The mythology behind being female

The Mythology behind being female:

Emily Sturgill

Thursday, March 26, 2015

The Mythology behind being female:

We are taught from the time

we are very little that what matters most

is how you look on the outside

not how you really feel.

Are you pretty enough?

No, well then we have lots of stuff

let’s add some eyeliner, lipstick and a bit of blush.

Do not dress like a tomboy or wear your sweatpants

outside the house.

Do not forget to paste a smile and pretend it’s all better

because all those teardrops darling

will turn to rust

because it’s the outside the matters most

it’s the pastel shingles on your exterior house

do not show them your true colors

don’t display fear like a mouse

don’t throw tantrums like children do

it’s unbecoming beneath the beauty

of you.

The Mythology behind being female:

Do not forget to paste a smile and pretend it’s all better

because all those teardrops darling

will turn to rust.

The mythology of being female

suggests a magical facade, and a white picket fence.

Girls should never get angry, defensive or dirty.

Girls should always play nice.

But sometimes the wildness in me

unleashes a feminist and I feel

like my exterior has cracks, my mascara runs, I get angry

I cry easily, I put on those ugly sweatpants

and I refuse to act lady like.

I embrace all my curves, the ones I was “taught”

are called ugly or fat.

The Mythology behind being female:

Sometimes despite the Mythology of being Female

I get annoyed, I get outraged, and I fight back.

against all the stereotypes that say

I should always put others first.

I should always play nice.

I should look pretty

and put a smile of my face.

because sometimes even when

I am trying to blend in

even when I am attempting to be

the ideal perfect version of me?

sometimes I just do not care at all.

 

Do not forget to paste a smile and pretend it’s all better

because all those teardrops darling

will turn to rust, then what comes next?

Nobody likes hanging out with a hurricane.

Nobody enjoys an un-lady like version

of crass, profane, selfish, uncompassionate

messy looking, emotional lunacy

a loud version of profanity

and ultimately a vulgar shadow

of a hysterical woman

this collides with the Mythology of being

female.

 

Warning: Graphic images illegal street drug useage in house cat.

Dia De Los Muertos~(Day of the Dead)

Dia De Los Muertos

This is one of my favorite holidays

A day to remember,

ancestors passed-the passage of time & the journey

back.

I never learned of this holiday until

after I lost someone I loved

to the great beyond.

And, more have passed on since.

The whole idea of celebrating both Life

and Death, to recall the wonderful

memories, moments and personalities

of someone you loved,

and to honor them

with personal mementos, gifts -a alter

or shrine of the things they once enjoyed.

The entire concept is so amazing

and mystifying to me.

On this day, I often remember,

my mother, my husband’s father, my grandmother

and others I ‘ve lost

ashes to dust.

Strangely enough, I am happy on this day.

Because I try to celebrate the memories

and be thankful with much grace

that I had these wonderful Souls

touch my Life.

In Darkness there is Death,

But also we must remember, in Darkness there is also always light.

Happy Dia De Los Muertos.

Blessings and Peace for all Souls,

lost or otherwise, beneath us just out of reach.

my mom

my mom

Snapshot_20141101My Day of the Dead Tattoo-which I designed myself, back in 2006.

Red Blood Moon

Red Blood Moon

full until

it becomes

eclipsed into the

Dawn’s morning light.

the light eats away

the darkness of the night.

It ushers in the morning with

secrets beyond our sight.

As the blood red moon

controls the oceans tides

and deep inside our own

liquified minds.

The tug and the pull

until after when

the moon sheds its thick

skin and sneaks

quietly away

vanishes without a whisper

without a word

this theif of our night

is never heard.

Felt yes, but heard never.

She creeps silently away

as her cloak turns the pages

of a beautiful new day.

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.

The Clock

The Clock-5/16/14
Emily Sturgill

The hum of the fan
the tick-tock of the
hand

as minutes fly by,
into hours
in the blink
of an eye.

then the entire world,
it floats
it floats on by…

The hum hum hum
of the fan
and
the tick-tick-tick
of the clock.

minutes feel like
a life-time
ago.

just try to tune
into the quiet
though,

before it passes
you by.

Help Wanted: Poets please apply…

I am just tumbling the idea of a collection of poetry of some of my own poems, but also publishing some poetry of some of my http://www.wordpress.com friends. I am unsure of how to go about doing such an anthology? Especially as far as earning any profits…To be fair, I am not looking to cash in on anybody elses’s talents. Instead I like the idea of several of us poets coming together and creating a self published anthology of poetry MORE for self-expression and Self-exposure, publicity if you will….It’s just an idea in the rough.

But I am thinking maybe X amount of poets & 3 poems each + a short auto-bio of each poet and links to other published works or links to poets blog or website…

If this idea appeals to anybody please send me a sample poem and an email introduction to:
sexinthekitchensex@hotmail.com

If I edited this type of book for kindle I would probably price it very low like .99 cents for the ebook.
I’m not too sure if this even interests anybody? But I know some of the poets i follow here have yet to be published. Perhaps being included in an anthology would give them the well needed push to self publish their own stuff.

My proposals is simple-email me a single poem and the first 20 poet’s poems I receive will be asked to be part of this collection. Deadline is whenever I receive 20 entry emails or let’s say the Summer Solstice June 21st Midnight EST. If you are selected-via-I receive 20 poems-I will email those poets ASAP and you will need to submit just 2 more poems and a short auto-bio poet statement.

Well then, let see if there are any fishes biting? Let the Games begin!!

New Release Finally Available….Artist Chapbook!

My final and second Volume of My Artist Chapbook has just been released on the kindle today.
It is part of the “Art, Art, Art!!! Before Words.” Series, it is the second and final Volume.
To purchase a kindle copy please go here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00J1QNLYQ

It should also be available as a paperback, soon, I expect in the next few days.

The journey towards forgiveness

I do not usually post blog-style confesionals. I’m much more of a poet, than anything else. In fact in addition to my poetry online, I have been keeping multiple journals at home and handwritten. One is more private confessional journal type enteries and the other is mostly poems, ideas, and sometimes tarot readings I give myself or lists of things to do or lists of music playlists.

HERE…is mostly just where I share poems, unless I am all fired up. Today, I am all fired up and I think its vital to share because it might help others to move forward.

I am all fired up about the notion of forgiveness. In theory, I do believe it is better to forgive even if not forget or forgive ANd forget-whatever works best for you. But in practice I find this to be a slippery slope. i struggle very much on how to forgive, when to forgive and how to let go. Honestly, I hold horrible grudges. And they are horrible in truth because mostly they only serve to hurt me-myself-nobody else.

All that angry righteous high horse b.s. I desperately hold onto-a sense of who iswrong and who is right? Honestly, it does not serve me much any longer-in fact it wears me down, makes me feel guilty and mad, like an angry hornet shook lose from its nest.

so today, I was with my hubby and we were at the bookstore out of nowhere i spotted like the ideal book and he bought it for me with a couple other items. This book is called, “The forgiveness formula: how to let go of your pain and move on with Life.” It was on sale at barnes and nobles-only$6.98-hardcover-by author Kathleen Griffin. @2004.

I am only on pg 16 so far but this book is exactly what i needed to hear at this time. i am in fact blown away.I am just writing about this because forgiveness can be ajourney-a pathwy-towards feeling lighter-less burdened. And in my heart, i realize it is not an easy thing to forgive. That more folks than just myself struggle with it. Holding onto the past so tightly it only distorts your vision of the present moment and it poisons the well of your future happiness. This seems true to me.

Someday I really hope I can learn to forgive, hopefully sooner than later because all this angry i hold deep down inside-it only strangles me-making it harder to breathe making it harder to reign into my sanity. I realize i am not the only sufferer out there but by refusing to allow forgiveness its like picking a scab, bruised and bleeding-the wound will not heal. I know I will not heal either. By the way, I highly reccommend her book-so far its very good.

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.