Alternatives OR My Life, My Choices (No one Else's)

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

Today's poem is from my gay-interest blog archives for September 2010.

Several readers have contacted me about my poem 'Only Human' about the guilt many Catholics are made to feel for being gay. Opinion was divided for and against and only marginally the former. One person wrote, ‘…you should be ashamed of yourself for attacking the Holy Father, you along with gay and transgender s**t heads everywhere. As for saying you are not disrespectful of religion, it is not the impression anyone would have from reading your blogs. How dare you share your sick mind and spirit with others…?’

Well, the reader is entitled to his or her opinion of course…and so am I. I have always thought it's a great pity more people aren’t prepared to agree to differ rather than insult or fight each other.

Meanwhile…

Most people who wrote in were sympathetic to my point of view whether or not they agreed with it. One person, though, said ‘It is typical of a gay man to turn his back on God. Go on, admit it. You would be too ashamed to face Him…that’s why you can’t handle religion, because you know God disapproves of your lifestyle.’

Oh, dear, Roger’s in hot water again…

For a start, I certainly don’t believe it is ‘typical’ of a gay man or woman to turn their backs on God; many gay people have succeeded in reconciling their sexuality with their religion in spite of innumerable obstacles placed in their paths by the less enlightened among heterosexual family members and friends, not to mention religious leaders who use religion not only as an excuse but also as a weapon to defend their bigotry.

While I take issue with many aspects of religion, I respect all those who are prepared to enter into its basic humanitarian rather than just theological principles; that is to say, keep an open mindedness and open heartedness without which dogma and ritual are little more than play acting.

Everyone is entitled to believe in what or whom they will or nothing and no one at all. But lose our capacity for humanity and its respect for those with whom we can but agree to differ and we may well find ourselves but play acting in the longest running soap opera of all…

There are always alternatives, even if only sometimes rock and hard place. Moreover, maturity entitles us to make our own choices, not have them made for us by those who like to think they always know what’s best for us, and for whom the sum total of those same alternatives is invariably their ultimate nemesis.

We don't have a choice about being gay, it has to be in the genes or there would be no accounting for gay people worldwide from all manner of socio-cultural-religious backgrounds. No, choice comes if, how and when we decide to openly acknowledge being gay or live a lie. Some societies make this all but impossible, in which those circumstances, it may well be enough to acknowledge our sexuality to ourselves and those closest to us (who may need a little time to get used to the idea). Meanwhile, those gay people who have the moral courage to go a step further and knock on that gay-unfriendly society's door  to be let in deserve our praise, admiration and gratitude since that is the only way bigotry will be defeated.

ALTERNATIVES or MY LIFE, MY CHOICES (NO ONE ELSE'S)

I looked for God in heaven
but did not find Him there,
looked again, in sun and rain
for Earth Mother

Some say it’s, oh, so pagan,
as bad as being gay;
I just see myself as someone
looking nature’s way

God is many things to many,
interpreting His conditions
for the good of all humanity
according to its religions

The sun rises, sets, rises again
and no one takes issue
nor that moon and stars shine
or songbirds sleep as we do

Let nature sue for harmony,
hear our confessions,
and we feed less on acrimony
spread by world religions

To wake, sleep and wake again
may or may not imply rebirth
and, yes, each to his or her own
but we share a common earth

Who looks for God in heaven
and does not find Him there
has but to look in sun and rain
for Earth Mother

See, too, nature assert its power
where humankind gone too far

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

[Note: From: Tracking the Torchbearer: poems by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

Know your Enemy

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

This poem is from my gay-interest blog archives from November 1913.

Political correctness is a good thing in many ways, but can be such a pain sometimes, responsible as it is for many people being afraid to say what they really think; in public, anyway. For example, I would rather know if someone is homophobic or how am I to know he or she is an enemy?  More importantly, how am I supposed to know, unless people are honest with me, that I need to encourage them to develop a more human, positive, responsible attitude towards gay people?  The chances are, they are still very hung up on outdated, misleading and invariably offensive stereotypes.

Gay or straight, there is a lot to be said for making a friend of an enemy; it has to be the best Public Relations ever gets on any field of play.  Ah, yes, but you have to know your enemy first.

Tragically, for many gay people around the world, it is (still) only too clear who the enemy is.

KNOW YOUR ENEMY 

Some people say there can be no safe haven

for gay men and women in a place (or metaphor)

they think of as ‘Heaven’

Some people say no God would ever tolerate

the kind of so-called ‘sin’ perpetrated by the likes  

of gay men and women

Some people say Holy Books are a measure

of spirituality compensating for any open-minded

take on homosexuality

So who are they that so love to pit humankind

against its own on the grounds of this socio-culture

or that religion?

So who are they who rail against those gay men

and women who are but as we are, and by nature’s

rule not ours?

So who are they who say they side with doves

of peace, and then go to war with such honourable

intentions?

Let them speak who claim to know how God

will have his way with men and women who happen

to be gay

Let them speak who would rail against those

of us who are gay, and don’t let political correctness

win the day

Let them speak who say gays cannot be forgiven

for, oh, such a sin on the grounds of this socio-culture

or that religion

No matter who or where, all humankind deserves

a voice, gay folks too, each of us gifted with a feeling

for freedom

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2011

Mind-Body-Spirit, Making Connections

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

Today's poem (and much of the same post) appears in my gay-interest poetry archives for January 2014; archives for either of my poetry blogs can be accessed on the right hand side of blog entries.

Incidentally, today’s poem was inspired by a very moving gay-interest film (available on DVD) called Eyes Wide Open about the relationship between two orthodox Jewish men, one of whom, when confronted with and acting upon his homosexuality starts to ‘feel alive’ for the first time in his (married) life.

Now, some gay friends take offence at the word ‘homosexual’. As I see it, it’s a perfectly respectable word for a perfectly respectable state of mind, body, and spirit. Yes, some people use it as a form of abuse, but that is their problem and not mine.

Meaning is defined by less by what we say than how we say it. Similarly, the human condition is defined less by how it looks than how it conducts itself. In turn, how we conduct ourselves is defined less by any socio-cultural-religious dogma than by the sense and sensibility of minds and hearts left open to the subtleties of natural human goodness.

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, MAKING CONNECTIONS

A human body
makes itself known
in a thousand ways,
inner voices crowding
but never (quite)
drowning its mind
or spirit out

Come, but listen to what
it has to say,
feed its needs or hold back
for all the things
you’ve been warned,
told never to forget,
yet longed for in dusty corners
of a mind inaccessible
to a world (far) better known
throughout history
for its darker shades of bigotry
and hate than any light
of human understanding
shown its own kind

A human mind
makes itself known
in a thousand ways,
inner voices crowding
but never (quite)
driving host body
or spirit out

Come, follow or follow not,
ours to choose
freedom or chains imposed
by well-meaning others
who haven’t a clue about half
of what's going on in a man
or woman’s own personal space
in never (quite) sharing
the same perceptions of grace
and harmony as even family,
or friends committed to dogma
stigmatising any differences
for flaws if not sins irreconcilable
with a common humanity

A human spirit
makes itself known
in a thousand ways,
inner voices crowding
but never (quite)
driving host body
or mind out

Come, follow or follow not
ours to let the heart in
on the act and let its beat
lead the world a dance
with our heads held high,
play the wallflower
or (worse) take a partner
for appearances’ sake
nodding politely to family,
friends, peers insisting
our best interests
are of such prime concern
that any bones of contention
form part of no equation

Better (surely?)
to insist on at least one
of a thousand voices,
speaking up for us
as nature intended,
refusing to let the world
drown us out

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

[Note: This poem has been considerably revised; while it does not appear in my collections, regular readers may notice that it was previously posted on the blog in a very different form. Feedback suggested the original poem did not (quite) work, and I always take constructive criticism on board.]

Ghost in the Mirror or A Rage to Live

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

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

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

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

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

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

GHOST IN THE MIRROR or A RAGE TO LIVE

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

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

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

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

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

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

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Sex, Lies and Stereotype

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

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

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

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

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

SEX, LIES AND STEREOTYPE

Billy was a shy boy

who lived in my hometown,

did well at school,

never played the fool,

had a voice as thick as honey,

kept his head in a book;

that first time he smiled

and said ‘hello’ I didn’t quite

know where to look

Early one morning

I went fishing at my special place;

Billy was already there,

tongues of red hair licking

at my face as I told him

to go, the sacrilege all his,

but he stood his ground;

I flung him down, a heat in us

rising like the dawn

Our lips brushed

as if meant, his sweet body sighed;

mine paused, replied

until spent, spiritually content

for finding sanctuary

in the lap of a songbird,

no willows weeping

or fish biting nor any hint

of unease or dissent

Down at the pub

one evening, drinking with the lads,

poised to win at darts,

my girl cheering … Enter Billy

with a mate, and I score

a bull! Crowd’s roaring my victory,

my girl adoring me

as I'm drowning in a swell

and, oh, so hurting ...

like hell

Copyright R. N. Taber 1995; 2012

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

Keeping Company with Ghosts

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

Those who condemn gay people simply for our sexuality would do well to remember that many gay men and women have risked and given their lives - and continue to do so - to preserve the peace and freedom we all desire.  

World War 1 was meant to be a war to end all wars. Yet, it remains one of humankind’s greater tragedies that its history is inclined to repeat itself. 

Since World War 2 there have been numerous conflicts around the world, its various peoples suffering immeasurable heartbreak. At the root of it all, an unwillingness of certain politicians to take a common sense let alone humanitarian or democratic view, and others in the business of selling arms (directly or indirectly) who have no wish to see this or that particular gravy train come to a premature halt...and many people around the world continue to think ill of those of us in the LGBT community, I ask you!

If you enjoyed the poem, you may like 'A Poet's Shrewsbury' about World War 1 (closet) gay poet Wilfred Owen. [See blog archives- on the right hand side - October 2012.].

KEEPING COMPANY WITH GHOSTS 2012]

They fought so we may live

(to fight another day?)

among them, men, women 

who were gay

World wars over, although

the world still at war,

for such is humankind’s way,

(the politics of power)

Middle East a battleground,

Africa tearing itself apart;

Iraq, Afghanistan, ripping out

poor humanity’s heart

Gay men (and, yes, women)

risk their lives daily, yet

we hear their praises sung

but, oh, so rarely

Oh, and just what has sexuality 
to do with a fierce courage

writing up history and daring

to sign each page...?

What, too, of Earth Mother

and peace with one another?


Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2017

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in On The Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.] 

Taking the 'y' Out of Gay

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

I often receive emails from gay-friendly as well as straight readers who point out that it was my 'choice' to be gay, and as with any choice we make there are invariably  'consequences'.

LGBT folks do not have a choice, except in so far as we either choose to look the world in the eye or remain in the proverbial closet; we are as nature intended, and nature, unlike some human beings, does not discriminate.

The poem below was posted on both blogs in 2014, but I removed it from this one after a nasty, threatening email. I ignore abuse, but threats are another matter entirely, although I have to say that most feedback was very supportive. Three years on, I am repeating it here, not least because a reader has asked me to, but also because latter feedback suggests that my intention to continue posting gay-interest poems on this general blog from time to time, has not only been far more kindly received that  I could have hoped or expected given the response in 2014.(Fingers crossed...)

Incidentally, readers often ask why I write fiction as well as poetry. Well, why not? Regular readers will know that I've suffered regular bouts of depression all my life; writing in any genre is not only an enjoyable pursuit, but also a lifeline by way of creative therapy. Having anyone read what I write is a nice bonus:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/

The first novel I serialised on my fiction blog was Dog Roses, a gay-interest story about a young man and his family coming to terms with his being gay; another, Like There’s No Tomorrow is about a woman who returns every year to the hotel in Brighton where her daughter disappeared without trace some 20+ years earlier.

Meanwhile...

Yes, when I was young, I’d frequently ask myself why I was gay… until I realised it did not matter. All that mattered was that I got on with my life and learned to let my sexuality play its part. It’s my life, after all. My lasting regret is that I only came to this conclusion in my 30's following a severe nervous breakdown for which agonising over my sexuality since a teenager must take its fair share of the blame. The penny finally dropped, though, and I saw that my sexuality is no more up for being dictated to than my sense of spirituality although, as regular readers know, I do not subscribe to any religion, preferring to see myself as something of a pantheist. I feel fortunate to have learned in time how to relate to both with a passion I try to convey in many of my poems. In this respect, I owe little or nothing to the so-called 'education for life' I received in the classroom. Sadly, even these days, gay issues are rarely if ever discussed in British schools; indeed, across the world, although here in the UK  new legislation due to come into effect next year will (hopefully) address LGBT issues head-on. in both primary and secondary schools. (Oh, and why not, especially given that children and young people are among the least prejudice people in the world... until or unless persuaded otherwise?

If ever anyone needed support and reassurance regarding their sexuality, it is during our teenage years.

Sexuality is universal. We all have a gene that identifies our sexuality, thereby partly identifying who we are. Nor is sexual identity any less an integral part of the whole person that his or her social, cultural, religious or political identity. It is a mystery to me, therefore, how even the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority really believe there are no young gay boys and girls out there who will develop and grow into their sexuality as responsible adults with no less integrity or capacity for love and compassion than anyone else?

There are homophobes in all echelons of all societies, and of all socio-cultural-religious persuasions; some are out, others prefer to stay in their stuffy closets for fear of being called  'politically incorrect'. I have marginally more respect for the former, although it’s anyone’s guess why these foolish people insist on displaying their ignorance of the human condition for everyone to see. I guess we can but do our best to encourage them to overcome this blindness of the inner eye in respect to LGBT men and women worldwide before more lives and societies are made to suffer for it.

This poem is a villanelle.

TAKING THE ‘Y’ OUT OF GAY

We’d meet after school every day,

go to our secret place

learning to take the ‘y’ out of gay

We took our time, found our way

through love’s maze;

we’d meet after school every day

Two teenagers with plenty to say

about spots on society’s face;

learning to take the ‘y’ out of gay

A brave maturity, come what may

(some say gay is but a phase);

we’d meet after school every day

At each parting, so longing to stay,

but homework setting the pace,

learning to take the ‘y’ out of gay

Years on, we came true to our clay,

where others taking our place;

we’d meet after school every day,

learning to take the ‘y’ out of gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: I am often accused of being 'too personal'; in my poems. Well, I do often write from personal experience, although in my use of the first person singular, I attempt to embrace a third person plural to which anyone is invited to relate if they so choose.]

A Gay Bashing

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

This post/poem has been available on my gay-interest blog for a few years. I am repeating it here at the request of an overseas reader whose best friend was beaten to death by gang of homophobic thugs only last year. No witnesses have come forward so the perpetrators have not been identified.  To date, no one has been charged with the young man’s senseless murder.

Meanwhile, I know of at least one closet gay reader who has participated in n attack on another gay man because he did not want to lose face with his so-called 'friends'. (What is it with some societies that they continue to impose pressure on LGBT people to play chameleon rather than look the world in the eye as they are?)

Now, it is one of the many tragedies of modern life that there are (still) people and groups of people that are so screwed up as to want to see an gay or transgender person hurt, even dead.

Politics, religion, a common humanity…all have their part to play in getting the message across to certain pockets of society that gay and transgender folks are just ordinary people who want to be left to go about their daily lives in peace. How we like sex and with whom is our own business.

Does a perspective on how (or even if) we like sex loom large in our appreciation of society as a whole? Did I hear you answer, no? So why should it matter if a person is gay?

Gay people are not irreligious monsters, although some religions would (still) make us outcasts…or worse.

It is also a myth that gay people are paedophiles. Historically, the vast majority of paedophiles are screwed up heterosexuals.

So come on, you holier-than-thou brigade and you others too busy playing lip service to political correctness to see the wood for trees…give us gay people (among others, worldwide) a chance to prove our worth, yeah?

What’s that? Gay people have never had it so good, did you say?

In 76 countries, gay relationships are still a criminal offence and punishable by death in six. 

As with all forms of prejudice, the expression it takes is likely to turn on the socio-cultural-religious/ home-school-work environment in which people live…in a century that still has one hell of a lot to learn about love, peace, and a common humanity.

Gay bashing is not the only form of hate crime of course; none should be tolerated by decent people, local communities or countries worldwide.

 A GAY BASHING 

Found him late at night, bleeding 

in a street gutter, near dead

His fine features an ugly sight, 

white shirt turning red...

Called an ambulance, did all I could

to comfort, help ease his pain,

but it seemed a long time coming,

and he but barely breathing

as I struggled to speak, anxious

he stay awake, so scared 

for him that he close his eyes

never to hear a human voice again,

feel its warmth spread over him 

like my overcoat, not yells of abuse

chasing him down centuries,

spilling their ignorance and hate 

on streets much like this one

with more horrendous tales to relate

for any who care to listen

A light rain began to fall like tears

(a God of Love empathising?)

I, too, wept that he might even die

believing the world against him

and siding with its sick homophobes

even though a part of me knew

it was already too late - for them

as for him - given a world 

barely even paying lip service 

to LGBT folks in parts,

hearts sporting logos set in tablets

of stone, fronting public roles

that embrace liberality and equality

while inwardly egging on

the sheer bestiality of any criminality 

seen as justified wherever LGBT

spells SCUM, deserving no less,

no matter if (supposedly) we all of us

share a common humanity

Left near drowning in a sea of sirens, 

we'll yet draw strength from straws

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Stormy Weather

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

[Update: 26.9.2019: Only six years have passed since I published this post/poem on the blog, but during that time bullying has raised its ugly head time and again on social media. Boys, especially, are inclined to suffer in silence, probably having been raised to think it isn't macho to tell tales out of school, but no small number of girls as well. Bullies are sick; reporting them is actually helping them to focus on what and who really matters in this life. So never suffer in silence. Tell a parent, teacher, best friend...someone you can trust to help you find the moral courage to do whatever needs to be done to expose the bully for the cowardly scum he or she is, and put a stop to it if only to prevent them putting someone else through the hell they are putting you through.] RNT

The main reason I am on the blog today is to recommend tyDi's great song/ video on You Tube  about some of the worst aspects of modern life that continue to plague many of us, especially young people, homophobic bullying among them. In case you haven’t found it yet, I urge you to go to:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CseffFUSAkg

I am 67 years old, and yet it wasn’t so different when I was young. What does that say about the world we live in, eh?  Even so, change is happening and people are becoming more aware of bullying and how it can drive people over the Edge of Reason into the Abyss. More importantly, come what may, love and the better, kinder, side of human nature continue to assert themselves over bigotry and ignorance.

Now, while I’m here…

I find writing increasingly stressful at the moment as my cataracts are getting worse. This poem is an early piece that appeared in several poetry magazines, 1996-1998, before I included it in my first major collection. Regular readers may be surprised to see that I made more (conventional) use of upper case letters at the start of lines in those days. I wrote it one stormy day while sheltering from the rain in a bus shelter.

I suspect the ‘rush of images had as much to do with seeing Derek Jarman’s amazing film 'The Garden' (1990) a few days earlier as a sense of nature ‘rushing’ me into…what? Writing a poem, maybe…

STORMY WEATHER

Cloud faces grimace;
lifelines leafing
through pouring rain;
fantastic canvas
leaping at the eye;
rooftops dripping
(sweat of heavens);
rhythm of children
braving a temporary
freedom

A rush of images
as ever seen;
Van Gogh, Jarman
each to their own
spirited inspiration;
distant thunder
rumbling our fears
while (reprieved)
we try to pass it off
as living

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2017

[Note: This poem has been slightly but significantly revised from the original version as it appears in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000]

Chain Gang OR Doing a Runner

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

I am happily, openly gay. But it wasn’t always that way. As regular readers will know, I am still haunted now and then by dark, cold, closet years when I was afraid to tell anyone. Throughout my youth and in the early years of young manhood, gay relationships were illegal here in the UK. Yet, after these were decriminalised, I was still more in that damn closet than out of it.

Part of the reason I hesitated to be openly gay was that I had such trouble shrugging off all the offensive stereotypes with which I had been burdened for years. Another reason was that I could rely on no support from family or friends for much the same reason. In many areas there are support groups available now; there is also a LOT of support available on the Internet that includes access to gay forums. [Always keep your wits about you when chatting to people on the web, though, as not everyone is as genuine as they may seem.]

Much has changed for the better since those dark days some 30+ years ago. Many of the stereotypes still exist but are countered these days by supportive (rather than just defensive) arguments, and in some parts of the world gay men and woman can turn to Equal Rights legislation.; in other parts of the world, though, there is none of this and gay people, especially young gay people, are suffering much as I did all those years ago.

It has to stop. Societies whose leaders support anti-gay legislation must be made to see sense by more enlightened societies; political pressure must be brought to bear and seen to be brought to bear.

All the blame for the continuing suffering of all LGBT people, often struggling with their sexual identity and in need of support and reassurance, does not always lie at society’s door. Support and understanding starts in the home. Even in the so-called liberal West, many gay boys and girls, men and women, are (still) living in a gay-unfriendly environment.

Wherever you look, and closer to home than you may think, various socio-cultural-religious anti-gay pressures are being brought to bear on gay people. Bad in the southern hemisphere, yes, but no better in some parts of the northern hemisphere either.

As I keep saying and will keep saying, the key to supporting gay people in home, school and workplace lies in educating, family, friends and work colleagues into just what it means to be gay; dismantle all those same stereotypes and arguments that kept me in the closet once and for all. Parents and teachers worldwide must start taking responsibility for this and societies’ less enlightened leaders must start taking responsibility for taking a lead.

Those readers who get in touch to tell me I am being a dinosaur, things have changed and gays have never had it so good should take a closer look at what is happening in Uganda and many other African countries, for example, also in Russia where gay people amongst others must be aghast at Putin’s re-election as president.

CHAIN GANG or DOING A RUNNER

Shovelling lies, bundles at a time,
though wore my hair long and sang,
making out I didn’t give a damn,
breaking my back on a chain gang

Yes, thought about breaking loose,
though rarely let it tease me for long;
couldn’t face ever having to choose
between alter ego and the chain gang

For long hours, days, weeks, years,
I slogged on, never putt a foot wrong;
no one ever saw me shed any tears
for making a career of the chain gang

I knew the politics, chapter and verse,
yet still kept singing the same old song,
ringing changes, for better for worse,
and more new faces on the chain gang

One face lingered in my mind’s eye,
wry grins sure to catch me responding,
couldn’t ignore, even though I’d try
‘cause it just ain’t done on a chain gang

Too scared to come clean and get real,
told gay love ungodly so must be wrong,
but how could I argue with a smile
that lets heaven shine on a chain gang?

We got to know each other better daily,
mindsets more than merely getting along,
office gossip machine churning madly
(for our not doing right by the  chain gang)

We did a runner one day, my love and I,
got a life, determined to do our own thing,
happier at work (even happier at play)
just two gay people getting on with living

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

[Note: Any LGBT or LGBT-friendly readers may like to visit my other blog 'G-A-Y in the subject field'. Why do I write both ( fiction blog too)?  Well, a poem is a poem is a poem just as a person is a person is a person; there is more to all of us than out sex or sexuality.]

A Phoenix In Soho

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

Today’s post is in remembrance of all those who died at the hands of a very disturbed person in London UK during the spring of 1999.

On April 30th 1999 a loner with a hatred for all gay and non-white people planted a bomb in The Admiral Duncan pub, in Soho just after 1830 hours. The bar was packed with drinkers during a Bank Holiday weekend. The pub is in Old Compton Street in what has been the heart of London’s gay community for many years. The bomber had already made similar attacks in areas of the city frequented by ethnic minority communities.

Soho's gay community has always welcomed anyone and everyone. Among the dead from The Admiral Duncan blast, were a woman only recently married and the best man at her wedding; her husband was among those who survived with horrific injuries.

There is a tragic postscript to the bombing. David Morley, a barman at The Admiral Duncan when the bomb exploded, died after a vicious homophobic attack on London’s South Bank in the early hours of Saturday morning, October 31^st 2004. He was only 37 years-old. Morley had helped many people victims of the bomb that killed three people, and injured 73. Although he escaped with minor injuries, he suffered serious trauma for years afterwards.

London is often considered a safe haven for gay people, and I dare say it is safer than many places. But let’s be clear. Homophobia and racism are alive and kicking just about everywhere; the flames of hate crime are constantly being fanned by various socio0cultural-religious elements around the world. It has to stop, and the first place of call has to be schools everywhere – including if not especially faith schools – where teachers who genuinely care that their students should become responsible adults need to raise their voices and be heard without fear of reprisal from bigoted parents, Head teachers or  school governors and the like.

Over the years, many people have fallen foul of homophobia, racism, sexism and assaults on their religious beliefs (or non-belief, as the case may be). We must do our best to stamp out these prejudices once and for all. At the same time, we should always remember that prejudice works both ways and should not be tolerated by or from anyone, regardless of colour, creed, sexuality or gender. It frequently strikes me that many people nowadays are far too quick to play various socio-cultural-religious cards in a society where ‘political correctness’ is doing precious little to encourage integration or mutual respect among its members.

A PHOENIX IN SOHO

Ordinary people passing by,

having fun in bars, folks
like you and me, no aliens from Mars
come to threaten the planet;
some sipping coffee at a roadside café,
enjoying a chat, warm spring
sunshine on the face, trails of laughter
like wedding lace...

Suddenly, the sky turns black!

Smell and roar ofa devil on the back
as heavens look away in despair
and ordinary people learn
the true meaning of fear;
death and destruction everywhere,
wedding lace in tatters,
ordinary people, discovering
what matters and playing their part
straight from the heart...

Smoke clears, sun reappears,
world keeps turning;
finger of blame points, charges,
moves on...

Ordinary people, rising above tragedy
or the Devil win - pray we never
see the like again;
Small comfort for those left to writhe
in the throes of loss and pain
but hope for us all - as we learn
to live and love again, no matter
the colour of our skin or
creed we live by or our sexuality

Amazingly, yesterday, a complete
stranger said ‘hello’ over a cappuccino
in Soho; and there was wedding lace
in the street, ordinary people rising
above their tears and fears, bringing
hope and love for years to come...
Or what chance for peace, we children
of the millennium?

Copyright R. N. Taber 1999; 2012

[Note: This poem has been very slightly revised from an earlier version that appears in 1^st eds. of  Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

How long Before the Next Bus? OR Fear on the Streets

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

Although this poem was not written until 2003, Stephen Lawrence loomed largely in my thoughts as the death toll among young people subjected to violent, sometimes fatal attacks in London continued to rise; it is still rising. The awful irony is that all the while knife crime remains prevalent, the more young people feel it is necessary for their own protection to carry a knife. 

Stephen Lawrence was an 18-year-old sixth form student. The black British teenager from Eltham, South-East London was stabbed to death while waiting for a bus on the evening of 22 April 1993. It is only recently that two people have finally been convicted of a murder believed to have been racially motivated.

Racism, like homophobia and all hate crime is invariably fuelled by a prevailing gang culture and/or those less discerning socio-cultural-religious bigots among us without whom societies worldwide would far better served. Education is the key; in  schools, colleges and universities, but first and foremost in the home. Tragically, it is far too often the case that education is found wanting in all of these.

As a gay man, I cannot help but get the feeling that homophobic crime is rarely afforded the same high profile as racism among the press, police, politicians or parents. Oh, and why is that?  Does a person’s sexuality make him or her less of a human being than the colour of their skin? Whatever, discrimination in any shape or form is unacceptable in a civilised society.

HOW LONG BEFORE THE NEXT BUS? or FEAR ON THE STREETS

Blood on the pavement where a body lay

and later someone knelt to pray for the soul

of another youth struck down violently
long before his time; utterly senseless crime,
harsh indictment of a society as inclined
to pass by on the other side as rush to the aid

of anyone being attacked, since it could be
for the sake of not being able to buy some acid,
coke, crack, weed, designer gear, the colour
of their skin, a suspect sexuality or even simply
getting kicks out of attacking, maybe killing
someone, given the chances are some in-crowd
says it's 'cool' to look good, act big enough
give old ladies a heart attack, snatch a blind man's
stick for a (sick) joke. Why tempt fate. risk
pitting ourselves against wolves in sheep's clothing
for any of that?

Years on, the pain still tearing at modernity's 

flimsy fabric, as hate ripped a young man's jacket

whose blood at a bus stop tells its own story,

plaque meant as a memorial but also recalling
the vainglory of a fraternity never properly brought
to book, justice gone to ground so we'll never,
walk down any street without a fear shadowing us
that’s persistently perverting its course; no peace
in a sad world likely to stab us in the back any time,
no matter our ethnicity, creed, sex or sexuality,
(easy targets for the perversity of cowardly thugs)
on a street that could easily be mine or yours,
leaving yet another mother, father, sister, best mate
left grieving us, missing us, forever questioning
the ethos of contemporaneity, feeling abandoned
by a society, left watching anxiously for the next bus

that never comes

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in A Feeling for the Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Footprints In The Snow

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

‘Karin and Tomas’ have asked me to repeat 'my video links'. They do not say which one/s so here is the link to my You Tube channel and the link to my (very informal) poetry reading on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square as my contribution to Antony Gormley's One and Other 'live sculpture' project  in 2009. [The You Tube clips are only a few minutes, but the One and Other video lasts an hour.] I hope you will enjoy them, and will be able to watch in an Internet cafe since you appear not to have a home computer

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] RNT

Meanwhile...

Many gay-friendly heterosexuals I know seem to think I am exaggerating when I tell them that gay men and women worldwide still feel threatened; even here in the West. Perhaps they should take more of an interest in their fellow human beings. Mind you, that isn’t easy when the media all but ignore gay issues except when occasions like World AIDS Day demand they pay some token attention.

I recently received an email from the U.S. based All Out organisation regarding recent anti-gay activities in Russia and Nigeria, but there will be gay people from all countries and of all religious persuasions that will have little to celebrate this Christmas or during any of the world’s religious festivals.

Last week, pressure on the Russian government prevented a vote on its anti-gay bill from taking place. All Out members around the world amplified the voice of Russian activists, forcing world leaders to speak out against this law that justifies hate and discrimination. Russia’s gay men and women remain hopeful, but the fight is far from over; the bill may still come back.

Unfortunately there's no time to celebrate. The Nigerian Senate has just followed Russia's bad example, passing a bill this week which would make it illegal to publicly support LGBT rights. Simply showing up to a gay bar could land you in jail for 14 years, regardless of your sexuality.

www.allout.org/nigeria

Nigeria is already an incredibly dangerous place for LGBT people, and this latest piece of legislation will only further push the Nigerian LGBT community deep underground.

Here’s a BIG HUG from me for gay people world-wide unable to openly stand up for their sexuality for whatever reason.

Now, Christmas is looming fast. As regular readers will know only too well, I do not subscribe to any religion, but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect anyone, anywhere, whose religion plays a very important part in their lives. Besides, all religious festivals are times when people, especially families and friends, come together in peace and love. Well, that is how it is supposed to be although it has been my personal experience that peace and love are sometimes in short supply; celebration is by its very nature infectious, and there's nothing wrong with that so long as people remember to live by whatever it is they are celebrating long after the festivities are done and dusted.

And what of those who spend Christmas alone? Well, I personally can honestly say I have spent many a wonderful Christmas alone; yet, never really alone because I am surrounded by the ghosts of Christmases and other ‘together’ times past who never fail to invite me to spend a happy, peaceful if reflective time with them. Moreover, I consider myself a son of Earth Mother, and she is never far away.

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW

I woke one morning to find
snow in the ground;
where my garden used to be,
a vast, white sea,
waves whipped up by the wind
like a frozen Tsunami threatening an island
of woebegone leaves

Footprints across this icy sea
beckoned me;
soon I was following them out
of the garden gate,
where once chirpy fields were,
to winter’s unfeeling whims now laid bare,
trees, like icebergs

The footprints halted suddenly
where daises used to be
you’d made into a chain for me,
each flower a memory,
and we’d promised that spring day
our love would last forever, always find a way
to bring us together

Distant bells ringing joyously,
a snowman smiling at me,
fair Apollo’s coming out to smile
on lovers going that last mile
for one another even in bleakest winter,
all confirming the daisies are with Earth Mother
for safekeeping

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011