Surreal down to my stomach by Emily H. Sturgill

Surreal down to my stomach by Emily H. Sturgill 4/4/15

(All rights reserved-but can be re-posted as long as you credit myself & my blog- All Artwork & Images also by Emily Sturgill.

)Camera madala13 madala12

Surreal down to my Stomach

Swallowing coffee along with

my vowels, consonants, poetry

vomiting here and there

words on my pages

endlessly.

Surreal down to my toes

Eating fairy tales at breakfast

munching on the crunchy

internet with its crisp edges

and social networking sites

I eat them whole

with a gulp

but my eyes are too big

for my stomach.

tossing up cookies

throwing up twitter

puking up facebook

hoping to feel better.

Surreal down to my bones.

my bowels do not work

right or I would be

shitting out sentences

pissing out punctuation

defecating out imperfections.

But I cannot. Even sit straight.

I am nailed to my bed.

Attached to a couple of heating pads

choking on endometriosis

and puking out the Sun.

Surreal moments.

Time passes me by.

Always this cramping, constant feeling of unwellness.

Endometriosis has shattered my heart-beat

into two rhythms.

into two pumps of poetic pulsing

rapid flowing & cursing

pumps of blood.

Surreal down to my Skin.

Surreal down to my Stomach.

Surreal down to my toes.

Surreal down deeply-

surreal down to my bones.

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Ode to Red

Ode to Red-

the color of passion
the color of heat
the color of paint on my
bedroom walls.

the color of Apples
the color of lipstick
the color of pain.

the color of new womanhood
the color of nail polish
the color of the fastest car
on the block.

Red is the color
of Anger
of Vanity
of Love
of Lust
of Sex

and all the rest.
love

Red is
the color of a new day
beginning to dawning.

Red is the color
of rubies
of jewels
of revenge
of Power

of kissing

but most of all,
Red is the color of
my beating heart
whenever it is missing
You.

Red is the color of Birth.
and Red is:

the color of passion
the color of heat
the color of paint on my
bedroom walls.

the color of Apples
the color of lipstick
the color of pain.

the color of new womanhood
the color of nail polish
the color of the fastest car
on the block.

but most of all,
Red is the color of
my beating heart
whenever it is missing
You.

Red is the color of Birth.
Each day that we awaken,
we are born anew.
we are struggling
with only
the re-birthing process

like caterpillar to butterfly
Each day we change and become
something re-born, something mighty, something
as large and lonely
as Hope.

Each day we shed our sins
we shed our snakeskins
and begin again with the coming
Dawn

and the color Red.

but most of all,
Red is the color of
my beating heart
whenever it is missing
You.

All in a name

My name is She who,
walks with animals

and talks like a hyena laughing-
non stop fast paced flutter.

My other name is Girl Trapped beneath mirror.
She seems backwards and semi-self-conscious
this shadow like a plus size diva.

My secret name is spoken best in
murmurs and whispers
as I make it up as I go along,

flying by the seat of my pants.

My last name is merely Poet.
A common and often forgotten word,
once it carried so much weight
but now its barely to be heard…
Poet,Poet,Poet

She who walks with animals, and Girl Trapped beneath mirror
are both one and the same, then there lies a secret name always changing and evolving never to remind the same
my last name is common enough, Poet. There that is everything about me you will ever need to know,
oh that plus the small imperfect fact that sometimes , some days, I am nearly insane.

The Reaping of the Poem-hunter

The reaping of the poem-hunter.

I reap them, I sow the fields, I plow
my minds eye
just in time
to gather together
another
string of words
loosely tied together
into a verse
of poetry.

I reap them, I sow the fields, I re-hearse
in my journal
the pickings are slim
and fare between

greedy fingers, I savor the best ones, for
the pickings later
so I can tuck away
a poem a day
to put into

another collection of printed
verse. The raw, runny, dull stuff
I plant onto cyberspace
like seeds of flowers
hoping that perhaps

the smallest might
grow
some sort of potential
like a diamond in the rough.

I reap them, I sow the fields, I re-hearse
in my journal
the pickings are slim
and fare between.

greedy fingers, I savor the best ones, for
the pickings later
so I can tuck away
a poem a day
to put into a big Jar above my head.

I reap them, I sow the fields, I plow
my minds eye
just in time
to gather together
another
string of words
loosely tied together
into a verse
of poetry.

As a poem hunter I collect
verbs, simple nouns, similes
and metaphors-gather them together
like loosely filled twine
trying to thread the ever-searching needle,
for the perfect rhyme.

Poetry Anthology Project 2014

https://sexinthekitchensink.wordpress.com/2014/05/06/help-wanted-poets-please-apply/

I am seeking poets to join in a Poetry Anthology Project. This project is open to all and any poets. So far I had gotten 3 entries. I prefer if you enter via email. Please email me one single poem at sexinthekitchensink@hotmail.com If that address does not work please send it to my gmail at : holisticartworks@gmail.com. The idea is simple. Once I receive 20 poems, I will notify everybody. The first 20 poets who send a poem are accepted no questions asked.

The purpose of asking for only one poem, is merely to show intent that yes you are a poet and yes you want to be part of this anthology. Next after I get 20 poems or the deadline of June 21, 2014 happens-whichever comes first-next is stage two. I will then ask all the poets to send in two more poems each and a short auto-bio statement including links to published works or blogs or websites.

The purpose of this anthology is two-fold: 1. To display a very diverse amount of poets
2. To give poets publicity especially if they have never been published so far.

Because I am also a poet and an art therapist, I am very broad minded when it comes to poetry. I do not anticipate rejecting anybody-as long as you are in the first 20-and I am not judging any other poets work as good or bad or anything like that.I will also entry myself but only using the same guidelines I’m giving you guys-3 poems total-1 short auto-bio statement* try to keep bio statement to one page please. That way its fair to everybody else too.

As an Editor of this collection-primarily my only real concern is misspelled words.I will change those if I find them but that’s all. Also I am going to change everybody’s font to 12 point times New Roman. That’s really about it. I think with poetry people use grammar creatively-so I don’t wish to edit that. I don’t really have any rules regarding length of types of poems. I really just want to give new poets-or old poets-a place to shine.

I encourage any one to enter. So far, I only have 3 entries but four other poets have said maybe. I am hoping for 20 because I really want to publish it on kindle and Createspace.
The kindle version I would like to keep low like 99 cents. I’m really not trying to make money off other poets-what I want to do is help poets see their work get published and perhaps to encourage them to self-publish on their own.

Please email or comment below if you have any questions-thank you-
Emily Sturgill
A.K.A. Sex in the kitchen sink.

Tip-toe through the daisies

It’s cold here.

So then, I close my eyes

and I imagine things.

I imagine that I

can tip-toe through the daisies

which lie buried under deep snow

I imagine them bloom, and-

then I imagine them grow

into a sea

of devastation

a sea of utter raw beauty-

you would agree,

if you could just, only close your eyes

and tip-toe through the daisies-

C’mon old man winter,

I am ready for you to stop following me.

I am ready for a sea full of daisies

and the beauty they may bring

a rarity called

Spring.

Kindle FREE promo days: going on RIGHT NOW!

http://www.amazon.com/Once-was-Rain-Emily-Sturgill-ebook/dp/B00CFPWVUA/ref=la_B00B1GC5LY_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1392390642&sr=1-5

possible coverart1 copy “Once I was the Rain.” is currently on FREE kindle promotional download now until 2/16/14. Get your free copy by clicking on the link above.

Also my 4th Edition and re-release on my personal memoirs,”Memoirs recalled madness: a personal account of living with manic depressive illness is also currently on FREE KINDLE download also until 2/16/14.

new coverart memoirs recalled Madness noTo get your FREE copy go to this link here: http://www.amazon.com/Memoirs-Recalled-Madness-personal-depressive-ebook/dp/B00C145EOU/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1392391027&sr=1-1

 

Something new…

I made some artwork after writing last nights poem called “Landslide.”

CAM00335  I am also working on another visual journal.CAM00340 CAM00337This a picture of the cover-although the lighting was bad. The words say”Make more art.”

I’m uncertain if I can keep the inspiration rolling today. It often comes out in waves or shoots out like mini bolts of lightening. My Muse is often not all there-she is transparent like scotch tape almost invisible-but yet again she appears. I would love to throw together a new book of artwork and poetry-another chapbook. The holidays are keeping me busy, as well as my Good Reads Giveaways. I have my last giveaways of december to mail out tomorrow. Congrats to the 6 winners! Hopefully the books will get to you soon.

I also have a couple art therapy workshops scheduled for the second week in Jan. I will post about those soon. In the meantime, I am going to try to make more art and maybe more poetry….if i can catch up with my Muse and grab her by the hair or the tail! LOL. Creativity is such a mystery. Sometimes it comes very easily other times it is very late to the party or does not show up at all…we shall see!!

Soul-compass

To believe

in somethings in which others,

do not-takes Faith, Courage & Hope.

 

To believe

in the abstract, in the philosophical notions,

of Truth, Charity, Virtue and pure agape Love-

for man, women, child or beast-

 

To have this forlorn belief that

your actions really do matter.

To have the certainty,

that above all else

you must honor others

as much as you honor yourself–

in some cases, perhaps, even more.

 

To live with the knowledge,

that you are more than:

a mere breathing machine,

taking up space & air.

 

But instead something greater,

a part of the cosmos,

a part of Humanity,

a part of shared History.

 

That whether you accept it or not,

you are part of the

endless sea from here to eternity.

 

You are something greater,

someone with a beating heart,

and a wondrous, wandering Soul.

 

If you trust your instincts, your heartbeats,

your wandering Soul,

it will lead the way-

it will show you the compassion

along a compass-

 

of the right or wrong way,

in which to go.

 

 

Today’s a much brighter Sunny day:

Today’s a much brighter Sunny Day,

perhaps not on the outside,

but on my insides-which is more vital-it’s where,

the flowers of my soul grow.

It’s where the soil is rich, deep dark yet tender.

Like firm dark chocolate.

The roots start to twist & tangle,

as they release and begin to feed and grow,

deep inside my soul.

Today’s a much brighter Sunny day.

Perhaps not on the outside,

but on my insides which is much more vital-more alive-more urgent.

Very importantly, the insides are sunny-

from there Hope begins to grow,

building up to a Good Mood- a peaceful day.

Last night WE-my husband & I-

both somehow “earned” or “achieved” or “mastered”,

more sleep.

We both woke up happy & and in Love still.

It was very nice-to awaken to so much happiness.

Hope makes the flowers of my soul grow-

what do you plant deep beneath a wall of sleep?

What do you carry deep inside you?

Where do you hide your secrets?

Where do you keep your dreams?

Do they ever come true for you?

Mine do.

Today’s a much brighter Sunny Day.