Nightmare on the High Street

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

[Update: 20/2/17]: High Street shop owners now fear being left in financial ruin as the Government considers a huge increase in business rates in town and cities across Britain. Don't these (mostly financially secure) politicians realise that small businesses are the backbone of any nation.] RT

Today’s poem was written in 2009, less than a year after the so-called ‘credit crunch’ first made its appearance in the UK and began to bite; it first appeared in an American poetry magazine under the title Nightmare On Main Street (2010) and then in a UK anthology, Inspired Minds, Forward Press as well as my own collection during the same year.

Across the world, many families and small businesses continue to suffer great hardship as we all seem stuck with a prolonged period of adversity.

Yes, there are glimmers of light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Yet, it all seems so far away….

NIGHTMARE ON THE HIGH STREET

Jobs tossed away like beer cans
in a trash bin;
houses repossessed, cash hawks
at the ready

Homes crumbling like sand bags
in a hurricane;
marriages made in heaven filing
for bankruptcy

Bankers playing the blame game
to save face;
politicians relying on fiscal fears
for a free hand

In politics, business much as usual
(promises, promises…);
credit crunch or no, can’t go frugal
on the arms budget

World religions cleaning up on new
converts;
safety in numbers, unless you’re in
a war zone

Told to save on energy, and who’ll
save the children?

[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

Help! Anyone There? OR Silence, No Ally in Adversity

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

Unemployment takes a heavy toll on all of us; neither does it discriminate, but can strike anyone at any time, no matter our age, ethnicity, creed, sex or sexuality it can make even the most resilient person feel depressed. Depression, in turn, invariably makes us feel alone and misunderstood. No one seems to appreciate the gamut of anger, frustration, guilt, and despair that we run what can seem like every minute of every day. People tell us to cheer up, change the record or whatever. We try, but we can’t. They tell us that tomorrow will be a better day, but it isn’t. Nothing seems to change except for the worse. More and more, we feel alone in the middle of nowhere.

Yes, I have been unemployed in my time, but am now retired so no longer living under that particular Sword of Damocles.

For anyone who (like me) suffers from depression anyway, being unemployed makes the fight against it so much worse.  That is why I write; not to prove anything, to myself or to anyone else, but the very act of invoking imagination to put pen to paper helps keep me on an even keel. (Well, most of the time.)

If anyone is interested in my fiction, they can see what I have come up with on my fiction blog:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/

Any form of creativity beats antidepressants every time, although I confess I still take one daily; art, music, gardening, sport...each to his or her own. Anything has to beat being glued to the TV for more hours a day than can be healthy even if the temptation to do just that can be overwhelming at times.

Meanwhile...

An earlier version of this poem has already appeared on the blogs and is repeated today especially for ‘Axel’, ‘Jonas’, ‘Marc’, ‘Alice’ and ‘Hanna’ who have been in touch fairly recently to express their dismay at being unable to find a job appropriate to their needs and qualifications in their respective countries.

As far as any qualifications are concerned, I would suggest putting them on a back burner and taking whatever you can if only to bring some money in and gain valuable work experience; it doesn’t matter if the work is unrelated to what you want to do eventually as it will demonstrate to employers that you not only take the work ethic seriously but are adaptable, have initiative, and can keep working hours.

Now, we live in times of fiscal uncertainty world-wide. Government cut-backs invariably mean many people are losing their jobs. I consider myself fortunate to be retired, but there was a time I was unemployed in my mid-30s and wondered if I would ever find a way back into mainstream life.

Today’s poem was written in 1997 and first appeared in Visions of the Mind, Spotlight Poets (Forward Press) 1998 under the title Depressed of Erewhon and subsequently in my first major collection; it relates to a period in the early 1980s when I had a serious nervous breakdown and was unemployed for nearly three years. It was a bad time. Yet, I got through it. It was tough. and took a lot of will-power, but somehow I managed it with the support of some good friends; there is no shame in asking for help, but when you are depressed and have low self-esteem, it can take a while (and good friends) to make you realise that.

The reason I wrote the poem was because I had been talking to someone who had been unemployed for a long time, and could see no light at the end of the tunnel. Our conversation took me back to a BAD place. [I am delighted to say that he, too, came through it and has not only been employed for a good ten years now but also saved his marriage of 35+ years.] The poem, though, is about depression, not unemployment. Yes, being in the rat race can make any of us depressed while being out of it can be so much worse. We all need to put safeguards in place, and that includes having someone in whom we can confide even our worst emotions' for me, the latter once included wanting to die.

Rising above depression is an uphill battle, but we can win it if we can only keep a hold on the will to try and the confidence, however fragile, that we will get through it and things really will get better. It is so important to talk to those close to us, let them know the depth of our feelings so they can try and understand and, more importantly, support and encourage us. No one is a mind reader. If we keep a ‘brave face’ on things and bottle it all up, how are they supposed to know how much support we really need? Are they supposed to just put up with our mood swings and not protest? Depression can so easily bring those around us down too, not just ourselves. They need to know we need them in our lives every bit as much as we need to know they need us in theirs.

There’s nothing brave about pretending everything is okay when we're falling apart; it’s just plain stupid. So rally the troops, yeah? And make damn sure you win the war.

Did I say it was easy?

HELP, ANYONE THERE? or SILENCE, NO  ALLY IN ADVERSITY

Needing to talk to someone

(unplugged the phone)

Needing someone to share

(won’t answer the door)

Can get through the days,

but no way out of this maze

of turnings, yearnings,

candle burnings to a devil

that drags me out of bed

and plays Pied Piper in my head

until I join the rat-race

Needing time and space

(none at the office)

Needing a hand, an ear…

(so look, but where?)

Can’t go on like this,

a credit to zombies;

getting by on auto-pilot

even when my partner

turns the light out;

dreams, nightmares, day and night

all rolling into one

Needing badly) to get real

(so take another pill?)

Come on,  try, try, try…

(just wanna die)

Please, Help me, somebody!

Copyright R. N. Taber 1998; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appeared under the title Depressed of Erewhon  in Love and Human Remains, Assembly Books, 2000 by R. N. (Erewhon, of course, is an anagram of nowhere.) rev. title 2/2018]