Beautiful White Dove
I have never danced with you
Or embraced you during one
I have never moved close to you
Beneath a starlit midnight
I have never made love to you
Beside warm glowing candlelight
Seeing you in my mind
Constantly
I become a child
And bitter at my lips
Feeling you pound at my heart
Making my temperature rise
I have never known you
Or invited you to meet my grandparents
I have never cooked a gourmet dinner for you
Or gone with you to the theatre
I have never brought you flowers
Or received flowers from you
Feeling your heartbeat
Next to mine
As I sleep through the night
Quietly
All I can do is dream
Dream of you
The dreams I forget
At first daylight
I have never held your hand
Or tightly hugged you to soothe
I have never eaten dessert with you
Or smile in the photobooth
I have never felt so close
Or distant in an imaginary land
Smelling your scent
On your skin and in my memory
You drive me wild
And make me believe
In things I only dreamed of
I have never painted your portrait
With wonderful colors
I have never washed your hair
In the steamy shower
I have never seen the sunset with you
Under orange and red skies
Hearing your voice
Vibrate in my head
Making my joy rise
And wanting myself to get up
Each and every day
I have never walked through the leaves with you
Or lay beside a fireplace
I have never phoned late at night to talk with you
Or film our holiday
I have never sat beneath the 4th of July fireworks with you
Or glide a romantic rose on your body
Touching your skin
Your lips and eyelashes
Nose to nose
I’ll never forget
How soft you are
And this is why you are mine
My beautiful white dove
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.10.15.22:15:10@505NJ07430
Negative One
Silver blacks
Blue eyes
and
Turkey vultures
Brain scientists
Industrial designers
and
Government officials
State vans
Archive dreamers
and
Monkey researchers
Storm surroundings
Jesus followers
and
Art creators
1 + 4 + 1 = 1 (And Mostly -1)
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.10.10.18:10:00@RT32NY
98.10.14.01:39:00@505NJ(with additions)
Amsexrica
We go up and down
Cattle sheep on escalator gunk
They do the Sarajevo shuffle
As we ignore them behind closed doors
A man stands doing nothing
With his baggage
Staring at space
As slow walkers make my rage
Ego maniacs beat their girlfriends
Bloody messes found by cops, pigs and rabbits
Forbidden fruit bitten by Iowa girls
Skinned for my own viewing pleasure
It’s an absolute drug
Needed daily for the sick boys
Brown eyes, green eyes, blue eyes, we all like red eyes!
Amsexrica
Let’s get down
Let’s boogie
Come on under
Another
Sixty-Nine
(Gold Fish arches
Cowboy Roy
Blockmister
Rented tuxedos)
Amsexrica
Go to the Avenue
Amsexrica
Go make an appointment
Amsexrica
Go stand in line
Amsexrica
I think I like ya!
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.10.03.02:20:00@NYC
98.10.05.02:22:01@505NJ
Pigeon Shit & Coffee
I got lucky today
I scored
I threw up
After my coffee
And I stayed
Forever
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.09.21.16:28:00@VISNYC10036TimesSquare
Blue
Drinking myself to sleep
I pull down the shades
Have a glass of scotch.
I forget about the women
Yesterday’s lack of sun
And look forward to the music I will hear tomorrow
Take pills for the pain
But still bend over into my fetal position
To heal my internal bleeding
I fall dead asleep
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.09.18.01:46:00@NJ
Oma and Opa
Intrepid trips and the mountains of the concord
Lake George and my first home cooked meal after Neuro
Drawings saved and cherished memories explored
Hanukkah mensch and false teeth
Jump with sister and battle ships and swords
Cardboard oats cars and super 8 lighting
Family of black elephants and looking at the field
Squirrel parks and peanut feeding
Cupped hands and locked doors
Green carpets and curved couches
Rockefeller Christmas and Empire State
Hugs kisses and the warmth I’ve never had
Fresh Chocolate Chip cookies, sprinkles too
Pineapple chicken and first night dinners
Videotaping U2 as I grow
Hershey’s chocolate milk and canned pears
The beach box fighting man
Never forget the Ten Dollar story left on a park bench
Museums and matchbox cars
Parades and snoopy
Dip of a chair, relax and lean back
Corned Beef deli sandwiches and a car driver
Not telling them what to do
Large flushing toilets
Opera singers and little David upstairs playing
Finding places, meeting people, aging with beauty
Mints and M&Ms if I dress right
Proud and pride that come from the heart
Poetry and perspective
Corners have light and the sisters were shot
Holocaust avoided, conquered, escaped, effected, affected
Past the surgeries, the pace, the cancer, the hearts, the loss
Sewing buttons and holes galore
Stories told and always shared, some hidden
Photographs explored, taken, remembered
Two short ones, one time I once shorter
Unconditional love - If I am so dare to say
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.25.23:35:58@NJ
98.09.18.01:27:48@NJ
QZ/Untitled
I create an organic abstraction
While dog bomb squads are masturbating with the gods
And sky devils with protecting hearts are quick-draws
Exploding plastic is inevitable
Surrounded by Cuban Dens,
Eastern Heroes, and World Dominators
Several Moments
Occurring in time
To repeat itself
On hold.
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.09.15.21:24:00@42ndst8thaveNYC
Rabbits (Version #2)
Rabbits
Rabbits
Rabbits
Cubed in a matter of time
Lucky in my pocket
How about yours?
Bunny
Dancing
Heavy Duty rappers
Mother fuckers
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.09.14.24:59:00@NJ
Dance of Love
Walking away
Taking you by the hand
Killing rabbits driving by
Thousands subjected by blood
It’s Christ who is preventing
Yorkers are telling me I’m going to Hell
I love you
Really, I love you
How to express it
How to find it
I’m taking you by the hand
I can repeat
I’m entitled
Let’s have sex
Baby
Devour me
Sink on me
And show me your inner light
Pour some golden honey down your back
Glide, slide and feel your inside
Dance
The times are mammoth
This town, I’ll get out of
No one said anything
When I put a gun up against my head
I love you
I do
It’s Christ who stands in the center
It’s God who is the devil
It’s me who you see, you fuck you like to draw on your April birthdays
It’s Valentine’s day
And you think you know my rap
Mother fucker
You just fucked your mother
Political bullshitter
I think I’ll be the baby sitter
I love you.
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.09.14.24:43:00@NJ
(Disease)
witchcraft taxes
whirlwind cyclops of Cassidy kids
dumfounded complex glass dusters
inject me with lost blood of
your period slash soul
question authority after the fuckers
bend my metal brain plates
deflower my fluid and suck out my protein levels
spinal tap screw driver me 13 times twice
fetal neuro and nurse me to
better times
because I love you
calendar years and days pass
I’ll be a cure for your horrors
and blow my raw head off
to save your thoughts from puberty dreams
and maggot pussy holes
upon grandmother’s Chinese carpet
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.09.09.16:19:00@1515 Broadway NYC
Ghosts (Version #2)
I am rapacious
and cannot be penetrated or thought about
Those who do tend to be defunct
Straight jacket tuxedo boys and gals
Laughing gas chambers
of ghosts come and gone
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.09.02.17:25:00@VISNYC
98.09.09.16:14:00@VISNYC(NaonlyT)
Ghosts
Dark cloudy skies
Open and come overcast
My eyes begin to water
Ringing Church bells
Lovers getting wed
Making love in honeymoon suites
God watching over
Telling me
And guiding my destiny
Tears rolling down
Make me silent
Through my own twists
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.09.09.16:06:00@NYCVIS10036
A First Possible Attempt At A Poem For Jack
Resistful junk
wish I had a backyard bunk
I think I thunk
it’s going to duck
Be around dark midnight
it’s just about my luck
not to get any maid fuck
to make a damn American buck!
a roo - wish I wore
a tutu
cock-a-roo
fee fi foe thumbs
is that peat moss I smell?
Be pod lows
Come around low dying crows
Here seed med shows
Lice cauliflower hoes
Be fi fiddle diddle toes
Tickle me torture me
silly goose woes
Temple dimple in a hippo
Surround my buttocks upon your nipple
Could it be pleasure
or just a quadruple
or just a round-a-bout
table topple?
Doodie foodie times - keedy
Sans, sands, so and serifs
Big small and neatly
How I wonder what you are
and if you really are that far!!!
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98:09:09.01:36:44@MAHWAH07430
Freshly Cut Grass
It’s going to be okay
I smell the fresh cut grass
I love it when I hear
The lawn mowers across the street
Right before the school day
The scent of the new grass
Giving birth to my passages
Afternoon Saturdays and morning hours
Filled with lawn mowers
Across the neighborhood
After school with Scooby-Doo and fruity snacks
Vibration and gasoline love
The sound of lawn mowers
Telling me that every thing
Is going to be all right
Reminded of childhood
Forgetting the now
Traveling back in time
To crushes, child’s play, and freedom of toys
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.09.01.05:15:00@NJ
Two Little Children
Two little children
One boy, one girl
Brother and sister
Around age four
The little girl wears
a small denim blue dress
While the little boy is in
a special-forces uniform
They chase each other
running around
with screams of happiness and joy
Stopping at every corner
to explore their interests
and feed their curiosity
The little girl sings songs
and hums tunes
of cartoon shows
While the little boy
shoots his make-believe handguns
at imaginary enemies
Both in tune with each other
yet existing in external worlds
as a happy brother and sister
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.31.21:19:00 @ NYC Lincoln Tunnel
duck duck dye today
death is only a matter of time
created by your own thoughts
of adventure
and bi-products
of mankind so-called corporate relationships
duck can be found on canal
just a way from 296 past the restaurant machinery stretch
kansas knows what i talk about
on occasion
it’s the greatest
the most possible
that split second, its alive
grey skies over tone
cartoons of refreshed coffee brews
avenue west of london memories
and numbers inside humid times
burning cigarettes
proving love and vitamin c
beach bundles exploring inns
coming together
dinner times
how much is that?
light magic
complicated on her breasts
in the bottom of my mind
my lips tied together
stapled with rusty school bikes
protected over
not giving in
hiding the want of malcolm x blvd
and putting on girlie underwear
showering tests
so happy to take a normal one
after those bad meds
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.27.19:06:17 @ NYC
September
stars
is what they are
in september rain
pouring down
television screens
remembering being made last winter
recorded
for memory purposes
silent corners
call me in jamaica
when you’re done
and finished
baby wake up
feel the coke machine at your side
the cold waters
feet by my side
stupid people
september falls
exotic part-places
come next door
let’s do laundry, wash socks
I’ll lock the door
and have a bowl of Cheerios
as you take your helicopter ride
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.27.16:37:32@NYCVIS10036
Sacrifice (Version #1)
I was walking in a straight path. In a field of golden grass. Looking up at
the orange sun in late evening and I heard the sun talk to me.
The sun said, “You know what to do, right?”
Astonished at the sun that spoke to me, “What?” I asked.
The sun spoke again “You shall put down your works and wrap barbed wire
around your thinning neck.”
Confused with a questioned look, I see razor sharp barbed wire just to the
left of me. Its slightly hidden in the tall swaying grass. Its rusty
serpent curves out onto my approaching path. I pick it up cautiously and
wrap it around my thinning neck. There was enough barbed wire to wrap
around my neck three times, and I do so. Each time the razors dig deeper
and deeper into my neck. Carving puncturing holes for flies to slaughter
and lay larva in. I continue walking with my warm red blood dripping down
my thinning neck.
“You have done wise,” the sun speaks to me.
In my path I walk and I can hear the sounds of drums and hand-made
instruments being played in the back of my head.
The barbed wire digs into my flesh with every step I take and my eyes begin
to close in thought of what I am doing. I wonder why lions have not
followed my blood trail or smelt my fear.
I question the sun, “What is this all about? Why did you have me do this?”
A few shadows pass by and then the sun replies, “Because you are an
important one, one who survives many moons, and protects children from the
uniformed dreams.”
Not fully understanding what the sun meant, I gave a perplexed look and
glanced toward the top of the sky at the sun. I heard nothing so I
continued on my chosen path between the blades of gold.
By blood now dribbles less, more cold - than warm. The sun is completely gone
now and the full moon guides my path. Although my path is no longer that of
golden grass, but now of grey rocks. I am climbing upwards, in this path of
rocks and flowing water. The moonshine reflects on the barbed wire wrapped
around my neck.
I hear voices. Yelling and horrible screams, but all very faint.
Disappeared children, stolen from their beds at night while dreaming. That’s
what it must be, that’s what I hear.
My path gets steeper now. And I miss the sun’s voice who spoke to me
earlier with sweet orders. Rock climbing, I notice my feet are bare. All
this time my feet have been naked? I don’t remember. I thought I had soles
before, but I suppose I was wrong.
After the nights walk, which seemed for many generations, I got to the top
of my rocky mountain. The altitude delivered fresh air and I could hear
hawks echoing in the valley distance. I stood still with barbed wire around
my neck, which now have carved black holes deep into my throat.
The east was bringing the sunrise. Slowly the same orange sun from earlier
rose into the thinning sky. Oranges and reds and yellows it brought up from
the other side of the land.
As it continued to rise, the sun finally spoke, “Now you shall walk forward,
close your eyes and progress...”
In my puzzle of my own thoughts, I knew if I were to walk forward I would
fall off the rocky mountain. Not understanding the sun’s intentions, I
begin to question the sun, “Why?”
The sun continued, “...for the children...do it for the children...”
With my right foot forward I step, I leap, I progress. I saved.
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.23.08:42:00@NYC10012
98.08.24.24:47:59@NJ07430