S-e-x-u-a-l-i-t-y, Life Drawings OR L-O-V-E, the Anthology

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

Despite the usual trolls, the likes of which I always ignore, yesterday’s prose post on my gay-interest poetry blog appears to have been well received by its readers, so much so that I felt inspired to write a new poem; while it will be of special interest to LGBT readers, I am also posting it here although I suspect it may offend some people. What’s that I hear? How can a poem offend anyone?  Oh, but I learned way back in my formative years how quickly some people take offence, even where none is intended. 

An old friend, knowing that I am gay, once commented that he feels uncomfortable in the presence of gay people. I chose not to take offence, especially as he hadn't known I was gay when we first met some 40 years previously, but the hurt I felt remains to this day.

At 75, my memory is none too reliable, not least due to various health issues and subsequent treatment  and I’m often told off for repeating myself, but - as my dear mother would often say - if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating; in this case, that a poem is a poem is a poem, whatever its theme, just as a person is a person is a person, whatever their gender, ethnicity, political/ religious persuasion or, yes, sexuality. Few of us would argue differently on principle; as for putting that same principle into practise, human nature being what it is...

A schoolfriend once commented with a huge sigh that the world turns on human nature, to which another friend commented, “Better that than stereotypes,” to which a third friend added, with a wicked grin, “There’s a difference?” All three looked at me expectantly, but, coward that I was back then, I refused to be drawn and changed the subject. That was some 60 years ago, yet I overheard much the same conversation while keeping a social distance behind four young people only the other day… with my hearing aid turned on, of course. 😉

S-E-X-U-A-L-I-T-Y, LIFE DRAWINGS or L-O-V-E, THE ANTHOLOGY

Once, I hid within myself,
afraid of coming out or being outed
to the world, given to believe
that my being gay was at best, a crime,
at worst, a sin 

Once, when I was younger,
and gullible, less wise to societies open
to homophobic agenda-dogma,
I was given to believe my homosexuality
made me an outcast 

Once, while growing older,
I met a man, fell in love despite my fears,
shared a heavenly spirituality,
of a beauty I’d been warned You-Me-Us
needs must forfeit 

Old now, looking back in anger
for years I may well have missed had love
in all its richness not come my way,
for fear of its being stigmatised by the likes
of my so-called 'betters' 

Some may well wish me in Hell
for my engaging in same-sex relationships,
but love is a heaven of its own making,
and God is Love, so how, by its very nature,
any less worthy of nurture? 

Many questions, as many answers,
as we journey our years and personal space,
but let not fear deprive us of love’s ways;
in love, the greater part of the human condition,
that’s first among equals 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

 

Winds of the Day OR A Take on (Collective) Responsibility

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

There have been several suspected terrorist attacks in Europe within a week, the latest in Vienna which left three people dead. The jihadist group, Islamic State, is thought to be responsible.  Our thoughts and sympathies will invariably home in on the families and friends of the dead and anyone injured (physically and/ or mentally).

So, what provokes extremist views and/ or actions in any of us? It is not good enough to suggest, as some do, that provocation excuses responsibility in the sense that we are being manipulated by forces, emotions (or people) over which we have no control.

It happens, of course; from time to time circumstances may cause us to lose control, to some extent or another, but that doesn’t mean we are excused responsibility even in the most mitigating of circumstances.

The chances are, the worst punishment for anyone unable to control themselves at any point in time to the extent we say or do something regrettable, is a sense of guilt we will never quite be able to quite shrug off; however hard we try to justify certain actions to others, we know, at heart, we have to accept responsibility.

Jihadists may well believe they are justified in killing any person or institution that, as they see it, offends their religion, but all religions preach peace and love, whatever reservations they may have about other religions, so …?

As regular readers well know, I don’t subscribe to any mainstream religion; we must agree to differ, although I am neither atheist nor agnostic in so far as I consider myself something of a Pantheist at heart.

This poem is a kenning.

WINDS OF THE DAY or A TAKE ON (COLLECTIVE) RESPONSIBILITY

From birth to grave,
we infiltrate mind-body-spirit,
vulnerable to temptation,
strong on certain other life forces
anxious for unity,
calling for clarity where confusion,
reality over illusion;
logic, though certain to have its say,
losing out to winds of the day 

Life forces, colluding
to sustain the human condition
for better, for worse,
in its sickness and in health, for richer,
for poorer, no matter who
or where, regardless race, rank, politics
religion or sexuality
nor above engaging with such hypocrisy
as shames much of humanity 

Kin to genius, invention
and progress, but (as likely as not)
inclined to muddy
the waters of our motivation with pain
for paying attention
to certain critics jealous of any ambition
as may result in fame
and fortune, while determined to get a slice
whatever it takes, at any price

We are such thought processes as following
any instructions our host may be giving

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

 

 

 

 

Applause, a Majority Verdict

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

Another (new) tree-related poem today. I was in my late 30’s before I finally came out to the world as a gay man; it was no easier then than it is now for many gay men and women around the world. To many families and friends, it makes no difference, they love us no less for being “different”. 

As I have said many times on the blogs, our differences do not make us different, only human. Most people get that; sadly, though, many never will. Bigotry seems to be a way of life with some people, whether it is homophobia, racism or whatever; they cannot see that one of the wonders of the human as well as natural world is its diversity, without which its common mind-body-spirit would have seen nowhere near the progress it has made over centuries of narrow mindedness and narrow vision. 

We can blame a socio-cultural-religious-political upbringing and we might well not be far wrong, but it is no excuse for narrow mindedness; it is up to us all, each and every one of us, l to assert ourselves as bigger and better than that, accept that every person is unique and respect him or her for that instead of homing in on what we choose to see as their flaws and weaknesses. (Let’s face it, we all have our share of those.) 

Many people will not admit to bigotry, of course, if only because it is not ‘politically correct’; it is not what we say that counts, though, but how we feel and what we do about it. 

This poem appears on both poetry blogs today. 

APPLAUSE, A MAJORITY VERDICT 

I could hear a voice screaming
begging for aid, to be let out, go free
from whatever trap it was in,
and I would have turned a deaf ear
to its pleas, far too close
for comfort, demanding I attempt
to answer its calls, no mind-body-spirit
deserving any prison walls, my heart aching,
for it just as dawn breaking 

From my window, I delighted
in patterns of light among branches
of a splendid old tree
that had been so good a companion
for more years than now
I care to recall, an image shaped
much like a skylark singing
a cheerful greeting, the anonymous prisoner
still in pain, and screaming 

As the lark sang, leafy patterns
of life began to assume other features,
skylark still a felt presence
if conveying less joy than pain, and then
I saw that lark and prisoner
were one and the same, nature playing
a cruel game with me;
in no time, I could put a name to the leafy face
and place the prisoner’s voice 

Sure enough, image once complete,
I saw myself, trapped in an alien persona,
no idea what to do or where
to turn for aid, only able to scream over
and over again, of a lark no sign,
only this pathetic specimen of humanity,
its very mind-body-spirit
refusing to rally, raise the alarm, give me a break;
Apollo, yawning, but half awake 

I reached within myself, daring to go
further than ever before, needing to know
what's happening to me,
my image at the heart of a tree screaming
to be set free, could it be
I was unhappy with my lot, refusing to see it
for what it was, but a pretence
of being happy, and suddenly, it’s as clear as day;
I need to tell the world I’m gay 

True, the world may not want to know,
and there will always be some who choose
a bigoted agenda for reasons
best known to themselves, although excuse
enough provided by this religion
or that cultural tradition’s setting itself
apart from a common humanity,
for being a shade better, such is the folly, vanity,
and diversity of human nature

Years on, it’s but a lark’s sweet voice I hear singing,
Apollo applauding, humanity (still) debating

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

L-O-V-E, Survivors

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2016, and has since been (slightly) revised.

Staying positive and trying to keep looking on the bright side of life has never been harder for many of us than now as the Covid-19 coronavirus continues to take its toll around the world. Essentially, I am a positive thinking person; even so, life has a nasty habit of contriving circumstances likely to make us think differently, circumstances which, for whatever reason, spot a chink in our psychological armour and send us into free fall ...

Many years ago, my lie took a turn for the worse (not the first time) and I had a bad nervous breakdown; unable to see a way through it, I attempted suicide. Fortunately, life forces I cannot begin to describe kicked in, and I started to see something of the wood through its trees. I recall telling a doctor, "I can't do this." His reply has stayed with me ever since. "Yes, you can," he said, "... just tell yourself over and over that you will get through it, and you will. Better still, focus on all the positive things you want to do that giving up now will never let you, and go with the damn flow, man, go with the flow." 

So … I went with the damn flow, and survived to tell the tale.

Good or bad, we make the world we live in and it is up to all of us to try and make it a better one.

Humanity's rage to live for love and the greater good will always defeat its enemies in the end.

Looking on the bright side of life may not always be easy, but human beings have a natural capacity for love, in all its shapes and forms, and the more we can focus on that the better. 

(Did I say it would be easy...?) 

This poem is a villanelle.

L-O-V-E, SURVIVORS

Though bigotry and hate thrive 

among the world’s power brokers,

it’s love that will see us survive

Always, people willing to drive

forces for good to the aid of others,

though bigotry and hate thrive

While terrorist-led plots connive

to mock this world’s peacemakers,

it's love that will see us survive

Open heart and mind ever contrive

to expose the worst attention seekers,

though bigotry and hate thrive

If life giving forces as bees to hive,

(a warning sting for potential takers)

it’s love that will see us survive

As sure to keep freedom's name alive,

as frustrate its would-be code breakers;

though bigotry and hate thrive,

it’s love that will see us survive 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016, 2020

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

Home Fronts

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

A new poem today. I am not well at the moment so hope you like it. I started writing it to cheer me up as I had been feeling very low; it certainly worked I that respect so …

Now, fear is no stranger to most if not all of us, especially now as the Covid-19 coronavirus continues to ravage communities around the world.

As a child I was afraid of being misunderstood as I was inept at properly expressing myself vocally; to some extent, I still am. As a youth and young man, I feared being exposed and beaten up for being gay; fortunately circumstances - notably my mother’s death when I was 30 – helped me to be open about my sexuality; while my mother could not have cared less,  she would have shared my secret with other members of my family who - although they may well hotly deny it now - were not gay-friendly (to say the least) in those days. Later, I would be unemployed for nearly four years after a nervous breakdown; as I recovered, I was scared I’d never work again just as I was scared I would never walk again after being warned it was a possibility after a bad accident in 2011, the same year I was diagnosed with prostate cancer.

Time and again, Fear has threatened me with all sorts as it does so many of us; yes, it’s scary, but I’d say, when it comes to allies in times of adversity, the human spirit is up to the challenge … if we but learn to keep faith with it. Never expect plain sailing all the way, though.

Fear drove me to attempt ‘emigrating’ in 1969 with near-disastrous results Indeed, fear continued to all but take over my life until I finally acknowledged its power over me and resolved to hit back rather than try and run away; no point in the latter, I finally recognised,  since fear would always catch up with me unless I stood up to it once and for all. I still have certain fears … of acute pain, losing friends to coronavirus or whatever … but (apart from pain) no others that spring to mind. Religious associates have told me I should fear death as I do not subscribe to any religion beyond an affinity with Pantheism, but no God of Love or Nature is going to send me to some ‘Hell’  for either refusing to let dogma tell me how to live my life, or my being gay. If life has taught me little else it is that hell is what we, ourselves, make of it from time to time, a human condition in which, yes, Fear can be relied upon to play a central role.

Fear wears many faces and takes on various personae. I defy anyone say, hand on heart, that he or she is afraid of nothing; but if we cannot beat it, at least we can do our best to stand up to it, face it head-on, and let it know we are no pushover. I only hope that when the Grim Reaper finally comes for yours truly, I can still find the strength to do just that.

Meanwhile, I take my strength from my friends, my favourite ghosts and my poetry. Is that enough? What is ever ‘enough’ but, yes, it will do nicely, thank you … wry bardic grin

HOME FRONTS

No one looks for me,

but be sure I'll find them whoever,

wherever they may be,

nor am I rejected easily, resisting 

any denial of my existing 

at the heart of mind-body-spirit;

though I intrude like a thief

in the night, nor ever dissuaded

by any absence of light

They often wear a mask,

attempt to assuming another persona

to the one I insinuate,

dragging on any positive thoughts,

until they litter a landscape 

of despair, no-one to the rescue,

wannabe heroes put to flight

for a curtain of fake news falling

even on inner sight

Ah, but who comes here,

wagging a feisty finger at you-me-us,

but an ally of sorts,

pointing out that any battles lost

leave a war you can yet win,

other positive forces on standby,

urging you don't cave in, 'you'

whom a common humanity sees

as one of its own

I am Fear, never one to be easily ignored

unless made to fall on my own sword

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020, rev. 2021

[Note: Eagle-eyed readers will see that I have revised this poem since it first appeared on the blog; it also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today. While, yes, poetry is universal and would hope to address anyone, feedback suggests that many readers continue to only only access one blog or the other.] RNT

 

It is what it is... or is it?

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

Now and then readers email me  to ask if I consider myself an atheist or agnostic because I am gay and, if not, why not…?

Over the years (I'm in my 70's now) I have lost count of the times I have been told by members of various religious groups that I will go to hell for being gay. A colleague at work once told me that she enjoyed working with me, and she was sorry I would go to hell (for being gay.) If we had not been in a busy public library at the time, I would have given her as good as I was getting, but I kept a tactful silence. If she interpreted my silence as a respectful one, she could not have been more wrong; her religion I respect, yes, its bigotry, no. Fortunately not all religious people are bigots, and I have felt privileged, indeed, to meet some of them.

So ... God is a homophobe? Evangelical Christians and the majority of Muslims are by far the worst, for being homophobic, but I exclude none. (While Judaism is inclined towards a liberal attitude towards LGBT issues, most Orthodox Jews stop well short of sanctioning LGBT relationships.) For this reason, I am publishing this post/poem on both blogs; it first appeared in 2017. Regular readers will know that I have every respect for all religious faiths, but as a human being (who happens to be gay) I have the right of reply ... don't I?

At school, 50+ years ago, we were once asked to write an essay about ‘Secrets’. This was preceded by a class discussion on the subject during which we were all agreed that secrets are hard to keep, especially from family and friends. Someone made an unkind remark about gays not being ‘out’ to which the teacher responded with a wry shrug that “Time outs us all, in the end. The trick is to get in first, before gossip and ignorance can do their worst.’ This comment certainly livened up the debate, but I missed most of what was being said for dwelling on the concept of Time ‘outing us all in the end.’ It is so true. Gay or straight, it is a rare person that has no secrets; invariably these come out, if not during their lifetime then in the course of events following their death.

I only came out to a few people until a bad nervous breakdown in my 30’s finally rid me of all self-consciousness about my sexuality. Even then, though, I trod carefully through what I had known for years as a minefield of public opinion. The breakdown had lasted several years before I found the confidence to face the world again. During this time, I explored human nature through avid reading and writing poetry, both of which had already stood me in good stead at university.

Being gay is, of course, only one aspect of human nature, one part of a complex whole. It has always been the whole that interests me although, obviously, I have a special interest in the gay aspect. Some gay people seem to find it strange that I write general as well as gay-interest poetry. But…why not? Being gay is a very significant part of who I am, yes, but I can hardly ignore the rest of me, those other parts that make me who and what I am. Well, can I...?

In my 70’s now, I often look back and wish I had done things differently (as in ‘better’) but I guess we are all victims of our circumstances up to a point, and my circumstances have often conspired against me. Yet, I am no victim in the sense that I made my own choices, albeit not always the right ones.

Many who subscribe to a religion have told me I will forfeit Heaven and go to Hell although I suspect we make our own heaven and hell as our lives take shape by our own hand. So is death the end of all things, I wonder? I have no idea, but as a nature lover, take comfort from the way nature nurtures itself, and spring follows winter. Love, too, never dies even as lovers and loved ones pass away. I suppose I put what Faith I have in nature and love rather than in any religion since, from both, I have always taken a strong sense of spirituality. As to whether or not that sense of spirituality is seen as a sufficiently positive force in my poetry  to pass into living memory after my death, only time will tell.

No agnostic or atheist, me, but a pantheist. 

IT IS WHAT IT IS…OR IS IT?

Time running out,

mind-body-spirit left floundering

among regrets

for missed opportunities, rushes

to misjudgement,

and plain, everyday mistakes

with consequences...

for there can be no payback

equal to the task

of making reparation for any flaws

in humankind

No sense of a God

likely to extend any forgiveness

to the likes of me,

unable to relate to any Heaven

(potential safe haven)

throughout a lifetime of struggling

to make sense of dogma

interpreted by Religion’s finest

as leave to preach

a Politics of the Heart making sense

of humankind

How then to approach

the End of Things in the absence

of any New Beginning

other than as some deactivated spirit

gone to ashes, dust,

someone else’s (imperfect) memory,

there to endure

a kindly ‘eternity’ that sits more easily

on the tongue than ‘death’

while advocating spiritual qualities

in humankind?

I have asked this of poems

that have dogged my every footstep

from child to senior,

no one answer offered (or confirmed)

but a sense of moving

through time (other than growing old)

acting out tales passed on

by ghosts about leaving footprints;

no one left behind

but (together) creating a continuum

called humankind

To each, our own way,

engaging with the greater mysteries

of life and death,

finding such comfort as we can,

pinning our finer hopes

on what’s better, kindlier, said

and done, wiser choices

than less so, promise nurtured

or left unfulfilled

for an indefinable social conscience

to define us as it will

Whatever, it is what it is, and Time

will out us all one way or another…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017; 2020

[Note: this poem/ post also appears on my gay-interest blog today.]

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.]