Come, the last Dance

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

“Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat.” – Winston Churchill

Where there is unity, there is always victory.” Pubilius Cyrus

“The moment in between what you once were, and who you are now becoming, I where the dance of life really takes place”. - Barbara de Angelis

No preamble to the poem today; hopefully, it will speak to the reader in much the same spirit as the quotes above.

COME, THE LAST DANCE…

I go to where I grew up,
play with other kids in my street
such childhood games
as only children can make fun,
no hidden agendas
or cash changing hands on the quiet,
time yet for all that
once schooldays left to improved versions
among adult fictions

I go back to teenage years,
nursing such hopes for the future,
anticipating the fruits
of success, no prospect of failure
getting a look in,
too busy making plans for adult days
and enjoying the landscape
with close kin and peers in ways that only
confirm immaturity

I go back to post-school
disappointments and start to climb
various ladders of opportunity,
failing to reach the sky, hitching rides
on clouds into lands
of in-between, mind-body-spirit falling
from this heaven to that hell,
Earth Mother, no less empathic or beautiful,
nor inspirational

Yet, hillock, a mountain…
each promising stream, another river 
to cross in the absence
of any bridges available to eyes blinded
by inexperience, ears deafened
to wiser words by an ego screaming abuse
for its failing to stay any course,
weighty sensations of regret, shame, self-pity,
crumbling me

Came into No-man’s land,
Earth Mother’s crying out for succour,
silencing ego, letting
heart-and-soul speak, lay bare home truths,
finally acknowledging and taking
responsibility for being here, error of my ways
staring me in the face, telling me
to get a life, start regenerating my personal space
into a kinder place

So, a new journey begins,
mind-body-spirit urging my every move
to put the past behind,
look to a future, both eyes open, ears too,
watching out for road blocks,
attending forces meaning me well at every turn,
trusting heart-and-soul,
not least by having it keep me safe, guide me true,
and enjoy the view

Time passes, self-awareness
actively engaging with mind-body-spirit
to learn share, move on,
through all its tomorrows, with heart-and-soul
on board, less afraid of a future,
nor needing to hang on to some reinvented past,
let fake smiles hide real tears,
for rogue forces having us  run against each other,
not so, Earth Mother

There can be no going back
to the way things were but in such dreams
as are often only escapism
from such ways as may well need we address,
improve on, in the spirit
of a common humanity and its capacity for love,
fewer factions of one-upmanship
homing in on cultural differences as enemy forces
potential for wars

Whatever, life but asks that we give peace a chance
to partner our last dance...

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

A Mind of One's Own

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

“It is amazing how complete the delusion that beauty is goodness.” – Leo Tolstoy

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.”- Steve Jobs

Everyone has doubts and will often seek advice. The best advice my mother ever gave me was “Never forget you are your own person, son. Take a good look at any doubts you may have, come to your own conclusions and go your own way. You may be right, you may be wrong, but you’ll find out sooner or later and it’s never to late to change course.”

I know people who are contemptuous of professional counsellors, invariably commenting to the effect that anyone can give advice. A professional counsellor, though, is trained to assess what’s best for whoever is asking. Too often, we may turn to someone we know well, and that person genuinely has our best interests at heart, but any advice given is as likely as not to be what they would do if they were in our position; only, they are not, are they...?

Despite my mother’s good advice, I have taken bad advice in the past, lived to regret it and, yes, had  to change course... for better or worse, but still here at 76, so must have got something right.  😉

A MIND OF ONE’S OWN

I see who I am
warts ‘n’ all, happy-sad and glad
to be so, no character
in a soap opera on the radio
or TV, nor someone
for whom my family nurse ambitions
for needing me to be seen
doing better than a neighbourhood mate
before it’s too late...

I have needed
mentors, teachers, both in and out
of school, showing me
how it’s done, this growing up to be
my own person,
not some copycat version created
by those closest to me
thinking they know the ‘real’ me they see,
that’s but their fantasy

They mean no harm,
quite the reverse, those who imagine
they can read me
chapter and verse, and thereby hangs,
a tragedy, expectations
of various projections always there
at my shoulder
as I get older, a mind of my own grown wise
to their ways

It’s bad enough being told
this or that job or profession is out
of the question...
because we haven’t the intelligence
or aptitude for...whatever,
few people thinking to reason why
I have dreams I need
to try out for size, and if I can’t fit into them,
my fault, not theirs

Oh, and what of stereotypes
around for centuries, given a new
lease of life
on social media, scaring everyone
should they get ideas
and (heaven forbid) starts scoring points
over subscribers,
pointing fingers as may give a mind-body-spirit
food for thought?

Every society and community
has its own agenda, to be recommended
in all sincerity
by such powers that be as positioned
to impose their authority
and integrity on any ear, trusting
those pricking up won’t dare
question either, no interest in sleights of argument,
only consent...

So, first choice, personal space,
to be or not to be a place we can hide away
or embrace each day
with both hands, our fair share of its ups
and down all but certain,
but certain, too, of doing our best,
in a world of winner, losers
and many a beggar, too, the poorer still for a devil
on the shoulder

For any tears shed, loves lost
and won, even toes trod on (serves them right)
whatever our ethnicity,
creed, sexuality, political persuasion,
just as all opinions matter,
deserve a voice, so, too, do all lives,
many deserving better
than being misled by life forces perceived as allies,
proven enemies

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

 

 

 

Debating 'Political Correctness'

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

I am often criticised for my personal stand on some religions, notably Christianity and Islam; the former would find me guilty of blasphemy while the latter might well see me beheaded... and that’s just for being gay. I am growing old now, and health issues mean I am no longer sexually active, but mind-body-spirit remains essentially gay so I’m no less open to such charges from either religion.

Now, I am no racist, nor do I have a problem with people as such, from any walk of life. I do, however, have a problem with being judged according to the principles of a religion to which I do not subscribe.

I am not a Christian, so how can I be accused of blasphemy? Similarly, I am not a Muslim so how can I be accused of Islamophobia? Am I not allowed to express a legitimate point of view while meaning no personal offence?

A friend of some years - who hadn’t known when we first met as students that I am gay (I was suffocating in a closet in those days) - told me that he felt uncomfortable with gay people. When I asked if that that included me (he had known I was gay for some years by now) he answered in the affirmative. I was hurt, more than a little disappointed and puzzled, too, since he had never indicated any problem with my sexuality hitherto. Such is human nature, though, so I had to get used to the idea; it certainly never occurred to me to jump on any homophobic bandwagon.

Everyone is, of course, entitled to their own religious Beliefs. Should anyone, though, feel entitled to pass judgement on another person by dint of any agenda set by those same Beliefs, especially when that other person neither shares nor recognises the validity of certain aspects associated with those same Beliefs...?

In my opinion, any society giving the impression - intentionally or not - that certain feelings and Beliefs are above the law, are permissible simply because they wear the colours of this or that religion, risks dividing itself into such pieces as may well prove hard if not impossible to put together again.

DEBATING 'POLITICAL CORRECTNESS'

When asked a question
I will always offer an answer
as best I see fit,
just as mind-body-spirit
would have me do
unsure whether or not my questioner
genuinely cares
or hopes to press all the right buttons
likely to produce revelations

Such is the emotive power
of being put on the spot, needing
to be true to the self
while thought processes
put under pressure,
not least for being only too well aware
of being pounced on
by society’s rush-to-judgemental voices
at the first hint of any prejudices

Discussion, private or public
may well see us treading eggshells,
political correctness
all but turned on its head by some
with much to gain or lose
as the case may be, free expression
across debate in the frame
for agreeing to differ, but a distant memory
in a ‘politically correct’ society

What worth debate or argument,
points of view as need to be made
so often go unheard...
not because participants are afraid
of being challenged,
but of being shouted down, even arrested
for speaking out,
(no disrespect intended) on a growing anxiety
with a ‘politically correct’ society 

No one deserves to be denied a voice,
whatever their ethnicity, sexuality, creed
or culture, and a just society
will neither rush to judgement for fear
of offending any of the parts
that comprise its whole, yet, if harmony
is the key to its success,
any discordant voices, yes, require challenging,
but also, surely, deserve a fair hearing?

Powers that be committed to tackling
prejudice and abuses of privilege in all walks
of life, pick and choose
at their peril, leave themselves open
to all manner of criticism
and allegations of being browbeaten
by the very forces
they would challenge, wherever, even a religion,
fearing to alienate swathes of public opinion

Certain voices need to ask questions of any society;
no questions, no answers, only hypocrisy

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Past-Present-Future, Chameleon on the Doorstep

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

I well recall the father of a friend, way back in my childhood, relating how much satisfaction he took from giving local puppet show, “not only in making kids happy, but being in control, manipulating his puppets towards that very end. Sometimes,” he added with a wry grin, I feel like a god out there, pulling the strings..."

The tragedy is that the attraction of power and the potential opportunity to ‘play God’ attracts too many in the adult world for all the wrong reasons...

Terrorists are probably the best examples of such people, convinced they are acting with the best intentions, albeit (literally) as a devil in them drives, but they appear in all shapes and sizes in most if not all areas of modern life, wherever the better part of human nature is inclined to lose its way, often without even realising it.

PAST-PRESENT-FUTURE, CHAMELEON ON THE DOORSTEP

I come in peace, a force for good,
yet am often abused, ill-used by those
unable to channel the full force
for better rather than worse, opening
personal space to private ambition,
Time left to make of what it will,
if not any final say, given all history’s
various ways with words, not to mention
measured invention

I bring hope where weaker forces
sure to fail, yet so easily misunderstood,
misled even into enemy territory,
where mixed feeling would threaten
to confuse issues, take control
for illicit purposes harbouring agendas
comprising a measured tissue
of lies that will, to all intents and purposes
tick all the right boxes

I offer stability wherever promising
enterprises are in danger of foundering
along with all invested interests;
at the same time, I am easily tempted
to play the hero, persuaded even
by my own convictions that any potential
for universal gain has to come
before settling a lasting peace and happiness
upon my personal space

I dress the bones of history with flair,
who am that old chameleon, Power

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2012; rev. 2021

[Note: The original version of this poem was written in 2009 and was first published under the title ‘The Designer’ in my collection, Tracking the Torchbearer, Assembly Books, 2012.] RT

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Who do We think We Are?OR Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

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

A reader asks  why I appear to differentiate between the human spirit and Holy Spirit and "clearly have no time for the latter". What can I say, other than I differentiate because they are not the same?
The human spirit has a mind of its own, and will sometimes lead s to make mistakes for which we have no one to blame but ourselves and/or 'fate' where is is easier to blame God. Whatever, while I respect those who sincerely enter into (any) religious point if view, we must agree to differ. As do not deny the existential presence of a God, but see God as nature, not as its creator, moreover an all-embracing life force, not the personification of a bigot who would see me in some existential 'hel'l for being gay.

Another reader asks why I post some poems on my general blog and not on my gay-interest blog, .and vice versa, especially as I often empathise that a poem is a poem is a poem just as a person is a person is ... whatever or whomsoever. Well, believe it or not some readers enjoy sipping into both blogs and my gay-interest poems are intended, primarily, help LGBT readers around the world feel GOOD about their sexuality, but also educate bigots in those societies and communities that would make us think think badly of t ourselves for it  - just as my own did when I was a teenager and young man, consequently made to journey to hell and back; sadly, many LGBT people around the world still never find a way back.

Now, we are not only creating our own personal history with every thought we pursue and every word we utter, but also recording it with every step we take; all the more reason to tread carefully, consider the feelings of others and avoid treading on toes we have no wish to tread on.

It is one thing to respect the right of free speech, another to bait someone with points of view directly opposed to their own. "No harm in that, either," a friend once commented, "so long as you can agree to differ and discuss amicably if spiritedly." A wise woman, my friend, and I, for one, couldn't agree more, although it is not always east to spot that someone is playing devils advocate; it can be a risky game to play, and can take even the best friendships to breaking point ...

Baiters are often critics of whatever stand we have chosen to take in life, on whatever; while we all need to be challenged, if only to be clearer ourselves as to the where-how-why we take certain stands, make certain choices that subsequently lead us along this or that path in life, we need to respect the other person's point of view even be prepared to modify our own.

Agreeing to differ can be as educational as it can be fun ... so long as neither party assumes he or she has an absolute right to theirs which, as regular readers of my blogs will know, is my problem with (any) religion.

WHO DO WE THINK WE ARE? or NOTHING VENTURED, NOTHING GAINED

There’s a reality that is but a dream,

life stories told in quickly turning pages

(not the mediocre fiction it may seem)

tracking the poetry and prose of Ages

wherever ordinary men and women 

share life’s adventures (everyday heroes);

life’s ‘failures’ exceeding expectation,

its poor getting by on election promises;

the self, exposed to ever prying eyes

waiting to catch us out, see us take a fall;

minds, trying  to make sense of chaos,

human spirit, left to try and rise above it

Half the world pressing on with ambition,

the rest of us left trailing imagination ...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared in Ygdrasil, Journal of the Poetic Arts (December, 2004) and subsequently in  A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

A unique Species of Rose

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

[Update: 11/7/2020: I am often criticised for rarely using full stops at the end of stanzas; fair enough, but I see a poem (like life and time) as a continuum; it is meant to give the reader food for thought; for much the same reason, I often hyphenate words to bring them together, such as yesterday-today-tomorrow in the poem below. Hopefully, the reader will continue to consider the implications and relation to the poem’s theme/s long after they have forgotten the poem itself.] RT

In the closing scenes of a classic movie Gone with the Wind - based on a novel of the same name by Margaret Mitchell - its heroine, Scarlett O’Hara, magnificently portrayed by Vivien Leigh, briefly considers confronting some uncomfortable home truths before backing out with the immortal words, “I’ll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.”

How many of us, I wonder, have told ourselves much the same thing, and for how many of us has that changed much, if anything …?

Me? As guilty as sin … as are most if not all of us.

Meanwhile, while time passes and, for the most part, poor, misunderstood humanity persists in pausing at the brink of self-awareness … if only to excuse this or that course of action (or inaction) should it ever be called to account.  

Time, marking the days that come and go in our lives, may well be much the same for everyone; it is how we choose to nurture those days (or not, as the case may be) that makes them unique for each and every one of us, whoever and wherever. Raison d'être, too, is unique, to every individual even in shared circumstances like relationships; I dare say the world would be a better, kinder, place if only we were (all) to remember that, more often, especially those among us - in all walks of life - inclined to rush to judgement.

“It’s the time that you spent on your rose that makes your rose so important…" 

- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

A UNIQUE SPECIES OF ROSE

Yesterday, I’d traverse deserts,

goaded by false images to kneel and drink

from oases of illusion

Yesterday, I’d climb leafy trees

browse the words of ancient philosophers

in passing clouds

Yesterday, I’d swim in the oceans,

bear witness to creatures choking to death

on human waste

Today, I’ll try to pass on something

of lessons learned by the mind-body-spirit

in poetry and prose

Today, I’ll try stirring cloth ears

all but glued to mobile phones into hearing

global warnings

Today, I’d do an Internet search

for answers to questions ever plaguing me,

but, alas, no wi-fi

Tomorrow, I’ll join other nomads

(still) misled by fake news, kneeling to drink

from oases of delusion

Tomorrow, I’ll ask the few trees left

how Earth Mother might have had us comply

had we but listened …?

Tomorrow, I’ll start thinking of ways

to prevent stereotypes slamming down the lid

of the box they put me in

Yesterday-today-tomorrow, live streams

of consciousness calling on Earth to reconcile

nature and human nature

Yesterday-today-tomorrow, last spotted

sailing under false colours where imagination

having settle for cast-offs

Yesterday-today-tomorrow, making hay

in the sunshine, world clocks winding us up

and down, up and down ...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Kingdom Come, an Eco-Artist's Impression

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2010

While  the coronavirus is not on the wane everywhere just yet, and second waves of it are all but inevitable, climate change is unlikely to go away at all; we only have to look at what is happening in Iceland to see how real is the threat that has been looming across the world for years, and underestimated - if not conveniently put to one side - by successive world leaders. A reader asks, do I think Covid-19 could be linked to climate change? Well, I have no idea, any more than I suspect has anyone else, but I wouldn't be surprised ...

What are we doing to the planet? How many more trees must be felled, wildlife lose their habitats (and lives) on land and in the seas before humankind realizes how short sighted it is being? (The old adage is so true, that we rarely - if ever - appreciate what we have until we lose it.)

Will future generations forgive us? (I suspect with great difficulty, if at all.)

It is all very well to acknowledge global warming, but how much longer can we shrug off any blame for it? it? The time to make reparation is by positive action NOW, surely? How many more world conferences and all but meaningless gestures before our politicians risk upsetting this lobby or that and get to grips with the longer-term consequences of playing ostrich?

Too lightly, many people continue to brush such questions and issues aside. After all, they argue, there is plenty of time to save the planet.

Ah, but is there…? It is an old but significant truism that time waits for no one.

Yes, our politicians claim to empathise with Green campaigners, but could they perhaps do (far) more to back up their word with actions…or could it be they are but paying lip service to increasing electorate (and business) concerns?

At school, I once overheard my Religious Education teacher refer to Armageddon as 'the death of  common sense' to which my art teacher commented that it would be an appropriate theme for graffiti art among the corridors of power just about anywhere in the world. 70+ years on, I am inclined to agree with both.

How dare our so-called 'betters' be complacent, close their eyes to unpalatable home truths for fear of losing out in the short term. Too many politicians are hot on rhetoric, at election times in particular, but - as always - the devil is in the detail, and invariably less convincing for anyone who has the time or patience to shovel away  at the rhetoric and see what lies beneath..

Another reader wrote in recently to ask, "We are a common humanity on a common Earth so where is any sense of common responsibility regarding Green issues?"

KINGDOM COME, AN ECO-ARTIST'S IMPRESSION

The sky is red

where once it was blue;

trees turning yellow;

streams, trickles of blood

on a baby's cot...

Time, caught taking a nap

in Earth Mother’s bed

The forest is dead

where once trees grew tall,

birds would nest,

one beast best another

as required…

by nature’s rule of thumb,

its kingdom come

The world, gone quiet

where once people played,

would laugh and sing,

yet sure to best one another

as required …

by nature’s rule of thumb,

our kingdom come

The sky is red

where once it was blue;

trees, turning yellow;

Earth Mother last heard of

treading mud,

weeping the world’s playing

Truth or Dare...?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Mind-Body-Spirit, Only a Heartbeat Away

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

Now, when all is said and done, advice given and counselling taken on board, the course of action we choose to take has to be ours, no one else’s; nor should we blame anyone but ourselves if things go wrong.

Sometimes, though, things have to go wrong in order to come right.

As regular readers will know, 1969 saw me ‘emigrate’ to Australia, but it didn’t work out and I came home, much to everyone’s delight who had advised against going and could now smugly say “I told you so …”

What no one understood, though, was that I emigrated in sheer desperation to get away from those same people. I was a psychological mess, not least for being a closet gay man, but many other reasons too; e.g. having failed one of my A-levels, I was unable to proceed with the career of my choice and hadn't a clue what to do next.

I had no one to talk to in whom I could have any confidence they would really listen or understand. Oh, they would try, but … have you ever noticed that when you are needing to talk in-depth about yourself to anyone, most people respond, not in relation to you but to themselves; they proceed to tell you what they think they would do in your situation, given their history and various sets of circumstances not what they think you should do given yours. Invariably, it is all very well-meaning, but little if any help. In the end, we just have to trust our own instincts.

Now, my emigrating may well have been a huge mistake, but it had the saving grace of buying me time. My ship -The Southern Cross - sailed from Liverpool via Panama and took six weeks to reach Melbourne. For the first time in my life, I had time to think, listen to mind-body-spirit and learn to trust my instincts. I had made so many mistakes, and there never seemed to be time work out how best to rectify them ... until Oz.

Subsequently, I returned home home, a different person and (hopefully) a better one. I knew now what I wanted (a professional career in public libraries) despite a significant hearing problem (no effective hearing aids for perceptive deafness were available then) and coming out to the world as a non-stereotypical gay man. Both took time, but I had achieved the former by 1975; it would take about another ten years, following the death of my mother and a bad nervous breakdown to achieve the latter. They were good years and bad years; it took a good 10 years - and more mistakes - before I would start to feel not only a whole person, but comfortable with that person. By now, I had learned to make time rather then let it break me.

Sometimes, looking after number one has to be a priority before we can really let numbers two, three, four or more into our lives and stand any chance of our connecting with them or they with us. Sadly, for all modern technology, really connecting with each other is not always human nature’s greater forte. We all have a responsibility towards one another, but as a wise R E teacher once commented to the class at my old school some 60+ years ago, "We can't expect to be of much help to others if we can't, don't or won't even take good care of ourselves." Oh, but so true, never more so perhaps than  during the COVID-19 pandemic. 

“The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.” ― Albert Einstein

“He who thinks little errs much…” ― Leonardo da Vinci

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, ONLY A HEARTBEAT AWAY

World, in a hurry, 

no time to think things through,

making mistakes …

(Oh, and who’s blaming who?)

priorities blurring …

Need answers, can’t keep deferring

finding a solution

because Head says “Keep on going ...”

Heart, weary of trying

Folks, rushing by,

all needing things done yesterday

having to settle

for ‘maybe tomorrow’ if not too late

(as it often is …)

No one to blame, but so easier said

than done …

when the Head says “Keep on going …”

Heart, weary of hoping

Time, hastening on,

waiting for no one, haunting us all

as we try to fit in

with yesterday-today-tomorrow’s

agenda for life, death

and whatever else we can succeed

instead of failing

while Head says “Keep on going …”

Heart, weary of waiting

Instinct, kicking in

where head-heart (far) from certain

regarding the best

course of action, keyword confusion,

given contrary advice

by those we thought knew us better

(rude awakening)

where Head says “Keep on going …”

Heart, "No surrendering

Human clock, ticking,

mind-body-spirit risen to the occasion,

taking chances

on what it perceives as the better option

for first person singular

if not plural of the species, taking action

(before it's too late)

where Head says “Keep on going …”

Heart, the faster beating

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018

Helping Hands at Cliff Edges

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

Regular readers will know that I am having a hard time dealing with various health issues at the moment. No matter how aware and /or reminded we may be that there are many people out there a lot worse off than ourselves, it is small comfort in the circumstances and does little or nothing to ease our own distress. Selfish? Probably, yes, but I suspect it is human nature to see little further than our own problems from time to time.

I have often said that various forms of creative therapy can save us from going into free fall; the arts have a central role here, but so, too, do crafts, gardening etc. For me, of course, it has to be poetry, and – for better or worse (for the reader, that is) – I practise what a preach. 

We all know, and it goes without saying (doesn't it?) that, in the absence of Apollo, and as someone’s family member, friend or neighbour we all have a supporting role to play from time to time in their lives … well, don’t we?

HELPING HANDS AT CLIFF EDGES

Hanging on,

wanting, needing to let go

but for old habits

kicking in where life instinct

ever made itself heard

even to deaf ears, mind-body-spirit

older than its years,

risen above its tears for fears

of living nightmares,

fingertips clinging to cliff edges

above an indifferent sea

Hanging on,

wanting, needing to let go

but for happy times

in the company of loved ones

haunting me;

cinema of mind-body-spirit providing

private viewing

intended to kill tears for fears

of living nightmares,

lend fingertips at this cliff edge

a helping hand

Hanging on,

wanting, needing to let go

though an old stand-by

making its presence felt yet again,

climbing up my spine;

no nasty creepy crawly thing, this,

but bent on killing off

tears for fears of living nightmares

with positive thoughts,

lend fingertips at any cliff edge

a helping hand 

Hanging on,

wind turning southerly now,

as if anxious to prove

a kindness exists beyond any stormy gusts

as buffeted me here,

reminding me that hope springs eternal

and love never dies

in a mind-body-spirit up for more

than alien sentiments

bent on sending it to The Edge

ever bargain for

Safe, if shaken,

but still on dry land for taking

Apollo’s helping hand,

up for a marriage of mind-body-spirit

with a past-present-future

acknowledging errors, working on any flaws

of (human) nature,

taking heart in playing its part

(however small)

in keeping a kinder perspective,

resist free fall

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2020

Engaging with Disillusionment

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

Not infrequently, readers (among others) people confide how they feel helpless against a tide of socio-cultural-religious forces manipulated by various leaders to their own advantage and/or agenda to the detriment of anyone who chooses not to wear a mask. ‘Why are we all so divided?’ someone only recently wailed in my ear, ‘Why must it take a tragedy like a terrorist atrocity to bring people together …until innate differences start to drive them apart again?

On the grounds that repeating the obvious is sometimes necessary if only to prevent its being lost in a sea of trite, I often make the point in my blogs that our differences do not make us different, simply human; we can and should learn from them, not gang up against them. Far too many if not most socio-cultural-religious leaders are invariably quick to agree in principle, but less willing to practise what they preach.

So… what can we do?

It is (surely?) down to each and every one of us to live our lives as best we can and try not to be judgemental, the very trap our leaders and so-called ‘betters’ would have us fall into by appearing to refute it, thereby planting the very seeds of division in our minds that suit their individual purposes while cleverly avoiding either blame or responsibility.

A socio-cultural-religious metaphor may well be a chess master’s political strategy where the likes of you and I are taken to be vulnerable pawns; it is, however, a game that two can play...

Being our own person (no pressure or aspiration to be someone else) and living our lives as  best we can, refusing to be put down by unfair or irrelevant comparisons...now, that is what's known as being on a winning side.

Who wants to go through life being made to feel a loser by so-called 'betters' who are often only any better than the rest of us by virtue of their being in a position  to make us feel worse,various  if only by pulling invisible strings attached to various socio-cultural-political and/or religious trappings lending them a sense of authority?

ENGAGING WITH DISILLUSIONMENT

What is it really all about,

I’d ask myself as a child, this growing up

among restless giants…?

Why do giants have a mask

for every occasion, always seem so wary

of letting any slip…?

(Why must I tread so warily

for fear of offending by just being honest,

speaking my mind…?)

Diplomacy is all very well,

but no substitute (surely?) for keeping faith

with basic principles…

Oh, and what of love’s light,

come to guide us through a darkening world,

but frequently cutting out?

Yes, we need rules to live by

or sheer chaos likely to get the better of us all,

but who rules what, for whom?

It’s a discerning inner eye

that perceives the flaws in any moral authority

over anxious to flex its muscles

So where does that leave us,

who can but trust basic instincts albeit thwarted

at every turn of phrase and policy?

It leaves us strong, stoic, free

to speak up, make ourselves seen, felt and heard,

risk being ignored, mocked, bullied…

Or... what has it all been for,

I ask myself each new day as time rushes on past

and I grow old…?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

[Note: An earlier version of this poems appeared on the blog several years ago under the title 'Living with Giants'.]

One plus One makes The-Two-of-Us

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

Many if not most of us quite often think we could be doing this or should be doing that as if we were unhappy with our lot. Some of us are, of course, and need to following up our words with some real action. For many of us, though, it’s just talk, and we are okay with the way we are and the life we lead...

Could it be because we feel guilty about being happy that we are so wary of admitting it?

Life could always be better, of course. We all have our share of problems. On the whole, though, is life really as bad as some of us seem to be always complaining?  Well, yes, in some cases. Maybe, though, if we complained less and were more positive about life generally, things might improve for all of us and there would be less to complain about? A more positive rather than negative take on each other’s socio-cultural-religious differences would be a good start.

In my experience, the great thing about letting ourselves feel happy is that we find ourselves being more positive about everything and everyone; if we can develop our interpersonal skills along the way and achieve a greater sense of personal as well as social identity, so much the better. Moreover, while it doesn’t necessarily take two to be happy, it helps…a LOT

So let's try and look out for each other more, yeah? We all need friends, someone to care about us, especially if we happen to be living on our own for whatever reason.

 ONE PLUS ONE MAKES THE-TWO-OF-US

Yesterday,

we talked about doing this ‘n’ that

while we played with the cat

as the budgie looked on and the dog

snored away in his basket

Yesterday,

we discussed going here or there

while you vacuumed the floor

as I loaded up the washing machine

before we went shopping

Tomorrow,

we’ll talk about doing this ‘n’ that,

clean out the budgie’s cage,

probably ask the neighbours round

to try out the new Bar-B-Q

Tomorrow,

we’ll discuss going here ‘n’ there,

then take the dog for a walk

where we’ll be welcome at the pub

and catch up on the gossip

Today,

will be very much like yesterday;

shades of self-consciousness

for having far less than some if more

than many…and being happy

As for our arguing points of view,

it’s how one plus one makes two

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

This Frantic Earth

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

Readers (gay, straight, male, female, all ages) sometimes get in touch when they are visiting London and we meet up for a few drinks and/or a meal and generally put the world to rights. I always enjoy these meet-ups so never hesitate to email me if you want to get together for a friendly chat about… whatever. Email me anyway, if you happen to be in the mood.  I always reply to emails, but don’t allow comments because they take up too much space.

I must thank all those readers who emailed me when I was housebound for nearly six months after my accident last year. Our exchanges were a welcome relief from pain and boredom.

Now, men and women of all socio-cultural-religious backgrounds have fought for peace, and are still fighting towards the same end. Yet, I sometimes look around at the alcoholics, drug addicts, mentally ill and homeless people on our streets, not to mention those with a glazed look in their eyes as if they are not sure where they are going or why…and wonder, whatever happened to peace and is Armageddon perhaps closer to us here on the Home Front than any of us realize …?

We can do more for the less fortunate in our societies, surely, or could it be the case that the well-heeled among us, including many world leaders to be found in various echelons of various societies (not excluding political or religious) believe peace is little more than a public relations issue, well worth exploiting but as a distraction from self-interest rather than a permanent end in view?

And what is peace? It is not simply a matter of feeling secure. We may feel secure in our homes, jobs etc. if far less so in this Age of Austerity and the ever-present threat of so-called Islamic State and other terrorist groups, but how far are we ever at peace within ourselves? If we don't watch out, we may well meet our own Armageddon. (Regular readers will know that I believe positive thinking is the key to winning even those battles we may appear to have lost...in love, war, and all our other - less obvious perhaps, but no less significant - dealings with human nature, especially in relation to self-esteem.)

No easy answers, for sure. But maybe we should start asking the right questions?  No one wants to look in a mirror and see the enemy. If world peace is an elusive ideal, we CAN make peace with ourselves and each other, trusting its ripples to spread... or global warming alone is likely to get the better of us all.

This poem is a villanelle. 

THIS FRANTIC EARTH

Earth, a frantic heartbeat
its star-crossed lovers dying too soon,
body bags in every street

Short straws, open secret.
birds crying, fat cats calling the tune;
Earth, a frantic heartbeat

Apollo turning up the heat,
tears for fears on the face of the moon,
body bags in every street

H-E-L-P, can't ever compete 
with denials of acid rain any time soon;
Earth, a frantic heartbeat

So what's it all about?
(weather pundits tracking High Noon?)
body bags in every street

No-hopers on a rout,
(blaming God for bringing them down);
Earth, a frantic heartbeat

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem under the title 'Towards Armageddon' first appeared in an anthology Caught in Time, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2003 and in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Witness for the Prosecution

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

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

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

WITNESS FOR THE PROSECUTION

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

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

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

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

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

Catching Up with Raison d'être

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

The new year has not begun well for me, not least for having to rise above the stress of mislaying my debit card last week, having to rally my thought processes to report it missing (online) and then grapple with various aspects of acquiring a replacement; all tasks I would have taken in my stride even in my 60’s, but for which my 70’s resisted even acknowledging the necessity. My delight at receiving and registering a new card, was somewhat dampened - to say the least - by discovering my old card this morning… in the lining of my wallet where it had slipped through an invisible hole. I was furious with myself, having searched high and low for the damn thing. A glass of red wine helped calm me; so much for promising myself a dry January…

On Friday, I will have a PSA test prior to seeing my prostate cancer consultant next week.  Regular readers will know that I have been treated with hormone therapy since 2011 when the cancer was   first diagnosed. If it isn’t the cancer taking its toll on me, it’s the hormone therapy although I dare say growing old plays its part. At the same time, I am having to get used to wearing compression stockings following my being successfully treated for a nasty venous ulcer last year.

Regular readers will also know that I am a great believer in trying to look on the bright side of life no matter what it throws at us, and I do, I DO; never easy, but always worth the effort (which in my case, invariably involves writing a poem) if only because the alternative is unthinkable.

CATCHING UP WITH RAISON D'ÊTRE 

We catch up,

with each other time and again,

go for long walks

in sunshine, snow and rain,

hand in hand

as close friends do, yet neither friend

am I to you nor enemy,

we pair comprising but one mind-body-spirit

anxious to break free

Born to take life,

in our stride little or nothing to hide

through formative years,

though vaguely aware of innocence

doing battle

with articulation, keeping our thoughts

from getting too close

to home truths, shadows increasingly taking on

an air of being human

Time passes,

dreams, daydreams infiltrating reality,

compromising us

at every turn, mind-body spirit

resisting its dark side,

yet still they persist, those shadowy figures

with human voices,

making excuses for writing off abuses of privilege

as but rites of passage

Come, mind-body-spirit

learning to see without always needing to rely

on the human eye,

hear the tick-tock of the human clock

as time passes,

inhale the perfumes of nature, dismiss bad smells

as par for the course

for better, for worse, day or night, trust Earth Mother

to see us right

So what is ‘seeing us right’

supposed to mean? No more or less than each

to his or her own...

Some will argue we get our just deserts

in any after-life,

while others depend on religion to secure their place

in a Heaven of sorts;

for most, no matter when or how we take leave of Earth,

there is only death

At journey's end, more questions, 

anxious to distinguish an enemy from a friend,

easier said than done

for anyone whose self-awareness

succours the human spirit, 

even while feeding 

on flaws as sure to spit us out 

behind closed doors as expose any shadowy life forms

for who’s who

Yet, no living thing dies

if only because Memory will always care for its own,

nurturing any seeds

we’ve knowingly or unknowingly sown

that may well, in turn,

have touched the lives of loved ones and strangers alike,

our spirit joining theirs

in rising above much the same fears, wiping a world’s tears

for love and peace

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020