PRIDE: Past and Present




Oh, the dancing!

That incredible lost world of dancing.

The moving magic freedom


The kinetic ghosts of yesterday.



Where have all those yesterdays gone?

The impassioned crowds,


Wet with sweaty frenzied male motion

Tank top tucked

In the ready,

Keys and kerchiefs left and right

Colored for personal delights,

Boots tapping with urgency



Captured by the beats, syncopation


Voices sung in abandon,

 Undulating, rising and falling

 As if keeping beat to the swell of tides,

Everything made beautiful



Capturing our souls by the passion


Dithrambic ancient joys

Deep in the hearts of we


As if preparing for the plague to come

Its cortege

Drums beating for the last of we pagan angels,

One summer’s night at the Saint,

The Big Apple’s glorious ecstatic haven.

It has passed.

 Long gone

Many years ago,


In this fade and closing days of stillness

An old man remembers

A DJ creating a Stairway to Heaven.




There was no way

To anticipate the swells of the heart

On that day,

On that particular birthday

Where came the swift rise

Of streams

Of rivers

Of surging tides

In tears.

No way to stir the art

Of grief


Its passion

Which in the final

Came as a tiny sigh



Filled only with the notion,

That if one were to ask about it,

I would say

In the spirit of a beautiful requiem:

I’d rather have died in the past.

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1 Response to PRIDE: Past and Present

  1. Tara Crowley says:

    Jubilant first poem. Love the final in it. Sorrowful second poem. Ah, they are the stuff of LIFE.

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