Give a Dream a Go

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2016.

Once, I read something along the lines that the ‘dreams’ we most vividly recall are but leftover, half-formed thoughts inclined to either embrace us or knock us for six as we necessarily negotiate an emotional landscape that finds us close to waking up but unable (quite) to let go of whatever it is about sleep that insists we stay; cave in to the latter, and we risk making of our lives an open prison.

We are used to being told that certain political and legal moves are in all our best interests, but there is often a hidden agenda that benefits some people most if not all the time and the rest of us ... well, some of the time at least, we hope. We only have to look at what is happening in super-power countries like China and Russia, but political strategies worldwide have much to answer for as far as the principles of personal freedom are concerned. Oh, and yes, I include the UK. Whatever, though, the human heart is still a free country, and mind-body-spirit is not without certain strategies of its own to keep it that way.

Now, more than once, contemplating the day ahead over my breakfast has felt like being pulled one way or the other by complacency and positive thinking, each in the form of a viable escape plan from the other. Usually, but not always, a few slices of toast and several cups of coffee will summon a strength of mind-body-spirit resolved to let the more constructive alternative run its course.

Sleepwalking through life (with eyes wide open if eyelids drooping) is sadly, all too common; going through the motions of life instead of living it the way we want not as other people, convention... whatever...suggest we should. At the same time, we need to bear in mind that not everyone's idea of 'living' is the same, and it is unfair to compare, even more so to set ourselves up as judge and jury as so many people I know SO love to do...

Life, of course, doesn’t always give even the best of motives their head, but our options are often limited through no fault of our own. Even so, where an opportunity to improve not only our own lot but others, too, does present itself, we owe it to ourselves (and them) to GO for it, no matter what some might say or think. Some readers may argue that's just selfish, but in my experience, letting someone prevent you from doing something you really want to do can but end in tears; more often than not, any who appear to  begrudge us the opportunity are simply employing a get-out clause for not pursuing a dream of their own.

Life is rarely easy and sometimes makes demands of us we might well prefer to put on the proverbial back burner, but where there's a will, there's usually a way ... and that's where mind-body-spirit comes into its own. Yes, win some, lose some, but better surely to find ways of putting a dream to the test if only because it's how history and personal history come together and make history ...

'What is not started today is never finished tomorrow.' - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (German Playwright, Poet, Novelist and Dramatist. 1749-1832)

GIVE A DREAM A GO

Sometimes, the human body

will not (quite) emerge from shadows

(courtesy of sleep) conveniently

induced by selective half-memories

of fonder (kinder) times

when body and spirit took a stoic stand

against the more aggressive

(egocentric) interpretations of what it is

to be a practising human being

Sometimes, the human mind

can't (quite) escape a darker, weaker side

(courtesy of conscience)

invaded by selective half-memories

conveniently (almost) buried

under layers of regret, pain, wishful

thinking for turning back

the ever-spilling clock measuring out

human life in grains of sand

Sometime, the human spirit

refuses (quite) to justify being slow

to do the right thing

by all that’s integral to the integrity

even of those children

of a lesser god than it chooses to put

above reproach, especially

when available to call upon to excuse

the plainly inexcusable

Eventually (with luck) we wake

to choral music promising us heaven

of a kind not (quite)

as interpreted by various Holy Books

if only to keep us quiet

in the face of pain and regret stoically

managed but self-inflicted

all the same, especially upon others

who mean us no harm

Day dawns, and life goes on

so we need to pull ourselves together,

put the world to rights

and put any irksome misgivings down

to common misdemeanours

attributed to quirks of sleep expressing

(only human) anxieties

of a far less forgiving ego than likely

to meet the eye over breakfast

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

A Gamesman's (live-in) Apprentice

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2016.

Here in England, the hospitality industry will be open for business again from tomorrow. Have fun, everyone, but be careful out there because the Covid-19 coronavirus has not gone away. 

I have met many people who feel their past is somehow preventing them for having a future, be it a criminal record, a history of mental illness, or quite simply an honest mistake that had unforeseen consequences of the worst kind. Having suffered a BAD nervous breakdown in my early 30’s - among other examples of social mud inclined to stick, not least my being gay - I know only too well where they are coming from.

However, I don’t believe in good luck, bad luck or… whatever. We make our own , and where good people come forward to help, there has to be something within us as well as within them to make them want to help...or not, as the case may be.

When things go wrong, whether or not through any fault of our own, we invariably need help to get back on our feet, take a positive perspective, make amends for our mistakes as far as amends may be possible, get real rather than feeling sorry for ourselves and abdicating responsibility for our future to a world that appears to ‘have it in’ for us. 

True, help is not always on hand or if it is it's not always obvious; more often than not, we have to seek it out and want to seek it out. No, not an easy task, but always well worth the effort.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”  - William Shakespeare

“The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.” 

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

This poem is a villanelle.

 A GAMESMAN'S (LIVE-IN) APPRENTICE

M-E spells how it is, and likely always will be,

the past ever catching out what its future brings,

apprenticed out to a gamesman called 'Destiny'

I love to act judge-jury over tea and sympathy,

reluctant to concede any conscience’s redeeming;

M-E spells how it is, and likely always will be

Once the past a prison, all hope of breaking free,

but a dream for one who, (upon a rude awakening)

apprenticed out to a gamesman called 'Destiny

Bad-done-good often thought beyond the ability

of even the creative mind’s more positive thinking;

(M-E spells how it is,and likely always will be?) 

Learning from our mistakes rarely comes easily,

where he or she who sets gossip tongues wagging

apprenticed out to a gamesman called 'Destiny

Call human nature a fickle creature for essentially

choosing to feed (or not) on a rare bent for forgiving;

M-E spells how it is, and likely always will be,

apprenticed out to a gamesman called 'Destiny'

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016; 2020

Getting the Better of Beasties under the Bed

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

Today’s poem last appeared on the blog in 2013, and caught my eye as I continue sorting poems for a new collection, hopefully later this year; it will not include most poems posted during the pandemic as I have many other  unpublished poems waiting in the wings, but they are already earmarked for yet another collection so long as I have time to collate it before the Grim Reaper comes calling. Oh, and, yes it will include gay-interest poems as do all my collections in spite of potential editors losing interest because they see gay-interest poetry as a retail risk. wry bardic grin

Many thanks to those of you who get in touch from time to time and ask about my prostate cancer.  In 2011, after being diagnosed, I opted for radiotherapy, but was unable to hold my water prior to treatment so began hormone therapy instead. I have injections of Zoladex about every 18 months and … so far, so good. I feel fine. Yes, I get tired, but that is partly because I need to get up at least several times during night for a pee so have all but forgotten how it is to get a really good night’s sleep. My memory is also affected, but I will be 75 later this year so no surprises there anyway, and writing poetry as well as doing word puzzles helps keep to thought processes in reasonably good shape. On the whole, no complaints. I have been living with prostate cancer for 9+ years now, and suspect I may well have survived the Covid-19 coronavirus back in early January when I had the symptoms but put it down to a very bad cold so just stayed indoors. Yes, I am stressed by the pandemic and its implications for all of us, but I have good reason to count my blessings.

Meanwhile...

Now, like many very young children, I used to force myself to look under the bed and in any cupboards to reassure myself there was no Beastie there waiting to pounce on me once I fell asleep.

Well, you will be pleased to know I no longer do that particular security check before settling down to sleep.  Even so, you will realise there is a Beastie of sorts that causes me some concern now and then. Yes, hormone therapy is managing my prostate cancer so far, but I am very much aware that the cancer is there inside me. Most of the time, I forget about it. Now and then, though, especially at night, I find its presence more than a shade unnerving so I do what I used to do as a child, and work a magic spell. I think of nice things, nice people, nice places, until my head is full of all things NICE that's sure to keep the nasty Beastie away. It a trick that never fails, and if I don’t get a good night’s sleep sometimes it’s invariably down to those calls of nature better answered than ignored. The same magic has seen me through the pandemic so far, too, so you might want to try it if you haven’t already; what often works for children can work just as well for adults too.

GETTING THE BETTER OF BEASTIES UNDER THE BED

There’s was a Beastie

under my bed, eyes glowing red

like a devil

in the fires of Hell,

willing me

to descend, put an end

to all living artifice,

make the ultimate sacrifice,

set the body free

(in other words, surrender

to the Beastie ?)

There was a Beastie

under my bed, looking for a way

to get into my head

and indulge its penchant

for mind games,

challenge me to defy

a necessary evil

or demand I answer why

I’ll not cave in

to the inevitable, dare me

do battle

There was a Beastie

under my bed; like a cancer

it has spread

news of its purpose

to my brain,

but there it was put to rout

(if not without a fight)

for Brain knows every trick

every Book (and more)

exposing Beasties sixk intentions

to a higher power

There was a Beastie

under my bed, face a puffy red

as it returns

to where there still burns

a welcome

for its kind if likely

to meet its match

in the human spirit, burning

more brightly than some

devilish hearth in the bowels

of metaphor

No Beastie under my bed,

for its recognising a lost cause;

though it feed on my body,

no true or lasting gratification

to be had where flesh

but a coat of many colours

lent by Earth Mother

to distinguish friend from foe

until our return

to Her womb, the likes of Beastie

denied entry

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020

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

D-O-G-M-A, Templates for a Divided World

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

Today, the recently revised version of a poem that last appeared on the blog in 2014. To those readers who have kindly asked when the new collection will be ready, I had forgotten how much hard work is involved and have several health issues to contend with at the moment (no Covid-19 though) so am aiming for publication around mid-late September.

Now, integration is the key to a successful society so why are there so many ghettos and pockets of people from around the world determined to follow a policy of separatism wherever they settle? Here in the UK, I have expressed the view for many years that Faith Schools, for example, have a lot to answer for in this respect. Dogma of any kind is fine, just so long as it allows for  - rather than discriminates against - anyone's human right to agree to differ; if others can be persuaded, fair enough, but forms of indoctrination by way of suggesting that any alternative is sacrilegious (or worse) are tantamount to threats, and beneath contempt.

Children and young people are the citizens of tomorrow. How can they, as adults, be expected to properly integrate when so many have been encouraged to feel they have the moral high ground over those of other faiths (or none at all)?

2014 marked the 100^th anniversary of the start of World War 1, the war that was supposed to end all wars…

How much more fighting and suffering will it take, I wonder, for more of our so-called ‘betters’ across the world to understand that various socio-cultural-religious differences do not make us different, only human?

United, the human race may have a chance of surviving its Armageddon; divided, it stands little if any at all.  Common sense, you say? So whatever happened to common sense?

May more  socio-cultural-religious (and political) leader)s take note, be seen to emerge from their various boxes and rise above their rhetoric...while  the rest of us follow a basic instinct for common sense in doing our best to heal divisions within our communities... as (surely?) only to be expected of and deserving a common humanity.

World religions have as much if not more to answer for than the vagaries of world politics; both profess to promote peace and a common humanity ... while the divisions they create in the process across that same humanity are  as unsubtle any suggestions that we apply a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

Everyone is entitled to their own personal space and human nature is a diverse entity as a result. Why, oh, why can't more people  accept that, and agree to differ instead of letting loose poison various slings and arrows of antagonism and discontent...? We are all, each and every one of us, part of a common humanity, after all.

This poem is a villanelle.  

D-O-G-M-A, TEMPLATES FOR A DIVIDED WORLD

Unsubtle divisions,

tablets of stone;

our world religions

Dark contradictions

(sure conviction)

unsubtle divisions

Unholy conditions

(dogs at a bone);

our world religions

Fine godly lessons

few clerics learn;

unsubtle divisions

Posturing politicians

(daughter, son);

our world religions

Holy constitutions,

bloodily written;

unsubtle divisions,

our world religions

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared under the title 'Divided We Fall' in an anthology, Have Your Say, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2004 and subsequently in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Love, Testament to Life OR Au Revoir, Mon Amour

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

There will be no blog entries for a week or so after today while I make time to start preparing a new collection; it is now ten years since Tracking the Torchbearer appeared under my own imprint. (Oh, and, yes, they did sell well and I even made a profit albeit a small one.) I also need to start work on new editions of earlier collections as a number of poems have since been revised, often only slightly, but always significantly. Only one (U.S.) publisher has expressed any interest so far, but messed me about so much that I withdrew my submission; others did not want to include gay-interest as well as general poems, and I will not compromise on this. Being gay is an integral part of who I am, but it is only a part, and we are all the sum of our parts. I may not publish  print editions again, though, but upload as e-books, but time enough to cross that bridge as and when I come to it. Hopefully, some of you will enjoy exploring the blog archives in my absence.

I will try and post a new (or revised) poem from time to time, although, like so many people around the world - not least those of us who live alone - I have to confess to lockdown fatigue at the moment. As I suspect I had the milder version of Covid-19 back in early January, and count myself fortunate, everything I do still seems to be taking much longer.

Take care, folks, and many thanks - as always - for the pleasure of your company.

Meanwhile ...

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2016. At the time, a reader who had been browsing blog entries and emailed to ask why on earth I should think anyone reading a general poetry blog would be interested in a gay relationship. Fair enough, except that poetry is about human nature as well as the natural world; most of my gay-interest poems only appear on my gay-interest blog, but I happen to think the occasional entry here is not as inappropriate as ttis reader plainly thinks. Like it or not, there are many LGBT men and women in the world, and we are no less human (or naturally so) for that. Why must so many people rush to judgement on others, a judgement often based on shallow stereotypes? Being gay is an important part of a gay persons' whole identity, but it is only a part; what about those other parts that make us who we are?As for why I publish the poem here, I guess I live in hope that stereotypical and bigoted attitudes will eventually bee seen as fake news; there are many gay-friendly straight people out there who don't have a problem with a person's sexuality because it is the whole person they are happy to call a friend. Besides, there is nothing wrong or unusual (or immoral) about the ages-old principle of agreeing to differ ... is there?

Regular readers will know that my partner was killed in a road accident many years ago. He was not my only love, but the only person with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life, no reservations whatsoever. Sadly, we did not have long together, but his love has inspired me (and my poetry) ever since.

Now, there is nothing romantic about death, but neither is death any match for love.

I will be 75 years old this year. For me, it has never been so much the case that that time heals as that any brush with mortality makes life all the more precious while the pain of loss serves to remind us that we are, indeed, very much alive. It is a philosophy that has also served me well since I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in February, 2011. 

"Why should I fear death? If I am, death is not. If death is, I am not. Why should I fear that which cannot exist when I do?" - Epicurus 

LOVE, TESTAMENT TO LIFE or AU REVOIR, MON AMOUR

I have kissed Death on the cheek as it slept,

let a flow of memories course my veins

while Hope, past a grieving heart, it crept,

ghost rider tugging gently at the reins

I have kissed Death on the lips as it rested

where nature's tides may flow no more

but neither its finer spirit’s growth arrested;

songs of love and peace, no talk of war

Life called out my name as I would leave,

its firm, kind, touch wiping away a tear,

prising my fingers but gently from its sleeve,

for conceiving its eternal watchtower ...

Fear not as Death calls, or where it takes us; 

be sure of waking among Memory's flowers

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2007; 2020 

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in my collection, Accomplices to Illusion, Assembly Books, 2007; this post also appears on my gay-interest blog today..]

Nature v Human Nature (Winner takes All?)

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

‘It’s a life for a crust!’ my mother would often exclaim with mixed amusement and stoicism to us kids.

More than half a century on, and growing old, I understand only too well what she meant.

An earlier version of this poem has appeared on the blog before; in 2000, at the turn of the century, it was published in an anthology the same year and has resulted in a number of emails from readers (of all ages) to say how much they can relate to it. Some years on, I have to say I don’t find much changed for the better ... 

Oh, well, c’est la vie.

My maternal grandfather would often say "Better a plodder than a plonker be." Oh, and why not? We plodders are (on the whole) a happy breed if struggling sometimes to rise above the chaos of battles between nature v human nature. We try to make the best of things, refuse to be cowed (for long) by the worst, and trust common sense will (eventually) impose a benign order (of sorts) on our surroundings ... whoever and wherever we may be in a century that has come far, but still has as much to learn about as from nature and human nature, not least regarding the (all-inclusive) art of nurture.

NATURE V HUMAN NATURE (WINNER TAKES ALL?)

Can’t get on a bus, schoolkids

won’t walk half a mile;

stuck on a train, points failure,

(blame the weather);

arrive at work later than usual,

half the staff phoned in sick;

Start to get things done - and

the IT system goes down;

mad rush to meet Management’s

deadline, only to discover

it's been extended yet again;

no relief (or lunch break);

long afternoon, more than ready

to make the Home Run, left

fuming how quirks of modern life

always ganging up on me

Soon, feet up, relaxing (I wish!)

but family strife, no easy life;

a stressful stroll through streets

paved with fool’s gold,

feeling old, and youths sneering

at wrinklies in designer gear;

cyclist hurtling along the pavement

sends shoppers running for cover;

resentment boils over. I stand firm;

cyclist takes a nasty tumble;

a cop across the street rushes over,

takes my details, warns me

I’ll get a letter, says folks my age

really should know better ...

Oh. and when did mind-body-spirit

ever let age get the better of it?

Peace at last on a quiet hill as dusk

settles on this, my cruel city;

world without pity, but so beautiful;

kite flier, taking on a rough wind

with laughter, joy and pride, proof

(as if any needed) of humanity's

predilection for turning a blind eye

and/or deaf ear as and whenever,

the better to give mind-body-spirit

every chance of making good

and breaking free of what 'society'

would have us take for gospel,

since that’s the way it is, we can take

or leave it ... except we can't, won’t,

because humanity has a conscience,

that would have the last word

Much as a swallow will fly warmer climes,

shall the human heart wing kinder times  

Copyright R. N. Taber 2000; 2020

[Note: An earlier version under of this poem first appeared under the title ‘Citizen 2000’ in an anthology, Through Life’s Window, Poetry Today [Forward Press] 2000 and subsequently in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001.]

Humanity, "Come on Down!" OR L-I-F-E, Make-or-Break Connections

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

More than once, readers have written in to ask why I don’t post more ‘nature’ poems instead of (often, it’s true) composing what has been called ‘so-called’ poetry that - in the words of one reader only recently - “…is just social comment.” I confess I take exception to the word ‘just’; besides, the arts are littered with social comment so why should I not join the fray?

Literature, music, art, ballet, sculpture … whatever … if anyone thinks it’s all entertainment, and nothing else, they are missing out on the whole of what any art form is about; there are parts to many if not most things - including human nature – and it is standing back to see-hear it as a whole that really counts.

Demonstrations here in the UK and the U.S protesting about the needless death of George Floyd, an unarmed African-American while being forcefully restrained by a police officer in Minnesota, have caused pain and anger beyond description; nor has either been appeased by precious little attempt at government level to pour oil on troubled waters. As for building bridges, well, hope springs eternal …

HUMANITY, “COME ON DOWN” or L-I-F-E-, MAKE-OR-BREAK CONNECTIONS

No matter the colour

of a person’s skin, their gender

or sexuality,

we all deserve no more (or less)

than to be treated

fairly if not equally at (and by) all levels

of human society

All mind-body-spirit

asks of the world is that it play fair,

be kind,

not impose such grim rites of passage

as racism, sexism,

hate crime against same sex relationships,

all stereotypes

Humanity is diverse

and that is how it needs to be or we

would want to know

how to make it (far) more interesting;

a common humanity

needs to respect such differences as it asks

to make us human

Take away respect

and we but give the worst of human nature

both nod and wink

to kill as well as give birth, ley anarchy loose

on streets that understand

any protesters would rather march in peace,

and be heard

The arts call on us

to pull together, be kind, give understanding

a chance to pave

the way for good intentions instead

of leaving them blocked

by socio-cultural-religious taboos, made to fear

recriminations

Human history

tells many a sorry tale of its wars and injustices,

but love, too,

reconciliation, grounds for hoping

that certain leading “Betters”

may yet touch base with those expected to settle

for the status quo

Any Here-and-Now

needs to be, open to change, and all its peoples

will never always agree,

but that’s where human nature comes

into its own, the jewel

in its crown, its capacity to hear and listen, look

and see

Human nature, get off your throne, earn your crown,

“Come on Down”

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

[Note: For any readers who may not be aware, "Come on down!" is a catchphrase from the television game show The Price Is Right; this poem also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today..]

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

Out of Africa OR P-r-e-j-u-d-i-c-e-s, Weapons of Mass Destruction

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

Feedback suggests that a number of new readers have been visiting both poetry blogs since the coronavirus, COVID -19, began to spread around the world, forcing many of us to stay at home and find new ways of distracting ourselves from the harsh realities evolving all around us. One reader writes: "Homosexuality is a sin, and trying to pretend otherwise simply because the cap happens to fit you, is nothing short of pathetic ..." Another reader writes, “The coronavirus is also a pandemic, right? Only there is nothing new about it.” Yours truly can but echo the latter comment, arguing - as regular readers are well aware - that our differences do not make us different, only human. RNT

Now, there will always be those opposed to change, especially where certain aspects of socio-cultural-religious dogma are concerned. Thankfully, though, common humanity (and science) invariably gets the better of them or civilisation as we know it (or think we do) would never have developed, albeit it still has a way to go ...

Today’s poem is not new to either blog, but one I have been asked to repeat (after some revision) by several gay-friendly as well as gay readers from various African (and other) countries; to those readers who email me from time to time, asking why I feel any need to support gay people in what someone recently referred to as 'this Golden Age of Equality', it perhaps offers an answer. Sadly, even well-meaning legislation (and religion) can only go so far in tempering that too-common element of human nature called bigotry. (I am gay, yes, but ask any woman or victim of racial abuse about this Golden age of Equality...!)

As I have said many times on my poetry blogs - in both poems and preambles - a minority of readers who get in touch from time to time in support of the vilification of LGBT people will just have to get used to the fact that we are all part of a common humanity

Evangelical pastors preaching homophobia and worse across the world - not least, much of Africa - have to be among the worst diehards. They have much to answer for, and bear no small responsibility for anti-gay legislation in many countries; such is their influence that a newspaper editor in Uganda once called for the deaths of known gay people.

 David Kato (photo from the Internet)

  

Eric Lembembe (photo from the Internet)

David Kato (Uganda) and Eric Lembembe (Cameroon) - both gay activists - were murdered in January 2011 and July 2013 respectively; the number of gay-related killings across Africa is likely to be much higher.

But there is hope for us all yet. Evangelical leader and author Jen Hatmaker publicly changed her views on gay marriage in 2016. Both a Facebook entry calling for LGBT acceptance and comments about supporting same-sex marriage in an interview led Life Way Christian Stores to quit selling her books.

 “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”- Martin Luther King

“Hypocrisy and distortion are passing currents under the name of religion.” – Mahatma Gandhi]

"The death of dogma is the birth of morality." - Immanuel Kant

"From the beginning men used God to justify the unjustifiable." - Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses

“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.” - James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time

“Animals don't hate, and we're supposed to be better than them.” - Elvis Presley

OUT OF AFRICA or P-R-E-J-U-D-I-C-E, WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION 

'Kill the homosexuals!’

a local pastor cried;

and true to his words,

many gay men and women

have since died

"Homosexuals are sinners!’

the impassioned pastor yelled

at a congregation

that took up the cry, would

see us killed

"Homosexuality is an evil!"

the demon pastor screamed,

‘and no known cure

so kill it, and let its sinning

be redeemed

‘Man shall with woman lie!’

The pastor furiously exhorted

his flock to heed verses

from Leviticus, Christ’s coming

conveniently aborted

Someone in the congregation

dared point out that Christ said

we should love

and help our neighbours, not

wish them dead

‘Blasphemer!” the pastor cried,

near hysterical, refusing to relent

on a demonising

of homosexuality undermining

the New Testament

Africa, why are you (or is anyone)

even listening…?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020

[Note: This poem first appears under the title ‘Out of Africa’ in the 7^th and (so far) last of my mixed general/ gay-interest collections, Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012; it was inspired by a Channel 4 ‘Despatches’ program, Africa, the Last Taboo, 2010, and is also repeated on my gay-interest poetry blog today.]