Lugere

From the last wind through autumn lungs;
Across the endless ache of winter bones
Through the dark shadow on a spring mind;
Into the constant drought raping a summer heart

Ever changing seasons bring nought new life;
The passing years unease tormented souls
Tears no longer flowing; dry faucet, an empty well
Time steps solemnly to the beat of a silent drum

Every surface gathers dust, thick shrouds of mourning
Heavy drapes, closed against rotting boarded windows
Cobwebs fill the dark, dank, lifeless spaces,
They speak like tombstones in a soulless graveyard

Haunted by the memories of pride and glory left behind
Old dreams, broken promises, forgotten lives
Collected, hoarded, possessed and now unwanted
An obsessive compulsion of nostalgic sentiment

No breath nor life, no mind nor soul
A broken home, heart broken; forgotten and unforgiven
Take heed, a living corpse; have pity, the walking dead
Abandoned empty vessels, derelict zombie love

Ordinary World

Came in from a rainy Thursday
on the avenue
Thought I heard you talking softly
I turned on the lights, the TV
and the radio
Still I can't escape the ghost of you

Those words I have heard a hundred times or more without actually listening to them. They come from "Ordinary World" a 1993 song written by Duran Duran about moving on from the grief of losing their colleague and friend, Simon Le Bon. I know it more fondly as the Aurora version, sung by the beautiful Naimee Coleman, an anthem to many a dance party I've attended over the years.

What has happened to it all?
Crazy, some'd say
Where is the life that I recognize?
Gone away

Equally however, it is an anthem for moving on in life and overcoming the obstacles that seem to want to hold us in the past.

But I won't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find

And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive

Yearning for the past is where I currently reside and I know that I need to move on from yesterday to get back to the ordinary world.

Passion or coincidence
Once prompted you to say
"Pride will tear us both apart"

Well now pride's gone out the window
Cross the rooftops, run away
Left me in the vacuum of my heart

Many of my relationships have changed, work, love, family, friends, life - a beautiful portrait on canvas that now seems extraordinarily, almost hauntingly, empty and distant. Yet it calls for me to start new, to paint over it; to wreak havoc with it's beauty. A chance to create something new.

What is happening to me?
Crazy, some'd say
Where is my friend when I need you most?
Gone away

Death, divorce, a lover's parting or even a fallout with a friend leaves us empty and hollow. Selfishly we ask, 'What about me? Where are you when I need you the most?' And so, my friend is gone.

But I won't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive

We want our lives to be extraordinary. But sometimes there are moments when we feel extraordinarily alone, extraordinarily empty, or extraordinarily lifeless. At these times we just want to find our way back to the ordinary world.

Papers in the roadside
Tell of suffering and greed
Here today, forgot tomorrow
Ooh, here besides the news
Of holy war and holy need
Ours is just a little sorrowed talk

And how I might feel in this time of grief eclipses anything that is happening around me. But my sorrow and hurt is insignificant against the catastrophic suffering that others might face; those who have no concept of the beautiful ordinary world that I am a part of, and from which I have silently drifted.

And I don't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find
And as I try to make my way
To the ordinary world
I will learn to survive

So I will survive; I do survive; we are all survivors of the ordinary world.

Every one is my world
I will learn to survive
Any one is my world
I will learn to survive
Any one is my world
Every one is my world

And because we survive in the ordinary world, we are together and we are not alone after all.
Every one is a part of my beautiful ordinary world.

Taupin says it better

I regard Bernie Taupin as a great lyricist, and combined with Elton John's musical talent, I believe they make the best songwriting duo of modern times.

I'm no match, but I do like to put things down on paper .. .here's a reflection of one of their greatest hits (copied at the end of the posting).

Sometimes,

when the words won't come out right,

try as one might,

When you know what you want to express,

but the tongue can't stress

And your mind can no longer handle the chore,

pleading and screaming "Enough! No more!"

Sometimes,

in that moment of stark revelation,

under numbing sedation,

When there is no pardon or excuse,

just a simple word to choose

you finally realise the need for humility

in a sublime, teary-eyed, soliloquy

Sometimes,

at least how it is commonly referred,

sorry seems to be the hardest word.

[CM 2004]

Bernie Taupin says it better ...

What have I got to do to make you love me

What have I got to do to make you care

What do I do when lightning strikes me

And I wake to find that you're not there



What do I do to make you want me

What have I got to do to be heard

What do I say when it's all over

And sorry seems to be the hardest word



It's sad, so sad

It's a sad, sad situation

And it's getting more and more absurd

It's sad, so sad

Why can't we talk it over

Oh it seems to me

That sorry seems to be the hardest word



What do I do to make you love me

What have I got to do to be heard

What do I do when lightning strikes me

What have I got to do

What have I got to do

When sorry seems to be the hardest word



[Music by Elton John, lyrics by Bernie Taupin.

© 1976 Big Pig Music Limited]

My Rock

The tuft of brown, grassy hair

caressed by the wind as it catches the sun’s golden hue

seems to radiate like sparks from atop the mountain peak

A stark cliff falls away silently in front

finely polished by the elements, erasing any evidence of time

the rock is still young but daringly announces its presence

Peaceful, inviting caverns

set deep beneath the rim of the precipice

wise eyes keeping watch, reflecting an inner tranquillity

The contoured pink granite face,

moulded like clay in the hands of a gifted sculptor from another aeon,

bereft of unnecessary action, there are no sudden, unforseen tremors

A sturdy, reliable rock

Neither treacherous nor unyielding, he invites and willingly succumbs

appreciated by all who bear witness and by those who welcome his embrace

My rock, steadfast and true

A towering mountain of strength, sheltering me with a calm presence

The flawless reality of perfect love and constant companionship

Happy birthday to my darling Richard!

18 February 2003

Three Dads Are Better Than None

A perspective on coming out to my daughter. 1999

Seven years seems so long ago. As far as relationships go, it might sound a decent stretch, even outstanding and worth commemoration. But it is still in the early stages yet, and we have a lot of growing to do together, a lot of learning and a lot of sharing. Relationships don’t just blossom overnight, and as our time together is limited, we have to put in a little more effort to get over the occasional hurdles, but we have our whole lives ahead of us to get it right.

She’s beautiful, of course, a treasure I would never forsake. The day she was born is vivid in my mind and it will be so until the last day I see her face. A father can never forget that magical moment when their child is born, and for me, I have extra reasons to feel special.

Being a gay man is not a description people would naturally put onto me, especially when seeing my daughter, Sophie, and I together. But to us, it doesn’t seem strange that she is blessed with a wonderful Mother and three Dads. It seems very normal.
As far back as she can remember, I have always had boyfriends rather than girlfriends, but it wasn’t always that way, as her birth obviously portrays. And the question I am still waiting to hear fall from her seven year old lips is “Daddy, when did you stop liking girls and start liking boys?” or something to that effect. And that is one question I could never even answer for myself.

I was married to Fiona, Sophie’s mother, for 2-and-a-half-years before we separated. Although the reasons for our break up did not include my sexuality, it was evident to me that the added pressure of trying to live a straight lifestyle was making me unhappy. It took more than a year to pass before I came to terms with my own sexuality and with that came the responsibility to share this part of my life with those that I loved.

Opening up to my sister was the easiest. As we were sharing a house, and I was developing my first gay relationship, it also became necessary to remove any veils of secrecy. Telling my parents was more difficult, as any gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender person will probably agree. I knew it would be, but I faced the task all the same, and at the end of the day I am glad I did, as it was such a weight off my shoulders at the time.

But these tasks aside, how would I tell a child of 3 years that her father was a homosexual? Without knowledge of sexuality, without concept of maleness and femaleness, and without an understanding about the love that occurs between any couple, straight or gay, how would I tell her? How could she possibly understand my feelings and my desires when she was only just starting to learn about her own world? I don’t think I could have found a perfect opportunity or method, and in a way I am glad I didn’t find it. Instead, it found me.

Without the solution at hand, my strategy was to normalise all activity. I believed that if Sophie was to meet and interact with the people in my life without any preconceptions, that it would allow her to develop her own sense of “normal” instead of adopting the version that would be imposed on her by society.

In a sense, this strategy worked. Sophie met my boyfriend at the time, and then she met my subsequent partners. She saw us cuddling on the couch, watching television, kissing and holding hands, she shared our personal space, and she saw a caring relationship develop. If it weren’t for the common denominator of the Y chromosome, it would have been easily mistaken for a “normal” happy and healthy relationship. And of course it should have, because to all of us it was normal. By not actively outing myself to my daughter, or her mother at that stage, I had succeeded in re-defining the normal, but only temporarily.

“Daddy’s boyfriend, Mark...” Sophie began, interrupting a discussion between her mother and her day carer.

“What was that?” asked her mother, half surprised that Sophie had mixed up the word boyfriend for girlfriend, and half surprised that there was another relationship being established. Fiona had commenced a new relationship almost a year earlier. Or did she mean boyfriend in the same way that women talk about their girlfriends, as close friends?

“Daddy’s boyfriend....” she stated again.

I can only imagine the quizzing that my daughter, 3 years old at the time, would have gone through during a very confusing and somewhat embarrassing moment for her mother. It was a defining moment, though; one filled with apprehension, intrigue, shock, concern, and a multitude of other emotional states.

When Fiona broached the subject with me several weeks later, it was with some nervousness and apprehension that I confessed. It did feel like a confession too, like keeping a secret from your very best friend. But at the heart of our discussion were an understanding, an acceptance, and a common concern for the well being of Sophie.

Being open and honest with our daughter was just as important as ensuring she was fed and clothed. At all times I wanted her to know that there were no secrets, no dark closets, and no taboo topics of conversation. My life has been open to my daughter from the day she came into it, and my door is always open to her.

I look back now, and share with others that defining moment when a three-year-old “outed” me. I certainly underestimated a child’s perspective and level of understanding, an attribute that supports the maxim “out of the mouths of babes”. Children are wiser than we expect; are more accepting than we give them credit for; and certainly, in my experience, are less affected by society’s expectations in their early years than we, as adults, are with our years of experience.

Sophie and myself continue to enjoy a wonderful relationship as father and daughter. As with any parenting role there will always be traumas, and being separated by access arrangements has its own pitfalls. Time is precious with every weekend, and for that period my priority shifts from lover and partner, to father and carer.

I am proud that Sophie can understand such concepts as same sex relationships, and I am proud that she can attend Pride Fair Day and other events with my partner and myself as a family. We have had a lot of fun together, and as she grows there will certainly be many fond memories of her life with Mummy and her partner, Neil; as well as her life with Daddy and his partner, Richard.

We are fortunate that my partner enjoys the unique family situation we have developed, and he is willing to share in the parenting role where possible, a position that I encourage and support. It is wonderful to see the gleam in his eye when Sophie gives him a hug or runs out of her room with her latest drawing especially for him. It is a child’s ultimate sign of acceptance and unconditional love.

Sophie is lucky. While some children are homeless and without a loving family, she has a unique extended family, one that I hope she will grow to be proud of and not embarrassed by. She is privileged to have a very special Mum, three extra special Dads, and a resulting plethora of aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins. Who could ask for anything more but knowing that she is truly loved by all, including Richard, the man her Daddy loves.

This Rose

This Rose is like our friendship,

which has withered by and by

Once it bloomed a loving beauty,

now it lays here brown and dry

This rose is how I thought of you

a rare treasure I could see

Now I look upon this rose

and I find not you nor me

This rose, the one I speak of,

was not love, nor was it lust

But instead it was our friendship

nurtured by respect and trust

This rose you once picked for me

is but now a token gift

For the love I revealed alarmed you

and I now can't heal that rift

This rose has died quite quickly

though I tried to make it last

It seems you can't cheat fate

or keep the future in the past

This rose now has no scent

its perfume, like you, has gone

And though I'd dearly have it back again

I can't regret what life has done

This rose I meant to keep aside

to help me remember you

But this rose is just a sad reminder

of a love that wasn't true

This rose was once so beautiful

but its life has dried away

And my thoughts of you go with it

there is nothing more to say.

15th August 1995

For the beautiful people that have been in my life.