Upcoming Sale on Kindle Starts Tomorrow…Lavender Surprise

Starting tomorrow at 8:00 AM PST, my kindle e-book “Lavender Surprise.” will go on sale being reduced from it’s original price to a mere 99 cents.This is a direct link:http://www.amazon.com/Lavender-Surprise-Emily-Sturgill-ebook/dp/B00BT4QBDG/ref=la_B00B1GC5LY_1_11_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1384630698&sr=1-1

Lavender Surprise
A chapbook containing both poetry and artwork by the Poet/Artist/Author. The poems are in a vein of surrealistic poetry. There is both color and black and white artworks. It is roughly 35 pages long. It is the Author’s seventh chapbook this year. (2013)

Beneath the Depths

Beneath the depths by Emily H. sturgill

written on sunday 11/10/13

Beneath the Depths-

off the deep end, the depth,

of a Dog.

a Jaded wish, golden green

emblazed,

with another:

Detroit Depression.

Staring, down the barrel of

Trust, as a Daydream.

Drawing Pictures of Picasso’s Peace-Motion.

Cover me in Oceans,

as the birds form,

my Sister’s Staircase.

Covered in sea-shells and glistening

in Sands.

She escaped Michigan,

for the Sunrise of Florida,

and the promises of Eternal

Sun-filled Days.

Here in Michigan,

I will stay, staring down,

another Detroit Daydream.

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New Facebook page for Sex in the kitchen Sink

https://www.facebook.com/sexinthekitchensink13?ref=hl

Follow me on facebook please!Picture 149 Warming up with color abstract 2 Fall 2013 Spirals of Song and other poems book cover1 Picture 161 Warming up with color abstract 1 Fall 2013 Abstract oil pastel drawing 99 cover design for words whirl 2013 copy Falling to pieces by EHCato 1999 IMAG0893 IMAG0898 IMAG0897 Art before words new front cover copy back cover art before words3 copy self portrait 05012013 Picture 94 Acrylic mixed media pumice gel painting 1996 canvasboard Spirituality, acrylic and sand on canvasboard 1996 possible coverart1 copy Athena wiccan11 IMG_20130330_093258

Emergency: running out of dark chocolate soon!

I am sure many males of our species,

just would not understand,

but a lady’s gotta have her chocolate-

the darker the better,

this I know my husband completely misunderstands.

If it’s not labelled as “milk” it is not chocolate at all,

by his high standards.

i love the bitter-sweet way it rolls

around in my mouth,

the way it nasty-coats my teeth.

I’m down to my last two precious pieces.

No-cross that out and replace it with-one piece left.

Oh, hell i just ate that piece too,

what’s a girl to do?

It’s an Emergency!!! I’m running out of

bittersweet candy, chocolate made from gold.

Romantic bliss. Men go buy your Lady her favorite,

chocolate, the rewards will pay off double in the end!!

To seal the deal-buy her some roses too-just because,

to show her, how much she is loved.

Kali-a Goddess Song

A hurricane sits

upon these hips,

as he watches her

strip-tease in the wildest fashion.

 

A hurricane sits

upon her lips

as she gazes lovingly

at her man.

 

With the flip of her wrist

she can unleash thunderstorms

and chaos if she chooses.

Or she can reach in the dark

for his hand

and claim it as her own.

 

A woman like this

is not easy to love

nor easy to hate

 

She is a force of nature

Something to be reckoned with

sung to, calmed down, and

settled

 

She is like a symphony

which starts out slow but then

has a thundering crescendo.

A man like that

who can charm her, surround her with

friendship love life and flowers.

He is the essence of courage-

just as she is the essence of a storm.

 

Stuck on the serene

I’m stuck on the serene.
I am a fly caught by the sky of stars,
onto your cars dashboard’s glass-
smashing fast
beneath windshield wipers cast of silver.

the past is a postcard memory.
a momentary glismpe over my shoulder,
and a 35 cent postage stamp.

there is so much love here.
it covers me, endlessly.
until i breakout like an allergy.
feeling the rash of never belonging/nor…
being worthy of all the love
he sends to me.

I’m a broken down rabbit earred TV screen.
stuck on static and white noise.
i am broken into too many
ancient places
to be fixed by your hi-fi definations.

I am the broken down pay-phone,
in the mental ward which only takes
quaters, and everybody is fresh out,
sadly giving me longing looks of too much pain.

I am the peeling paint job
on the oldest wooden house
abandoned ob our block
windows nailed shut
front door busted into
filled with the evils of crime, rodents of luck and opportunistic stray cats.

I am the fever which makes you sweat.
my heat intensifies
under a heating blanket, some fiction
and a bodybag of a corpse filled to the brim:
with lies.
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Tears fill my eyes leaking out at the corners…

Tears fill my eyes, leaking out at the corners…

is the love i thought i knew,

the love i thought i had with you.

 

Did you ever really love me?

Are you even capable of that?

now, that i have escaped both your grasp,

and your liars heart…

i can listen to my inner voice inside

my head, warning me that you

 

are a very dangerous man indeed.

warning me to not fall for the pity-trap.

to close my ears while you say,please.please.please.

Listen, i will change.

 

and I guess in all this time;

to your credit, you did change

except its for the worst.

 

How did i fall for this?

Was i really so desperate,

for anybody to love me-that

i settled for you???

 

Somebody who loves to love,

and somebody who hates that which

he loves, as a vicious abusive-controlling

mind game.

 

it hurts me deeply-

to realize now after 13 years,

i never knew the real you.

 

it was all stage lightening and fake drama.

you were always an actor,

playing a part,

yet also a wolf lunging for my heart.

 

You could paint a nice story

with words alone. My family adored you.

But they were without all the facts.

 

And i was too scared to tell them on you.

the emotional, mental abuse was more often

then the physical stuff.

 

Despite my Daddy telling me, “Do not ever let a man put his arms on you in anger.”

“Don’t ever let a man hit you.”

Despite these facts-i choose only to see your halo.

The one i gave to you.

 

If only i would have stared harder-

i would have seen it as broken, rusty

an obtusity.

Life is messy too, not only artwork.

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.

New Age-funk

I am trapped into,

a New Age Funk…

ever since I was only 15 years old.

I have the strangest sect of beliefs,

my thoughts on Religion is very polytheist-rather than atypical,

monotheism -despite being raised, “a good christian girl.”

Something inside me; melted and changed,

into beliefs of the ways of the old, the Ancients.

Superstitious views of three-folded ways,

Mysticism, Pagan, Wiccan, Zen-I get lost in theologies.

I married an Atheist.

Certain things seem so real to me,

yet others find them

so damn far out.

Karma, Reincarnation, Ghosts, Astral Projection,

Crystal Gazing, Candle Magick, Tarot Cards,

E.S.P. Strange dreams,de ja vu, other things which i care

not to even try to explain.

Sometimes, I just know stuff,

and some of its quite bizarre…

yet my intuition is composed entirely,

of mere hunches,

of things I somehow know or knew or thought i knew.

I’m trapped inside a New-Age Funk.

It’s not bad in here, just kinda surreal.

I’m almost 40 years old,

so at this point these beliefs are not going to alter,

or shift much.

Part of it is very comforting and reassuring.

But the other part, feels like I’m not living up to my

end of the bargin. There are gifts or talents I may or

may not even have, yet I refused to use them.

I let them sit on a dusty shelf,

right behind my outter-skin-layer

of “crazy”.Spirituality, acrylic and sand on canvasboard 1996

Haunted part 2

Not just one,

but 2 ghosts made out

of human vice.

 

I’ve been haunted,

by the second one for over a decade.

It’s the memory which lingers,

like a stain of lipstick

round the coffee cup chipped china.

 

The bluest eyes-or stormy sea-form green?

I cannot remember too vividly.

Probably, because your memory scorns me.

You were something other-worldly.

 

You were like a blast from my past,

that i do not recall having.

You were an enigma wrapped up in secrecy,

novel and random, with your apple slices,

of honesty.

 

You never meant,

to mark such a mark on me.

And I think you were quite accustomed,

to various woman falling

all over themselves

to fall in love with you

 

 

but no not me.

i looked into those soulful eyes,

and got a little lost in the stormy sea.

I did not sway, waiver or pray.

I did not fall all over myself-falling into

love or lust over you.

I did something far worse to you…

I ran, not even walked, I ran away RAN away-

 

from you from everything,

from everybody,

I just took off-

and you knew where-

 

I was headed for more looney bins, more psych units,

more doctors to cure me,

of all my pagan delusions,

and flights of fancy.

 

You knew the mistake i was in.

You knew the mess I had been.

You lived it before your own self.

 

You tried to warn, then beg, then plead,

I refused to listen, i think i just hung up on you.

Years later, I found you again-must have been 5 yrs later.

We met by accident in downtown Detroit.

 

You flirted, you blink your lovely eyelashes at me.

I never took for a moment the possibility

that you were being serious with me.

 

You were concerned, that I was wondering around homeless.

You tried to describe where you lived, but i was way too far out.

I should have went home with you.

But I did the easy thing, i ran away again.

I never did understand the strange connection we had.

I never will understand

why the memory of you,

somebody i barely,

knew,

 

still haunts me, to this day.

you were the original magick man.

even though you were the second one I ever met…

 

there was some way we

just connected,

that made absolutely no sense to me.

 

If I did believe in things like

karma, love at first sight, soul mates

any of that-it would make me miss you even more.

 

but if you popped back into my life,

tomorrow,

i would probably run fast

like my ass was on fire.

 

I did marry for love,

and I do love him, and we are very happy.

 

But somehow, i have never

completely gotten over you,

you left a thumbprint on my

heart-which later turned

a memory into

a scar.