It remains a tragedy, however, that many are forced to do so in secret. We may have Political Correctness, Equal Opportunities and various diversity policies and projects in some parts of the world, but many of these are purely cosmetic. If the whole world can’t wake up to the fact that LGBT is OK in the 21st century, it says precious little for a common humanity.

G-A-Y, OF AN AGE or SEXUALITY, AN AFFINITY WITH MIND-BODY-SPIRIT

Fourteen years-old,
told we’re not old enough
to know our own minds,
warned never to surrender
to any ‘peculiar’’ feelings
we might have for each other
or (worse) so much as consider
we might be gay

Fourteen years-old,
not cleared by law or canon
to know our own minds,
assured lots of boys and girls
have ‘strong’ feelings
for each other, but it doesn’t
mean we’re criminals or (worse)
we could be gay 

Fourteen years-old,
told it’s only natural to confuse
affection for a friend
with something more, but not sure
what or why because
we don’t have the experience
in life to really be in love or (worse)
be sure we’re gay

Fourteen years-old,
vulnerable to aspects of illusion
conspiring against us
along with misleading stereotypes
some parents take as read
so would save us from following
in the footsteps of history’s giants
who were gay

Fourteen-years old,
growing surer of ourselves daily
and discovering feelings
no one ever talks about at school,
religions ignore or shame,
politicians fall back on diplomacy
media’s take on public duty, ‘outing’  
celebrities suspected gay

Fourteen years-old,
wise beyond our years, old enough
to know our own minds.
unafraid to explore feelings we have
for each other,
sick of being driven to subterfuge,
impatient for that milestone birthday
setting us free

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

My Way

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

Today’s poem last appeared on the blog in 2010. As I have pointed out before, not everyone has time to browse the archives so I hope those readers who recall it will enjoy being reacquainted.

My mother loved poetry and often used to read me poems rather than stories. I loved them and recall them all, but the first gay-interest poem I read (by Thom Gunn) not only felt like an endorsement of that love, but also of my emerging sexuality; in 1959 when same-sex relationships were still a criminal offence in the UK.

I have always loved libraries and been an avid reader although less so these days as my eyes get tired. Mostly, it would be fiction or poetry with which I would engage with a schoolboy’s enthusiasm for discovery. In this way, I’d not only escape from the harsher realities of life, but also learn more about certain deeper, kinder truths that my compulsory ‘education’ (so-called) rarely if ever even hinted at.  

Take being gay, for example. I had been led to believe it was a perversion so, realizing I am gay caused me to feel guilty for being a pervert. Books and poems assured me otherwise.

I learned that sexuality is in the genes and perfectly natural although frowned upon by those with neither the sense nor sensibility to appreciate anything (or anyone) beyond their narrow conception of 'normality' (upon whose back, of course, a society's leaders in and teachers of its conventions so love to ride). Now, there was a time when such books and poems would invariably be found ‘under the counter’ at my local public library. Ah, but where there’s a will, there is usually a way for an enterprising schoolboy, and my first job after leaving school was in a public library…

MY WAY

I read a poem about being gay

that came back to haunt me

but in the nicest possible way,

applauding my sexuality ...

I wrote a poem about being gay

that needs no apology;

whatever I do, whatever I say,

it always speaks up for me ...

I shared a poem about being gay

with friends and family

who put their misgivings away,

rose above knee jerk hostility

My life is a poem about being gay,

its words a taste of honey;

whatever I do, whatever I say,

it always speaks up for me ...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

G-A-Y In The Subject Field

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

Yes, this is the poem from which the blog takes its title. It hasn’t been on the blog for a couple of years now and ‘Malika’ has asked me to post it today as she and her partner share my passion for clouds. I love to hear from lesbians as it reassures me that it is not only gay men that dip into the blog. I appreciate that some lesbians prefer the term to gay, but I know many more that are happy with gay.

Feedback suggests that some transgender readers enjoy the blog too, and that’s great news. After all, we are all people in the same swim, often against this or that society’s tides and that’s what counts. If we do not continue to press for equal right around the world, those countries where gay and transgender people are still victimised, ostracised, even executed with less dignity that you would put down a sick animal ... nothing will change. for my own part, I feel very heartened that so many straight young people from all walks of life take the trouble to email me and express encouraging sentiments about both this as well as my general blog. One reader even said he and his girlfriend both enjoyed reading the gay novels serialised in my fiction blog.

Change always takes time, changes in certain socio-cultural-religious attitudes invariably longer, often (far) longer than we would like. In our young people, though, I see more good than bad; in them especially lie the hopes and aspirations of  yours truly and other men and women, boys and girls around the world weary of being made to feel they need to apologise for their sexuality or, worse still, live out their lives in some awful closet.

G-A-Y IN THE SUBJECT FIELD

I read it in the clouds one day

when I was feeling lonely,

‘G-A-Y is good, means gay.’

I hadn’t found the way to say

how I felt about sexuality;

I read it in the clouds one day

Alone on life’s great highway,

till passing clouds told me,

‘G-A-Y is good, means gay.’

I couldn’t help feeling the way

I felt about you and me;

I read it in the clouds one day

So much I wanted to say

and did eventually…

‘G-A-Y is good, means gay.’

Life is rarely roses all the way,

though nature set us free;

I read it the clouds one day,

‘G-A-Y is good, means gay.’

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

Failed, by Schools of Thought found Wanting

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

Feedback suggest that most readers agree with me that education is the key to ridding the world of homophobic elements so I was happy to go along with the general consensus and include today’s poem in my new collection.

As my collections are general rather than specifically gay, it means that straight as well as gay readers get to read to my gay-interest poems; they can, of course, skip the gay material, but I am delighted to hear from a good many straight readers who appear to enjoy my poems on a gay theme as much as those about nature, society, whatever. [As regular readers of my blogs and books will know, I am up for writing on just about any subject under the sun.]

Whenever I post a poem in support of young gay people, I receive complaints accusing me of trying to corrupt them. Do they honestly believe none of us start wrestling with our sexuality until we are adults?

There are gay boys and girls around the world who badly need reassurance and support; schools could offer a lot more, religious institutions, too, instead of piling on the angst and making out they know best all the time.

FAILED, BY SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT FOUND WANTING

The first time we made love,

we were like young rabbits living in fear

of an owl swooping down

It was under a leafy awning,

in woods where we'd played as children

although never like this

As twilight cast a golden glow

across the scene, we caved in to feelings

we'd resisted for years

Oh, the bliss of physical love,

acting out its beautiful poetry, unspoken

till now but for its tears

Ah, but freedom was an illusion

if not the love consuming us that summer,

schooldays shut in a closet

Gossip raged. By the winter term,

we had gone separate ways, heads bowed,

twin hearts ripped out

To our shame, we let bigotry

get the better of us, an awakening sexuality

tempered by immaturity

Years on, mature adults now;

if a bigot's penchant for bullying still about,

more of us standing up to it

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

[Note: First published under the title 'Where Tick-Box Curricula Found Wanting' in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]