“The wind in my face blows so cold, I dedicate this poem to a man 40-years old…”
When I was 14, I wrote a poem called “Time to Play”. Unfortunately, the book I wrote it in disappeared a long time ago, more than likely discarded as something childish and irrelevant in one of my moves. Despite the years that have passed, though, the first and last verses are imprinted in my memory.
“One day this man will write about a teenager and his courageous fight.
He’ll look at me, smile and say – We’ve made it kid. Time to play.”
This project is many things. It’s a place to share creative endeavors and an outreach to like-minded people. But above all, Guy Penn is a tribute to a 14-year old boy who dreamed of being writer, who believed that I – awkward, nomadic, floundering me – would be the one to rescue him.
Last April 2011, I turned 40. Over 27 years had passed since I wrote that poem on a rainy night in 1985.
This website is dedicated to all the 14-year old poets in the world. May your pencil always be sharp, and your dreams never misplaced.
Although I am a gay man, I am still easily enchanted by beautiful women. And in 1985, I was 14, and Madonna was the fairest of them all…
Up until 1985, I’d done the impossible – I’d managed to ignore Madonna. Good Catholic schoolboy that I was, what I knew about Madonna, I didn’t like.
I was annoyed with the song “Borderline”, because I thought the title was “Waterline”. And anyone comparing love to water pressure was just weird by my estimation.
I also remember three girls singing “Holiday” at the playground during recess. When I asked them what they were singing, they started squealing about seeing Madonna at The Virgin Tour, which was, by all accounts – totally gross.
And then came one fateful night… I was watching Friday Night Videos. My VCR was set to record, “We are the World”, my favorite song at the time. And the video that followed was the world premiere of Madonna’s “Material Girl”…
We are the huh? That’s Madonna?
I became a Madonna fan because I enjoyed her music, but I remained a fan because I respect her politics.
For starters:
Supporting LGBT causes wasn’t always chic. Madonna fought for my rights when I didn’t have the courage. She challenged social norms and hypocrisy, spoke when others wouldn’t, back when her voice was needed most – When men were dieing, and the silence was deafening.
Madonna songs typically gravitate around love, acceptance, pride, and enlightenment… So happens, I’m a big fan of each. As an added bonus, I also enjoy dancing and sex (although I’ve learned to avoid both at once).
I respect Madonna’s work ethic and self-governance. Having your every move scrutinized, while raising a family in the public eye must be difficult enough. But when you add Madonna’s macrobiotic diet, regimented workouts, quest for enlightenment, and career feats, it becomes increasingly evident – Madonna devotion to self-discipline is nothing short of religious.
Above all, I have to confess – I like that my enthusiasm for Madonna bridges me to my youth. Now in my 40’s, where Madonna’s concerned, I’m not so very different from that giddy uniformed schoolboy, at a local newsstand flipping through the pages of Tigerbeat.
While “Material Girl” was my induction song into Madonna fandom, back in 1985 it was “Dress You Up” that left me spellbound.
Madge & Me ~ 1985
In the video above, when that screen first lifted and Madonna came posing down the stairs, I knew I’d be dancing with her for years to come.
I didn’t dream of satin sheets, custom suits made in London, or luxuries so fine. I was different. I wanted to be the back-up dancer to Madonna’s left, the dude with the swivel hips, bouffantus-maximus and perma-grin.
At 14, I got it. I understood why that dancer was so ecstatic…
What could possibly be more magical than sharing a stage with Madonna, celebrating life with a full head of hair?
Although I am balding, I’m happy to report… Nothing.
“No matter who you are, no matter what you did, no matter where you’ve come from, you can always change, become a better version of yourself.” ~ Madonna
Guy Penn 