musical madness
lives inside of me,
in a whirlwind frenzy.
a good song travels
faster than
my imagination,
a good song travels
faster than
the speed of light.
i love listening
but singing along is alright
too as long as i am alone.
musical madness
lives inside of me,
in a whirlwind frenzy.
a good song erases completely
this fragment of time
evolves into a mystery.
I lose myself, but into;
all the greatest of places.
I lose my self, in bits and pieces.
I lose my sadness, my grief and sorrows.
focusing only on the sound,
of the beat
and the places music takes me.
it's a peaceful journey.
it's a way of time travel,
without ever leaving home.
Each and every song
bestows a memory.
its a key unlocking a door
of how far i have climbed.
and how much farther i need to go.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
The Female Roars
The Female Roars-
It starts with an explosion.
Fits of outrage, fur and teeth,
the Lioness Roars
in order to protect her cubs.
She is all complete Beauty,
in that mere moment
of raw agony and fierce loyalty.
She will fight to the death,
to protect her young ones.
She is a wild force of nature.
You do not want to be,
the one who has crossed
her.
She has perfected protection,
to the essentials
of sharpen teeth, claws, and
utter strength.
To threaten her cubs,
is foolish, and the results
could be very dangerous
if not even deadly.
Human Mothers are not
that much different.
When push comes to shove-
The Female Roars.
written for Lisa.
It starts with an explosion.
Fits of outrage, fur and teeth,
the Lioness Roars
in order to protect her cubs.
She is all complete Beauty,
in that mere moment
of raw agony and fierce loyalty.
She will fight to the death,
to protect her young ones.
She is a wild force of nature.
You do not want to be,
the one who has crossed
her.
She has perfected protection,
to the essentials
of sharpen teeth, claws, and
utter strength.
To threaten her cubs,
is foolish, and the results
could be very dangerous
if not even deadly.
Human Mothers are not
that much different.
When push comes to shove-
The Female Roars.
written for Lisa.
Updates and New Release
I have updated my Authors Website: http://sexinthekitchensink.wix.com/books-by-emily
I have also updated my Art Therapy Website:https://sites.google.com/site/holisticartexpressions/
and i have a new release of poetry and artwork on kindle, called,"Words Whirl: Poetry and Artwork." 2013, by Emily Sturgill. Currently, it is on sale at just $3.99, for the kindle copy. It is roughly 43 pages.
Here is a link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EO7EB5K
I have also updated my Art Therapy Website:https://sites.google.com/site/holisticartexpressions/
and i have a new release of poetry and artwork on kindle, called,"Words Whirl: Poetry and Artwork." 2013, by Emily Sturgill. Currently, it is on sale at just $3.99, for the kindle copy. It is roughly 43 pages.
Here is a link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EO7EB5K
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Smoke and Ash
Where there is Smoke,
there is Ash.
Today's clouds fold into themselves,
like a giant sky envelope
and the Sun is a first class postage stamp.
Memories have run dry.
They have had their fill.
A blank mind-erases everything,
but the present moment-
this pen-
this paper-
these words
I scratch together.
Someday
Some other time and place-
these words maybe considered poetic or
even poetry.
But that future, is still so far away-
I cannot grasp it.
For this moment,
I reach out for the most perfect
single word
and nothing more,
or nothing less,
than silence is heard.
there is Ash.
Today's clouds fold into themselves,
like a giant sky envelope
and the Sun is a first class postage stamp.
Memories have run dry.
They have had their fill.
A blank mind-erases everything,
but the present moment-
this pen-
this paper-
these words
I scratch together.
Someday
Some other time and place-
these words maybe considered poetic or
even poetry.
But that future, is still so far away-
I cannot grasp it.
For this moment,
I reach out for the most perfect
single word
and nothing more,
or nothing less,
than silence is heard.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
marriage counseling and fixing whats not right:
My husband and self, both have many-yet different-emotional scars from our own childhoods.
Sometimes these differences really tear us apart.
I have my reasons-which i will not disclose here-(read my memoirs recalled madness: a personal account of manic-depressive illness by Emily Sturgill 2013-available off Amazon.com for more specific details-)
Anyways, i have my reasons, that
if somebody physical grabs me in anger or is violent at all,
during an argument, i will pretty much cut that person out of my life completely.
If that sounds insane or extreme, I apologize.
However, it is based on how i was raised-that a man should never hit a woman,
nor lay his hands upon her, while in a state of anger/violence.
This is a well-known trigger of mine, that my husband,
has mistakenly set off on separate occasions.
For his part- part of his past were living with parents,
who argued/screamed and yelled everyday.
Thus, his trigger is arguing. When and if we argue,
and he feels bad enough to yell or scream - he tries to grab me,
and force me to listen.
The intimidation of being grabbed
in anger really sets me off,
i never call the police or press charges.
i simply go into flight or flee mode.
i pack my shit and leave.
persons without a history,
of childhood abuse, physical violence,
in my case both parents equally were messed up
until 7th grade when my Dad sought therapy.
My mom did not go into therapy until i was 18.
So i don't even wanna go there-she was also bipolar.
She is the one, i take the most after.
Dad had OCD among other issues.
But after he got got help, things were better
for a time-at least better he and I.
Mom was another story entirely.
Anyways, about 2 weeks ago,
i was feeling threatened physically by my husband,
so after discussion with 4 different older strong women
in my life i decided to go stay at
a battered woman's shelter.
Because today is the 2 year anniversary
of our wedding and because he apologized
between 5-7 times, i agreed to comeback home.
its a work in progress.
but im hopeful , since he's agreed
to attend therapy his own self-
and face some of his own inner demons.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
the hidden truth
the hidden truth
the hidden truth,
is that which haunts me…
everybody thought we were the perfect happy couple…
and I? how could I explain to our friends-our loved ones-
about The Dark Times….
about the hidden Truth?
That i married a classic-type of abuser.
That my beloved husband,
who i “loved” dearly was not only less than ideal,
but i was paranoid fearful of his anger. Of his angry outbursts.
That frequently, i felt unsafe, even during lovemaking.
I was scared he may attempt to kill me.
And i do not know why.
the fear seemed irrational, like another delusion of my bipolar mind.
Until a day two weeks ago where he admitted to “fantasies”?? I’m not sure what you would call then,”ideas” or “plans”?
That if his life ever got bad enough, he would fall back on the notion
of a murder-suicide.
by the way by murder-he meant me specifically and suicide
i guess was for him-not only was this a horrifying thing to say to the one woman who loves you-
it also helped me reach the realization, i was in constant danger.
I’ve been hiding out at a battered woman’s shelter.
i finally feel safe again.
it took some skill even in getting here because i had no money and no car.
but i finally made it Saturday afternoon.
I blame myself for not leaving sooner.
but in oh-too-many ways it was easier to stay.
i am grateful now, for my infertility issues.
that saves me from a lifetime of interaction
with a husband who is crazy.
I am so very devastated-that it had to-end this way,
but it was only getting worse. Now i am facing loved ones with the Hidden Truth.
they do not understand how hard it is to admit….you are a victim.
that somebody scares you half to death.
that this man you “loved” is merely a shadow of his true self,
the side made up of complete anger and irrational darkness.
is that which haunts me…
everybody thought we were the perfect happy couple…
and I? how could I explain to our friends-our loved ones-
about The Dark Times….
about the hidden Truth?
That i married a classic-type of abuser.
That my beloved husband,
who i “loved” dearly was not only less than ideal,
but i was paranoid fearful of his anger. Of his angry outbursts.
That frequently, i felt unsafe, even during lovemaking.
I was scared he may attempt to kill me.
And i do not know why.
the fear seemed irrational, like another delusion of my bipolar mind.
Until a day two weeks ago where he admitted to “fantasies”?? I’m not sure what you would call then,”ideas” or “plans”?
That if his life ever got bad enough, he would fall back on the notion
of a murder-suicide.
by the way by murder-he meant me specifically and suicide
i guess was for him-not only was this a horrifying thing to say to the one woman who loves you-
it also helped me reach the realization, i was in constant danger.
I’ve been hiding out at a battered woman’s shelter.
i finally feel safe again.
it took some skill even in getting here because i had no money and no car.
but i finally made it Saturday afternoon.
I blame myself for not leaving sooner.
but in oh-too-many ways it was easier to stay.
i am grateful now, for my infertility issues.
that saves me from a lifetime of interaction
with a husband who is crazy.
I am so very devastated-that it had to-end this way,
but it was only getting worse. Now i am facing loved ones with the Hidden Truth.
they do not understand how hard it is to admit….you are a victim.
that somebody scares you half to death.
that this man you “loved” is merely a shadow of his true self,
the side made up of complete anger and irrational darkness.
Monday, May 27, 2013
love hurt sometimes...
It should not,
but love hurts sometimes.
and sometimes it hurts you badly,
broken,bruised and battered;
ego lying broken
shardsof glass upon a floor.
but wait, there's more...
as a domestic abuser-
they will insist to everything that
theycan to guilttrip you into staying,
Guess what?
The answer is simple..Love itself-
it should not fell like the terror of Hell.
Love itself does not control your everything,
Love may help you if it is true-
However if Loves leaves you
black and very blue,
crumpled on, a floor-
telling you everything you do/or have done,
to push your man-(or woman)-your abuser into
attacking you, verbally, physically or worse-
Then thre is a chance of domestic abuse.
If you are in that scenario, im sorry dear,
but itis'nt love,
it isactually war.
So packed yoursef a bag,
and getthe heck out.
That's the only choice you have left
but love hurts sometimes.
and sometimes it hurts you badly,
broken,bruised and battered;
ego lying broken
shardsof glass upon a floor.
but wait, there's more...
as a domestic abuser-
they will insist to everything that
theycan to guilttrip you into staying,
Guess what?
The answer is simple..Love itself-
it should not fell like the terror of Hell.
Love itself does not control your everything,
Love may help you if it is true-
However if Loves leaves you
black and very blue,
crumpled on, a floor-
telling you everything you do/or have done,
to push your man-(or woman)-your abuser into
attacking you, verbally, physically or worse-
Then thre is a chance of domestic abuse.
If you are in that scenario, im sorry dear,
but itis'nt love,
it isactually war.
So packed yoursef a bag,
and getthe heck out.
That's the only choice you have left
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Saving some Sanity for a Rainy Day
Saving Grace,
maintaining hope..in the face of terror.
realizing much too late,
what a fool i have been.
Sometimes, you learn
somehow, somewhere along the way-
to make excuses-
for somebody else's bad behavior.
You try to justify irrational
things which do not make sense,
by placing the blame entirely on
your own shoulders.
You tell yourself, that Love-
is everything, the only thing which matters...
And that he must "love" you-
he takes care of "you".
(but really he actually control you, and everything you do, and everywhere you go.)
Saving Grace-
an abuser is always so
"sorry" he hurt you,
that he promises never again.
and you wish this to be true.
you wish it with your entire
whole and stupid eager heart.
the heart he breaks and rips apart,
with just one more angry glance.
just one more dirty angry look too many.
and a new day dawns.
you come to a realization,
that maybe it is not entirely all your
fault-perhaps he has demons of his own.
ones he refuses to run down and face.
maybe, you are not always the crazy one?
maybe, you have more resources than you think.
maybe, you have more friends and family that may help you.
maybe they can help you
to help yourself
to save some shred of sanity,
to just save some sanity for
a rainy day.
maintaining hope..in the face of terror.
realizing much too late,
what a fool i have been.
Sometimes, you learn
somehow, somewhere along the way-
to make excuses-
for somebody else's bad behavior.
You try to justify irrational
things which do not make sense,
by placing the blame entirely on
your own shoulders.
You tell yourself, that Love-
is everything, the only thing which matters...
And that he must "love" you-
he takes care of "you".
(but really he actually control you, and everything you do, and everywhere you go.)
Saving Grace-
an abuser is always so
"sorry" he hurt you,
that he promises never again.
and you wish this to be true.
you wish it with your entire
whole and stupid eager heart.
the heart he breaks and rips apart,
with just one more angry glance.
just one more dirty angry look too many.
and a new day dawns.
you come to a realization,
that maybe it is not entirely all your
fault-perhaps he has demons of his own.
ones he refuses to run down and face.
maybe, you are not always the crazy one?
maybe, you have more resources than you think.
maybe, you have more friends and family that may help you.
maybe they can help you
to help yourself
to save some shred of sanity,
to just save some sanity for
a rainy day.
Life is messy too; not just artwork by Emily Sturgill
Life is messy too.
Not just Artwork, self-expression, painting, drawing,sculpture, photography...
writing for example is another messy art;
thinking of things like:
libel,copyrights,slander,plagiarists, tabloid-journalists,badly written poetry,poorly written novels.....writers block.
But Life, on the other hand is frequently a different landscape,
altogether, a big terrain of heavily soiled tears.
disappointments, family feuds, emotional problems,
irrational and faulty logic,
thrown upon you,
like a fistful of sand.
then there are those persons,
who bully,cheat and lie.
Yes, as the saying goes, no one said life was easy.
or if they did, clearly they were mistaken or
simply full of shit.
no, life is a messy place.
A child's hand-prints on the door-frames,
dog-prints on the muddy kitchen floor,
lipstick on a collar,
a cat who shits outside its litter-box.
Changing an baby's dirty diaper.
house-training a puppy-dog.
Telling somebody you love them but...
you do not like living with them anymore?
How do you even do that?
I don't even know.
I passed the ball to my husband.
He is dreading the conversation he
must have with a family member later.
I would not want to bring the subject up my own self-
I'm chicken-little, I don't want to see the sky fall
down.
But Life is very messy.
if it wasn't
i doubt i would love, living half as much.
tired and wore out by Emily Sturgill
Tired and wore out, wore down,
exhausted both mentally and physically-
ill both mentally and physically.
Somethings just not right
i had another panic attack
last night.
the ones where i forget
the simplistic natural art
of breathing in and out.
gasping, groaning, doing
a freak out.
I'm not sure what triggered it??/
a little bit of nothingness-
a whole lot of everything.
Just really starting to feel,
the flip side of the coin
less than ideal.
the side with the sad face,
instead of a smiley happy face.
the sorrow i keep gathered
under my bed of feathers
sorrow breeds depression
while depression breeds discontent,
resulting into an
overabundance of frustrated tears.
I am just hoping,
and praying that /
this time will be different/
please do not let things
remain unhinged.
if they do,
i will surely break again,
right down the middle,
split in half.....
my bipolar skin-case
for all the world to see
to create a mockery
of me and my crazy-train
i rode in on.
but still lingers the sparse flower,
the reddest rose, itself contains
a glimmer of hope
for me to cling onto
yet beware the thorns.
yes, beware the thorns,
beware the thorns.
they are real,
and they make us bleed.
The wolf and red riding hood by Emily Sturgill reblogged off sexinthekitchensink@wordpress.com
What happens to the girl,
when she realizes its not grandma-in her bed,
its a wolf instead.
And his teeth are scary sharp and mean,
they glisten and gleam
with anger, rage, and heartache
verging
on a natural disaster.
What should the girl do,
should she trust the wolf with its
bright pretty eyes
and his lengthy explanation-
filled with nothing but lies?
"Baby, I won't hurt you."
"Baby lets work things out..."
"Baby, this marriage is worth saving."
"When i mentioned murder-suicide in a casual way-it was because i was only joking."
"You believe me right? Folks say stuff like that all the time but never mean it..."
Yeah, well...not so much.
That was when red riding hood spied
her grandmothers shiny bare bones
in their walk-in closet.
Never trust a wolf,
right there and then she decided.
A wolf is always lying.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Nervous Nelly
Nervous Nelly by Emily Sturgill
5/18/13
Nerves of steel,
turned to jelly-what has happened to me?
The Scattered Strung out Capital
Letter "S" fell
right off my chest.
Now I have become nothing more -
nor nothing less,
than a nervous nelly,
a girl put to a test.
I wonder why I bother,
to write such dribble-drabble,
that's likely as all sorts
of hell,
to get me into trouble.
I worried what people will think or feel,
when they read what I have written.
I question myself, my sanity, and my writer's ability...
So much, is just never thought out,
I'm a bit like the faucet,
that never finishes dripping out.
I dribble,dangle, words
into something reductive.
a subtraction of emotion,
a fraction of truth, and than
what else???
The "S" fell off my chest so very long ago...
I doubt it was ever really there.
Nobody's superhero-lately,
just another crazy-lady.
One who talks too much,
and shouts crap from the roof-tops,
and cobweb corners and such
a mumbling muttering crazy old hag.
A bag of flesh and bones,
drifting upon a sea of words,
best left unspoken,
but deep inside of me,
there lies,
an utter and angry bitch
and she does and says what-ever,
when-ever, she wants too,
not much I can do to rein her in,
my bipolar drugs/meds they help,
to a bit to calm her inner storms.
yet still deep within, she's an angry bad girl.
and I am a nervous nelly.
Writing down so many secrets from
my head.
What will people say? What will they think? And how will they feel?
Is it too personal to admit,
I do go crazy from time to time.
at least i don't live there anymore.
5/18/13
Nerves of steel,
turned to jelly-what has happened to me?
The Scattered Strung out Capital
Letter "S" fell
right off my chest.
Now I have become nothing more -
nor nothing less,
than a nervous nelly,
a girl put to a test.
I wonder why I bother,
to write such dribble-drabble,
that's likely as all sorts
of hell,
to get me into trouble.
I worried what people will think or feel,
when they read what I have written.
I question myself, my sanity, and my writer's ability...
So much, is just never thought out,
I'm a bit like the faucet,
that never finishes dripping out.
I dribble,dangle, words
into something reductive.
a subtraction of emotion,
a fraction of truth, and than
what else???
The "S" fell off my chest so very long ago...
I doubt it was ever really there.
Nobody's superhero-lately,
just another crazy-lady.
One who talks too much,
and shouts crap from the roof-tops,
and cobweb corners and such
a mumbling muttering crazy old hag.
A bag of flesh and bones,
drifting upon a sea of words,
best left unspoken,
but deep inside of me,
there lies,
an utter and angry bitch
and she does and says what-ever,
when-ever, she wants too,
not much I can do to rein her in,
my bipolar drugs/meds they help,
to a bit to calm her inner storms.
yet still deep within, she's an angry bad girl.
and I am a nervous nelly.
Writing down so many secrets from
my head.
What will people say? What will they think? And how will they feel?
Is it too personal to admit,
I do go crazy from time to time.
at least i don't live there anymore.
travel ticket
Travel Ticket-originally posted on wordpress.com, sex in the kitchen sink blog-earlier today.
Travel Ticket by Emily Sturgill
Travel Ticket by Emily Sturgill
Oh, the places, I will go,
just with a cup of hot, darken, black coffee,
and a single scratched up CD.
The music invokes memories.
Nothing specific, yet allows my mind the freedom-
to travel freely floating by,
on a chorus or a verse...
Time, is one thing I have plenty.
If my CD skips a beat, I just wait it out, nothing is sweating me.
The southern twang to a voice, a bluesy pitch, a melody-
something like a story-
somebody's singing crazy, good tunes, and I love
the honesty that lies in the land,
of The Blues.
A single song on repeat,
could transport me-anywhere-a story
or a fantasy or even a dream?
Pour yourself a cup of caffeine, grab a chair, and
put some music on-
come travel with me,
tickets to unknown destinations-
all paid for-
for free.
Free Promo, Artist e-book, one day only May 18, 2013 available from kindle
Hi,
If any of you downloaded my earlier version of Art before words, when it was free-around may 10-11th, 2013 and found that it did not meet your expectations, I am so sorry.However, I did make several revisions since then and now it seems to flow better.
In order to get this latest updated version for free today, please follow these steps. Log onto Amazon.com account. Click on the right hand side where you find the words "Manage my Kindle." Then select my book, "Art before words" and right click on the actions tab. There should be an option of delete this from library. I think if you make sure your kindle is on when you do that then this next step maybe unnecessary. Go to your kindle device and click on the three dots in the upper right corner, where you would click for sync and update new items. Instead of update- click on the remove option. Then it will show you a list-highlight Art before words-then click remove. It will tell you you will have to repurchase it to read it again-go ahead and delete. Then you can go to Amazon.com and re-download for free the revised copy, which is dated May 15, 2013. This is a link: http://www.amazon.com/Art-before-words-ebook/dp/B00CNDEO7W/ref=la_B00B1GC5LY_1_2_title_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1368882725&sr=1-2
If that is too much hassle. I totally understand. Amazon.com is going to be reviewing my newer content over the next 4 weeks or so. If they deem my changes to be significant and you downloaded the earlier version, then they might contact you on updating. Unfortunately, if you did already download it earlier, I do not think that they will let you download it again-unless you delete from library or wait to see what they decide regarding my changes.
If you have yet to download it-why not give it a try? If you do not own a kindle, a tablet, a IPAD. an IPHONE, or android reading device-you can always download for free, a kindle app for your PC. Just google the phrase,"Kindle App Free for PC " there should be an amazon.com link that is free and legit to download the kindle app. I believe that there maybe one for the Mac as well, but am uncertain? I own a plain old PC-(personal computer). This is mostly just an Artist picture book of artwork I have done mostly in the late 1990's- 2006. I did throw in a couple of things from 2012-13. Not much. Art Before Words is Volume One of a 2 part series, called "Art, Art, Art!!! Before Words." Volume 2 will eventually cover art from 2006-2013. I'm not too sure when that will be coming out but I will let everybody know.
Please feel free to leave comments or reviews on this book or any of my other books by visiting my Authors page at:
www.amazon.com/author/emilysturgill
You can also leave me comments right here. Thanks!-Emily
Ongoing Free E-book Promo: "Memoirs recalled Madness:a personal account of living with manic-depressive illness."
"Memoirs Recalled madness: a personal account of living with bipolar disorder." is a personal memoir I wrote dealing with living with over two decades of mental illness. I wanted to bring some awareness to this issue. It was very private and personal to me.
Here is a book description I wrote: "This is a personal account of the Author's own struggles during her lifetime of battling manic-depressive disorder over the course of over two decades. While she writes under her own name, the names of all other persons and parties have been altered. The details of her story are true to her own perspective. However, she realizes she sees the world through the colored lens which frame her mental illness. In other words, other persons may not recount the situation quite the same way. In order to protect these individuals privacy all such names have been altered. Places, are mostly omitted because she feels her story could occur in any-town/city/state/place in America."
I published it back in the end of March, 2013. It normally retails for $9.99 but right now through May 21, 2013 at 11:59pm you can download a free copy by going to this direct link here: http://www.amazon.com/Memoirs-Recalled-Madness-ebook/dp/B00C145EOU/ref=la_B00B1GC5LY_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1368903599&sr=1-3
My personal account is roughly 83 pages long, and does contain some old family photographs and such. The names in the entire book have all been changed save my own. It is a story true to me, yet I realize I look at the world through a lens view of my mental illness. Others may have held different memories of events. I am not attempting to slander, or upset any family or friends. Instead I just wanted to give a glimpse into what my life has been like living with a serious mental illness (or SMI.)Bubonic Cold
I'm sure I am being overly dramatic,
but my husband was sick all last week,
and now I definitely have gotten it too...
It feels like a plague... but it's merely a Bubonic Cold.
Now, I realize this is not the middle ages,
and I'm hardly at Death's door.
Yet I'm feeling hellish just the same.
All snot, all wore out,cannot care enough-
to peel myself out of my pj's.
My whole head feels like a massive implosion or explosion,
cannot decide which,
just feel horrible and sick.
ick, can you pass me another kleenex?
It does not matter actually-
I am mostly just congested,
since i took a 12 hour sudafed about 7 hours ago.
It's definitely some sort of bubonic head cold.
I have no appetite what so ever...just so hot then cold.
I have grand plans, in the scheme of things, to take a hot shower-
and then create a VAT of chicken soup-which I hope i drown in.
(not really just kidding. but cold's suck.)****damn-husband's home and insisting I try to eat real food not soup.
My husband is an excellent cook/chef/what-have-you...He is bbq-ing pork chops and making my favorite lipton mushroom rice, probably also have baked beans. (I still want soup.) But I cannot turn him down.
Friday, May 17, 2013
New one-day free-kindle promo
Starting tomorrow my latest book,"Art before words." Volume One will be free to download off Amazon.com's Kindle.This e-book is roughly 70 or so pages and contains mostly just my artwork, spanning from the mid-90's to 2006. There are paintings, both acrylic and oil, drawings, and some digital photography. I tried to release it as a free-promotion earlier-but then discovered that some of my formatting was a bit off for the kindle. I tried to iron out as much bugs as possible. The promo should start tonight at midnight.You can get it anytime between midnight may 18, 2013-11:59 pm May 18, 2013 by going to this link here: http://www.amazon.com/Art-before-words-ebook/dp/B00CNDEO7W/ref=la_B00B1GC5LY_1_2_title_1_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1368809821&sr=1-2
Head colds and kleenex
cloaked into,
a little chunk of sadness-
I cozy up inside my sweater.
Feeling sorta hazy,
in the midst of a fuzzy fever filled-
head cold.
So much, I wish to get done, today.
But I must rest up instead.
Curl up into my covers,
and try to simply relax.
Hate feeling a chill
deep inside, when
I reside in a warm room.
I see the sunshine-outside-
and I feel so cheated.
I am motionless
beside a cup of tea.
a little chunk of sadness-
I cozy up inside my sweater.
Feeling sorta hazy,
in the midst of a fuzzy fever filled-
head cold.
So much, I wish to get done, today.
But I must rest up instead.
Curl up into my covers,
and try to simply relax.
Hate feeling a chill
deep inside, when
I reside in a warm room.
I see the sunshine-outside-
and I feel so cheated.
I am motionless
beside a cup of tea.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Free Kindle Download-ebook of poetry and artwork.
My book called,"Butterfly-Rimmed Eyeglasses and the trouble with Tuesday." is available for a very limited time as a free kindle download.
It will only be available for free until tomorrow night Sunday May 5th, 2013 at 11:59 pm. It went into a free promotional period this morning and I forgot to announce it till right now.
If you have yet to get a copy, you can download one free by going to this link here:
http://www.amazon.com/Butterfly-eyeglasses-Trouble-Tuesday-ebook/dp/B00BMSC15G/ref=la_B00B1GC5LY_1_12?ie=UTF8&qid=1367698480&sr=1-12
Hopefully, if you do download it you will enjoy it.
And, if you do enjoy it, please consider submitting an Author review for it on my Authors page at Amazon.com. That page is at: www.amazon.com/author/emilysturgill.
It will only be available for free until tomorrow night Sunday May 5th, 2013 at 11:59 pm. It went into a free promotional period this morning and I forgot to announce it till right now.
If you have yet to get a copy, you can download one free by going to this link here:
http://www.amazon.com/Butterfly-eyeglasses-Trouble-Tuesday-ebook/dp/B00BMSC15G/ref=la_B00B1GC5LY_1_12?ie=UTF8&qid=1367698480&sr=1-12
And, if you do enjoy it, please consider submitting an Author review for it on my Authors page at Amazon.com. That page is at: www.amazon.com/author/emilysturgill.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Ongoing Free Kindle e-book promotion
My 8th poetry and artist chapbook is free to download off kindle right now , the promo ends this Friday April 27th, 2013 at 11:59 pm.
It is a chapbook containing both original watercolor paintings and photography. Also my original poetry. There are 3 poems featured in my book that were also posted on one or both of my blogs: "Word Sense", "Poetry" and "This heart is for the taking." All other poems have never before seen the light of day or cyberspace. To download your free copy go here: http://www.amazon.com/Once-I-was-Rain-ebook/dp/B00CFPWVUA/ref=la_B00B1GC5LY_1_9?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1366751251&sr=1-9
It is a chapbook containing both original watercolor paintings and photography. Also my original poetry. There are 3 poems featured in my book that were also posted on one or both of my blogs: "Word Sense", "Poetry" and "This heart is for the taking." All other poems have never before seen the light of day or cyberspace. To download your free copy go here: http://www.amazon.com/Once-I-was-Rain-ebook/dp/B00CFPWVUA/ref=la_B00B1GC5LY_1_9?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1366751251&sr=1-9
Friendship
Friendship-by Emily Sturgill for K.J.
Friendship
it's strange. When we first met,
many years ago,
I never thought we would be friends.
You were too sarcastic back then,
with a big chip on your shoulder almost,
as big and tall as yourself.
I could never have any "straight" conversations with you.
One of my best-friends was at least halfways in love with you.
Which made you forbidden fruit to me,
in my minds eye.
I would never chase a guy,
my girlfriend 'liked'
you were never interested in me,
that way anyhows...
I remember how pretty your long blonde hair,
was, and how deeply devastated i felt-
the one day you suddenly showed up at
our dinky high school with it all
cut off-cut short.
If i recall right,
you did it all by yourself.
lord, only knows why,
you were just an enigma to me.
a very weird and strange guy.
you probably always knew,
i had that awful huge crush on you.
i think you were nice enough,
to not point it out, and be callous
about it or mean, although you could have
been either.
I do not know why after
all these years, I still try contacting you from time to time.
it seems somehow, even after all those years,
of being apart
a friendship of sorts
still remained.
I'm not even sure why or how that happened?
But i am very glad to have a
friend like you.
i can always count on you just to shoot from the hip,
you are not one to sugarcoat nor lie or deceive,
you say whats on your mind,
you do not aim to please
you are honest, sincere, and genuine.
it's rare these days.
I have too few friends like you.
But then again you are an original,
nobody else comes close.
That's OK i think i could only handle
knowing
one person like you, if you were cloned that would
be unfortunately
one is enough.
two would be too many.
I'm really not sure when or how
we became friends, but i am glad for it.
it is nice to have somebody i
can count on if i need a friend.
thank you,
for being you.
(cliche and stupid,
but irregardless)
thank you.
Friendship
it's strange. When we first met,
many years ago,
I never thought we would be friends.
You were too sarcastic back then,
with a big chip on your shoulder almost,
as big and tall as yourself.
I could never have any "straight" conversations with you.
One of my best-friends was at least halfways in love with you.
Which made you forbidden fruit to me,
in my minds eye.
I would never chase a guy,
my girlfriend 'liked'
you were never interested in me,
that way anyhows...
I remember how pretty your long blonde hair,
was, and how deeply devastated i felt-
the one day you suddenly showed up at
our dinky high school with it all
cut off-cut short.
If i recall right,
you did it all by yourself.
lord, only knows why,
you were just an enigma to me.
a very weird and strange guy.
you probably always knew,
i had that awful huge crush on you.
i think you were nice enough,
to not point it out, and be callous
about it or mean, although you could have
been either.
I do not know why after
all these years, I still try contacting you from time to time.
it seems somehow, even after all those years,
of being apart
a friendship of sorts
still remained.
I'm not even sure why or how that happened?
But i am very glad to have a
friend like you.
i can always count on you just to shoot from the hip,
you are not one to sugarcoat nor lie or deceive,
you say whats on your mind,
you do not aim to please
you are honest, sincere, and genuine.
it's rare these days.
I have too few friends like you.
But then again you are an original,
nobody else comes close.
That's OK i think i could only handle
knowing
one person like you, if you were cloned that would
be unfortunately
one is enough.
two would be too many.
I'm really not sure when or how
we became friends, but i am glad for it.
it is nice to have somebody i
can count on if i need a friend.
thank you,
for being you.
(cliche and stupid,
but irregardless)
thank you.
Anger
A wall of Anger
surrounds the heavens,
it keeps the bad ones out,
with a sin and a shout.
A wall of Anger
surrounds me right,
this very minute...
and for the life of me;
i cannot say why.
mostly i am angry
at my self, this inner coil, this threaded
mechanical beast.
True, i am not nearly,
a machine, yet
i have been living on auto-pilot,
so damn long.
Just a cassette tape,
stuck on repeat,
the same periodic,
sad story, from many, many years ago.
if you make the same stupid choices,
over & over again,
and it always just blows up
in your fucking face?-then
why are you consistently repeating-
the same mistakes again and again,
yet expecting a different outcome.
it's the definition;
both of insanity and apparently stupidity.
help, help, help
somebody please
im stuck on a treadmill
and im going very fast
towards
nothing and nowhere again
right straight into
a huge concrete wall
6 ft high and 9 ft deep
of pure, raw , anger
as the world begins to sway
ever so slightly
beneath my feet.
surrounds the heavens,
it keeps the bad ones out,
with a sin and a shout.
A wall of Anger
surrounds me right,
this very minute...
and for the life of me;
i cannot say why.
mostly i am angry
at my self, this inner coil, this threaded
mechanical beast.
True, i am not nearly,
a machine, yet
i have been living on auto-pilot,
so damn long.
Just a cassette tape,
stuck on repeat,
the same periodic,
sad story, from many, many years ago.
if you make the same stupid choices,
over & over again,
and it always just blows up
in your fucking face?-then
why are you consistently repeating-
the same mistakes again and again,
yet expecting a different outcome.
it's the definition;
both of insanity and apparently stupidity.
help, help, help
somebody please
im stuck on a treadmill
and im going very fast
towards
nothing and nowhere again
right straight into
a huge concrete wall
6 ft high and 9 ft deep
of pure, raw , anger
as the world begins to sway
ever so slightly
beneath my feet.
a day like today by emily sturgill
a day like
today
makes me question,
so many things and well why not?
a day like today,
i wonder why i worship
at the alter of the DSM-IV.
I wonder why i take
a daily communion
not of wafers-
but of psychotropics-
to give my coat that nice, shiny, healthy
sane & stable glow.
Somedays, i do not want to believe,
that i am in fact clinically completely
utterly and ridiculously totally insane.
would you welcome insanity upon yourself?
Do you wanna trade lives for a while?
My soul lies in the gutter, legs splayed wide open,
just waiting for another
psychrachist to fuck me.
Not in a happy mood, lately.
well, by lately, i clearly really mean,
just today, yesterday i was fine,
i saw my priest-therapist-psychrachist-whatever.
yesterday, i still believed.
today, i am struggling,
with a flu and a bad case of the have nots.
I feel like I do not have
a mental illness.
I feel like i do not have,
Endometriosis,
i feel like i am fed up with all,
the fucking labels and diagnosis.
Today i feel like telling
the whole damned world,
to just go away and leave me,
the fuck alone.
Leave me alone from all the post-it labels;
stuck frantic upon my supposed of "manic" back.
Just everyone go ahead and fuck off for a while.
I'm sick of the same inane game,
i've played for over 20 years now.
because it's a game, i never can "win" at-
i feel as though i am under attack-
from all sides now.
I'm getting tired of feeling,
as though, im a head-case,
or so fragile, made of glass,
i will break and splinter all over
the damned place.
make a mess-
clean it up-
then the cycle restarts anew.
Sometimes, i feel like,
I am just "sick" because that's
all the world expects from me.
Another hysterical woman,
a patient of Sigmund Freud,
lie me down on an analytic couch,
take me temperature, pat my head and pass me
a huge ornate vibrator,
because that's just where it all started.
and things still stand
that way on a day,
like today.
today
makes me question,
so many things and well why not?
a day like today,
i wonder why i worship
at the alter of the DSM-IV.
I wonder why i take
a daily communion
not of wafers-
but of psychotropics-
to give my coat that nice, shiny, healthy
sane & stable glow.
Somedays, i do not want to believe,
that i am in fact clinically completely
utterly and ridiculously totally insane.
would you welcome insanity upon yourself?
Do you wanna trade lives for a while?
My soul lies in the gutter, legs splayed wide open,
just waiting for another
psychrachist to fuck me.
Not in a happy mood, lately.
well, by lately, i clearly really mean,
just today, yesterday i was fine,
i saw my priest-therapist-psychrachist-whatever.
yesterday, i still believed.
today, i am struggling,
with a flu and a bad case of the have nots.
I feel like I do not have
a mental illness.
I feel like i do not have,
Endometriosis,
i feel like i am fed up with all,
the fucking labels and diagnosis.
Today i feel like telling
the whole damned world,
to just go away and leave me,
the fuck alone.
Leave me alone from all the post-it labels;
stuck frantic upon my supposed of "manic" back.
Just everyone go ahead and fuck off for a while.
I'm sick of the same inane game,
i've played for over 20 years now.
because it's a game, i never can "win" at-
i feel as though i am under attack-
from all sides now.
I'm getting tired of feeling,
as though, im a head-case,
or so fragile, made of glass,
i will break and splinter all over
the damned place.
make a mess-
clean it up-
then the cycle restarts anew.
Sometimes, i feel like,
I am just "sick" because that's
all the world expects from me.
Another hysterical woman,
a patient of Sigmund Freud,
lie me down on an analytic couch,
take me temperature, pat my head and pass me
a huge ornate vibrator,
because that's just where it all started.
and things still stand
that way on a day,
like today.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Moody Men
Moody Men,
are by far the worst kind-
to love, to deal with and to understand.
Even better, if you are married to one.
But i cannot complain too much-
I myself suffer from a major mood disorder.
I'm pretty certain, my moods are way worse,
than his even on a bad day,
no contest
i win the nutcase race.
however, it does not make,
it any more easier,
when your dealing
with the strong silent type.
He was all smiles earlier today.
Tonight he seemed slightly,
devastated, by one thing or another.
I didn't ask.
he didn't tell.
I know from previous experience-
trying to get him to open up,
is like prying up
an oyster shell with a plastic spoon.
it's simply not gonna happen,
and i cannot get him open-
his secrets are nailed shut and
my woman's intuition is
supposedly like my "spider sense"
all tingling,
as his wife-?I'm just expected,
to know, whats wrong
and whats gonna on,
like I'm some cutie with super
clairvoyance, some damned gypsy,
with amazing telepathy.
Like as a wife, i'm just supposed to know,
or ask? Or guess?
but i have played his game of 20 questions,
long enough to know better.
asking just makes him mad, but not asking makes him,
sad or even madder, what the hell to do?
He may have just been overly tired.
Maybe nothings the matter.
He always says i smoke too much-
it could be that.
often it is...still.
Moody men,
are so hard to handle.
Even harder to console,
how do you comfort an oyster,
hiding a pearl beneath a secret,
a secret called "feelings"
and how do you crack
apart an oyster,
with only a plastic spoon?
I'm being quite serious.
I did not marry an ape or some sort
of baboon.I married this quite
complex, very sensitive male,
who hides his feelings very well
beneath his skin-
yet i can tell by the look on his face,
something is totally amiss-
i can tell also by how he left me,
without my goodbye kiss.
are by far the worst kind-
to love, to deal with and to understand.
Even better, if you are married to one.
But i cannot complain too much-
I myself suffer from a major mood disorder.
I'm pretty certain, my moods are way worse,
than his even on a bad day,
no contest
i win the nutcase race.
however, it does not make,
it any more easier,
when your dealing
with the strong silent type.
He was all smiles earlier today.
Tonight he seemed slightly,
devastated, by one thing or another.
I didn't ask.
he didn't tell.
I know from previous experience-
trying to get him to open up,
is like prying up
an oyster shell with a plastic spoon.
it's simply not gonna happen,
and i cannot get him open-
his secrets are nailed shut and
my woman's intuition is
supposedly like my "spider sense"
all tingling,
as his wife-?I'm just expected,
to know, whats wrong
and whats gonna on,
like I'm some cutie with super
clairvoyance, some damned gypsy,
with amazing telepathy.
Like as a wife, i'm just supposed to know,
or ask? Or guess?
but i have played his game of 20 questions,
long enough to know better.
asking just makes him mad, but not asking makes him,
sad or even madder, what the hell to do?
He may have just been overly tired.
Maybe nothings the matter.
He always says i smoke too much-
it could be that.
often it is...still.
Moody men,
are so hard to handle.
Even harder to console,
how do you comfort an oyster,
hiding a pearl beneath a secret,
a secret called "feelings"
and how do you crack
apart an oyster,
with only a plastic spoon?
I'm being quite serious.
I did not marry an ape or some sort
of baboon.I married this quite
complex, very sensitive male,
who hides his feelings very well
beneath his skin-
yet i can tell by the look on his face,
something is totally amiss-
i can tell also by how he left me,
without my goodbye kiss.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Book Spine poem #2
for colored girls who have considered suicide/ when the rainbow is enuf,
When you eat at the refrigerator pull up a chair,
No more masks,
poemcrazy,
Color me Beautiful and other poems about life, love and dreams,
Ancient Spellcraft,
The right to write,
Mythology Greek and (used),
Finding your bipolar Muse,
The Midnight disease,
The Artist's Way,
Ask and it is given,
poetic medicine
When you eat at the refrigerator pull up a chair,
No more masks,
poemcrazy,
Color me Beautiful and other poems about life, love and dreams,
Ancient Spellcraft,
The right to write,
Mythology Greek and (used),
Finding your bipolar Muse,
The Midnight disease,
The Artist's Way,
Ask and it is given,
poetic medicine
Book spine poetry #1
When you eat at the Refrigerator, pull up a chair;
Overcoming Overeating,
for colored girls who have considered suicide/ when the rainbow is enuf, , poemcrazy, Color me Beautiful and other poems about life, love and dreams.
Ancient Spellcraft, (and)
The right to write,
Mythology Greek and (used),
Finding your bipolar Muse,
The Midnight disease,
The Artist's Way,
Ask and it is given,
poetic medicine.
Overcoming Overeating,
for colored girls who have considered suicide/ when the rainbow is enuf, , poemcrazy, Color me Beautiful and other poems about life, love and dreams.
Ancient Spellcraft, (and)
The right to write,
Mythology Greek and (used),
Finding your bipolar Muse,
The Midnight disease,
The Artist's Way,
Ask and it is given,
Once, I was the Rain: Poetry and Artwork by Emily Sturgill 2013
Once, I was the Rain: poetry and Artwork from Emily Sturgill
Now Available as a 8.5 x 11 paperback book.
It is 48 pages long and features white pages with colored images. It costs just $11.99 and can be ordered directly from createspace at this link here: https://www.createspace.com/4252763
It is 48 pages long and features white pages with colored images. It costs just $11.99 and can be ordered directly from createspace at this link here: https://www.createspace.com/4252763
Friday, April 19, 2013
Midnight night noise
Night sounds,
as it is past 12:00 AM, and clearly
time for my bed.
but instead i listen softly,
to the man i love breathing even in harmony-
with a natural peaceful state of sleep.
Sometimes he snores.
this is natural too-a thing which once annoyed me-
yet now i've grown accustom too.
It's reassuring-if he's snoring,
definitely for sure then,
I know he has not stopped breathing.
my light tapping on my laptop-keys,
have awoken the mighty
husband beast, from the depths
of where he sleeps.
So yeah, I will probably have
to ends these words soon,
or hear another lecture,
on my manic-depressive nature,
and all doom and gloom.
in general, i do try
to keep a normal bedtime.
it's normally midnight for me.
And, if i stay up a little later?
Hubby does not like it too much.
He does not approve of me
pulling another crazy pitstop,
just motions away
from the landscape
where my manias
come out and play.
Night Sounds.
Midnight Night Noise.
Right before I fall
into a dream-filled sleep,
of hazy things I will be unable
to recall in the Morning.
as it is past 12:00 AM, and clearly
time for my bed.
but instead i listen softly,
to the man i love breathing even in harmony-
with a natural peaceful state of sleep.
Sometimes he snores.
this is natural too-a thing which once annoyed me-
yet now i've grown accustom too.
It's reassuring-if he's snoring,
definitely for sure then,
I know he has not stopped breathing.
my light tapping on my laptop-keys,
have awoken the mighty
husband beast, from the depths
of where he sleeps.
So yeah, I will probably have
to ends these words soon,
or hear another lecture,
on my manic-depressive nature,
and all doom and gloom.
in general, i do try
to keep a normal bedtime.
it's normally midnight for me.
And, if i stay up a little later?
Hubby does not like it too much.
He does not approve of me
pulling another crazy pitstop,
just motions away
from the landscape
where my manias
come out and play.
Night Sounds.
Midnight Night Noise.
Right before I fall
into a dream-filled sleep,
of hazy things I will be unable
to recall in the Morning.
Once I was the Rain. is now available for sale on Amazon.com/kindlestore/
This link will take you directly to my new book, "Once,I was the Rain." now available for sale on Amazon.com's kindle store:http://www.amazon.com/Once-I-was-Rain-ebook/dp/B00CFPWVUA/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1366419444&sr=1-3
I decided to have the free-promotional period right away, so starting on this coming Monday April 22,2013, which is Earth-day, this new work will be free to download using the link above for 5 entire days straight in a row. That's right folks, you can download a copy of this lovely little 48 page poetry and artist chapbook completely free with no strings attached, at anytime between 4/22-4/27/13.
All I ask, in return, if you do download it, and even "enjoy" it, will you consider writing me a book review on Amazon.com? You can do this by visiting my Authors page at www.amazon.com/author/emilysturgill and just clicking on this books link after you have already downloaded it and hopefully-read it-onto your kindle. Sometimes Amazon.com will email you begging for reviews of kindle e-books. Please do not mark those emails as trash or spam. Writing a positive review for a relatively newly self-published Author, is liking doing a good deed. Karma will smile down on you. Good reviews help sway readers who are on the fence about investing in a e-book. Good Reviews help Authors sell more books and Authors can/may NOT review their own work-this violates amazon.com/kindle policies. Reviews are easily written, Amazon uses a simple 5 star scale. You rate the work, how many stars you feel justified then write a small paragraph on your thoughts about the e-book or printed book or MP3 or anything else in the world you use Amazon.com to shop for.
Thank you, for reading my new blog. I will try to write more frequently in it, during the next few weeks.
Upcoming New Release: Once, I was the Rain: poetry and art by Emily Sturgill
http://sexinthekitchensink.wordpress.com/2013/04/19/upcoming-new-release-new-art-and-poetry-chapbook/
Upcoming New release:
Once, I was the Rain.: Poetry and Artwork
Authored by Emily H Sturgill
Kindle version:$6.99
List Price: $11.99 paperback version
8.5" x 11" (21.59 x 27.94 cm)
Full Color on White paper
48 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1484165959 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1484165950
BISAC: Poetry / American / General
This is a collection of poetry and artwork. It is roughly 48 pages in length. It is all original poems and artwork by Emily H. Sturgill. This is her 9th publication since joining the kindle family in jan 2013. The poetry centers around themes such as Nature, Animals, People, Love and Music. There is even a small entry concerning the recent Boston Marathon Bombings on Monday April 15, 2013.May all who suffered needlessly find peace and serenity as Earth Day approaches.Let us be reminded that the Earth does not belong to us: We are part of the Earth.
Upcoming New release:Authored by Emily H Sturgill
Kindle version:$6.99
List Price: $11.99 paperback version
8.5" x 11" (21.59 x 27.94 cm)
Full Color on White paper
48 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1484165959 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1484165950
BISAC: Poetry / American / General
This is a collection of poetry and artwork. It is roughly 48 pages in length. It is all original poems and artwork by Emily H. Sturgill. This is her 9th publication since joining the kindle family in jan 2013. The poetry centers around themes such as Nature, Animals, People, Love and Music. There is even a small entry concerning the recent Boston Marathon Bombings on Monday April 15, 2013.May all who suffered needlessly find peace and serenity as Earth Day approaches.Let us be reminded that the Earth does not belong to us: We are part of the Earth.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
If shiba Inus could speak
He has all the wisdom inside him,
of a dog 11 years old-77 in dog years.
Of course we assume, he has in fact
bilingualism, being that his breed
hails from Japan.
Yet we raised him in English,
teaching him to sit,stay and give paw.
Even up until this day, his stubbornness, overcomes any
ability to come when called,
If I were to write him words,
what would he say to us after all these years?
Probably this:
Please come out and play, I have
had a hard day
of watch-dogging your house,
while you were away.
Let's go on another walk, or if you wish,
you can leave me here to sunbath and twist
into the rays of sun which hit the back porch.
If you do not mind, I could use a belly rub.
I am the leader of this pack,
and they are a motley crew, it's tough
to keep the other two
dogs in line-not to mention those damn cats.
My job is not easy. I am ever on vigil, always on guard.
When you let me out near bedtime,
I will sit there and howl.
Howling at the shadows and the sounds
the noisy neighbors make.
I love my pack and family
very much. I am loyal almost to
a flaw. Once I swear alliance to you,
then that's forever.
I will be your ever loyal Shiba Inu.
I will go out of my way for you,
all I ask of you,
is that you love me too.
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