Guess who's Coming to Dinner OR Party Piece

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

Time changes many if not most things about us, for better or for worse, yet there are aspects of human nature that remain steadfast; whether or not we choose to let them see the light of day or keep them under wraps, though, is another matter.

An American acquaintance returned to the U.S. last year. In latter days, whenever I visited, his delightful budgerigar's cage was always covered with a cloth. Once, I asked why. He grinned, and confided that he often talked to it and it had been known to name names along with random aspects of conversation best left for his own ears only. Among other things, he had very strong views about Donald Trump's presidency which I share; I would have so loved to lift that cloth, but sadly the bird died before an opportunity presented itself. 

Why hasn't the man spoken out about years of injustice towards African-Americans and other ethnic minorities, vowed to stamp out police brutality all but commonplace in some parts of the U.S.? He clearly can no more judge the mood of the people any more than a significant number of other senior politicians around the world.

“Strong minds discuss ideas, average minds discuss events, weak minds discuss people.”
― Socrates

This poem is a kenning.

GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER or PARTY PIECE

My favourite party piece,

lives in disarray, any willing

to help clear up the mess

giving up in despair while others

would steal my limelight

with various blotted copybooks

and dirty laundry like bailiffs

banging on doors, demanding dues

(to even old scores?)

Everyone's worst enemy,

often inflicting pain even when 

a person's best interests 

at heart. Ah, but whose? Few, indeed

can look me in the eye,

swear altruism, no ulterior motive,

for playing mind games

with hidden truths too close to home

for comfort

Colour me right or wrong,

add subtle shades of light and dark.  

as appealing to the con artist 

in us all as acknowledging the efforts

of a creative spirit privy 

to the heart's persuasion, called out

for a coward when playing safe, 

yet hedging my bets, anxious to play fair

for appearances sake

Call me Gossip, everyone’s favourite sinner,

an open invitation to dinner

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010, 2020

Witness for the Prosecution

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

This is a poem about the darker side of London. Tragically, it could equally apply to just about any major city or large town in the world where we pause and look around sometimes, despair, and demand not only answers but also action.

Glossy tourist brochures may like to pretend otherwise, but most places, like most people, have a dark side. Perhaps we should open our eyes to it more often?  Yes, we should enjoy exploring these places. London and other great cities across the world have much to offer the discerning visitor. At the same time, is not forewarned, forearmed...?

WITNESS FOR THE PROSECUTION

I’ve seen all ages on a city's streets
beg coins for bus fares or worse,
even steal a blind woman’s purse,
mock a one-legged man’s affliction
then yell “Persecution!” at passing
coppers for trying to do their duty
by some council estate community
suffering daily from the traumas
of kids without conscience, let alone
good manners (fat chance!) bent
on leading the locals a rare dance,
skipping school, drinking, smoking
this ‘n’ that, setting themselves up
as victims of society once caught out,
 all the more pitiable for having slipped
through Propriety’s safety net

No matter ethnicity, gender or creed,
this new breed of street urchin
whose familiarity with Human Rights
racism and other discrimination
would be admirable but for their using it
(more often than not) to turn tables
on any decent citizen resolved to support
law, order, and everyday commonsense,
though as likely to receive rough justice
from the law courts as back streets…
Knives - and guns - not unfamiliar sights
so no wonder fewer of us willing to say
what we may well have  heard or seen out
of fear for family and friends being made
to pay, no hold barred where any criminality
pitted against social responsibility

Oh, and what do the mayors and PM make
of all this? Oh, plenty to say, a limitless
supply of token gestures as we city dwellers
grow ever more anxious for answers

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

[This poem has been slightly revised from the original version as it appears under the title 'Witness for the Prosecution' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

Leap of Faith OR Peace in our Time

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

Today's entry is from my gay-interest poetry blog archive for October 2016.

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.

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

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

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

https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Roger_N_Taber_Blasphemy?id=mNlsDAAAQBAJ&hl=en_GB (Complete novel, Google Play)

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)

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

(2nd Fred Winter [crime] 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

:

Reading between the Lines

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

This poem appeared on my gay-interest blog earlier this month; needless to say several religious-minded readers protested. As regular readers know I respect all religious beliefs even if I happen to take issue with them all; it would appear, though, that non-Believers are not necessarily afforded the same respect. Fortunately for humankind, not everyone is so narrow-minded; or is it arrogance that convinces some people thay are right so everyone else has to be wrong, and damned for it?

For those readers who are less than happy about my carrying over some poems from my gay-interest  poetry archives, I cannot expect everyone to like everything I write so feedback is really helpful. [Contact me any time at rogertab@aol.com with 'Poetry' in the subject field if you would like a reply or just leave a comment on the blog if you prefer to remain anonymous, but I do not post comments so they will only be seen by me.]

Meanwhile...

Why is it so many people say one thing when they really mean another, often the complete opposite?A human trait throughout history, it is plainly one that political correctness encourages. It is so typical of many people when asked for a point of view that they try to suss out the questioner's standpoint first for fear of causing offence and/or being misunderstood and/or wrongly accused, and having to face consequences they do not deserve (or maybe they do...)

It would seem that honesty and free speech are among the first victims of any society whether supposedly democratic or otherwise. Yes, we need to care about each other, but not under false colours; in Romania, for example, LGBT communities have grown in recent years; it was named by Human Rights Watch as one of five countries in the world that have made "exemplary progress in combating rights abuses based on sexual orientation or gender identity. However, as we all know only too well, there can be no legislation for bad attitude.

I write this only hours after witnessing a so-called gay-friendly acquaintance I have known for years verbally abusing two young men for kissing in the street.I was walking on the other side, but could clearly see and hear the commotion opposite. When younger and fitter, I would have leapt to their defence, but the area is well-known for hate crime and the need for a walking stick in old age urges caution. Besides, the gay couple were clearly able to give as good as got even as they moved on from a small crowd that had started to gather, and was clearly not taking their side.

I went on my way, the sound of someone shouting, "Sickies, hell is too good for the likes of you!"

A phrase from Shakespeare's King Lear instantly sprung to mind, 'More sinned against than sinning.'

It will be interesting to hear what my longtime acquaintance has to say the next time we meet as I will not hold back from raising the subject...

READING BETWEEN THE LINES

There are many who will say

that being gay is a sin against humankind

and God

Humankind is judgemental

by nature, but does that fit in with a God

of Love?

There are many who will argue

that same sex relationships are unnatural

acts

According to whom, unnatural

as each to our own way of thinking, dogma

too?

There are many who (still) insist

it offends the eye to see two men or women

embrace

Oh, and why must any human eye

on embraces it finds offensive even go there

at all?

There is a majority who will agree

any words invoking LGBT images suggest ‘sick’

minds

Oh, and does a majority promote

healthy living in its rape of nature for capitalist

gratification?

There are few who support Equality

and Human Rights unconditionally, absolutely

no holds barred

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Street Crime, a Coward's Agenda OR Society, Sick at Heart?

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

The rise in knife crime and street crime generally in recent years - especially among young people - is a tragic (and scary) indictment of UK society in a still relatively young 21^st century. While there is no single cause, cuts in policing levels has meant there is little if any visible police presence on our streets while cuts in funding for youth services has almost certainly contributed to a growing drugs culture in many areas which, in turn, can be directly related to rising crime rates there.

It is all very well for politicians to point out that statistics (who trusts those?) point to the overall rate of violent crime having take a downward turn, but that is small comfort to the families and friends of people (all ages) losing their lives every day; for parents, especially, the loss of a child is a life sentence, but to know that a son or daughter died needlessly, in violent circumstances must cause unimaginable pain.

I have been beaten up in the distant past for being gay, but live to tell the tale at 73 years-old. A nervous breakdown at 30 led to a suicide attempt which, thankfully, failed or I would have missed the best years of my life; among its ups and downs, enough of the former to put the latter in the shade.

All violent crimes denying victims the basic human right to follow their chosen paths in life are tragedies for which no words can do justice; the younger the victim, though, so much worse the tragedy in the sense that these are being deprived of the opportunity to enjoy life, explore and make something of their natural potential, become the person they were meant to be by virtue of nature and nurture. It is a sick mind-body-spirit, indeed, that commits any violent crime, the cure (and cause) for which can often be found to lie at the heart of the very society that has fallen foul of it.

Given that the perpetrators as well as victims of the current wave of violent, especially knife crime here in the UK are young people, society is clearly failing them, and society is the perennial you-me-us; that’s parents, teachers, politicians, religious leaders, police, social workers and anyone with a social conscience. We need to identify and tackle its root causes, each in our own way, and share any findings if only to discover how to prevent a worsening crisis getting even worse.

“There will be no justice as long as man will stand with a knife or with a gun and destroy those who are weaker than he is.” - Isaac Bashevis Singer

“The knife is more dangerous than the hand and the knife can be in either hand.” 

Frank Herbert, Dune

STREET CRIME, A COWARD'S AGENDA or SOCIETY, SICK AT HEART?

Hanging out in the park

with friends, enjoying music

on a new iPad,

putting the world to rights,

planting seeds

of love and peace along the way,

and nurturing them

Aware of others in the park,

but only for their long shadows

in spring sunshine

like benign ghosts looking on,

needing to feel alive

if only for sharing someone else’s

precious moments

In a bubble of personal space;

past-present-future,

a glorious panorama embracing

all mind-body-spirit

seeks to inspire once its flowers

come into season, each to their own

as nature intended

Only a fool uses a knife to burst

a bubble just to see

sunshine being swallowed whole

by a predatory darkness,

mind-body-spirit engaging

with time and space to book its place

among the immortals

Looking on from a passing cloud

at the funeral below

of a young person cruelly cut down

in their prime, victim

of someone’s desire to make a point

if only to earn him (or her) a sick sense

of self-importance

At a graveside, no hot tears shed

can heal a broken heart

that may well mend (in part, at least)

since love never dies,

its presence in Gardens of Memory

the world over, inspiring us to keep faith

with it, now and always

As for any who play at being a god

by taking a life meant

to run its natural course, be sure

(regrets or none …)

their remains will grow but as weeds,

mind-body-spirit the poorer soil for want

of either nutrients or nurture

Copyright R N Taber 2019

Death in Vegas

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

On the night of October 1, 2017, Stephen Paddock, a 64-year-old man from Mesquite, Nevada, opened fire upon the crowd attending the Route 91 Harvest music festival on the Las Vegas Strip in Nevada.  The incident is the deadliest mass shooting committed by an individual in the history of the United States. All our hearts must surely go out to the families and friends killed and injured.

I have known Americans for and against existing gun laws in the U.S over many years; the latter, invariably sick of always being shouted down by those for whom any change in laws enshrined in the Constitution would be tantamount to an infringement of their human rights. Even some family members and friends of the many who have been killed or maimed in terrible shooting incidents like that in Las Vegas recently continue to demand what they seem to see as a natural right to protection by arming themselves. (How does stricter control of the sale of guns infringe anyone’s Human Rights?)

Many argue that existing gun laws in the U.S. should not be seen as having been inscribed on tablets of stone; not only more appropriate to its pioneer days than a modern America but also  responsible for continuing outbreaks of violence on its streets, including such carnage as witnessed in Las Vegas. Relatively rare such shocking events may be, at least on such a scale, but isn’t it high time for some serious, informed, common sense debate on the subject without the powerful gun lobby invariably getting the upper hand by such under hand tactics as accusing the opposition of disloyalty to - even betrayal of and disrespect for - their country’s finer democratic principles?

Readers may think that, as an Englishman, America’s gun laws are none of my business and they may well be right. Even so, people from all over the world visit the U.S. for pleasure and business. I enjoyed a 4-week stay there myself some years ago. Doesn’t everyone deserve to feel less at risk by antiquated gun laws that simply need tightening?  

Should any law be considered sacrosanct in its original form where a few common sense amendments might well save even just one human life? I suspect we all know what the dead would say if they had a voice so maybe it’s time they were given one…? Don't all those comprising democratic societies bear some responsibility for that?

'Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind...' John Donne

Ah, I can all but hear one American friend say, but Donne was an Englishman and the English have no idea about other cultures. That may well be true, but - not least because I am gay man, I am reminded of the African-American writer Ernest J. Gaines on record for asking, 'Why is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands?'

Food for thought, at least, surely...?

DEATH IN VEGAS 

Country ways in the city,

music for building dreams by

for eye and ear

Grass growing greener

in a city pretending not a care

in the world

Celebration on location,

sunny faces wreathed in smiles,

poetry of joy

Suddenly, out of nowhere,

all is chaos, devastation, grudges

out of the past

Random shots at the sun

if only to show Man's darker side

(for what, sport?)

Ask the birds and the wildlife

whose freedom was meant to count

for something

Ask folks on Las Vegas Strip

one October evening about legends

on tablets of stone...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

London, UK, October 3^rd 2017

Dead Cool, Macho Man

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

Overheard on a bus:

TEENAGER 1: It’s all very well for people to say don’t carry a knife or a gun, but what do they know, yeah? It’s dead cool, right? Besides, you gotta protect yourself. F**k the do-gooders. What kind of world do they think we live in? You gotta get real, yeah?

TEENAGER 2: What if someone gets hurt, killed even?

TEENAGER 1: So it ain’t gonna be me, right?

TEENAGER 2: I dunno…

TEENAGER 1: (Rising to leave as bus stops) You dunno know f**k all.

An elderly lady sitting next to me shook her head, "He’s right about one thing. What do we know about the world they live in? And whose fault is that, I wonder...?"

I said nothing. What could I say?

There is nothing either cool or macho about carrying a knife or a gun even if (potentially) in self-defence, and who's going to care anyways if you end up dead?

This poem is a villanelle.

DEAD COOL, MACHO MAN

Finally, managed to get me a gun

and spreading the word,

didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin

At first, life was a buzz, good fun,

but all that disappeared;

finally, managed to get me a gun,

Needed to prove I was someone,

get me some street cred;

didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin

Shouting at just about everyone,

but no one ever heard;

finally, managed to get me a gun,

Joined a gang, mustn't let 'em down,

show I was shit scared;

didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin

Got into a street fight, shot down
dripping with blood...

Finally, managed to get me a gun,

didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2015

New Kids on the Block

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

A slightly different version of today’s poem was published in various anthologies and poetry magazines (1997-2001) before appearing in my first major collection.

I have made numerous revisions to various poems over the years, some minor others major. While most revisions appear on the blogs, I hope (eventually) to publish revised editions of each collection in e-format.

Now, at first glance, nothing seems to have changed much in 20+ years, especially in the sense that a significant proportion of children and young people seem to be having as raw a deal as ever. (Oh, but haven't I said that before once, twice, maybe even a thousand times?) We must encourage our young people to believe in themselves and trust their own judgement a learning curve some young people miss out on altogether ... and whose fault is that ... partly their own, yes, but society needs must accept its fair share of the blame also, and society is you-me-us.

Could it be perhaps that if we all try harder to keep our own little piece of the world clean, safe, and a good place to be, all the other pieces may yet come together in a more bearable, worthwhile  whole…for everyone? 

So many people, rather than act on what their inner self is telling them, prefer to take their cue from the Scarlett O'Hara character in Margaret Mitchell's epic novel, Gone With the Wind. The heroine is always telling herself, 'I'll think about that tomorrow.' It is a common human tragedy that, for some of us tomorrow, never comes...

NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK 

Gone shopping,

kids left running wild,

trolley rage mums

all smiles (dad’s at the pub);

dog mess everywhere,

kids busy shooting pool

at late-night venues

when not hanging out

on street corners

On the pavement,

collide with some kid

on a bike (my fault

of course, forgot to look);

knives out

in the playground,

acid in the park,

kids chasing death

for a lark

Cops in their stride

(‘Come on, let’s get even.’);

kids on a joyride

to Heaven, street siren

screaming, ‘Amen’;

Mum’s off her trolley,

Dad’s on the booze,

angel on the sideboard,

yesterday’s news …

Copyright R. N. Taber 1997; 2015

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001.]

Disaffected Youth, Wasted Lives

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

The majority of young people 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 radicalization; violence and/ or drug abuse and / or criminal behaviour 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.

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.]

The Usual Suspects

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

Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog since 2008. Given the results of the latest European summit during which President Sarkozy of France and Chancellor Merkel of Germany appear to have succeeded in marginalising Britain from the rest of Europe, at least in the short term, its title may seem appropriate.

It is important that Britain should not be sidelined while fiscal discussions on the survival of the Eurozone take place. It is all very well for Sarkozy, Merkel and other countries to argue that Britain cannot have its cake and eat it, but they are glad enough of our huge monetary as well as political contribution to the EEC which, as I understand it, will continue anyway.

The Eurozone is a mess, and that isn’t Britain’s fault. David Cameron’s demands to protect the City of London from those who are to blame were not unreasonable. If ever the Politics of Cain was given its head, it appears to be now.

I love Europe, but cannot say the same for its various Governments. Mind you, I am not a political animal, and that often goes for my own Government too. My support for David Cameron in this instance is not an endorsement for British politics as a whole.

As far as I can see, there is not one giant on the British political scene to whom the electorate can point and say, ‘Yes! That person has my vote (regardless of their Party) because I feel I can trust him or her and they know what they are doing,’

The Germans are fortunate to have Chancellor Merkel at the helm; I may not agree with her, but she has a strong sense of political direction and integrity, and sticks to her guns. It is also clear that she is one of the few European leaders who has not only her country's best interests at heart in resolving the present crisis in Europe, but Europe's too. The rest rely (far) too much on rhetoric.

I admire Angela Merkel, while I cannot say the same for the leaders of France and Italy. As for the rest, especially Greece, well...Enough said.

And is the rest of the world in any position to judge?

THE USUAL SUSPECTS

Chains dragging on hands and feet,

shabby grey vines under a three-line whip

demanding satisfaction in the best

interests of the nation, a well-paid-for

education

Casualties of demonstrations against

the best intentions of well-heeled maestros

better schooled (indeed) to take a lead

ostensibly for a common good, knocking

on wood

Let the punishment fit the crime

else a whiff of success rushing to the head,

wins a prime TV slot, makes capital

out of it (if but a reprieve) while shooting

up the stock market

Gold stars for a job well done and liberties

taken, whistle blowers exposed, co-operation

(the key, surely?) sparing us anarchy

and mass destruction while not forgetting

indigenous reparation

Call out the dogs, round up any strays,

keep a weather eye on rebels for ‘los’t causes

lest they get it right, turn one-to-one

into three times three as well as re-inventing

our ABC

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2011

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]