Guilliean reads three of her poems; read along with the poems while you’re listening!
I won't let you in, I'll fight you to the end Too close, I can no longer be your friend Love ends, where hate begins You are which of the seven holy sins? Hold you down, surrender to me Mission to the black hole of a distant galaxy You make me strong, can no longer deny The thought of you makes me comply All I ever wanted was you Black and white tableau flame in my mind Of all the memories we left behind All the minutes - I imagine me and you Together, like it was only natural A hushed greeting from you, like a sledgehammer to my loins I feel almost normal when you're near me But I keep myself guarded, unable to face the truth That if I lose myself in you, then me will cease to be I refuse to let go of all the things that I have ever known Love hardens, love breaks, but I won't let you in Pride, I think, is my only sin.
To be young again!
To be young again! To jump on cracks, breaking Mama's back To run from the shadows of a cloud on a spring day To skip to my Lou, fall down from a ring of roses Hopscotch, and jump-rope, and down down baby To be Enlightened by curiosity To examine the world through science, reason To believe in God unrepentantly To beg someone to kiss the boo-boo to make it better To imagine the floor is lava To defend to the death the notion that rain on a sunny day is the Devil's wife weeping To bathe in water and imagine the Titanic sinking To clutch your teddy bear thinking they will save you To be young again!
Home is where the fences are cinder blocks, radiating heat well into the night. Home is where the shit on the street is from ornamental plums, and not migrating ducks and geese. Home is knowing where the garlic salt is in the kitchen. Home is where your dog is. Home is waking up to the sun everyday, ten months out of the year. Home is walking out to your car, covered in a thin coat of dust. Home is moving your joints, and not hearing them crack, because humidity. Every day is a new day. I have been craving this adventure. I earned my stripes. The ride is bumpy, and I'm wearing a helmet. I got it good. For now. But sometimes, when you're feeling so far removed, when you hear a noise that doesn't sound right, you want to be home.
I offer host-read ad packages that you can purchase to advertise your business. Check out your options!
Get weekly updates about the podcast and the other projects at Writeropolis Industries when you add your email to the Wayfarer mailing list.