L-I-F-E, a Compendium of Mind Games

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

As I grow old, I am reminded how true it is what they say about recalling times past more graphically than the day before. Some of my memories are peopled with family, old friends, lovers and colleagues, even those I only ever knew as friendly faces with whom to pass a pleasant evening at a local bar after a long day of getting nowhere fast.

I do not summon these ghosts, rather vice versa, as if to heap me with regret and/or unanswerable questions as to why we no longer see each other. Did we simply drift apart or was there never any question of our staying in touch anyway? In the latter case, why should I recall them at all? What is it about certain people that they leave such a lasting impression on us? I suspect it tells us less about them than about ourselves if we care to probe further which is perhaps why we rarely do…in case we don’t like some of the answers we may come up with?

A prevailing image of memory I have is of two cruise liners; one, carrying us along with those who have truly meant something to us in life (for good or ill) and another carrying those we recall for reasons we cannot or prefer not to articulate. So they - and we - journey across time and space, passing each other from time to time like ships in the night, each with its ‘live’ cargo of assorted shadows.

L-I-F-E, A COMPENDIUM OF MIND GAMES

As I walked into a crowded room,

everyone stopped talking,

stared at me as if I were a stranger

and had no right to be there,

an uninvited guest, gatecrasher, someone

sure to disturb their peace

I approached someone I once knew

to kick-start a conversation,

cue for everyone to start blowing

pretty bubbles of words

that hit the ceiling, burst, spilling questions

on each and every one of us

‘Tell me, how are things in your world

since last we got together?

Why must Time so hoard its past

as if it were a collector 
gathering evidence to prove a point,

as if world history 
isn’t always reminding us of our hits, 
near misses, successes

and failures, kindly meant interference

in other people’s affairs 
as likely to end in tears as assumptions 
that not even the best laid plans 
of mice and men are as guaranteed to see 
the cold light of day as any tall tales that come
and go like furniture and fittings

Silences tickling my ears, like no-answers

to a single question dripping me

like raindrops, leaving puddles in my wake

as I negotiate paths opening up

to let me pass, courtesy of people I’d loved,

let slip away or simply forgotten

No welcome hugs, kisses on each cheek,

only looks probing my thoughts

from bubble faces soaking me in memories,

half memories, pretend memories

for all I know, pulling at lesser heartstrings,

sleepwalking me into other selves

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Running the Gauntlet OR The Undefeated

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

As it deepens, despair takes us into the very heart of human darkness. There may well be a pinprick of light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, but sometimes it is no more than a blur. Yet, if we can manage to focus even for just an instant, the blur becomes a lantern that will guide us back into the daylight and sunshine of what we laughingly call ‘normal’ life. After so many years of being made to feel bad about being gay, ana subsequently in and out if the damn closet like a jack-in-the-box, I was finally close to enlightenment. Yes, being gay was OK.

I made tough bit inspiring this journey in my early 30’s (I am in my 70's now) and it is the closest I have ever come to experiencing an epiphany. Where I had once sought but never found any comfort or inspiration in religion, a drowning mind-body-spirit  sensed and reached out to a spirituality in the nature of all things reassuring me that Earth Mother had not given up on me, and I must not give up on myself.

 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET or THE UNDEFEATED

Eyes glowing in a premature darkness

like cat’s eyes on a loping highway in a storm,

padding its way with stealth and guile,

brushing giant leaf and fern in Brobdingnag

concrete jungle spread all around;

wings of steel pitted against natural instinct;

dirt tracks strewn with primeval litter,

secret paths to Earth Mother’s hand written

poetry and prose

Hear the lion roar, rearing and pawing

at the sky, unbowed by heaven’s wary eye;

flashes like daggers at Caesar’s back,

taking the Beast through its paces till it drops;

apes swinging here and there,

mock a weary lion but taking care to steer

well clear, avoiding confrontation

else a feast of claws devour even salvation,

torn pages of Darwin

Ah, but let the Beast rest while it may;

hunters and hunted will find each other out

soon enough, about to discover

what (if any) creature can match us

eye for eye, tooth for tooth,

and for whom the wind composes a eulogy

where darkest poetry and prose read,

old gods (and new) mocking our inability

to understand a word

Tunnel caving in, barely a pin-prick of light;

human spirit, running the gauntlet...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2016

[Note: Revised (2016) from an earlier version that appears under the title ‘Heart of Darkness’ in 1st eds of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

Foot Soldier

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

Across the modern world, freedoms are being whittled away by the very socio-cultural-religious and political forces that purport to support and endorse them; freedom of speech (cannot even agree to differ without causing offence in some quarters); freedom to assume whatever sexual identity we feel appropriate (as if gay or transgender folks have a choice…); freedom to protest, put our names to a legitimate petition or such documentation as may be considered ‘indiscreet’ by Intelligence sources (ask Julian Assange   …) etc. etc. etc.

In places like Saudi Arabia, young people risk crucifixion, for protesting against a vile regime which many western politicians and other leading figures like to cosy up to if only for its wealth and oil.

Whoever and wherever we are, we should never take what freedom we have for granted, but neither should we assume it is the last word in what freedom means; those freedoms we don’t have or any that are at risk will always be worth fighting for as and when required.

Have two terrible world wars taught so much of humankind so little about freedom?

'Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast.' (Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet) a quote the EEU and the Arab Spring of 2011 would have done well to keep in mind...?

FOOT SOLDIER

Weary, a foot soldier
forever trudging human highways,
byways, country lanes...

Maybe arrive by nightfall

or needs must press on till daybreak,

destination unknown

Under orders from a skylark

last seen soaring into a tearful dawn

(looking for Heaven?)

Apollo offers hope in time

to lighten the heartbeat, put a spring

in the loneliest step

Centuries-old aspirations

discarded on the slopes of Parnassus

recovered, read aloud

Where life no less precious

on highways, byways, country lanes,

find bitter-sweet poems

Human spirit, alive and well

among earthworms researching poems
of love, peace and war

Apollo, on visiting the grave, 

has been known to throw light on it all

among those who listened

Freedom, foot soldier, lives on 

in open minds and hearts of free spirits 

across time and space

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

A Meeting of Minds at the Last Chance Saloon

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

One of my favourite subjects at school some 50+ years ago was History, not least because we had a teacher who made history come alive in in the mind’s eye. I well recall Mr Vickers - fondly known as ‘Chopper’ by generations of schoolkids - telling the class to bear in mind that History hates to lose face. He went to comment along the lines that, just as many if not most of us are inclined to be less than honest when reflecting on home truths, so it is with history. Consequently, he added with a characteristic chuckle, history is paved with excuses. 

I have since come to understand how it is invariably in the light of these excuses that events are recorded, re-recorded and often ‘adapted’ to reconcile with contemporary opinion according to this or that point of view.  

Fortunately, I also had an excellent English teacher at the same school [ 'Jock' Rankin] who taught us how to identify elements of bias in both factual and fictional writings as well as various media presentations. There is nothing wrong with bias, he would say, so long as we recognise it as such and make up our own minds.

On the whole, I hated my schooldays, but looking back I see now how, as an Education for Life, they excelled. Even so...50+ years ago, and what's really changed?  Well, not human nature, for a start...

A MEETING OF MINDS AT THE LAST CHANCE SALOON

Should global warming kill us all,
even Earth Mother may not survive
but as one among stars poised fall;
among its remains, nothing left alive

They say humankind fails to consider
that nature might turn and retaliate
for killing off trees, failing to nurture
respect for bird or beast until too late

We hear much talk of saving habitats,
ending world poverty, famine, wars,
as the poor grow poorer to feed fat cats,
old gods and new, settling old scores

Oh, but there’s politics, sure to save us  
from worms haunting its mass graves,
last-ditch rhetoric for wannabe saviours
still burning its oil in midnight's caves

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2016