The Comedian

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

This entry is from my gay-interest log for January 2013.

I wrote today’s poem especially for a young man who once called me anonymously at 11.00pm. I didn’t finish the poem until nearly 3.00 am by which time I was feeling very tired as well as increasingly anxious on his behalf … so don’t expect a gem. [LOL]

Many of us can probably relate to a secret life, not always having been openly gay.

Maybe some readers still find themselves all but suffocating in some awful closet. Tragically, it remains almost par for the course for gay men and women in some countries where certain socio-cultural-religious bigots continue to have the upper hand. We can but keep them in our thoughts, offering support as and when we can. You never know. Certain world/community leaders may yet see the error of their bigotry sooner rather than later so gay people can get on with their lives openly and in peace.  

This poem, like many others I have written, has its roots in my own life but just how and where is for me to know and you to speculate. I write simply and am often accused of being simplistic although I refute the latter criticism. Whatever, do I care? If just one reader reads and enjoys a poem of mine, it will have been worth the writing; should he or she find food for thought there, so much the better.

THE COMEDIAN

But a square peg in a round hole,

my schooldays were a sham;

I’d mess around and play the fool

because I couldn’t quite get to grips

with who I am

I had a working class education,

didn’t ever dare aim high,

couldn’t see the point of ambition,

so I’d mess around and play the fool,

live a lie

I had a real problem with identity,

couldn’t bear anyone to know

it was an awakening homosexuality

saw me mess around and play the fool,

put on a show

I’d enjoy sex in sly, secret places

even fancy guys in the street,

sickened by revulsion in their faces,

although never one sure, all-seeing eye

would I dare meet

There came a time as I grew older,

I wearied of playing the ham,

resolved to get real and be bolder

about letting on to this sorry old world

exactly who I am

I came out to just about everyone,

and it was scary, but, oh, so cool

to be free at last of secrets, have fun,

neither afraid nor ashamed of who I am,

no need to play the fool

Where once I barely had a life at all,

my early years but a sham,

if now I sometimes play the fool,

it’s because I’m relaxed, happy, content

to be who I am

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; slightly rev. 2021

Ghost in the Mirror or A Rage to Live

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

This poem first appeared on my gay-interest poetry in March 2015.

For any gay person who feels, for whatever reason, that he or she cannot be openly gay, it is a terrible lie to live and burden to carry whatever their socio-cultural-religious environment. I lived that lie for years as a youth and young man (I am in my 79's now); it not only saddens but also horrifies me that in this 21st century there are still gay boys and girls, men and women worldwide, who feel they cannot be openly gay but must give the appearance of being heterosexual. Those responsible, whether within family and/or religious and/or cultural circles should hang their heads in shame for their intolerance and inhumanity. 

Lies, like ghosts, are inclined to haunt us, but not necessarily in a bad way; they can, in truth, drive us towards a kinder reality or at least one likely to invest the inner self with greater integrity than any so-called ‘reality’ we may have been led to believe (for whatever reason) is all there is…

Reality for the human being comprises a multitude of differences; differences that make people not different, just human, and deserving of respect for their humanity regardless of colour, creed, sex or sexuality. If we cannot respect each other’s differences, what chance of finding common ground on which to build a worthwhile relationship as a family member, friend, lover, colleague or whatever...?

The young, closet man I once was would confront lies in mirrors  and shop windows daily. ashamed that I hadn't the strength of character to look the world in the eye. Among the lies, though, were greater truths such as passed on by generations of LGBT people working against intolerable odds to create a better, kinder world for the likes of me; it was for them as much as for myself that in 1985 I flung the closet door wide open (rather than toe it occasionally ajar) at the ripe old age of 40. Even now, though, I sometimes see that tormented closet self in the eyes of passers-by, fellow passengers on a bus or train...and am truly thankful to be free.

GHOST IN THE MIRROR or A RAGE TO LIVE

I told myself a lie,
lived that lie for years
till (inevitably?)
a day came I broke down
in tears,
and through my tears
I watched the lie
come for me out of a mist
like a ghost

The ghost revealed
the lie had run its course
till (inevitably?)
it was breaking me down
in pieces,
and among the pieces
I caught glimpses
of consequences slowly
killing me

Pieces all in place,
I saw the bigger picture
that (in spite of me)
had haunted my other self
for years
as through the years
I had given fiction priority
over reality

Reality, taking pride
of place, if better late
than never..
casting off excuses made
for years
bout wanting to spare
family and friends any tears
over me

I admitted the lie,
I‘d hid behind for years
and (inevitably?)
a day came I broke down
in tears,
and through my tears
I walked free,
embracing truth, world,
and sexuality

The ghost, it stayed,
a reminder of those years
and (inevitably?)
it rages now and then
in my ears
how it was until (finally)
I found a way
to hold my head high
for being gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Prisoner of (Another) War OR No one Knows but Me

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

This poem appears in my gay-interest blog archives for Seotember 2013.

I have met several members of the armed forces who are gay, but even though it is legal now in some countries, (including the UK and US) would not dream of revealing the fact to their comrades-in-arms. As one guy told me, ‘I’m a damn good soldier, but if anyone knew I was gay it would count for f**k all. I might as well shoot myself.’ He was killed in action about a year later. Everyone spoke very highly of him and rightly so. I could not help wondering what his bereaved, closet boyfriend (another soldier) made of it all. I wrote the poem for both of them.

One day, hopefully, human beings will stop waging war on themselves; in more ways than one.

This poem is for 'Mick' whose partner was killed on active service. Mick says, 'I so regret we were out to no one, but we had no choice. No one should have to grieve alone.'

Grief is a lonely business for anyone, but I dare say we all know what he meant.

PRISONER OF (ANOTHER) WAR or NO ONE KNOWS BUT ME

You had told no one you are gay

by the time you went to war,

leaving me alone to try and pray

Whether at work, rest or play,

I’d love and miss you more;

you had told no one you are gay

You said we’d come true one day

when you’re ready, not before,

leaving me alone to try and pray

There is so much I longed to say,

our secret, a weeping sore;

you had told no one you are gay

My worst fears came true one day,

and at my whole being tore,

leaving me alone to try and pray

It still hurts when I hear people say

we were good friends (no more);

you had told no one you are gay,

leaving me alone to try and pray

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

 

Sex, Lies and Stereotype

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

This poem appears in my gay-interest blog archives for February 2012

Most if not all gay men and women remember the horror of that damn closet, whether we are there for a long or short while. It has to be one of the 21st century’s greater tragedies that many gay people stay there all their lives because certain judgemental societies and/or socio-cultural-religious factors in the home continue to work against our Human Rights worldwide.

This poem was retrospective when it was written in 1995 following an exchange of closet anecdotes among gay friends, and is as relevant today as it was then.  Only a few months ago, here in London, I saw two young men kissing in a crowded gay bar that, according to the person standing next to me who pointed them out, had been with a ‘butch’ crowd he’d known since schooldays that regularly yelled homophobic abuse at him in the street. Obviously, they hadn’t yet realised that it really isn’t ‘in’ to be with an in-crowd that’s very much the wrong crowd. 

Mind you, I’ve often wondered about openly homophobic types. As Shakespeare, might well have said, methinks they do protest too much...

SEX, LIES AND STEREOTYPE

Billy was a shy boy

who lived in my hometown,

did well at school,

never played the fool,

had a voice as thick as honey,

kept his head in a book;

that first time he smiled

and said ‘hello’ I didn’t quite

know where to look

Early one morning

I went fishing at my special place;

Billy was already there,

tongues of red hair licking

at my face as I told him

to go, the sacrilege all his,

but he stood his ground;

I flung him down, a heat in us

rising like the dawn

Our lips brushed

as if meant, his sweet body sighed;

mine paused, replied

until spent, spiritually content

for finding sanctuary

in the lap of a songbird,

no willows weeping

or fish biting nor any hint

of unease or dissent

Down at the pub

one evening, drinking with the lads,

poised to win at darts,

my girl cheering … Enter Billy

with a mate, and I score

a bull! Crowd’s roaring my victory,

my girl adoring me

as I'm drowning in a swell

and, oh, so hurting ...

like hell

Copyright R. N. Taber 1995; 2012

[Note: Thus poem has been revised from an earlier version that has already appeared on the blog and in  my first collection,  Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]

Buddy Joe

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

I posted this poem on my gay-interest blog some eight years ago; you can find it in that blog's archives for January 2011. (Archives are listed on the right hand side of any blog page.)

As is the case here in the UK, it has been 'acceptable' and legal for LGBT people to serve in armed forces around the world for some years, but many still choose to remain closet for fear of losing the  respect of their colleagues as much as various reprisals and bullying that invariably go unreported.

The poem was inspired by a conversation with a veteran of World War 2 whose partner has been killed in action. In those days, of course, same-sex relationships were illegal. During the since I wrote it,  I have had similar conversations with young (and older) men (usually in gay bars) who have lost partners on the battlefields of Iraq or Afghanistan. [No, I wasn't necessarily cruising. I guess I have the sort of face people feel they can open up to.] Two of these guys were serving soldiers.  Same-sex relationships may be legal now, even in the armed services, but as one guy put it, 'Let on you're gay in the army and you're fu**ked up good and proper.'

I was only glad to be in the right place at the right time so they could pour their hearts out as only one can to a complete stranger.

I am posting it here today because I had a similar conversation not so long ago with serving army officer. He made the point - and rightly so - that it gay people are good enough to fight and die so the rest of us can carry on with our lives in pace, how come they are not considered (by many) good enough to command our respect simply on the grounds of their sexuality?

Same sex relationships have been practised for aeons, so isn't it high time the rest of the world got real and ceased attacking the likes of your truly, often on the grounds of unfounded stereotypes and fake news by way of innuendo and gossip, not to mention the occasional exposure in the press, most of which are blown up out of all proportion? Yes, there are gay people who set a bad example to the rest of us, but can any die-hard heterosexual claim, hand on heart, that the same is not true of certain heterosexuals the world over? As my closet officer friend commented, "...we come in for more abuse than so-called Islamic State, for chrissake, I ask you!"

A person may not agree with or even approve of another's sexuality, but what business if it of theirs anyway, and whatever happened to agreeing to differ?

BUDDY. JOE

The day buddy Joe left town,
my heart missed a beat, I nearly died;
I prayed for his safe return
at our secret place - and cried

No one knew how buddy Joe
and I shared a love the law forbade;
my grief I dared not show
for the dreams that once we made

Buddy Joe went to fight a war
in a land of which he’d scarcely heard;
of many others gone before,
the powers-that-be gave little word

The day of buddy Joe’s return
my heart missed a beat, I surely died;
as they lowered his coffin down,
for once my tears no cause to hide

No one knows how buddy Joe
and I indulged a passion the law forbade;
the world has another hero…
I can but grieve the dreams we made

To life restored, piece by piece,
and if sometimes taking a wrong turn,
I'm the richer for love and peace
that to Joe I’ll always look and learn

Copyright R. N. Taber 2006

Keeper of the Flame

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

A reader who has to use an Internet café to go on-line has asked me to repeat the link to my YouTube channel.  My friend and cameraman Graham and I are hoping to record more poems ‘on location’ for YouTube, weather and time permitting.

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

Meanwhile ...

Raking the heart’s embers is easy enough. It takes but one precious memory to stir the flames of a love that was never meant - for whatever reasons - to (quite) fulfil its promises until, with all the passion of regret, we can but watch them fall away like autumn leaves ....

Alternatively, whatever our gender or sexuality, we can find happiness and comfort in the knowledge that we have loved and been loved in return ...

No one is more or less vulnerable than another to any love that only two will ever truly share whether it be parent to child, friend to friend or lover to lover ... and only a fool lets the flame it ignites in us fade and die; rather, let it be a  light in any darkness given that there will always be dark times, c'est la vie.


KEEPER OF THE FLAME


Piling on wood,
and the flames leap higher,
bringing us together
as we were that summer
we’d meet up again
and again to go swimming
in the sunshine,
walking in the rain,
playing with fire
from each dawn to sunset,
now flaring, now fading,
like love’s wistful voices,
its weepy echoes

Piling on wood,
and the flames are dancing,
lovers romancing
as we were that summer
we’d cherish
precious moments together,
each one stolen
from those who thought
they knew us,
yet never once suspecting
we were lovers,
not just best of friends
hamming it up

Running out of wood;
too soon, the flames starting
to fall away
like an audience once a play
has reached an ending,
well deserving of applause
even if no one cares
to admit the staged goings-on
were too close
for comfort, disturbing
vulnerable ghosts
ever tearful for being shut
in some secret closet

Eternal flame, ever reworking us
over centuries

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012


[Note: This poem has been slightly revised (final couplet) from the original as it was first published  in Tracking the Torchbearer by R N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Flesh And Blood

http://aspectsofagaymanslifeinverse.blogspot.com/

Today’s poem has been inspired by tales told me by young people whose Coming Out experience was no way as tough an experience as they expected. Me, I did not feel I could confide in my family and only told my mother a few years before she died.  I was in and out of the damn closet for years, trusting relatively few people with the knowledge that I am gay, before I finally came out to stay in the early 1980s. [Gay relationships ‘between consenting adults’ were decriminalised in the UK in 1967.]

The poem last appeared on the blog in 2010 and is repeated today for all those gay boys and girls, men and women who have found coming out to family and friends something of a traumatic experience. As my blogs are read worldwide, hopefully gay people whose socio-cultural-religious origins will not allow them to be openly gay, might take heart in the fact that no civilised person sees sexual identity as unnatural, criminal or sinful; it is simply part of our whole identity, albeit an integral part, but it is the whole that really counts. Picking on someone for their sexuality is like claiming to have completed a jigsaw puzzle with much of it still missing, and only a very foolish person does that...

It is easier to be openly gay if you are growing up in a gay-friendly environment, but many of us don’t so it is can be really tough on everyone concerned. Even so, it is well worth it if only for personal peace of mind. If it means having to move away from family and friends and getting a life while they mull things over, so be it.

Sadly, it can take some people a long time to shake off the worst of the outdated, misleading and often offensive stereotypes that continue to attach themselves to gay people in the minds of the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority. But if any family members or so-called ‘friends’ really can’t see that we’re still the same person for coming out of the damn closet they put us in ...well, maybe we are better off without them. 

Believe me. It gets easier for most people...family, friends, and us too! I guess it goes with the territory, learning to fit in to our sexuality like a hand to a glove, and then, before we know it, as a hand to the body with which nature has blessed us.

Oh, but if only those blinkered leaders in countries where gay relationships remain a criminal offence would accept that sexuality is as natural as each breath we take and we can make a valuable contribution to our native society, especially failing societies; invariably, these are hosted by repressive regimes and/or have the ear of religious fundamentalists. [So-called ‘Christian’ evangelical pastors around the world, especially those still relentlessly inciting hate crime across much of Africa, take note!]

Yes, I know I have said it all before. But as my dear late mother used to say, if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating. Mind you, the old adage is so true; there are none so deaf as will not hear or so blind that will not see. I guess we just have to try and make them...

Did I say it would be easy?

FLESH AND BLOOD

When we told my parents

we are gay and in love,

the looks they flung us said it all

their words fraught

with anger, pain and distress,

urging us to think again

about just what it would mean

to fly in the face of religion,

insult God - and for what?

Desires of the flesh

overriding all human decency

(unnatural at that)

When we told your parents

we are gay and in love,

the looks they flung us said it all,

tumbling over words

conveying their happiness,

hopes that we will

know the same joys of love

that had been theirs

for years - and for what?

Desires of the flesh

mindful of all human decency

playing its part

When my parents met yours

over dinner one night,

the looks they flung each other

did not augur well

for an entertaining evening

but yours won mine over

with their no-nonsense talking

about living, loving,

sharing - and for what?

Desires of the flesh

with all that’s good and decent

at its heart

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: This poem appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]