United we stand, divided we fall...

 (From Roger’s friend, Graham)

Hello, and sorry for not posting here for a few months. Despite best intentions, circumstances prevail sometimes. My mother is receiving end-of-life care so I’ve been making regular trips to the family house in Trowbridge. Thank you for visiting Roger’s poetry blog.

I’ve been contemplating the recent riots here in the UK, following the social media disinformation as to the identity of a child-murderer at a Southport nursery. Beyond the horror of the attack, it has highlighted the mistrust and intolerance which exists within our multicultural society. It underscores the fault lines of disparate communities. More widely it is a global media exposé on a fragmented society. As an egalitarian British guy I feel shameful about what has transpired.

A very wise Ghanaian friend once said to me ‘your rights end where mine begin’. It’s a deceptively simple remark which actually delves into the profound; that freedom to express one’s identity – whether religious, cultural or political – must end at the point where it infringes upon the liberty of others. Freedom of expression cannot be boundless. Especially in a multicultural society which, intrinsically, encompasses differing perspectives on ethics and social norms. It must rely on a degree of acceptance for secular principles. Such as the individual’s right to choose where they worship and who they love. But more widely, multicultural cohesion relies on an acceptance that women share this right, along with those who are uncertain about their gender identity. Those who don’t conform to cultural notions of propriety have an equal right to be free from violence, if not opprobrium. Those who leave a religion too, to become ‘apostate’, ‘gentile’ or ‘blasphemer’ still retain a basic right to be free from violence and threats.

People who think otherwise, well, perhaps they don’t truly belong in a democracy...? Rather, a theocracy, a fascist dictatorship or an ochlocracy where they can happily tie people to the pyre. To so fervently support division whether political, religious, or otherwise, ignores our common humanity. And embraces the illusion of ‘otherness’ - so often stoked by (so-called) community, religious and political leaders.

In an increasingly pluralistic society, there’s a point where we must listen to those seeking to build bridges. Rather than burn them.

 * * * *

‘Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities.’ Voltaire.

‘The true triumph of reason is that it enables us to get along with those who do not possess it.’ Voltaire.

* * * *

GUEST SPEAKER

I am relatively new
to the world’s societies
bent on testing me
to the limits of tolerance
towards a diversity
keen to embrace everyone,
regardless of race, sex
or creed if on its divisions
determined to feed

 I dare have my say
in public places, Holy Books,
political manifestos,
though adults (as a rule)
less likely to grasp
what it is we’re getting at
than the child at school
asked what he or she thinks
life is all about

We have to live together,
which means more agreeing
to differ, if only to defuse
rising discontent with animosity
dished up by this culture
or that religion vying for priority
with precious little respect
for a common humanity

Engage with me, Multiculturalism,
expose any Politics of Separatism

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

 

Freedom, Beacon of Hope in a Darkening World

 

From Graham – a close friend to Roger

Today marks a year since Roger passed away. It seems almost surreal how quickly this anniversary has arrived. A mutual friend, Richard, suggested we celebrate his memory at a friendly bar; recounting those joyous, life-affirming times when Roger lit up the room with his sparkling insight, his bawdy humour, or his fiery polemic. But I opted to explore remembrance through contemplation and sharing a few thoughts. Reflecting upon someone who remains close to the heart is a personal journey with many pathways...

Rog often commented on global events, particularly conflict and oppression. His poems frequently speak of a ‘common humanity’ transcending the gulf of socio-cultural-religious division. They aspire to those sublime qualities of being human; compassion, empathy and agape. A universal-spiritual connection too often lost in clamour of partisan media, sacrificed by religious fundamentalism, or obscured by sectarian hate. Yet this interconnection endures in anyone who dares question the dogma of division. It’s not through naive idealism that Roger wrote of peace and common humanity. But rather, to inspire hope in himself and others.

I know Roger would have been saddened by the recent anti-LGBT+ bill passed in Ghana. He was an outspoken advocate for equality in all societies. In his eulogy, I commented:

‘…beyond friends gathered here, Roger touched untold lives through his poetry. It was telling that his gay-interest blog was widely read in countries where the freedom to choose who we love can mean imprisonment. His poetry kindled hope in the world’s unenlightened places.’

Over the years we chatted extensively about my sabbatical in Ghana, back in 2006. At the time, I remember optimism among my gay brothers and sisters for attaining equal rights. There was hope that the egalitarian republic envisioned by Kwame Nkrumah would finally be realised for all citizens. But forward to 2022 and New Patriotic Party lawmakers are consulting with pastors, priests and imams to decide policy (?!). UN condemnation aside, it sets a dangerous precedent, and one where parliamentarians appear hellbent on a downward spiral into theocracy.

I wonder how Roger might have commented about this on his blog? Speculatively, I’d say he might draw comparisons with his own experience of anti-LGBT laws here in the UK. An era when he lived in constant fear of persecution, blackmail and violence. Recounting, perhaps, his clandestine intimacies before the law’s repeal in 1967. He once described society back then as an ‘ogre’. He might have also cited the life of mathematical visionary and national hero, Alan Turing. A man driven to suicide following prosecution and public exposure for a same-sex encounter. I think he’d question how such laws serve any national interest - or greater good?

Our sense of nationhood is often forged in the crucible of resisting oppression. Whether it’s overcoming colonial rule, women’s suffrage or the struggle for gay equality. Liberty itself flows from faith in a common humanity. Solidarity, over the politics of division and demonisation.

‘The forces that unite us are intrinsic and greater than the superimposed influences that keep us apart.’ Kwame Nkrumah

 

*  *  *

 

FREEDOM, BEACON OF HOPE IN A DARKENING WORLD

In some parts of the world,
all paths to Freedom are (still) blocked
by power-hungry rulers
living in the lap of luxury where others
go hungry, and can but dream
of running fresh, clean, water from a tap
that’s close to hand

In some parts of the world,
all paths to Freedom are (still) haunted
by fighters who lost battles,
but inspired others to continue the war
against the sickest corruption
in the highest places, best feet forward
to global markets

In some parts of the world,
all paths to Freedom (still) ringing out
loud and clear with howls
of protest punctuated with the shrapnel,
gunfire, and tear gas
that, oh, so often accompanies integrity
even in a 21st century

In some parts of the world,
all paths to Freedom are (still) littered
with human bones,
occasionally with name tags attached,
others are identified only
by such natural categories as ethnicity
and, yes, sexuality

In some part of the world,
all paths to Freedom are (still) haunted
by voices of the dead,
inspiring men, women, and children
to take greater pride
than many so-called ‘betters’ in rallying
round a flag with pride

In some parts of the world,
heterosexuality is promoted true enough
to hot-blooded stereotype,
some falling for the honeyed-up hype
of tongues, sly and zealous,
while others continue to call for a culture
of Freedom for all of us 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014; 2020

Shades of Grey

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

“Modern man talks of a battle with nature, forgetting that, if he won the battle, he would find himself on the losing side.” - E. F. Schumacher

“One of the first conditions of happiness is that the link between Man and Nature shall not be broken.” - Leo Tolstoy 

“The best friend on earth of man is the tree: When we use the tree respectfully and economically, we have one of the greatest resources of the earth.”- Frank Lloyd Wright

“Nature's music is never over; her silences are pauses, not conclusions.” - Mary Webb

Now, tomorrow will see us mark the end of 2022, each in our own way.  Across the world, people will be coming together to celebrate New Year’s Eve; a veritable feast of music, dance, relief at having survived another year and hope that the next will, indeed, be a happy one.  

We can, each and every one of us, only do our best to see our hopes fulfilled, subject though all of us are to circumstances beyond our control. All the more reason though, surely, to enjoy the Here-and Now, let it fill our lives with bright colours and inspiring sounds which, though they fade, even die, they, and the person they encouraged us to be, live on in every mind-body-spirit, heart-and-soul, they ever touched.

Oh, and again, many thanks for dropping by, much appreciated, and I hope you will join me again soon for my first post-poem of 2023… assuming that I can continue to rise above - if not quite get the better of - the mess in which ten years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer have left my thought processes.😉

SHADES OF GREY

The world around me,
various shades of grey, a sad, 
often lonely place…
Apollo having all but taken
his leave of us, trusting
we’ll manage gloomy days
as best we can,
let mind-body-spirit aid and abet us
in making wiser choices 

Weary, a natural world
sick of human nature abusing it
in the name of ‘progress’
without taking bold steps enough
to ensure its past-present
may yet anticipate a kinder future
than marks its pages,
colours its history, common humanity
but a chancer’s reality

Shades of green and gold
courtesy of Apollo’s rays of hope,
a brave one-upmanship
taking its cue from any You-Me-Us 
that haunts the history
of a humankind trying to find its way
through multiple shades
of blue-green-gold urging we'll get wise
to its potential demise

Though we suffer its every shade of grey,
trust heart-and-soul to save the day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

[Note: This poet-poem also appears on my gay poetry blog today.] RT

Starting Over

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

“Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.” – Henry David Thoreau

“The mind is its own place and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.” – John Milton

“It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell.” - Buddha

Now, overheard in a supermarket on Christmas Eve:

1st Person: “I so love this time of year. It’s so good to unwind, but it’s over too soon, and where are we then? I mean, where’s the excitement, the fun, in a whole new year stretching ahead that’s likely to stress us out all over again?”

2nd Person: “Life is what you make it. For my part, I love the feeling of starting all over again and being given the chance to put a few things right and be happy again. I can’t explain it, but it’s not a bad feeling, quite the opposite…”

I so empathised with that second person. Although I do not subscribe to any of the world religions, I am neither atheist or agnostic. Nature has always filled me with a sense of spirituality I cannot explain, even to myself. Maybe that’s why I write poetry, as an attempt to define the indefinable; not just a feeling, nor a religious faith, but a faith, no less. Whatever, it has seen me through some pretty bad times and some great times too. For better or worse, it has made of my life what, at surface level does not amount to much, but, a n ‘other’ self in me recognizes that it has been an incredible learning curve.

I guess it’s the same for everyone, although in my case it has taken 77+ years to even begin to understand what has to be, in no small part, the role of personal space in the overall meaning of life. As for hope, optimism, positive thinking - whatever we like to call it – maybe that, in turn is the role of the kind of faith that nature inspires in many of us?

For me, anyway, Spinoza’s sense of God and Nature being much of a one-ness, has seen me has seen me through more ups and downs of life to my late 70’s…and I suspect hasn’t finished with me quite yet. So, a new chapter looming in the shape of a new year, is scary, but curiously exciting one. 

Who knows that lies ahead for any of us? We can but trust that still, small voice that goes by whatever name we choose, whatever our personal space learns to feels OK with…? Having grown in the bigoted 1950’s, is it any wonder that it took me until my 30’s to listen to mine and tell the world I’m gay…?

STARTING OVER

End of another year looming,
a global consciousness continuing to plead 
for peace and goodwill
to take root in the hearts of warmongers
in high places left swivelling
on comfy chairs in plush, warm home zones,
rehearsing a Rhetoric of Peace
along with political ends, in keeping with a faux morality
that haunts a weary humanity

End of another year looming,
a global consciousness continuing to hope
for kinder times ahead
on the backs of the quick and the dead
left grieving losses, asking questions,
looking for answers where angels fear to tread
lest they encounter lost souls 
asking the way to a safe house heard tell of called Heaven,
Peace of Mind, second to none

End of another year looming,
mind-body-spirit busy working out
how best to survive;
in or lose, resolving to understand
just who we are
by the end of it all (one way or another) 
not least for listening, believing
in each other, and lending a helping hand, ear, eye, whatever.;
life force, human endeavour

Heart-and-soul preparing to get the better of our flaws again;
mind-body-spirit of being human

Copyright R. N. Taber. 2022

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my gay poetry blog today.] RT

 

Poetry Live

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

'There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
 There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
 There is society where none intrudes,
  By the deep Sea, and music in its roar;
  I love not Man the less, but Nature more…’ - Lord Byron [Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage]

“Beauty awakens the soul to act.” - Dante Alighieri

“Equality is the soul of liberty; there is, in fact, no liberty without it.” - Frances ‘Fanny’ Wright

“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.” - Carl Sandburg

Now, yet another a reader asks why I write poetry “…in a world where, let’s face it, poetry is considered ‘old hat’ by most people?”  Most people, perhaps, but certainly  not everyone , given that blogger stats confirm this blog alone has had 212.000+ views since I started writing it up about 10 years ago; my gay-interest poetry blog, too, has had 160, 000+ views.

Nor is poetry 'old hat' in schools, as some people suggest, including a good many schoolchildren; it has its place, among all the arts, on the learning curve that is life

If just one reader enjoys a poem and it gets them thinking about, not necessarily agreeing with its contents… well, that is reward enough for any poet.

For me, all nature is’ live’ poetry; the more people enjoying it and thinking about its contents, I suspect the chances are the more likely they will want to play their part in keeping it alive for generations to come. Combating climate change, for example, is more than a rescue mission for the survival of humankind, but for a natural world that existed long before us and deserves better from us. Even the most indefatigable resilience  can be worn down over time, especially by circumstances (and people) working just as indefatigably against it, knowingly or otherwise.

POETRY LIVE

Sunlight creeping through my window
roused my eyes to a far cheerful awakening
than an unhappy dreaming had led me
to expect, a welcome surprise after a night
of mind-body-spirit’s being tossed about
on such feisty, restless waves of broken sleep
as left heart-and-soul crying out for rescue,
growing more fearful of no help ever happening 
until it heard a skylark singing

Encouraged and inspired by Apollo’s
first kiss on the grassland where it nested,
it rose to greet the morning on wings
of a song bringing a sense of love and peace
forever crying out to be found
among shadows silenced by human fears,
left chasing the sun by day, moon
by night, invariably made to make do with echoes
of wishful thinking for centuries

Ah, but the Here-and-Now can see me
through whatever, if I will only but let it catch
a shadow or two, give the echoes
haunting mind-body-spirit substance enough
to make even half a dream come true,
much as the arts endeavour to do in music, 
poetry and painting, a creative therapy
inspiring such kinder life forces as it always will
an all-embracing heart-and-soul

For every human shadow, may its silences be heard
as pleas for peace around the world

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Lines on the Politics of Personal Space

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

“Friendship improves happiness and abates misery by the doubling of our joy and the dividing of out grief.” Marcus Tullius Cicero

 “We are all different. There is no such thing as a standard or run-of-the-mill human being, but we share the same human spirit.” – Stephen Hawking

“As an anthropologist, I believe strongly in our common humanity. We can rise above the tribal divisions that have caused so much anguish and real damage in the past.” - Alice Roberts

“Believe that life is worth living and your belief will help create the fact”.  -William James

Now, In many ways, today’s poem-post continues yesterday’s theme/s. 

Many people, especially LGBT + folks, including yours truly, have been very disturbed and upset by the banning of rainbow armbands on the pitch during the World Cup in Qatar in support of diversity  and Human Rights; even fans wearing similarly supportive headgear have been told to remove it before entering the ground. Even so,  this action by the authorities  - including and backed by FIFA - has possibly brought the subject  even more to the fore of people's minds across the world than was intended; an own goal, so to speak, by Qatar.

Oh, and one cannot help but admire and applaud the Iranian football  team's bravery for refusing to sing their national anthem by way of making a similar protest.. Hopefully, they will not be subjected to abuse by the Iranian regime on their return home...

As regular readers will know, and some share the sentiment, growing old(er) can be heavy going at any age; either the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak or circumstances cause us to lose heart altogether and depression sets in. Somehow, we have to find our own way to rise above certain everyday ups and downs that challenge us all. (No, never easy, but… we have a choice?)

I recently had a bath lift installed after being unable to get out of the bath for a good thirty minutes some weeks ago, due to mobility problems.😀 A walk-in shower might have been suitable for some, but not someone like myself who needs to be extra careful not to get water in my ears due to perforated eardrums. After being trapped that first time, I did devise a strategy for getting in and out of the bath, but involved a degree of acrobatics that was an accident waiting to happen. Now I feel safer. 

Two close friends were a huge help and supervised my first attempts. They helped boost my patience and self-confidence to the extent that today I managed my first unsupervised bath, using the lift with no one around to help even if I needed it. Sounds simple enough, I know, but nothing is simple once years of hormone therapy for prostate cancer have messed with your thought processes. Yes, I experienced a few teething problems today, but at least I will find the next time I take a bath, a less scary and more relaxing experience.

We all need help sometimes, just as we all need to find our own pace for doing whatever, despite the pace of modern life threatening to leave us behind for one reason or another. 

Well, let it threaten; the human spirit is not easily put down… not for long, anyway, despite any temporary put-downs…

LINES ON THE POLITICS OF PERSONAL SPACE

Life is making the most of its seasons,
growing older, hopefully wiser to the tricks
time so loves to play on us all,
mind-body-spirit continuing to engage 
with an enduring heart-and-soul, 
endeavouring to keep us on the right track,
no matter such ways of a world
that would have us playing deaf, blind and dumb 
to the Politics of Outcome

It’s a tried and tested mind-body-spirit
needs to keep drawing on the native patience
at its command, constantly encouraging us
all to stay true to an evergreen heart-and-soul
urging we engage with patience, 
such patience as will see us through tough times,
head held high, resolutely refusing 
to be cowed by such ways of the world as see many
feeling defeated and empty

The world may well have its reasons,
temptations, and calls to You-Me-Us to comply,
though heart-and-soul cries out
to defy, ignore, turn a deaf ear, no matter
any alternative desires;
wiser by far to steer through troubles and strife,
follow the road map our senses
assure us will lead to far kinder, better times in store,
well worth waiting, working for...

Such is the gift of heart-and-soul, to a shared humanity,
if but the patience to devise a winning strategy

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2022

A Walk on the Dark Side

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

“Opinion is the medium between knowledge and ignorance.” - Plato

“Where ignorance is our master, there is no possibility of real peace.” - Dalai Lama

“Where there is charity and wisdom, there is neither fear nor ignorance.” - Francis of Assisi “Prejudice is the child of ignorance.” - William Hazlitt 

“Violence isn't always evil. What's evil is the infatuation with violence.” - Jim Morrison

“My mother said I must always be intolerant of ignorance but understanding of illiteracy, that some people, unable to go to school, were more educated and more intelligent than college professors.”- Maya Angelou

Now, few things encourage anger among populations worldwide than instability and where there is instability, there is invariably a rising discontent which, in turn, encourages anger, even violence. The world is anything but stable at the moment, especially with the war in Ukraine resulting in an economic crisis just about everywhere.

Here in the UK, Rishi Sunak has been voted our new prime minister – our third this year! – by Tory MP’s, while other parties and much of the population had been calling for a General Election. While I, personally, think Sunak is a good choice, the fact remains that he does not have a mandate; the political argument put forward by the Conservative Party that it does have mandate, having been voted into power at the last General Election, neither impresses nor convinces most people. After all, the world is a very different place than it was in May, 2019!

We have seen a significant rise of violence on the streets as well as domestic violence since Covid-19 arrived. Given the further threat of a possible flu/ Covid pandemic this winter, as well as a world financial crisis, it is hardly surprising that cases of reported violence appear to be rising. As for unreported cases... who knows?

A WALK ON THE DARK SIDE

I listen, but do not always hear,
look, but do not always see what is there,
only what I expect to find
in the deeper, darker recesses of a mind
fed half-truths and fake news,
manipulated by destructive life forces
supposedly meaning well,
while making use of such stereotypical images
as would rewrite history’s pages

Born innocent, only to be exposed
to a cowardly rhetoric of prejudice and hate
insinuating mind-body-spirit
with misinformation, fake news and such views
as expounded to win over
the less perceptive, least enlightened
among humanity, nurturing
prejudice and violence to home in on a humanity,
with a predilection for profanity 

I turn common sense on its head, sanity
made to give way to such false interpretations
of self-education, perpetuated
by the absence of love, kindness, caring
for one another, all virtue
portrayed as weakness to the vulnerable,
by any who walk on the Dark Side,
waging war with and for every human heart-and-soul,
manipulators and manipulatable

I am Ignorance, listening out for a wiser, kinder voice;
peace or violence, an all but interchangeable choice

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

[Note: this post-poem appears on both poetry blogs today, as I feel it is relevant and feedback suggests that many LGBT readers remain cautious of only having access to shared computers.] RT 

Potential for a Love Story OR The Eyes Have It

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

“Love has no gender - compassion has no religion - character has no race.” - Abhijit Naskar, Either Civilised or Phobic: A Treatise on Homosexuality 

“Love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?” – James Baldwin

“Equality means more than passing laws. The struggle is really won in the hearts and minds of the community, where it really counts.” – Barbara Gittings

“Sexuality is one of the ways in which we become enlightened, actually, because it leads to self-knowledge – Alice Walker”

Now, it was a lay preacher who first defined ‘gay’ for me as “A person who not only sees no sin in being physically attracted to their own gender, but dares to justify any such relationship by suggesting it is a mutually consensual experiment in love. Love, of course, plays no part in it. It’s but an excuse for casual sex which, even between opposite genders is only ever at best, a selfish act, at worst, a sin.”

“But what if the couple concerned really do fall in love?” I wanted to know.

“Are you deaf, or something,” he snapped testily, there is no such thing as falling in love with someone of your own sex. Love them, yes, by all means, but platonically, not in a physical sense.” Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do…”

Even at the age of 11, ‘pompous ass’ was the first phrase that sprung to mind as I watched him go.

It was the 1950’s. My mind continued to dwell on that conversation even before I realised I was gay myself. So prevalent and widely accepted was such prejudice towards gay folks in those days, that I felt unable to confide in anyone.

As regular readers will know, it would be another twenty years before I felt strong enough to share my secret with the world, but not before falling in love with a potential partner for life who was killed in a car accident that sent me scurrying back into a lonely closet.

Fewer people these days are intimidated by religious objections to a person’s sexuality and are more inclined to take others as they find them and play any potential friendship by ear.

Now, some readers may well be interested in the revised edition of Odd Men Out by John-Pierre Joyce, Manchester University Press, 2022. It charts the history of gay men in 1950’s and 1960’s Britain, but I suspect gay men everywhere, from all walks of life, will be able to relate to it, not least because homophobia remains rampant across the world, not least due to the narrowmindedness and sheer hypocrisy of various religions.

POTENTIAL FOR A LOVE STORY or THE EYES HAVE IT

As he turned from his window
on the world below,
his gaze rested briefly on me,
and in that moment,
we strangers acknowledged
the prison from which
we so longed to go free to enjoy
such venial pleasures, for better or worse
as would see us embrace

He left the room without a word,
intuitively, I followed;
sooner, rather than later, we knew
we would be acting out
a beautiful dream acknowledged
under cover of silence,
bringing us together to revel
in such carnal delights as we would share,
for laying our souls bare

Better bare than clothed in hypocrisies
constantly insisting
we are committing various sins
of the flesh, sure to see us
in a hell of our own construction 
for denying the edicts
of religions dating back centuries,
ostensibly expressions of love and peace,
except for You-Me-Us

I am that desire-of-the-flesh-become-reality,
transcending a potential love story

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022 

[Note: Several straight friends insisted I publish this post-poem on both poetry blogs today. Who am I to argue...?]

 

Getting the Better of Stress

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

"Don’t forget, beautiful sunsets need cloudy skies." – Paulo Coelho

"It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell." - Buddha

"The greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another." - William James

"If you are distressed by anything external, the pain is not due to the thing itself but to your own estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment." Marcus Aurelius

“No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed an uncharted land or opened a new doorway for the human spirit." - Helen Keller. 

Now, the pandemic has caused many of us to feel more stressed out than perhaps we quite realise. The death of Queen Elizabeth II has also hit many people harder than they quite realise; a seemingly permanent stable influence proven to be but human.

I have to say that, although no die-hard monarchist, I have been further upset to see and hear about protesters; there is a time and a place, surely? Besides most protests relate to political history. Whatever her private thoughts, the late Queen made a point of distancing herself from politics. She was our Head of State, but in name only. More importantly, she was a Woman of the People. The business of governing is down to the Government of the Day.

One of the most remarkable aspects of the late Queen’s reign was that she remained politically neutral, leaving the rest of us free to admire her, regardless of our ethnicity, sexuality, religion, politics, whatever...

It has always been my view that any protests, wherever in the world and for whatever reason, belong outside its Head of Government's residence or Parliament. 

As for history...well, that is as it is, for better and for worse; a learning curve  (we hope) for the Here-and-Now and future generations.

Whatever its causes (always more than one) stress is awful while it lasts; one of its more positive side-effects, though, is that we may well start asking ourselves why we feel this way and eventually feel motivated to at least making a start in doing something about it. Confiding in someone, even calling a help-line or, better still, letting loved ones and close friends know how we feel and asking for their help and support is a vital first step.

Once having decided to take that first step, even before we have actually carried it through, is invariably the beginning of the end to our distress.

Doing battle with a contrary self-awareness is never easy…But… needs must... as heart-and-soul message mind-body-spirit to get its act together and... wise up?

GETTING THE BETTER OF STRESS

Common sense, losing its voice,
afraid to ask for aid
for fear of being thought weak,
struggling like hell to exit
a gloomy maze, no clear sense
of direction, what little light
fading with every faltering move, 
unable to pray or even convince myself
tomorrow’s another day…

Sick at heart-and soul, no matter
a mind-body-spirit 
urging me to dismiss the demons
haunting, taunting me,
reminding me of happier times
before drowning them
in a sea of loneliness, any happiness
a lost cause, the too-eager fingers of panic
tightening around my neck…

Deep breaths, hold, let go, repeat,
an exercise in hope 
if ever there was one, attempting 
to regain the advantage
over demons, all shapes and sizes,
while, for all their hell-fire,
no less able than the better part of us
to resist counter-attacks by the warring grin
of anyone up for taking them on

Demons, driving me any which way
but loose, unless I dare
call on such life forces as likely
to get the better of them;
namely, love, friendship, guiding lights
come to help rescue me, 
a spirit of do-or-die more hell-bent
on seeing me find a way to rise above it all
than cover for a demon’s fall

Common sense dead set on going walk-about;
Time yet, though, to give someone a shout….

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

[Note: This post-poem appears on both poetry blogs today. I can but refer any readers interested in the reason to the Note I have posted there.] RT

Harvest Home

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

“Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.” C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed (On the death of his wife, Joy)

“Sometimes, only one person is missing, and the whole world seems depopulated.” - ~ Alphonse de Lamartine, Méditations Poétiques

“She (Dorothea) was no longer wrestling with the grief, but could sit down with It as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her thoughts.”  George Eliot, Middlemarch

“What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments but what is woven into the lives of others.” – Thucydides

A neighbour commented: “I never met the Queen, never knew her except as a smiling, graceful figure reaching out to me from the TV. Yet, I feel as if I have lost a dear friend. Silly of me, I know…” 

Not silly at all. I suspect many of us are feeling a similar sense of loss, and as we pause to wonder why, we may well discover some answers to questions we all ask of ourselves.

The legacy of the late Queen Elizabeth II is, indeed, immeasurable in so far as it embraces a truly global consciousness. Mixed feelings, indeed, nor any greater than a sense of losing someone while, at the same time, wanting to celebrate their life.

HARVEST HOME

I am the world that turns
on an axis separate from all others,
yet as much a part
of a common humanity as the air
we breathe in order
to gift me to mind-body-spirit,
for planting and nurturing
what motivates this, my being baring all
to save a heart-and-soul

I can sing and dance, show
myself to the world, by way of urging
we celebrate the gift of life,
whose seed freely given in peace
and love, grown, nurtured,
harvested in such seasons of time
and personal space as begs
we pause to watch, listen, learn, take heart
from a truly indomitable spirit

Where the going is as tough
as it gets, be sure I’ll be there for you,
if not always understood;
feel free to rummage, no damage
done that cannot mend;
though my harvesting yield only pain
and tears of want and fear
,be sure, needs must you explore new worlds
beyond boundaries set by words

I am those feelings by way of which humanity
writes that epic poem we call ‘Eternity’

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

 

A Word to the Wise

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

"Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.” – Charlotte Bronte

"You don’t stop laughing when you grow old. You grow old when you stop laughing. – George Bernard Shaw

“Age isn’t how you are, but how you feel.” Gabriel Garcia Marquez

“Everything has beauty but not everyone sees it.” – Confucius

“In three words, I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.” – Robert Frost 

Now, I started to say that, on the whole, I am not enjoying old age…until I looked again at that telling phrase ‘on the whole’ and realised that age is but the sum of its parts, just as we are the sum of ours. 

Having always had to take the rough with the smooth, better, surely, to keep the smoother in view and put the rougher behind us…?

Smooth is good and life, at any age, is invariably a mix of good and bad, though not forgetting that old standby, muddled…

I well recall that, as a schoolboy in the 1950's,  I once considered the prospect of 'fate' as something to be scared of until I heard Doris Day singing Que sera, sera (What will be, will be) in such a bright, fun, lively way that it never seemed anywhere near as scary any more, just something to muddle through, for better or worse, as best we can; in the case of the latter, once through, best learned from and  moving on...

So, yes, in the course of writing this preamble, I have reached the conclusion that old age is a bit of a muddle. Since mind-body-spirit has always urged yours truly to muddle through whatever and keep looking on the bright(er) side of life, I guess that’s what I’ll continue to do… 😄

You may well ask what  sexuality has to do with growing up and/ or growing old. What, indeed...?

A  WORD TO THE WISE

Growing old, faster than I would
ever have believed it
of as feisty a mind-body-spirit
as always as a part of me,
tugging gently but firmly at the heart 
strings, reminding me 
I’m gay, and nothing wrong with that;
no matter some folks may call us perverse
it’s good, it’s cool. this you-me-us

Growing old, time passing at a pace,
I’d never have though it,
for making the most of mind-body-spirit
in such ways as obliging
its everyday calling in such life forces
as cheering heart-and-soul on
in what has never been a competition,
just ordinary folks but doing their damnedest
to enjoy the best, endure the worst

Grown old, confirms a birth certificate
that’s but a piece of paper,
not a record of its owner’s path in life,
whether or not ever able
to make any sense of such flaws 
in certain life forces set on 
debasing our humanity for so interpreting
various moral agendas as would have us seen 
an enemy of ‘what-might-have-been’

Where age a measure of potential from the start,
come winners all, the young at heart

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

[Note: this post-poem also appears on my gay poetry blog today; after all, we all get old, and we’re as old as we feel… like Methuselah some days maybe, but, on the whole…] 😉RT

 

Two (poems) for the Price of One

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

After two years of learning to live with the Covid-19 pandemic, tempers are beginning to fray for whom some, who were living on The Edge even before the pandemic, pent-up feelings of frustration have sought release in a variety of ways, some violent. While there can be no excuse for violence against another, mental health issues should never be underestimated, especially in such times as we are living in now.

A healthy diet and regular exercise can help to alleviate stress,, of course, but self-help isn't always enough. There is help available for anyone less able to cope with stress, especially when it seems to be coming at them from all sides; we have to recognise the signs, though, and actively seek help; There is no shame whatever in feeling less and less able to cope with stress, whatever its source, but we need to recognise the signs and get help before it manifests itself in such a way or ways that we are likely to live to regret.

My failing to recognise the extent of the stress that living in a closet was making itself felt over a period of some 20 years, resulted in a nervous breakdown in my 30's. I had been too scared to ask for help,  had convinced myself I could cope... and could not have been more wrong. The help and support I received on a road to recovery that took me 4 to years of hard, mental slog to cover and start applying for jobs again... was a lifesaver.

Whether heterosexual or of an LGBT persuasion, we are, each and every one of us, only human and human nature, being as complex a life force as it is, needs a helping hand from time to time and mind-body-spirit needs must reach out and take it. Never easy... but what in life comes easy to any of us? We may think some people have an easy life,  but few of us are ever privy to what goes on behind closed doors...

THE ENEMY WITHIN

Love turned its back on me,
yet would not run away,
but left me nailed to a tree,
(couldn't even pray.)

Pain alone left me free
to fight another day;
Love, my sworn enemy,
nails in a god of clay

Better stay angry than grieve,
avid ties sure to rot,
scars worm on a sleeve,
to prove - what...?

Love, like war and peace,
down to each of us

Copyright R. N. Taber. 2005, 2021

FLOTSAM AND JETSAM

Love hadn't touched me
for many years;
I'd let myself drift freely
on a Sea of Tears

Chanced to find peace
(or did it find me?)
and sought to anchor us
in that same blue sea

Sea of Sadness, no more;
blue, only the sky;
soul once bruised and sore,
bright as a swallow's eye

Ashore at last, for homing in
on your heart's outline

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2021

[Note: Both poems were written in 2004 and first appeared in my collection, A Feeling for the Quickness of Time, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Hello again from London UK

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

Reader A J asks if he or she can put the URL for my blogs on social media “since you seem to disapprove of social media and avoid it yourself...”

I don’t entirely disapprove of social media; it has its merits, but having tried it once, I have no wish to return to it. However, should any readers feel they want to share the blog URL, they are welcome to do so; all three blogs - general poetry/ gay-interest poetry and fiction + archives can be accessed from:

https://rogertab.blogspot.com

Anyone recommending the link may well wish to add that I do not publish comments, complimentary or otherwise. Neither do I reply to emails now - except from friends and regular blog readers - as various  health issues include poor eyesight.

Any LGBT poetry lovers may well be especially interested in that blog’s archives as I rarely add gay-specific poems these days, mostly due to lack of inspiration; years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer have left me sexually inactive and less able to relate to and enter into the spirit of the poem.

In spite of health issues, I am hoping to self-publish limited (print) editions of new collections which, as previously, will include a gay section as well as some poems of interest to LGBT readers in other sections; with any luck, these will also be available on-line at a later date. However, prostate cancer has a mind of its own so there will come a time - hopefully sooner rather than later - when there will be no more tomorrows for yours truly. Whatever, c’est la vie, so better to make the most of what we have while we have it, each in our own way...?

Years of hormone therapy may have played merry hell with my thought processes, but writing poetry helps keep them in some sort of order, so I will continue to add to the poetry blogs as long as I can.

Another reader asks if I intend to add to my fiction blog. Sadly, it is very unlikely as I couldn’t even interest any in my fantasy novel, Mamelon and don’t have the energy these days, let alone inspiration. Even so, I enjoyed my foray into fiction, so no regrets.

Meanwhile, I take each day as it comes, treat it as a bonus and do my best to nurture a positive-thinking mindset. 

I am working on a new poem, and hope to publish it on the blog soon. Sadly, poems take me a lot longer to write these days, but I enjoy making the effort; as I have said many times on the blog, it is a form of creative therapy I can throw myself into and temporarily forget health concerns, pandemic implications and other worries. As my mother used to say, “If you worry, you’ll die and if you don’t worry, you’ll still die, so...why worry?” 😉

Take care everyone, and try to stay positive, whatever life throws at you; time may not heal altogether, but - partnered with good sense and sensibility - it can do a pretty good job, if we let it...

Bye for now,

Hugs,

Roger

A Force to be Reckoned With

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

Today’s poem was written in much the same spirit as the one before for which I make no apologies.

As we grow older, our thoughts inevitable turn to mortality and what it means to us in an intensely personal way; sorrow for having to leave family and friends – at least in a physical sense – is only half the battle some of us wage within ourselves as we recall images arisen from threats and promises made during long-ago formative years that are rarely as easy to shrug off as we might wish.

Over the years, I have met gay men from all walks of life and religion; the latter imposing far more guilt and despair on them than they deserve for their rejecting certain aspects of dogma by which a defensive worldly agenda would exclude them from both faith and any sense of spirituality altogether.

While I mean what I say about respecting a person’s religious beliefs, I also mean what I say when I blame religion for so many of humanity’s divisions and flaws, including my own.

Recently, I got chatting with a  gay Catholic man, in his mid-70’s like myself, besieged with doubts and fears regarding a Heaven he never ceased to believe in, but spent the best part of a lifetime in a weepy closet, made to feel by family and peers that he had no right to believe in anything much, including himself.

At the risk of being reprimanded for repeating myself yet again, no religion has a monopoly on spirituality.

The human spirit will be guided as much by the body’s innate feeling for all things positive as the mind’s inclination to trust its own judgement. Together, all three are a force to be reckoned with as world religions are beginning to realise; the more LGBT+ folks who learn to have faith in themselves and each other, the less likely they can be made to feel denied or undeserving of either those aspects of religion with which they most identify or the sense of growing reassurance it brings that no one’s spiritual well-being is threatened by their sexuality alone.

Regular readers will know that, as a pantheist, I reject the kind of dogma perpetuated by most world religions. Many who, likewise, cannot relate to a personified God any more than I do, or the teachings found in Holy Books, may well think of themselves (openly or not) as atheist or agnostic. Whatever, the human spirit clearly does have a will of its own, is capable of generating a sense of spirituality among even the most irreligious of human beings, not least in our capacity for love, in all its shapes and forms; lose that and, yes, we may well be on the road to a living Hell of our own making...

A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH 

A young man stood weeping
at the Gates of Hell where he’d been told
told to wait by certain “betters”
among humankind until let in to join others
whom the Devil has taken
for his own, down to words said, deeds done,
no malice intended, but seen as sinning,
deserving the worst all God-fearing folks can imagine 
within the parameters of their religion 

An angel came out of nowhere,
asked the young man why he shed such tears,
and the young man replied
how it was the sum of all earthly fears to be there
at Death’s door, waiting to see
the flames of hellfire, be made to dive therein,
due punishment for such worldly sin
as being on love with another man, much the same as he 
for engaging with homosexuality 

“Love is love, whatever its nature,”
said the angel, hand to head in sorrow and pain,
“Nor was eternity intended
for such troubles as mortal minds are inclined
to inflict rather than agree to differ,
allow for such reality es as they cannot be a part,
its seeds sown and nurtured in the heart
by assorted mind-body-spirits, rejected by such religiosity
as imposes its own spirituality...” 

“Are you saying I might even qualify
for Heaven? the young man asked, barely daring
to entertain the thought,
yet inspired by the angel’s understanding smile
to hope for more from eternity
than either burning or being as alone as made to feel
for much of his time on Earth
as neither of Earth Mother or Father born,
but an outsider, a freak of humanity, if only in failing to see
religion's monopoly on eternity 

“We who are not of Earth are well aware
of all that goes on there, can see into a human heart,
the sum of all its many parts
as lending the individual any benefit of doubt,
sitting less in judgement
than in compassion, allowing for a sense of spirituality
as comprises a whole that some call ‘soul’
where others see a human spirit engaging purely and simply
with a feeling for what comes naturally 

The young man took the angel’s hand in his,
and flew realms of time and personal space he’d seen
only in dreams of a kinder world,
no one made to suffer for ways of life and thought
that some may well see differently,
but the human spirit deserves a place and say in a world
that, try as it might, cannot dictate
how a person should feel or believe in order to (ever) qualify
to go wherever angels have no fear to fly

Copyright R.N. Taber 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Emissary OR The 'u', 'i' and 'y' of Humanity, Parts of a Whole

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

Overheard in a local supermarket on the day (widely reported in the media) when princes William and Harry recently unveiled a statue of their late mother, Princess Diana:

LITLE GIRL:     What happens when you die, Mummy?

MOTHER:          If you’re a good girl, you go to Heaven.”

LITTLE GIRL:   Is Princess Diana in Heaven?”

MOTHER:          I imagine so, yes.

CHILD:               And will I go there, too, when I die?”

MOTHER            If you’re a good girl, yes, of course.

CHILD:                So, will I get to meet Princess Diana?

MOTHER:           Well, err, maybe, who knows what lies ahead for any of us.

A long pause

CHILD:                So, if I’m bad, will I go to Hell?

MOTHER:           Oh, look, darling, there’s Penny and her mummy. let’s go and say hello...”

 As a child, I well recall being promised Heaven and threatened with Hell as according to this or that religious dogma, and 75+ years on it is still happening. No wonder I feared death then, before I discovered that the human spirit, too, has a mind of its own, and is less threatening than inspiring. 

People are entitled to their faith, and should be respected for it, but no browbeating religious agenda / dogma will ever get a thumbs-up from yours truly. 

As for Death, I remain pragmatic, but also hopeful that the better part of me will continue to commune with those I have loved (as they do with me) and any among humankind whose own mind-body-spirit is happy to let me in.... unlike the former work colleague (a clergyman's wife) who told me she thought it was a shame I'd go to hell (for being gay.) She is as entitled to her faith, as I am entitled to reject it, as I did...long before I realised I'm gay. 

EMMISARY or THE ‘U’, ‘I’ & ‘Y’ OF HUMANITY, PARTS OF A WHOLE 

Sooner or later,
I call on everyone everywhere,
sparing no one;
rich or poor, young or old,
none ever get to run
whenever I choose to appear
and make myself known,
nor do I need to wait for an invitation,
such is the nature of my mission 

Oh, many are they
who would slam doors in my face
rather than let me in,
having no time or use for me,
preferring to send me
on my way, were I to but listen
to what they have to say,
while I prefer to avoid any altercation,
such is the nature of my mission 

Misted-over eyes
of a wistful, wishful, woeful world,
see me as bad news,
not least for refusing to budge
on my demands;
some, though, make a good case
for staying put awhile,
and I'll mull over making due provision,
such is the nature of my mission 

While I can’t claim
to come as friend, neither am I enemy,
though assumed so
by kith and kin, neither ready yet
nor (quite) willing
to explore a universal truth with us.
the like of which
defies even the most creative imagination,
such is the nature of my mission 

We’ll pass on dreams,
beyond the ken of mortals, bid the portals
of those mind-body-spirits
we may have known, loved, touched
by word, deed, hearsay
or art forms invariably inspiring debate 
for centuries by courtesy
of empathies surpassing all expectation,
such is the nature of my mission 

I am the Spirit of Death,
come to restore, rework, reshape human life
whenever, wherever,
take it through personal space
into as evergreen a beauty
as grows from seeds of love and friendship,
(life-forms without equal)
sure to nurture remembrance and celebration,
such is the nature of my mission 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Engaging with Conjecture

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

I recently met up with a close friend for lunch in a church garden; it was a lovely, sunny afternoon and we were joined by assorted avian friends (mostly pigeons) hoping for such crumbs as we duly obliged. 

While chatting away, we’d sometimes address the birds directly; some would even seem to understand, if only in our imagination. Maybe they did understand, if not the words we spoke, the tone in which we spoken them? Who really knows what goes on in the head of any live creature, including human beings? It can only be pure conjecture, surely?

 

I put this to a psychiatrist once. To my surprise, he agreed, adding that it was not his job to know what goes on in patient’s heads, but to help them to know and thereby help themselves. “I’m trained to read signs, not to be a mind-reader,” he pointed out, “Before anyone can begin to deal with problems affecting their behaviour, they have to get to the root cause, rather like having to lift an invisible curtain they don’t even realise is there.  It’s my job to point patients towards it and help them find the wherewithal to lift the damn thing. Even then, it’s only a first step...”

 

A naturalist acquaintance once commented along similar lines about conjecture. We were observing a tortoise in his garden. “How does it decide which way to go?” I wanted to know.

 

“Natural instinct,” he said with quiet conviction.

 

“So how does that work?” I persisted.

 

“No one really knows for sure,” he chuckled, “... but we can learn a lot by observation of live creatures and their remains. Even so, all species are different and within any species there will always be individual differences. At the end of the day, even what a specialist learns is only conjecture, but as close to knowing as anyone can get.” 

It was s too complex a conversation for me, though, and I changed the subject...

 

ENGAGING WITH CONJECTURE

 

In a church garden,

two gay men engaging with nature

and human nature  

in such ways as its hosts would

deny us for our being

beyond both their ken or remit,

according to such dogma

as they would share as a ‘God-given’

insight to Heaven

 

Beneath leafy art forms

portraying dream-like cameos

of cloud shapes

and sun nymphs peering down

with watery eyes,

we ate our lunches, two old friends,

tossing breadcrumbs

now and then to birdlife come to share

precious moments there

 

Pigeons, various markings

and colouring, engaging with us;

avian and human,

birds of a feather come together,

truce understood,

a spirit of such caring and sharing,

as even divided species agree

on nurturing, if the going’s looking good

for credit and reward

 

Nearby, a crow has business

of its own with discarded food waste

in open litter bins,

deftly removing sandwich wrappings

and other crumb-potential,

scattering them across public gardens

for passers-by to deplore

such ‘litter-louts’ as never spare a thought

for the environment

 

Observing, though, how much

nature and human nature have in common,

for worse as well as better,

who’s to judge any species of creature

great or small for being

as they are, or any within the human race

made to feel outsiders

by any form socio-cultural-religious dogma

now and forever?

 

Such are ways to which life forms

are born, better (surely) to trust than see them

forsworn under duress,

reason the need any heart may protest

at being put to a test

it doesn’t even recognise as fit for purpose,

any more than do two gay men

in a church garden, engaging with local nature

and human conjecture? 

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021 

[Note: This poem-post also  appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today.] RNT

Past-Present-Future, Ringing the Changes

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

Overheard recently, two macho-looking guys pausing to light cigarettes while wheeling prams on a Saturday morning: 

1^st man: “I’m sick of hearing about climate change and how we all need to all do our bit to save the planet. It’s been us against the planet for thousands of years and it’s still messing with us, but we’re still here and so’s the damn planet so... what’s the problem? We’re survivors, right? I mean to say, you’ve only got to see how far we’ve come. I mean, it’s History, right, moving forward and all that? History isn’t suddenly about to put the brakes on, well, is it, I mean to say...” 

2^nd: man: (Shrugs) “History is as the likes of you and me do, I guess. We’ve got things wrong in the past and you only have to listen to The News to know we’re still not getting everything right. (Shrugs again) So maybe we need to take a long, hard look at what we are doing and start pulling together instead of trying to put one over on each other all the time... 

Babies start crying 

Both men (Laughing): “Saved by the bell!” (Moving on) 

What can I say? Two machos wheeling prams and Climate Change getting a look-in has to be good start... right?  Or... yes, what...? 

PAST-PRESENT-FUTURE, RINGING THE CHANGES 

No wind in the trees,
not even the lightest of breezes
to cajole human ears
into listening out for ethereal voices
expressing peace, love,
and that old standby, hope, waiting
for mind-body-spirits to call
them in from as bitter and lasting a cold
as lives but left to grow old 

No flickers of light,
nor even the faintest hint of sun,
moon or stars
to suggest the planet is even alive still,
or else as indifferent
to pain inflicted by its own sense
of crisis, as its better parts
to the pleas of a collective consciousness
for a greater self-awareness 

World, keeps turning,
all humanity ringing its changes,
meaning to sing is praises
while being put through its paces sooner
than later, a nagging need
to keep up appearances taking priority
over its harsher realities
rather than demand its global powerhouses
confront certain home truths 

Re-awakening, the spirit
of past-present-future configuring
human history,
doing its best to fire such engines as keep
a global consciousness
more in step with a common humanity
than have its vanities
see those home truths continuing to mutate
by way of political debate 

Now, feeling, the lightest
of breezes come to reassure me
that I, Reasoning may yet
get the better of all human nature seeks
to divide and let fall,
any picking up and reworking left
to an innate mind-body-spirit
encouraged by regenerative powers of nature
(ill-defined by human history.) 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021