it's who i am:

i currently reside in washington, which i subtly dubbed new canada. i bring it au naturale and this is how i see it:

i love life for life, tripping shit, and guda. i'm too old beyond comparison, and i measure time in wisdom. i think that apathy for the sake of elating one's ego is one of the most annoying things ever created by the human psyche. i'm currently a junior in high school, and i plan on being a teacher of english, or just fine art, when i reach a physical maturity. my dream, however, is to be a living testiment to the trial and success of a modern day bohemian artist, roaming the streets with a uke and a pad of song lyrics, singing songs and dancing beats in found gloves with fingers cut well off, designing air-blown underdrawers with gareth pughs, selling cardboard paintings for no more than a nickle, sandwich, and cold coffee. you probably think i'm joking though. my life consists of sitting on my bed in little else than my underwear and socks, listening to my ipod on my vintage record player, playing hookie from homework, pretending i'm better than normal. i'm also an aspiring novelist. yeah, no kidding. i've wrote all of this on my own, wow i know. apathy. as a remedy, i propose we live life to my standards: we can party like i do in my head at 11:11 and 3:14, sun tan on the roofs of schools we don't attend, tie dye our socks in the downtown fountain, help in an office prank for a business we don't even work for.

when i grow up, i plan on living in a house in one of those "perks" neighborhoods, you know, in new england. i want four kids so i can have them work... in the community gardens, tending to the cabbage, plucking weeds, fertilizing the fuchsia, harvesting from the three tomato plant stalks. i want three husbands and a mistress, but only one can be apostolic. they have to fight to see which one, though, i hate decision making. i will also write and sell a new york times best seller about the art of manhole designing.

i don't know why i am telling you all of this. none of it is truth. that's actually a lie, because as a whole, this would make a great memoir for me. bet you wish you never read this, do you? because now you know who i really am, and you hate it.

i'm sammy eath and i am a liar. ask me what truths are and i'll tell you what i can remember.

It's What I Hope For

It's what I hope for,

It's what I'm hopefulfor,
Couldn't feel to no morrow fore,
Because said the dancer,
Who goes wide, can't go deep,
she always goes for days and weeks,
feel kept and he said 'spite anything,
he went into the field for a momment,
Can't go no anywhere for she bites in mind,
For no missing of you can make me go back dancing,'
But nothing wasn't right and nothing can go wrong
forshe would be there to hold him tight,
And nothing would be better.

___

Excuses don't make up for anything.

She's ___, and I miss her. Maybe I don't show it,

Maybe it seems like I don't,
I do, I do!,

Sometimes I seem cold hearted,
My life isn't as simple as I lead on,
People just don't know,
I'll let them know,
Open up,
Okay?

I'll make sure to visit ___,
It isn't that hard,

Talk to ___,
It shouldn't be as hard as it is,

But in the end, it's all an excuse.

I miss ___, how things used to be,
I don't really miss how things used to be,
I'll make new things,
Take the best of all the things known,
Sew them together,
Give it away,
I just simply miss my K.

Bells

live life
know yourself
and leaves blow
the wind dies down
but it never comes back
never stopping, 'oh, rest in peace,
little baby, just remember that i'm always
here' said the tolling bells in the water, sea
shells, ocean calls of the wild that i know
from another time i've never even
been through yet. and i know
that i don't really know
anything or even
myself, yet
but leaves
blow, and
life goes,
never
come
back

Drowing, no. 1

Oh sounding scoundrel

Toss the bell off the ship
But not to hear the tolling
Stuck ringing in the waters

-24 April 2009

Some shine,

Sky lit,

And never falter, rising to the

chance,

That some can't,

Begin to grasp.

Their new beginnings, forever
the past.

-27 April 2009

Inspiration 3

Even knowledge, reality, perception, is realtive.