The Chair
When I was a young child,
My parents would sit me in a chair
And force me to watch them have sex
–
I’d say, if I recall correctly,
This happened frequently,
When I was between the ages of 7 and 9
Definitely before I reached puberty
It happened in evenings mainly
Sometimes afternoons
And was usually on weekends
Even more precisely,
Saturdays
They would call me into their bedroom
I’d see the chair. Or shall I say,
“The Chair”
It was a chair specifically for one type of usage
For me to sit on
When my parents had sex
So, when they called me into their bedroom
And I saw the chair
I knew what was about to happen
And I knew I had to take a seat
I would never see the chair
On any other occasion
In fact, I’m not sure where they stored it
In a closet? In the attic? In the basement?
It was not a folding chair, so, obviously,
It had to take up a significant amount of space
It could not have been hidden in a corner behind curtains
Or behind the laundry hamper
The chair was made of wood
No idea what kind. Pine?
The wood shade was on the lighter side
Does that make it Pine?
I am no wood expert
I am not a carpenter
The chair was not stained
The chair was not painted
Just the raw wood
The chair didn’t seem old
But didn’t seem new
But it did seem used before it was used by me
But for different occasions than I used it for
The chair had a back to it
So, I was able to sit, somewhat comfortably
At least in a physical way
They did not tie me to the chair
In reflection, I don’t know why I didn’t get up
Perhaps out of fear for retaliation
From my parents
Sometimes you just do what you are told
I thought this was normal
I never spoke of this to my friends at the time
I figured many people have done this with their parents
I did not find it strange
I did not find it awkward or a violation
Or an abuse
It’s what I grew up with
I sat in the chair
Always clothed
Usually in clothing an average kid would wear at that age
I was never naked
Maybe once or twice in my pajamas
I was never degraded
I was never made to feel belittled
I was never made to feel out of place
In a way, I was welcomed
I sat in the chair
Somewhat relaxed
Sometimes my hands were in my lap
Sometimes my hands gripped the edges of the chair
I’m surprised, if I recall correctly,
I never did get any splinters from the wooden chair
I sat in the chair
And watched my parents have sex
On rare occasion
My father would say to me,
“Are you watching?”
And if my father didn’t say it, my mother would say,
“Are you watching us?”
That is distinct in my mind
My father just said it more simply,
As if he was more concerned with me
Being aware of the action
Whereas my mother added the word “Us”
To the end of her question,
As if she was more concerned with me
Acknowledging that these two people
In front of me having sex
Were my mother and father
My parents
Growing older, it often came up jokingly in conversation
Among friends and partners,
“Have you ever walked in on your parents having sex?”
I would always dodge answering or just say that I never did
The reality is, I probably sat in the chair one hundred times
Watching my parents have sex
Could that number be accurate?
I’m shrugging my shoulders
Could this be possible?
I think so?
Every time when I see a chair
Especially a wooden chair
I think of my childhood
And how I sat in the chair
And watched my parents have sex
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.04.07.15.29.03@130BklynNYC
Clean Colleen
Ice cream delights
Cold warm nights
Eyes of brown, eyes of green
Beautiful to be seen
The best part
Glimmering shine
She was mine
Slippery wet
A nighttime pet
Goosebumps out
Orgasms no doubt
Clean Colleen got clean
She washed her hair
She washed her face
She washed her arms
She washed her legs
She washed her hands
She washed her feet
She washed her back
She washed her breasts
She washed her neck
She washed her inner thighs
She washed her ass
Clean Colleen got forever clean
Slippery wet - wet wet wet
Flowing down
Soapy bubbles
Suds cascading
Glistening temptress
Towel dropping to the floor
Wet marks beneath her feet
Clean Colleen
Climax machine
It’s time to reconvene
Memories so obscene
Another round so keen
As witness this libertine
See her on the big screen
She took care of her hygiene
Forever wishes to be between
No worries about vegan protein
Smoothies made from kale green
Floating around on clouds filled with dopamine
Clean Colleen got clean
© 2025 David Greg Harth
25.02.09.13.00.00@QNYC
Cookies & The Radio
She sat me down
Bandaged up my knee
Trio walked off into the morning sun
Most important objects of all
Anywhere in the world right here
Right now, in her back pack
She’s got the cookies
She’s got the radio
And away we go –
© 2023 David Greg Harth
23.03.23.07.00.00@ElChaltenChilePatagonia
Creamed Pants
Cream stains all over my pants
I remember that summer evening
It was a hot and humid
New York City night
One of those nights I hated completely
One of those nights you loved so compellingly
We sat in the park for hours
Watched the dogs play at dusk
Until, I was quite unaware, the sun set it's last time
Twilight turned a deepening dark
City lights prevented the depth's of midnight to show
But we sat in the heat
And allowed the Hudson's breeze to awaken us
You had a cone and my arm around your shoulder
The stains of my orange creamsicle still exist
These little spots remind me of you
And the twinkle in your eyes
When I first said those three little words
I love you
We had no idea
That come morning's sunrise
I'd be plagued forever
For you
Took your own life
After I said
Good night
Last night
© 2013 David Greg Harth
13.08.07.04:27:00@130BklynNYC
Casket
Mourners come from afar
Men marched with bagpipes down crowded streets
Crows groan haunting caws
Grey skies covered the monolith buildings of New York
The papers read
"He is dead. He is dead."
Nothing more was needed to be said
Each friend and each lover
Came to pay their respect
Passing in
And passing out
His casket could not be opened
Because death from a broken heart
Is the most gruesome death of all
© 2013 David Greg Harth
13.02.23.11:15:55@130BklynNYC
Confronting the Wind
I opened the door
I should have never opened it
I should have kept the door closed
This is how people lose their limbs
And lose their minds
This is how people lose their belongings
And lose their heart
I walked down the street
The wind was stirring up something
The leaves flew across the dimly lit street
There was a howling in the distance
And a howling close by
It was cold
With a light rain
There was something brewing just off shore
Sure to be brutal
Sure to be a nature’s beast
I walked down the street
And into the park
It was dark
And cold
My mind became an echo
My mind became a prison
My mind constantly tries to overthrow
My heart’s overwhelming lead in decisions
I stood up with clenched fists
Screaming at the ignited clouds
Yelling for someone or something
To release me of the constant pain I’m in
This ache I can no longer take
With no answer, I faced mother
I kneeled down and said by goodbyes
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.10.28.22:53:09@130BklynNYC
Chrysanthemums & Swords
The doctors told my family I wouldn’t live past the age of sixteen
She told me that she didn’t feel that magic spark
They informed me I didn’t get in
He told me I didn’t get the job
They never phoned back
She said “No”
He ignored
He taught me all about speaking and giving from the heart
She disappeared the morning after
She disappeared months later
I walked away
I ran away
The teacher taught me well
The instructor instructed me well
The lovers have all loved me well
The doctors and surgeons fixed me well
I got lost coming home
And I’ve never made it back
I’ve never been home since that drive
Every day I turn and all I see is another road to another road to another road
So on this 10th day of July, I ask myself
Do I take the road that leads to the sword?
Or do I take the road that leads to the chrysanthemums?
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.07.10.01:10:10@130BklynNYC
Christina Prospero
Stunning woman in blue
That is how she approached me
In that radiating hue
I won’t forget
Each and every moment
Every time we met
So close and far
Yet bonding souls
We each have hearts that scar
A poem she wrote
And became a Vampire’s victim
I never did bite her throat
She’s a living dreamer
And I can’t help but wonder
Is she a loud screamer?
Defender from pain
Insight to my mind
Love has been slain
Like soldiers we march forth
Because the two of us
Search for our due north
It all started in the garden of delight
Decades more we’ll know each other
For it doesn’t end with which I now write
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.07.09.07:47:36@130BklynNYC
Concrete
I am aggregate
I am cement
I am water
I am built
I am impenetrable
I am unbreakable
I am walled in
I am enclosed
I am encased
I am solid
I am thick
I am unmovable
I am heavy
I am massive
I am reinforced
I am unyielding
I am anchored
I am colossal
I am concrete
So cold and gray
So solid and calm
So rigid and still
I am concrete
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.01.29.23:14:14@130BklynNYC
Constantly Looking
Some people may say that
I am constantly looking for love
Some people may say that
I am constantly looking for the right woman
But actually
I am constantly looking for death
I am constantly looking for my right death
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.01.29.22:56:19@130BklynNYC
Catching Snowflakes
It was the first time it snowed this year
I went out to Prospect Park
I put my hands in the air
I danced upon the snow covered ground
Snow drifted down on visiting winds
Blanketing everything around me
I would hold out my palms
To catch the snowflakes
I caught so many little crystal wonders
Little delicate geometric worlds
They landed on my warm tongue
On my lashes that guarded my blue eyes
On my hair and on my shoulders and on the tip of my nose
I would run around catching all these snowflakes
Holding out my hands to catch as many as I could
But I never caught the one snowflake I wanted to catch
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.01.21.09:00:00@ProspectParkNYC
Cupcake
Your spread legs make you the divine receiver
The blossoming scent makes me take fever
When I submerge myself inside your sweet nectar
It is I who becomes the massive erector
Your open lips are magnificently decadent
As I enter darkness becomes luminescent
Your trembles create worldwide ocean ripples
It is I who nests between your bare nipples
When I thrust between your velvety gates
An explosion of animal grunting awaits
Your orgasms create tidal waves and make glass shatter
The frosting I leave on your backside resembles a painter’s splatter
When I have committed the canonizing crime
Kissing you transcends time
If I could compare thee to a summer’s day
I would not for I have greater things to say
For each time I am hungry
I am hungry for a cupcake like yours
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.01.07.17:35:22@130BklynNYC
Cranberries and Blueberries and Strawberries and Blackberries and Gooseberries and Raspberries
Hello Berry!
Won’t you be my berry?
I love berries.
Berries all over
Berries here and there
And E V E R Y W H E R E!
Gimme berries
I love berries
Berry this and berry that
Berry for you and berry for me
Berry for her and berry for he
Berry for you and me!
Cranberries and Blueberries
Strawberries and Blackberries
Gooseberries and Raspberries
Everyone loves a berry!
© 2011 David Greg Harth
11.11.17.10:33:30@130BklynNYC
Complications Of Heart Surgery
Sadly, earlier today, artist David Greg Harth died of complications from heart surgery. Harth was scheduled for what was supposed to be a routine procedure. Harth was following in the footsteps of his father and grandfather, when at the young age of 36, he was to undergo a triple bypass procedure at NewYork-Presbyterian Columbia University Medical Center. While the surgery went smoothly, Harth never woke up from anesthesia while in the intensive care unit and died in a state of unconsciousness. Harth is survived by his loving wife and two children. There will be a public memorial held this coming Sunday at one of Harth’s favorite places for French toast, NoHo Star in lower Manhattan. The family requests that in lieu of words of sympathy or flowers, one could make donations in his name to the American Foundation For AIDS Research or The American Academy of Neurology Foundation.
© 2011 David Greg Harth
11.11.06.16:16:05@130BklynNYC
Can’t Stop
Stop
Stopping is something I can’t do
I cannot stop this addiction
I try my best
I try everything I can possibly do
But I’m addicted
I can’t stop this addiction
I’ll hunt
I’ll capture
I’ll lure
I’ll convey
I’ll produce
But I can’t stop
I try and try and try
No matter what I do
I cannot stop
I can’t stop
I could not this morning
I could not this afternoon
I could not this evening
I can’t now, I can’t later
I couldn’t stop yesterday
I couldn’t stop today
I doubt I’ll stop tomorrow
I’ll try my best
I’ll try everything in my power
I’ll try to delete and I’ll try to erase
I’ll try to avoid and I’ll try to persuade
I’ll try to mingle and I’ll try honesty
But I can’t stop
There is no stopping
I cannot stop this addiction
I’m addicted and there is nothing I can do to stop
I can’t stop
© 2011 David Greg Harth
11.06.27.20:57:31@130BklynNY
Can’t Forever
Cycle past
And cycle do
Measurements made
Notes taken
This is the life
A mighty one
Short one incomplete
Magic between us
It is not tragic
This pull
Between
It is of no other
It is outer space
A space so close
To mine
To yours
So, open your lips
And let me kiss you once more
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.05.04.17:40:16@130BklynNYC
Cock Scared
From the fourth floor window
She preaches her commitment
To penis, penis, penis
From the sixth floor window
She rides Magnum XL
On top of cock, cock, cock
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.04.21.24:47:00@415292CPTSA
Coming To Mother
Calling back to house
Smoking next to coffee
Bleeding from head to chin
Lighting the sky with fire
Incorporating art into application
Buying justified clarification
Welding knives implication
Sinning to masturbation
Mandating demands without hesitation
Circulating currency locked to false intention
Eating from death row on my conviction
Hinting dropping bombs
Mourning nothing lost
Analyzing appropriate behavior
Calling back to house
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.04.05.01:49:00@QTrainManhattanBridgeNYC
Chasing
Chasing girls
Chasing toys, chasing boobies, chasing breasts
Chasing Cleo, chasing Booties, chasing Q, chasing chest
Chasing debt, chasing praise, chasing lampposts, chasing tickets
Chasing cars, chasing tin, chasing bucks, chasing change
Chasing music, chasing lens, chasing smash, chasing chance
Chasing dreams, chasing art, chasing life, chasing death
Chasing work, chasing elevator, chasing train, chasing system
Chasing old, chasing young
Chasing new, chasing one
Chasing you, chasing me
Chasing cloth, chasing bound, chasing ink, chasing store
Chasing beat, chasing meat, chasing pulse, chasing mud
Chasing tea, chasing meal, chasing episode, chasing Lego
Chasing kids, chasing airplane, chasing water, chasing rain
Chasing tail, chasing tale, chasing hail, chasing hale
Chasing phone call, chasing taste, chasing museum, chasing steps
Chasing curator, chasing signature, chasing fame, chasing clean
Chasing girls
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.02.26.18:23:39@130BklynNYC