The Crusher

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

This Age of New Technology is an Information Age like no other (so far) with information available to us at the press of a button. How much of this, though, is reliable or even correct? Although it is a good 50+ years since I left school, I well recall being taught how to discriminate fact from speculation, points of view from an extended imagination which only just falls short of pure fiction.

Often, I hear people tell me they like to speak their minds, and I am all for it. More often than not, though, they are repeating parrot fashion something they have heard or read about with which they happen to relate; relating, however, and agreeing are not the same thing. We need to investigate further in order to reach an informed conclusion.

While many of us have strong opinions on various subjects, we need to respect that others may agree to differ. Better still, we need to be able to support out opinions with information gained from reliable sources. At the same time, we should not dig our heels in to such an extent that we cannot be drawn into alternative arguments which may lead us to reach an altogether different conclusion.

If a closed mind is a dull mind, an open mind is a lively one although sitting on the proverbial fence is not an option and we need to feel confident about deciding where we stand, and be prepared to be counted; that way, the human animal remains free and primed to resists any attempts to cage it by  misleading information or propaganda. 

Where seeing is believing then sadly so, too, is deceiving at times, no one spared, neither political nor religious leaders, while social media targeting the likes of you and me as well.

THE CRUSHER

I will crush you in my grip,

but slowly, relishing the torment

of each victim fallen

into a trap of his or her own making

but deserving better (perhaps?)

than finding me there, rendering

any bid for freedom

no more or less than a pathetic

waste of time

If I show mercy now and then,

be sure it is but part of a dark design

intended to give more false

an impression even than I gave you,

who thought you knew better,

leaving yourself underestimating

your defences, vulnerable

to attack on all sides, quick thinking

your only recourse

I cherish any advantage over you,

relish reminding you time and again

of what deaf-blind vanity

has given you to me like a sacrifice

to Gods of Desire on hand

to enjoy their wicked ways with you,

only to toss their leftovers

where I wait to chew away at live flesh

on the bones

Call me Fake News, active and scary

in world societies believing in me

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016, rev. 2021

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised since it last  appeared on the blog under title 'Enemy at the Door' 2016.] RNT

x

Waking up to Life

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

Spring is in the air, season of new life and hope although this sorry world continues to turn as oblivious to positives as to negatives. We human beings, on the other hand, while we, too,  continue our daily lives, we can but look to the former for the inspiration  to carry on just as we must shoulder the latter in order to survive the worst of global conditions and human nature.  

Being positive when the immediate outlook appears bleak is possibly the greatest challenge we face in life. For my part, I always tell myself that spring follows winter, and - trite as it may sound - it has seen me through some BAD times.

May the joyful spirit of spring be with you all regardless of race, creed, sex or sexuality. (Oh, and none of us have to wait till springtime, either, but may well anticipate it by nurturing our own eternal springtime of the heart, arguably the more splendid of all its seasons, bursting with the joy of renewal and the sweet smell of hope.)

WAKING UP TO LIFE 

Showers
in clouds above, promises
of springtime,
tears for a lifetime
of such love 
and loss, joy and sorrow 
haunting us...
thereby remaining a part 
of us forever,
never (quite) leaving us
on our own to run
(oh, so self-consciously)
the eternal gamut
of socio-cultural-religious
trappings coercing
nature and human nature
for selfish gain
if only to get the upper hand
over any secular ethos
promoting self-awareness,
exposing its flaws

Showers
in darkening skies, closing in
on daily lives
trying to make the best of things,
put the worst behind,
bearing in mind a long winter
passed, asking only
of human hearts to open (at last?)
to a side of human nature
that’s less judgemental,
seeking even to be instrumental
in brokering peace
among enemies, encouraging
(mutual) respect)
for multiple differences
of opinion, faith, lifestyle choices,
in a world that rejoices
a civilized society's championing
Human Rights 
for its majorities, minorities too,
no cronyism.

As life-giving showers come and go,
so we, ourselves, aspire to know


Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2016

[Note: This poem appears has been revised since appearing under the title 'A Feeling for Spring' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007[

Mind-Body-Spirit, Will and Testament

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

I, for one, am sick and tired of being told I’m in the wrong by people because I happen to disagree with them; called a sinner because I don’t comply with dogma according to a religion to which I don’t even subscribe; generally having various social, cultural, religious and political views rammed down my throat…

What is wrong with agreeing to differ? Why can’t people live and let live, respecting each other’s differences instead of berating, even punishing them for their refusal to be bullied or emotionally blackmailed into changing a particular point of view? I would say moral issues aside…but certain socio-cultural-religious and political parties seem to have little respect even for those except when it suits them.

All I can say is that, I, in turn, have no respect for bullies.

Meanwhile...

Although I reject immortality in any religious sense, regular reader will know that I often engage with the prospect of a posthumous consciousness in which we continue to play part in the lives of those on whom we have made an impression  - for better, for worse  (hopefully the former) - by way of word, deed, whatever...

This poem is a kenning.

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, WILL AND TESTAMENT 

I ensure the greater inheritance

to which humankind is born, regardless

of station in life or place in the world’s

way of things that ticks away according

to how strong we are, how much

we earn or even how the heart may yearn

for a kinder way of living among its kin,

boxed up as we are, ticked off then sat on

to try and keep us down

I ensure the greater inheritance

to which humankind is born, finer spoils

of every persuasion under the sun

if it chooses to look, see, hear and, listen,

play the chameleon (as well it may)

since few people see with the inner eye,

hear with the inner ear, preoccupied

as they are with ritual and religion diverting

attention from the bigger picture

I ensure the greater inheritance

to which humankind is born whose tragedy

is a potential for greatness

beyond the riches of its sheikhs and kings,

tunnel vision of clerics insinuating

its personal space, claiming Squatters Rights

should anyone try to move them on,

any appearance of mutual negotiation

but paying lip service to reason

I am Mind-Body-Spirit, a creative ingenuity
redefining immortality

Copyright R N Taber, 2012, 2016

[Note: Revised (2019) from an earlier version under the title 'The Executor' in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.] 

Victims

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Domestic abuse can happen anywhere in the world at any time. More often than not family members and/or friends and/or neighbours and/or teachers and/or work colleagues may have suspicions. It is not a subject on which anyone should remain silent for fear of being wrong. Better to be proven wrong than let a wrong continue and say nothing, surely…? 

Domestic abuse is not uncommon in any society; men, women, children, it can happen to anyone. Yet, the same people that will protest about environmental and Human Rights abuses will often remain silent about domestic abuse.  Where is the logic in that and what excuses can there be? Yes, well, plenty of excuses; even love - to its everlasting shame - is one of the masks perpetrators of domestic abuse often wear.

VICTIMS

Brightness falling from the sky

like summer rain, makes flowers grow,

the world shine like rainbow trout

on a school kid's line at a local stream

who should be in the football team,

but his dad's beat him black and blue

where ma's laid out on the kitchen floor,

can't take any more

Brightness falling from the sky

like acid rain, making the trees cry

as leaves die like fishes in the sea,

collector specimens neatly laid out

under glass for generations to see
how dead things appear to suggest

a history of human deprivation for want
of a better education

Shadows, like corpses on the grass;

skylark, a near forgotten sound at a spot

where revelations in the clay suggest

a once-busy stream in a world earmarked

for the winning team, the rest of us

neatly laid out under corporate glass,

(preserved for a new century, a new class)

victims of abuse

Copyright R. N. Taber 2000; 2016

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

The Yellow Balloon

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

Children across the world are expected to take its worst tantrums in their stride, but for how long…?

For the many caught up in its conflicts, the world must often seem a bleak place, any worthwhile future, for them at least, an all but impossible dream.

Of course, it is not all doom and gloom, but children should not have to snatch at happiness as and when they can; it should be the greater part of growing up. Yes, even playtime has its ups and downs, good times and bad, but that’s life, a learning curve for all of us at any age. 

True, the world today is a dangerous place, but children need to be reasonably prepared for, not scared of it. Besides, is not having to deal with parental and peer pressures enough without having to contend with being made to feel they are a disappointment for not fully participating in someone else’s second hand life or, far worse, struggling to survive a war zone? 

Whatever, indeed, happened to playtime?

THE YELLOW BALLOON 

Children
playing with a yellow balloon,
mothers calling   
back home, as a mocking wind 
snatches it from tiny fingers,
dispatching it to drift mottled skies
weepy with satire?

Children
chasing after a yellow balloon,
father calling
back home, but they play deaf
among innocent cries
inciting adventures, welcome respite
from secrets and lies

Children
trying to catch a yellow balloon
beyond either reach or ken,
no sense of direction, quickly
consumed by angry skies,
menaced by cloud figures waving
smoking guns

Children
observed in tears over a balloon
burst by a phoenix
rising from its everyday ashes
to heavens where sunlight
last seen glancing off shrapnel
slowly killing them

Children, in near and faraway places
picking up the pieces…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

You-Me-Us, the Ultimate Selfie OR Partners for Life

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

It is not only gay people who have a problem with other people's approach to their sexuality; given that given that part of its whole happens to be sex, it is not uncommon for people to be wary, even afraid of sex, especially if they happen to have been have been raised - intentionally or not - in a sex-unfriendly environment. In some homes, sex and sexuality remain ‘not in front of the children’ issues so what are children, especially the early teens, supposed to make of that? Children are not fools; they are frequently more intensely aware of what goes on around them than many parents or even teachers appreciate.

Sex is fun, and in the context of human love can also be a very spiritual experience; there is nothing wrong with having fun, and no spiritual experience deserves to be put down simply because it does not necessarily relate to any religious experience.  As I have often said on my blogs, religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality; of all the parts comprising human nature, a sense of spirituality is one that deserves nurture, but is all too often neglected where religious or cultural identity have a lesser or no role to play.

Some people, of course, simply have no real interest in sex and that’s OK. Others may well be confused by various socio-cultural-religious attitudes towards sex and sexual identity.

Could we all not benefit from being better educated about sex and sexuality other than as prescribed by various socio-cultural-religious conventions? (Yes, I know I am repeating myself and probably will again.) Certainly, there would be far less denial, confusion and bad attitude regarding either if more schools would only discuss it with classes in a manner appropriate to the ages of the children and young people in them. No easy task, I agree, given how many children and young people will laugh and make jokes, as is the nature of people everywhere when someone touches on a nerve. Would they perhaps be less inclined to do so, though, if we adults encouraged them to discuss the subject - in all its aspects - sensitively and intelligently instead of suggesting it’s really a matter for the birds and bees?

In many cases, by the time any birds and bees get in on the act, most children have an idea in their heads about what sex and sexuality involves; that idea needs to be expanded, clarified and discussed.

Since many parents find intimacy if not love too embarrassing a subject to raise with their own children, a family member can be called upon or someone to whom the child or young person can relate and for whom they have affection and respect. All too often, though, this does not happen just as far too many schools also shirk the task of educating their students about where sex related issues fits into the complex jigsaw that is a life comprising love, pleasure, consideration and respect for others (and ourselves) among a gamut of emotions, not least a sense of spirituality. In my case, as regular readers well know, I take the latter from nature, but taking it from religion should not mean intimacy - as an expression of love and/or desire and/or the need to be physically close to someone for whatever reason - becomes demeaned in any way. In many cases, of course, it isn’t, while in others it most certainly is.

Colour, creed, sex, sexuality, these are part of a whole; it is the whole that counts so the greater our understanding of and respect for that, the better person we are likely to become; better equipped, too, for surviving the jungle that is human nature.

This  poem is a kenning.

YOU-ME-US, THE ULTIMATE SELFIE or PARTNERS FOR LIFE

I am that you-me-us

calling on love and peace

wherever they go,

whatever path they take

through life,

trudging sadly, skipping madly

or taking wary steps

across minefields scattered
like leaves of dogma

I am a good friend,

proving a good companion 

on life’s journey,

even beyond halcyon days

and nights committed

to memory, transcending

any regret for times past,

inspiring a lasting spirituality

independent of dogma

See me for what I am,

rooting for the natural world
to beat human odds;

on your side if sometimes 
agreeing to differ,

trusting love to win through;

my brief, to rise

above any contentiousness

perpetuated by dogma

Only, acknowledge my integrity

who am called Sexuality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

The World this Weekend

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

[Update: April 15 2017]: It is Easter, when we should all be thinking of love and peace towards each other instead of the threat of a nuclear confrontation between North Korea and the United States of America. I can't recall anything quite like this since the Cuban missile crisis in 1962. I am am reminded by the song, Where Have All The Flowers Gone, that I first heard sung by Peter, Paul and Mary in 1962 although I confess I prefer the Joan Baez version (1967). When, indeed, will the conveniently anonymous yet all-encompassing 'they' ever learn? I love the song, not least because it made me think, just as it did a few minutes ago when I listened to it on You Tube:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCAmQkmBrj8 

Now, some readers find it irritating that I link to historical as well as newer posts/poems while feedback suggests that others take a genuine interest. Possibly, if my blogs/poems survive my eventual passing from this world, posterity, too, may take an interest? [I like to think so, but...who knows?]

Now, the poem below was written in 2002 but could have been written at any time in any century; an earlier version also appeared in an anthology - Daily Reflections, Triumph House [Forward Press] 2003 - and Ygdrasil, an on-line poetry journal, April 2005.

Some readers have questioned my use of the word 'faith' in the last stanza. Well, as I have often said before on my blogs, faith embraces a whole spectrum of feeling and thought. Religion does not have a monopoly on faith even with a capital 'F'; I chose to put mine in nature even as a child. 

Yes, The kind of spiritual strength that religious faith lends is important to many people and we should respect that. No less important to those like myself, though, is the sense of spirituality we take from nature. More importantly still, we need to have faith in ourselves...or how else can we expect it of others?

Where progress is a tool which we shape past, present and future, we need to make sure we get it right. and compose a living poem to last, not an epitaph for the wind to wear down until no one can read what it says, or wants to…

It may be true that money talks, but it doesn't have the wit that words do. (Now, there is potential for a war of words second to none...)

This poem is a villanelle.

THE WORLD THIS WEEKEND

In pastures green or desert sand,

they haunt and pursue us,

history's lessons unlearned

Fear, much like a dead man’s hand,

appears sound, washed clean,

in pastures green or desert sand

Words, drawn swords to the land,

ripping out its spleen;

history's lessons unlearned

Love, a well-worn but infinite strand

of hope on the world scene

in pastures green or desert sand

Time, a chance to make a stand

against war and pain,

history's lessons unlearned?

Faith would keep us safe and sound,

washing raw wounds clean;

in pastures green or desert sand,

history's lessons unlearned

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly  Books, 2002.]