an iny_tRo_ duction

an iny_tRo_ duction.

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Suicide Song

Suicide song-

i think i know why,

the caged bird sings,

because it is loved, fed, petted & talked to.

i think i know why

some people choose to die.

sometimes  imagine it

sometimes i feel like i even want it.

the release

the sense of freedom & peace.

the escape…from it all…

two slit wrists

won’t lead me to paradise.

suicide is a terrifying car ride

that crashes and burns

not just taking you down,

but everyone else who cares about you

too.

Still i imagine, a bloody passionate fatal

mistake, which at this point

i am certain i will not make.

but still comes crashing

these thoughts which do burn

my dreams of becoming

someone who learns

from their mistakes.

I do not want to be

stuck deep down in the earth

lying in a cemetery,

I would rather be

that happy, caged bird which sings

because it is loved, petted , fed & talked too.

I am dealing with darkness

not because i really want too,

but because the darkness is here

all around my guilty, neglected, hateful

traitors heart.

two slit wrists

won’t lead me to paradise.

suicide is a terrifying car ride

that crashes and burns

not just taking you down,

but everyone else who cares about you

too.

FREE E-Books to download starting tomorrow 4 poetry & artist chapbooks and 1 personal memoir!

Upcoming Free Kindle ebook Downloads*****Starts tomorrow!!
Four of my Artist & Poetry chapbooks will be free to download as Kindle ebooks:

1-“Do not cry me a River of Crocodile Tears.”(2013)
2-“In Exile from Maxwell park:poems” (2014)
3-“Butterfly rimmed eyeglasses and the trouble with Tuesdays.”(2013)
4-“Red Bones.”(2014) be free to download. These titles will be free from 12/27/14-12/31/14.To download any of these titles please visit my Amazon.com‘s Author Page:www.amazon.com/author/emilysturgill    OR

http://www.amazon.com/Emily-Sturgill/e/B00B1GC5LY

In addition, my personal memoir about living with bipolar disorder,
5-“Memoirs recalled Madness: a personal account of living with manic-depressive disorder.” (2013) will also be free to download from 12-27-14 through 12/31/14.
To download #1 go HERE: http://www.amazon.com/not-cry-River-Crocodile-Tears-ebook/dp/B00DRN85YA/ref=asap_B00B1GC5LY?ie=UTF8
To download My Memoirs on living with Bipolar Disorder/Manic Depression please go HERE:
Keep checking my blog for Kindle deals, I have more deals starting on Dec 28-Jan 21, 2015.
Happy Holidays!!! If you have never read any of my ebooks but do enjoy this blog, the poetry in the books is very similar and I also add my own original artwork as well. You may enjoy them but it’s worth a look. They will be free so you can always delete later, if you decide you hate it or its not your cup of tea. Reviews are highly welcome-both positive or negative I enjoy feedback of any kind because it allows me to become more in tune with what readers like and what they do not care for.Thank you.-Emilywpid-cam01434.jpg Snapshot_20141223_3 Snapshot_20141223_4

Sweat

Sweat-

9/27/14

Breaking out

into a rash,

of ugly words

broken down metaphors

and crashed out cars

of forgotten highways

I long to pass.

 

Breaking out,

in a sweat

of random rhyme

poetry without boundaries

rhythms without meter

sadness without time.

 

and I

shiver

coldness creeps in

with the turning

flip,flip,flip

of the Fan’s silver blades

crushing the air

 

making time

stand still.

 

A writer without ideas

is like an empty blanket

encircling empty dreams.

 

Breaking out,

in a rash

Breaking out,

in  a sweat,

Breaking out

into….

 

silence

unspoken slices

of imagery

best left forgotten,

left out in the cold

forgotten from a

dream.

Gone Missing into the abyss…

Lately I have

gone missing into

the abyss-

this great big hole

 

this great big rabbit hole

this rabbit hole.

we call life.

 

It sucked me in

and swallowed me

twice.

 

there are times

when illness & depression

invade us.

 

dark desperate armies

built out of thin air,

but fed on despair.

 

as much as

i try to not concave, fall in

or comeplie

 

my worst fears ring true

and I fall on downwards

down Alice’s rabbit hole.

 

Looking for the magic

that will make me

grow big…

 

instead of this

depressive dirty

dinosaur dig

into something ancient

and highly unpleasant

 

like the small secret words:

just give up, because

you will never make it.

The price tag of Positivity

The price tag of Positivity
by Emily Sturgill August 5, 2014

Anger
is dreadful.
They say-only think
the shiny sparkle
of happy silver shiny
positive thoughts.

So I in turn
turn my Anger
inside out

focusing the pointy
raw sharp knife edges,
into my own Soul.

I bury this Anger
so deeply…
I have not got a clue
where does it go?

but it does not stay
gone long

the buddha once said,
Life is suffering
and to this I do
agree.

When things are happiest
and seem perfect,
you know that deep down
sooner or later

richer or poorer,
its going to end.

And if we don’t allow
our Big and Wide enough Hearts
to contain Sorrow-
how will Joy ever slip in?

Heart of Tears and Fire-oil pastel and colored pencils by emily sturgill 2014

Push/Pull

Push/Pull

by Emily Sturgill 6/24/14

Push/Pull
that is the sum
of Us.

You pull me closer
just to push me away.

Or this, you pull me closer
and I am the one
to push you away.

Or this?

Do I pull you closer,
as you push me away?

It’s all semantics
this push/ pull game
that we both play.

Nobody is perfect.
And Nobody’s marriage is perfect
either, that one for sure
is true.

Everyday, as I taste my lips
the words I say to you
are
I love you

and you mirror
back to me,
i love you too…

but this push/ pull thing?

Why do we choose
to do the things we do?

And no, I don’t wanna
I don’t wanna
I don’t wanna…

fight and argue
with you.

for one thing
you do not fight fair.
you always fight dirty.

you spin, twist & turn
my words around
like a game of monopoly

you argue only to win,
when I fight with you-
its my attempt
to communicate with you.

in my opinion there are never
winners nor losers.
i want to get down to the middle
to the riddle of our
troubles

and settle the matter.
But you are too keen
on who wins or who loses/
and you are the most sore loser
I’ve ever seen.

why can’t we just agree
to disagree???

this pull/push thing
i hate feeling this way
it sure is a shitty
way to start my day.

If your in front of a door
and you push but nothing happens,
then you must compromise
and pull the door closer

just like me.

The beating of a broken brain.

Snapshot_20140322

The beating of a broken brain
as the world spins
She tilts at an angle on her axis,
rotations
and as the world begins to whirl, roll, and spin,

Onwards, ever onwards
her broken brain it beats from within.
It’s like the crashing classical music
from a drum.

This beating, bloated, breaking
ripping apart like thread from seams
Her broken beating bleeding brain
bruised
by too many

ideas all at once.
too many moments of
wondering lust.

too much delusion
or thought pollution.

She just cannot think straight
and
her words

begin to dissipate
into the swirling storm of
other brokenness-
over the Rage

at useless
misspellings
and forgotten phrases

at her inability
to create something
random & pure

a whisper
a roar
a lion

which purrs.

Her beating bruised and bleeding
useless and insane
poetic yet dumbfounded
lost lonely yet lovely

excuse of a brain.

Connections

Connections
form between
the line in my brow,
as I
take a deep breath
in and wonder why?

I try so hard
to understand how to,
how do I?

Connect all these dots
Or even try?

Connections form
between the gleam, between my
two big brown eyes…
Connections form as
neurons spark, fire-cracker style go up-

wickedly surreal
the untold story of the brain.

All these connections vary,
from person to person
yet still they remain
basically the same.

Resulting in countless connections
between the different pathways
of our mind

leading to
thought creation
and hesitation

philosophy
poetry
creativity
stories
and even Art itself.

It all begins with
a random game of
connection

and
all you must do:
is connect all of the dots
everywhere

around you.

Life isn’t always what it seems..

Life isn’t always what it seems,
and here I am
I am feeling green.

fresh, newly painted
a face-lift onto my dusty portrait
in the mirror I see myself
AS IF: All brand new.

Life isn’t always what it seems,
and here I am
feeling blue.

Wishing I was much easier
less difficult, stubborn, moody~
somebody different,
slipping sideways into someone else’s skin~

snakelike, voodoo like a real Doll,
is where I begin,
Again.

And, Life isn’t always what it seems,
and here I am
feeling red.

isolated,feeling a overwhelming
sense
of dread.

No. No. No.
Life isn’t always what it seems,
and here I am
feeling yellow.

I sit with a cup of
coffee-blackened Joe.
Just so you, know
I am only human.

now I’m feeling
somewhat
mellow.

Life isn’t always what it seems,
and here I am
feeling green.

Something brand new
deep inside my skin
itches, trembles, and grows
into a seed of small
beginnings.

Life isn’t always what it seems,
and here I am
feeling naked.
feeling green.
feeling blue.
feeling red.

There is one hell of a messy
palette inside,
my own head.