Mr. Mr. Clock

Clock strikes 4pm.

Clock came racing down.

Didn’t know the race was on.

Didn’t know the dust had settled.

Didn’t know my scent was left lingering.

I was just seated. Alone. Lonesome. Lonely. Single.

Retracted.

I was just seated. Honored. Guarded. Walled. Single.

You came along. Brought your broom. Brought your dust bin.

Here we are and the clock strikes 4pm

In love, 

My heart goes –

Tick Tick Tick Tick

In love,

My heart goes –

On forever

Because I’m the man without a clock.

I’m the man without time.

Because I’ve been bought and I’ve been sold.

I’ve been living on borrowed time.

It’s 4pm.

Time to get wed.

© 2022 David Greg Harth

22.11.11.15:31:30@130BklynNYC

Mayor Scott

This plague has come upon us

It’s no common New York rodent

And I know you’ve witnessed a lot

Bullet holes and gentrification

Cracked sidewalks and burning houses

Nothing previously made you transition to the Lord so fast

In the end it was deadly COVID-19

That guided your journey past

A dozen years of conversations

Neighborhood discussions

Wishing wells and grilling smells

Firecrackers and insanity pleas

Seen you daily at sunrise

and you’ve seen me daily at dusk

Seen you dapper

and you’ve seen me somber

Seen you filled with laughter

and you’ve seen me with my love

Gardening yards

that were not yours

Hugging children

that were not yours

Helping elderly

that were not yours

Fending crooks

that were not yours

Hellos & Goodbyes

that were always ours

Good days & bad days

that were always ours

You’ll be missed

Oh, great Mayor of the block

May you rest in peace

Oh, great Mayor of the block

© 2020 David Greg Harth

2020.05.03.18:09:31@130BklynNYC

May 22nd

Silent pursuit

I look to the future

Reflections of you and me

Once strangers in passing

Now hand in hand

No introductions

Just secret glances

They’ll wonder how

Not me - certain

From the very start

I was in love with you

For an unwritten time

I have become ooze melting

Into an oblivion of paradise

Deep within your heart

© 2016 David Greg Harth

16.04.16.07:32:06@130BklynNYC

Middle River

It was easy to hire a small boat to take me across the first river.

I approached the man who straddled the side of his boat.

He was the proud, obvious owner of the small vessel.

Decked out in different shades of brown, with an unkempt white beard.

He wore a dark blue corduroy cap with small brass snaps that snapped to nothing.

The cap seemed to be too snug for man of his size, while everything else in brown seemed to fit well.

He looked as though he stepped out of a mail order catalog for fly-fishing wear or a backpacker’s guidebook to Alaska.

With a sturdy yet muffled and raspy deep voice, as if he smoked for many years and has many stories to tell,

He asked if I wanted to cross the river, "Do you want to get to the other side?"

I replied "Yes, how much?"

The third river was more difficult to cross.

This river was the merging run off between two great mountain regions.

Given that it was the annual spring thaw, the river was raging, as if escaping its winter bondage

Rapidly gushing, washing away, and bringing down crushed boulders to lower ground

The river was ever changing, as the powerful water would indiscriminately carve new bends

On each new turn, earth was on earthed, and earth was discarded

Animals small and large, would come to the river edge in search for food and water

Carefully, they dodge being a victim of the fierce pounding against the banks

As I walked up and down along the river, it took quite a few weeks where I finally found a way to pass

And the discovered way to pass was easier than crossing the first river

The middle river was calmer than the first and sat still unlike the third river.

It was as if there was just a huge pane of glass that blanketed the ground

Slickly mirroring the innocent sky above that we each gaze upon

I could easily see my reflection in it and as I looked closer

I could see the bed, with no pebbles, no stones, and no rocks

No plants, no fish, and no sand. 

It seemed to just have a black bottom that didn’t reveal how deep it actually was.

There was no boat to cross with. No bridge to walk upon. And no obtainable solution for a crossing.

The middle river was impossible to cross

© 2015 David Greg Harth

15.03.26.02:20:00@130BklynNYC

Mustard Sunday

On Monday I fell in love with a woman

On Tuesday I waited for her to call me back

On Wednesday she called me back, we made plans for Thursday

On Thursday we had our date, we made love

On Friday she broke up with me

On Saturday I sat on the couch, heart broken

On Sunday, I had a hotdog with mustard. I never have mustard on hotdogs.

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.09.07.21:35:45@130BklynNYC

Mr. Richmond, Ms. Wright, and Mr. O.

First, while bent over the government issued grey desk

Mr. Richmond took the handle of the government issued mop

And placed that wooden handle way up my ass. 

It was the first time I’ve ever had anything up my ass.

Even as I tried to give him an explanation

Of reasons of why he shouldn’t do this,

He just refused to listen.

I asked to speak to his supervisor,

To which he responded that he was the supervisor.

And he proceeded to shove that wooden handle up my ass

Splintering my anal sphincter along the way

Each time it went in further, I was in pain

More so with the thoughts about what it will be like to pull it out.

When I asked Mr. Richmond who was above him, he said, Ms. Wright

When Ms. Wright could not be found, he directed me to Mr. O.

Mr. O could not be found.

So, after he pulled out that government issued mop handle

Out of my bleeding ass

I attempted to sit down in the 145 person occupancy waiting room

Filled with cattle who don’t belong

But only because of me, the white man, they belong

And so, I sat. 

Uncomfortable. Bleeding.

Soiling the grey government issued chair.

Finally, 45 minutes later, Mr. Richmond announced my name

So, beyond the screaming babies and greasy food

I went behind the closed doors

To be under surveillance

And observed

Once more

Mr. Richmond introduced me to Ms. Wright and Mr. O.

It was a two for one

And so, exclaiming my innocence

To prevent automatic judgment

And crucifixion by monetary value

It was determined that I had good cause

So, the stuffed-like a turkey worker could go fuck herself

Yet still

I’m out of the system

Because I made a dime

And had my ass fucked

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.09.06.11:58:00@130BklynNYC

Mr. Exit

They asked me to solve the unsolved

I am the last person to come into the situation

I solve the problems

For all

No matter what technique is required

No matter how much time is required

For I am a man of no death and no fear

I am the man that haunts your children's patterns of sleep

I am the man who follows you around dark corners

I solve problems

For each and every cheated lover

For each and every crooked politician

I am

Mr. Exit

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.08.31.17:10:35@130BklynNYC

Mistakes

I have no regrets

Except, perhaps, that one woman

I was in my young 20’s

We had a date

I walked her home

We were making out at the entrance of her apartment building

She asked me to choke her

I did

She was a twin and lived with her sister

Back then I wouldn’t go in on the first invite

I was invited

But I didn’t go in

That was the first woman who asked me to choke her

Afterwards, in reflection, that was one of the moment’s I realized I was a dom

I regret not going up to her apartment

Her name escapes me

But regrets are different from mistakes

I’ve made a lot of mistakes

But they aren’t regrets

There are people I should have married

There are people I should have had a baby with

There are jobs I should have accepted

There are opportunities I should have ceased

There are residencies I should have attended

There are benefits I should have gone too

There are art receptions I should have been at

There are lectures I should have been present at

Those were all choices

Perhaps not even mistakes

Choices led to the life I have now

And this life I have

Is grand

It is the path I have carved for myself

Even if I struggle daily to survive

That struggle keeps me alive

I need this pain to keep me going

Because the purpose I am here

Will be revealed shortly

And the last mistake will not be a mistake

But a fully crafted calculated decision

Years in the making

My longest art work

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.03.06.10:27:17@130BklynNYC

Monster

He cannot be satisfied

He seeks multiple partners

Of all ages and all races

He wants to watch

And wants to be watched

He keeps track of what states

He keeps track of what countries

He photographs, he videos, he sketches

He fantasizes, he remembers, he repeats

He pushes, he pulls, he rubs

He needs it like a drug

So deeply seeded

It has become part of his every day hour

Making pornography

Watching pornography

Living pornography

He searches and seeks

He cannot be satisfied

Doesn’t matter who you are

No matter your talent

No matter your drive

For he is the monster

With a monster

He is the sex monster

He is me

I am the sex monster

And the sex monster is me

© 2013 David Greg Harth

13.02.24.16:37:37@130BklynNYC

The Moment

The moment

When your infatuation becomes love

When your addiction becomes love

The moment

When your expenditure becomes love

When your every breadth becomes love

The moment

When your averted crisis becomes love

When your best friend becomes love

These are the moments

That bring tears to my eyes –

That drown me into the darkest and deepest

Most emotional area of fate

Of my most fragile state

The moment

When your selling of art becomes love

When your subject becomes love

The moment

When your game playing becomes love

When your courtship becomes love

The moment

When your crush becomes love

When your date becomes love

These are the moments

That bring tears to my eyes –

That bring sorrow to my heart

And shatter the stars

Which heal my internal scars

The moment

When your fantasy become love

When your secret becomes love

The moment

When your own shadow becomes love

When your own name becomes love

The moment

When your facts become love

When your history becomes love

These are the moments

That bring tears to my eyes –

When an arrow pierces through and through

When no escape from the inevitable is near

And all you can do is surrender to every tear

The moment

When your blindness becomes love

When your consumption becomes love

The moment

When your expiration becomes love

When your experience becomes love

The moment

When your reasoning becomes love

When your existence becomes love

These are the moments

That bring tears to my eyes –

When the pain is unbearable

When your constant objections

And your truth become my reflections

The moment

When your last choice is your own decision

When your only choice is your only decision

And when you're in love

There is no other choice

But is to follow it with everything you've got

That moment

That is “The” moment.

© 2013 David Greg Harth

13.01.03.22:40:44@130BklynNYC

Maria, The Republican

Maria

She was a Republican

She poured my plum wine

She leaned in close and whispered in my ear

I followed her downstairs

It was there

That Maria the Republican

Gave me head

Downstairs

© 2012 David Greg Harth

12.01.11.18:22:34@UnSqNYC

My Tongue

I live for that moment

I love that moment

That moment when my tongue

First meets your lips

I live for that moment

I love that moment

When I’m nested between your ivory legs

When my nose is brushing up against you

When the scent of your vulnerable self-surrounds me

When my tongue extends into your unknown territory

I live for that moment

I love that moment

When my powerful tongue reaches out

When my strong tongue is just about to lick

When my long tongue enters your wetness

When your velvety lips swallow my tongue whole

When your warmth ignites my taste buds on fire

When your tightness captures my intruding tongue

I live for that moment

I love that moment

To make you squirm

To make you moan

To make you quiver

To make you levitate

I live for that moment

I love that moment

When my tongue is inside of you

Tasting you and kissing you

Licking you and feeling you

That closeness

That excitement

That intimacy

That ecstasy

I live for that moment

I love that moment

My tongue

I’ll be there for minutes

I’ll be there for hours

I’ll be there for days

I’ll be there for weeks

I’ll be there for months

I’ll be there for years

It’s where I love to be

I’ll take up residency there

I’ll make it my permanent dwelling

I’ll settle inside there forever

I live for that moment

I love that moment

When my tongue is inside you

And when my tongue devours you

And when my tongue surrenders in owe to you

And when my tongue becomes one with you

© 2011 David Greg Harth

11.12.14.10:45:26@130BklynNYC

The Miserable Heist

Court is in session

Right now, you are innocent

Until proven guilty

You’ll be judged by your peers

If found guilty

You’ll be punished

To the fullest extent of the law

There is no talking allowed in the court

No small talk, no whispering

The jurors will be awarded the proper respect

The judge will be honored honorably

May the first witness take the stand -

Nervous

Without any explanations

Sweating in your seat

Officer to your left

Judge to your right

God on the wall

Twenty-four eyes on your soul

This theft was illegal

Was it not?

This theft was immoral

Was it not?

This theft was inconceivable

Was it not?

Nervous more

Without any questions

Fidgeting in your seat

Officer to your left winks

Judge to your right winks

Servant on the floor

Twenty-four eyes wink at you

Court is out of session

Verdict has been made

© 2011 David Greg Harth

11.11.17.17:25:37@323NYC

My Compass

You are my greatest north and due east,

My golden west and escaped south

You are my gravity, yet let me fly

You give me reason, and set me free

You are my warming sun and shining moon

My beginning dawn and concluding dusk

You give me breath, yet take it away

You are my shelter, and my Eden

You are my vital discovery and courageous sea

My radiant horizon and forgiving sky

You are the cure to my endless yearn

The key to my lock

When all directions point to you

You are my compass

Without you, I am lost

With you, I am found

© 2011 David Greg Harth

11.08.03.23:46:17@130BklynNYC

My Body (Failing)

If you asked me what I did today, I would tell you this:

I mounted a circular saw blade on the wall

In such a fashion that the blade sticks outward from the wall

Instead of flat against the wall

In this position, I was satisfied and hopeful

To rid myself of my constant pain

I lined myself up with the blade

I bent my head backwards

Leaning towards the ceiling

And then with one powerful thrust

I whip my head forward against the circular saw blade

And smack my head against its sharp edges

The blade cuts through my forehead

Only three inches in

I managed to penetrate the skull

But this did not solve my pain

I got out two buckets

Filled them with water

I took off my shoes

And I sat on a wooden chair

I placed each foot in a bucket of water

I then plugged in two hair dryers

I turned them on

And dropped a hair dryer in each bucket

Electrocution hurts!

But this did not solve my pain

© 2011 David Greg Harth

11.07.18.18:52:32@323711NYC

Messenger

Neither fate nor reason

My heart has been annihilated

Held accountable for high treason

I have gone far to declare my plea

Barriers crossed and persuaded vestals

Your beauty swallows me up like the sea

Love’s anthem has been sung by choir

No matter how many mountains or oceans I shall travel

My covet for you will never tire

Early sunrise brought morning song

Master’s root birthed angelic trinity

It is to you, which I belong

I have selected the clandestine mask for my war

In and out I’ll drift like a howling wind from past

A heart like mine is not easy to ignore

With each passing tide

I’ll follow your forever scent

There is no captor who can hide

Early on you became my keeper

When you harpooned my heart

I fell in love with you deeper

I melted at your mesmerizing allure

My chronic disease escaped

You were my only cure

You are the continuing catalyst

That makes my timepiece go forth

I promise you another tantalizing tryst

An angel filled with compassion

Yet it was you who abandoned

And sent for my assassin

In your absence I’ve become dead

Your sweet voice still echoes

I hear what you said

Denying our unification

One cannot evade for long

For it is love’s greatest violation

Thicket of thorns bound my head

All angels of sympathy visit my gate

Each adversary wishes I were dead

Sentenced to multiple years

Confined in shackles under darkness

Each river you cross is made of my tears

For eternity I will find my means

Even from this forced exile

Every night I’ll infiltrate your dreams

You enslaved my heart

Once free from this prison

It’s not easy to begin another start

You were my sanctuary of tranquility

Only an artist’s death

Can create such legendary visibility

© 2011 David Greg Harth

11.06.27.11:49:11@130BklynNYC

Written in five cities:

Hamburg, Copenhagen, Mexico City, Washington D.C., New York City

Many Ten

Hanging by the flag of patriotism

Lusting for something imaginary

Swarms of locusts wrap their love around us

Flesh of the King distributed among peasants

Keystone wheat fields left vacant

Rebellion necessary to end convictions

Dozens dampen their torrid palms

Placed together in chambers of gas

Howls of yesterday delivered today

Violent winds swallow dead skin

Executioner knocks on the door

With a steady pull,

Open

© 2009 David Greg Harth

09.03.10.02:03:59@130BklynNYC

My Last Plea

Disarm my thoughts of suicide

To my employer:

         Give me occupation.

To my lover:

         I open my doors and heart,

         Love me like you have never loved anyone before.

To my family:

         Accept me for who I am and who I am not.

To my community:

         Rid me of this loneliness; my drowning dead sea,

         Rid me of this empty ache that I have inside.

Suffering internal disease,

Lacking the love of her lips.

Walking on earth endlessly,

Following my heart to eternity.

© 2009 David Greg Harth

09.02.27.01:02:45@130BklynNYC

My mother said,

My mother was right when she said I was going to fall in love with you.

And now I can’t remember what it was like before you.

I can’t remember what it’s like to not be in love.

© 2009 David Greg Harth

09.02.17.01:46:31@130BklynNYC

A Moment’s Notice

In a moment, you hear the calling.

A voice ringing from an Opera.

Quiet, powerful, ranging.

She sings from the deepness.

You soar internally.

You feel high above the earth.

Everything is real, paused, significant.

They all love you.

Heaven exists, it waits, its door is ajar.

Your arrival time is now.

© 2009 David Greg Harth

09.01.13.13:30:59@130BklynNYC