David Harth 1999-03-21 David Harth 1999-03-21

Good Samaritan Of New York

Let me introduce myself..

I’m the Good Samaritan of New York

Here is my story...

I walk around these filthy streets

Filled with dirty scum, pimps, hookers, low-lifes, dead beats, tourists,

great masturbators, Wall St yuppies, freaks, killers, rapists, cops, pigs,

kinkos fuckers, druggies, and myself.

I walk around, probably with a sign on my forehead saying,

“I’m a nice person, ask me for directions.”

Of course, people do all the time, maybe because of my smile, or my frown, I

don’t know.

But they ask me, so I tell them, like a song.

People get in my way, walk into me, bump into me.

They say ‘sorry,’

but damn it, I don’t give a shit - just get the hell out of my fuckin’ way!

I have to walk on the streets

Skipping the sidewalk as the tourists take up their time there

Like California beached whales

Sometimes I pass a homeless bum or drug addict stretched across the

sidewalk. Horizontally, blocking my way and intimidating others. Just the

other day it happened - So I yelled at the guy,

“Get The FUCK UP!,” He rolled over and drooled.

But you see, he’s different than the others.

Some bums are lying dead on the curb. Those, if you are a true New Yorker,

you just pass them.

And go on walking to your destination. Let the Times Square Business

Improvement Wanna-Be Cops deal with the dead. Not me, I have to go -

I passed a guy handing out cards to visit a go-go bar strip joint. He was

on the corner by the newspaper machines - looking odd, looking funny. Then

I realized, the mother fucker had his dick out and he was just pissing on

the street corner in broad busy working daylight!!! That god damn fucker!!!

So, I yelled at him as I passed by - “DON’T FUCKIN’ DO THAT!! – THERE’S A

BATHROOM FOR THAT!!”

I was fuckin furious, I’m tired of these assholes pissing all over my

sidewalk - damn it!!! He said something back to me, but my Walkman was on,

so, I didn’t hear the fucker. I should have just whacked him. So I told the

traffic patrol officer about the fucker who was publicly urinating - she

didn’t seem to give a crap - she told me to call the go-go bar and tell

them, then maybe the guy would get fired. Sure. Ticket your cars pig.

And those fucking pissers remind of those spitters. Damn it, if you have to

spit - spit at home or in a tissue or in the garbage can. And don’t fuckin

litter in my city fucker! - There’s a damn garbage can on every corner save

your trash - you live here fucker!

And what’s up with the Budweiser-drinking construction workers who mimic

Asian people who pass them by. Damn it, I should slice their racist throats!

And am I the only good Samaritan here? I throw my trash in the can, piss in

the toilet, spit in a napkin -

Also - how about this, there was a guy on the train, a homeless disturbed man.

I saw him standing in the subway doors next to a young lady sitting. And he

stood there in his own absorbed stench. A smelly fuck. Why - I know, you

ask... Let’s just say, his fly in his pants was open and in his soiled

underpants he praised his erection.

Underneath he went towards his one, you know - and thank goodness he didn’t!! -

But I was prepared - If that bum dare started to stroke away on my subway

car!!--

I would have gotten up and decked the fuckhead!! I just want you to know, I

was ready!

It’s happened before, numerous female friends suffering from the male pig

masturbating on subway cars....

The other day I passed a bum who asked me for change, I said, “No, sorry,

not tonight”

I then went into the deli next door and got myself a sandwich. Kindness

wrapped around me and i bought another sandwich, drink and chips, not for

me. On my way out down the block I gave the sandwich and goodies to the bum

and he smiled with thankful appreciation.

That’s a good bum.

A few weeks later I was uptown at a deli with a friend. We were eating

inside and I noticed a bum outside on the street, begging for change from

people in their cars. So, with the food I had bought for myself I went

outside to offer it to the homeless man. He denied. That fucker! He wanted

dimes and pennies for alcohol and drugs! Damn it! You try to help the

helpless fucks and it’s just not worth my time!!

and what about this, let me tell you...

Here in New York City, people die. They die because butt fucks in cars don’t

let the fire engines and ambulances through. It’s horrible. So, what do I do?

While others sit with their thumbs up their ass?

When a fire engine has to get through traffic, and beeping and screaming

and blowing its horn, and the moron New Jersey fucks and others block the

road and are deaf to the upcoming death in their cars- I stop the oncoming

traffic. Yes, I do - really. I jump out into the avenue, spread out my arms

and stop traffic, sure, some cars and taxis and trucks try to race thru and

run me over, but I stand my ground, and smack the sides of cars that race by me

and finally, I stop traffic. Because if i don’t do it,

no one will, and if no one does, then the stranger across town

dies because of the inconsiderate fucks here on the road.

I save lives every day, do you?

So, I’m The Good Samaritan of New York.

And that is my story.

99.03.12.17:05:37 @ 1515 New York City

99.03.17.23:24:15 @ 296 New York City

99.03.21.16:32:18 @ 1515 New York City

All Contents are TRUE

David Harth 1999-03-12 David Harth 1999-03-12

Untitled (With Her)

You put me to rest

And you left me in shame

You ask me if it’s getting better

No, it’s not.

I listen to you ringing in my ears

But I don’t do the things you tell me too

I stand to be a rebel and I’m not sure why

What cause what for

Walking great white ways

And reaching my goals

Still, I cry in the middle of the night

Waking up in red nightmares of inappropriate behavior

Inhaling smoking juveniles

And taking temperature-less showers

Day room blues and January air

I’m eating sweet bananas now

You put me to rest

And I left without shame

Seeing you go under

In the hot sunshine

Listening to angels

Writing eulogies

Should have hugged more

Wrote more visited more

Instead, now all is gone

I didn’t even know you

My art hangs on your walls

And new people are lovin’ it

You put me to rest

Now you are in shame

Because you refused to listen

Or accept and spend

You abused what we had and who we were

And never said please or sorry or thankyou

Now you die alone in your own misery

Not having myself or anyone to hold

It’s just you

And me baby

The death parted us

And nothing is left

Sleeping alone

Now these days

It gets colder

And I go to the art fair at Washington Square

I visit Fredrick Douglass Blvd

To get a gun to blow my brains on the floor

Friends tell me how to position the gun

Correctly

Friends lay asleep and wish it was them

Forever

I feed the pigeons

And rise and fall

Because this is my life

And she is ashamed.

99.03.09.15:11:00@ 1515 NYC

99.03.12.13:17:00@ 1515 NYC

David Harth 1999-03-01 David Harth 1999-03-01

Skip The Smokey Ones

My hair was filled with smoke

Girls’ tits were popping out of tight shirts

Guy bartenders went topless

Feeding hungry boys

Down with tubing devices

Filled with beer

Blue shirt boy

Guzzles down beer

As OPP plays and the Beastie ones too

He drinks it all

And seconds later

He vomits his defeat onto the floor before him

And the bar that fed him

The pipe above smokey land

And the wall

Both covered in ladies’ bras

White, Green, Red, Pink, and Black

I see her across the room

Out of place

She stood

Beautiful, exquisite, wondered why she was here?

Or there?

Or why not here?

The college boys dressed the same

In their flannel shirts

And baseball caps

Working out to impress their mother’s fantasy

Not showing real paths

To women’s hearts

But only decoys of make believe

My hair

My jacket

My shirt

Still stink of their nicotine

And their lies

I approached for a change

Told her what I thought

The bar became quiet

In the loud dark atmosphere

Looking

We kissed

Intensely we exchanged

Our tongues

Intertwine

Uptown New York City

Grasping her young body

She holding mine

Beer on the floor

Hearts kept inside

We left to go elsewhere

To walk

We left the cover shop

The Identity crisis and identifiers

We walked away from it all

And entered the realm

Of neglect

Moses is homeless

With a neon Mets winter cap

New Reebok sneakers and squeaky clean hair

Makes the dreadlocks thicker and the rabbi’s leg hurt

The faggots are homophobic in this car

They aren’t letting go

She kissed me on the lips

The beauty left me there

Masturbating in the car alone

To the image of a magazine

I bought long ago

At the ripe age of thirteen

Thirteen car seats

And all I have left

Is my Eggbert

College boys

College girls

I missed it

I skipped it

To ride with you

And you left me

You bailed

You blew me

You wished me

And now you are gone

99.02.28.01:15:19 @ Downtown 6 NYC

99.03.01.02:56:12 @ 296 NYC

David Harth 1999-02-23 David Harth 1999-02-23

Blue-Eyed Lost One

If I told you about your blue eyes

How they make the red dirt earth

crumble beneath my feet

And change the courses of mighty rivers

through our fields

How they start fire

on our great powerful sun

Or reveal night-flies

in the dark shadows

How they create whispers

in my aged worked palms

Wanting to cover your ears

from howling wolves from the west

If I told you about your blue eyes

How they capture me

with endless potion song and dream birds

And invade my thoughts

during the gathering hours

How they make scattering wide floods

travel to our salty sea

Or make me reborn

to my child innocence

How they illuminate those forgotten

above your bosom

Making roses blossom

at your beautiful gaze

If I told you about your blue eyes

How they nourish

the bushes and smokey signals

And make our mother nature

become jealous

How they fight for each other

on the buffalo land

Or make strong eagles soar

in the tinted blue sky

How they make the weeping trees

full of laughter

Longing for tears to soak

in the pattern of your deep black robe

If I told you to meet me

Out beside the great white oak in the corn field

If I held your soft forgiven hand

And took on a silent idea

To go where I have not gone before

Would your blues eyes care and be spoken of

To join me with drink and fruit

For a fire burning feast and deep drum beat

For two spirits

Tonight, in the silence?

99.02.23.02:17:38 @ 296 nyc

David Harth 1999-02-19 David Harth 1999-02-19

Tired Of The News

I’m tired of the wars that go on

The ones that the politicians create

And the ones that the political bullshitters avoid and put aside.

I’m tired of the famine the disease and the disgusted

People of authority,

Not on their knees

But on their fake oak formica-covered pedestals!

I’m tired of that.

It’s time to change

To wage a war

A revolution

I’m tired that an aritst is judged and can’t have a curly moustache

Or decked in denim or black suede

I’m tired for Dublin and Sarajevo and South Africa

I’m tired of the rap of hatred

And the breed of creed

And terrible sloth of people’s minds

The news of the sick, the poor

The suffering that could be stopped

The billions on defense

While children bleed with moist blisters on their skin

And wake up the next morning

To the flies on their sister’s dead back

I’m tired of the snowfalls the rainfalls the sunny days

That never happen to those in prison

For making a statement

For saving Tibet

I’m tired for those who love me

And nurture me

Just go away

And be yourself

Find out who you are,

Then maybe I can love you

The news of political dicks

In intern mouths

Baby shitters

And Priests claiming children shows

Are gay because of the fuckin color purple

The news of Joey and Bobbit

And how stocks rise and fall

For ebay and amazon

Yet we don’t care about the forests

That people burn in South America

To build better luxury fuckin’ homes for Trump

As middle-aged white america

Gambles their savings away

Instead of investing

In the children of our future

The hope, the research, the medicine

I’m tired of ‘in god we trust’ on my earned money

Tears and injustice, is never heard by the wallet

Pain and agony for freedom, are never praised by suits and ties

White flags and definitions are never held and followed

I’m tired of the media news

About being homogenized, waltmartized, and terrorized

The hollywoods and sport thieves

Robbing fans and not contributing

To the ones lying dead to save their self

I’m tired of Amnesty being not a priority

While M-16s and F-16s are of top quality

Tired of the news brought to me

Through cellular, electronic and television waves

While hundreds and millions wait for airlifts of food

I’m tired of make-believes, the gay-bashing, the KKK

And the White powers, the racist beasts and Jerry Springer representing America

I’m tired of the news from Iraq and Kuwait and nothing about the

41 shots fired upon innocence in Harlem

The news of glory for fight

For travels of spent money

Dinero for diabolos

And 40oz bottles being sold in the hood

The news of child molestation

And musicians being censored with parental-warning labels

The artists not being funded and Bill Gates monopolizing

With Leonardo on tour

I’m tired of the news

Created by the evil of men and womyn

Of hangers in back alleys

White and black fountains

And abuse at the job

I’m tired of skull crackings and rapists

Serial killers and unprofessionals

Of those who do not respect

And the us for raping Native Americans

Of their home and culture

I’m tired

Of those who do not dream

I’m tired of the news.

I can’t believe the news.

99.02.19.14:13:58 @ 1515 NYC

99.02.19.16:38:12 @ 1515 NYC

With inspirations from Jon Karl Holm

David Harth 1999-02-15 David Harth 1999-02-15

Taxi Cab Roses

1,873 UNUSUAL WEDDING RINGS

HERMAN ROTENBERG

How rude can they get

On my red heart Valentine’s day!?

Their business card advertisement

A little bit of nerve

In my taxi cab car

Dead roses line the seats

The floor

The love that turned to hatred

The love that left the open cab door

And the jazz that made it flow from

Cab driver to cab driver

Alone

Lost

Not knowing which way to go

To find the unusual ring

Where to cleanse thyself of the sins

I have committed today

Not realizing the ones, I did not admit

All year

All life

About the big one in Times Square

About the bar ones

The rented ones

The video-taped ones

My love is gone

My love that I had

Its dead as a rose

On this pouring rain

Valentine Card

Soaked with salty tears

And semen

Never afraid to cry

And forget the schools that taught so well

The Fall leaves

Of red, orange, brown, and rust

The bearded men

And a few dogs

It’s not about fertility

About the dead roses

In my taxi

My cab

My New York City

Where is Herman now?

Is he married?

Why not seventy-four?

99.02.15.03.20:26 @ 9th @ 72nd/57th/42nd/34th/23rd/14th/4th/296 NYC

David Harth 1999-02-14 David Harth 1999-02-14

Count The Tiles

I remember singing the song

Drinking the apple juice

And praying to God

I counted the tiles

And got yelled at for lookin reddish

Devilish under

I said I would fuck em’

And still will for those who do not

Deserve better days

I’ll go down with everyone together

Eating sweet bananas

In day trips

Along sidewalk homes

I’ll take rapid eye movements

And listen to them from Jesus

I’ll offer you a mint

A candy

And get in trouble for using

God-damn deodorant!

Shove your dots

Up your ass

I like dogs now

What do you think about that?

Inject me with the over-ness

And slip on your slip

Together we’ll straddle

The IV post

And we can then discover

How to take a normal one

Count the tiles

And sleep in the white

Because you are mine

And you have read

And I know the code

And you

You do not

99.02.14.19.20:00 @ 296NYC

David Harth 1999-02-14 David Harth 1999-02-14

Growing Beautiful

When your hair turns grey

And a silvery white

After the sweaty tears

You rolled down all those nights

I’ll still be with you

And after your fingernails grow older

Become numb to the coldness

And become thick and yellowish

I’ll still be at your side

When your back begins to turn

And you lean towards the earth in honor

Of the years you have walked

I’ll still be with you

As you take showers to baths

And then less frequently

As grandchildren have grown

And our own have moved on

I’ll still be at your side

While you roam around

Finding the medication

Or comforting yourself

In an oak rocking chair

I’ll still be with you

No matter how long it goes on

How many wonderful wrinkles your skin develops

Or how many times I visit you in the hospital

I’ll be there for you

I’ll still brush your hair nightly

And kiss you goodnight

And goodbye

I’ll sit with you and speak with you

And hug you good morning

I’ll help you up from the chair

Or up the stairs to the door

I’ll light candles for you

And still do the dishes as you rest

I’ll reach the high places

And make the holidays perfect

I’ll still gaze into your eyes

Just as if we were young again

For all the years

That I grow with you

I want you to know

I’ll be there for you

And I still

Will be there for you

Forever

99.02.14.19.11.55 @ 296 NYC

David Harth 1999-02-08 David Harth 1999-02-08

Hit Man

Kind of like book ends and access to lifeforms unknown by human kind.

It’s unexplained, left unemptied, shot at, and eaten to a terrible pulp.

And it could be like round, scrumptious firm breasts, or can we say tits?, that

are quite wonderfully squeezable to the touch. And they didn’t know that wild

animals were in the zoo, but I knew, I knew you far even better than you knew

yourself. Shark! Shark! Driving down 9th ave and 17th st for a boner I’ve

never met.

Do some research, babe, and have a ciggie, on me, captain jack!

99.02.08.17:42:20@NYC

David Harth 1999-02-07 David Harth 1999-02-07

People

People come & go

They share

Sometimes forget

But always remember

The kind & The evil

The pussy cats

& the various pound dogs

The crackling fire

Gay porn stars

And flaming art

The sorrows

& the pain

I won’t forget you

Until you make

The order

And until you do

I’ll be here

For you

But just don’t come

& go

Stay once in

A while...

99.02.07.23:13:58 @ 296 NYC

David Harth 1999-02-06 David Harth 1999-02-06

Untitled (Making Love)

Speaking in tongues

Devilish swirls

Around tender navels

Feeling your thigh

Up against mine

We mingle and twist

In the midnight mist

Feeling the groove

Of fresh air

Amplify the erotic

Art of touch

Stealing the kiss

From last night

99.02.06:01:23:00 @ Flannery’s 14th st NYC

David Harth 1999-02-05 David Harth 1999-02-05

Memory Song

We are the pea-NUTS

The mighty mighty pea-NUTS

Wherever we go-OHhh

People want to know-OHhh

Whooooo we are-R

Soooooo we tell them

We are the pea-NUTS

The mighty mighty pea-NUTS

Wherever we go-OHhh

People want to know-OHhh

Whooooo we are-R

Soooooo we tell them

We are the pea-NUTS

The mighty mighty pea-NUTS

Wherever we go-OHhh

People want to know-OHhh

Whooooo we are-R

Soooooo we tell them

99.02.05.03:16:16 @ 296 NYC

David Harth 1999-02-04 David Harth 1999-02-04

Him

Because you cry when you sing

And pour sweat down the guitar which you play

Because you hug and miss those who share

And sing with gloria in the flames of my eye

Because you understand and I compare Vox to you

And not you to Vox

Because you sculpt angels in front of us all

And back home in your own cathedral

Because you connect and share the joy

And possess a talent that exceeds most

Because passion is a name you know

And a policy you follow

Because you buy food for the homeless

And have patience for Jack Daniel’s and holy water

Because you bring all up on stage

And do not conform with society’s limits

Because your friends and wife have stood by

And you have keen interests in your followers

Because you bow down to those who you love

And respect yourself the same amount

Because from Nyack to New York City I knew you

And the glare in your eye highlights the crowd you draw

Because you have climbed with us

And not on top of us

Because you have held our hands together

And made peace in my heart; and theirs, nightly

Because you save many from the streets of sorrow

And committed to the journey of desire

Because you are not ashamed to change

And try the new

Because you kneel

And not charge

Because you appreciate and welcome

And stare down at the bullets of evil

Because you are who you are

And we thank you for sharing your beauty

99.01.24.24.00:00 @ Rock N’ Roll Cafe & 296 NYC

99.01.24.06.00:00 @ Rock N’ Roll Cafe & 296 NYC

99.01.25.24.44:00 @ Rock N’ Roll Cafe & 296 NYC

99.02.04.02.33:00 @ Rock N’ Roll Cafe & 296 NYC

David Harth 1999-01-14 David Harth 1999-01-14

Alexander Filippou (An Artist’s Life)

I decided to go to the Post Office

Its only 430am

Had to get something in the mail

Right away then

I grabbed my coat

And ran outside

Slid my way

Across the icy snow

Down to Houston Street

I grabbed a cab

Around the corner

On Bowery

And slowly crept west

Alexander Filippou was my driver

For the evening just now

He feels tingles in his left arm

And a pain in his chest

No, not the doctor

He just needs rest

Alexander explains to me

Through our plastic barrier of exchange

We continue through the ice

To closed 6th Ave

And then to 8th

We pursue

Fuckin’ this and fuckin’ that

Alexander curses

I nodding my head

Making mental notes

Filippou pissed

He has to work hard

To pay the rent

But can’t get the Co-Op

Because the immigration is bothering him again

His mother and sister

Still remain behind

As the Ryder truck tailgates

Dangerously

They are in Russia

I’m sure cold too

We make our way

Through the tiny streets

To the avenue of 8th

Where we belt up North

Alexander tells me

How he was a trained fabricator

In his homeland of Russia

Supervising ten men at a time

He explains to me

The I-Beams of America

How strong they are

Buildings lasting for hundreds of years

Alexander wanted to open his own

In Brooklyn town

But they call for papers once again

So, he works fifteen, eighteen hour shifts

After the red and green lights

We arrive at 33rd street on 8th

My grand post office is open

Of course

24hours it is, indeed.

I wish my friend

Alexander

Have a goodnight

And give him 9 “I Am America” bills

Walking up the flights of icy white stairs

He goes off slowly

I’m sure with American dollars

Trying to make sense

The post office was usual

Security

Remotely tight

Because of Iraq over there

I do my business

And carry on with my art

I step down the stairs

And see the sight

I take some photos

to remember this night

I walk my way

Down 33rd and now up 7th ave

I want to see the center

Where it’s at

A few delis open

Selling produce and New York bagels

Of which I have none

Not even one

I get to the epicenter

Right near the NYPD

I’m in Times Square

To be an artist

I take my photos

Vertical and horizontal

My fingers now numb

In the coldness I share

Not to be too shy

I was on by

The porno shop

Even this too

Is not closed

On a night like this

Should I go in?

Just for one dance?

I’d like to see

That naked horror dance.

You know me well

I ventured inwards

And to my surprise

Only video tonight

Dollar booths with porn

With sounds of animals

Because the women who worked days

Are not here at this hour

Defeated in a way

I walk away

Down South on 6th Ave

Until I hit Broadway

I remember walking down

On sunny days

In the spring time

When it was warm

And that first walk

That I did many years ago

First exploring

The city, my city

I’m an artist

This is what I do

I observe everything

Welcome to my world

Running through the streets

A Bosnian effort

Of white delight

And tomorrow’s nightmare

I finally get to bed

Only to write this for you

It’s now 6:14am

Give me another hour

I’ll be up for twenty-four

Goodnight.

99.01.14.06:18:59 @ 296 NYC

David Harth 1999-01-14 David Harth 1999-01-14

Golden Years

Tempted cherry pops

Freezing Cold Rain

Just inside from the federal trip

Drug dealing happiness

Favors returned

Listening to her complain

Bitch

Her/ass the leftover

Clap! Clap!

Your hands together

Bounce around

From California

I’ll remember your ass.

Ha! You make me laugh

Golden Years

Let’s make a fabrication

Let’s make a baby

Darlin’

Come celebrate

With art and poetry

We’ll go down in history

To the fan’s syndrome

You dirty giant

You mixed media event

Feeling groovy

Like Mrs. Robinson

Keep the faith

Mr. Goldberg

I hardly know you

Take

Straddle

1, 2, 3 -- I fall asleep

McDonald’s

I’m your brain

Confuse my confusion

And I’ll be your left foot

For your Star Wars money

and 25¢

Dinkel Berry Trabant Man’s disease

Please play music

at my dear

Very own knees

Itis.

Months

With no mainstream

Those other boroughs

They burn like mosquitos in the sky

Rat-Tat-Tat! Rat-Tat-Tat!

99.01.14.04:05:43 @ 296NYC

David Harth 1999-01-14 David Harth 1999-01-14

sexual juxtaposition

Feeling my side

Against yours

The Bass pumps up

We feel the groove

The dancing drugsters around us

In the limelight heat

The red orange glows

The neon green striped gays

Smelling the hot sex

Up and down your thigh

We feel the grass

Coming down

Twining around our feet

The roots pull us down

Deep under the bass of the earth

Takes us under

The ground in which we knew was solid

Pulls us deeper

To the depths of our emotions

Until we die from our own wisdom

In the dirt where we were born.

99.01.14.02:21:47 @ 296 NYC

David Harth 1999-01-02 David Harth 1999-01-02

Purple Pleasure

Being in the pleasure chair with you

It vibrates below us

The puffy white pillows around us

I get captured in your every-day scent

I follow you in dance steps

And hold you tightly and close

I welcome your packages of home deliveries

From flowers to dildos

You turn me on.

Slowly I got to know you

And now we are a couple

Doing things together

Naughty or nice

Touch your lips

And kiss your thigh

A glide of a hand

Way down inside

In the shower

The steamy wetness

It makes us hot

And you slippery wet

You turn me on.

My soapy hands exploring

Every sensual curve

Every bend and pore

My hands cup your breasts

Your nipples now stiff

You turn me on.

Behind you I stand

Strong and firm

It’s the care we share

On this night we dare

No longer needed

Is that home delivery

You turn me on.

The purple pleasure is hot

Full of passion

With needs that have to come out

And cum

Flowing and galloping desires

Overwhelming and pouring

Like restless animals under African skies

Frantic love pain

Of throbbing rocking joy

That purple sky

99.01.22.16:46:38 @ 1515 NYC

David Harth 1999-01-01 David Harth 1999-01-01

New Year’s Day

It’s quiet out

The snow drifts downwards

Upon the cold pavement

On which I lay upon

Waiting

For the eighteen wheelers

To come by

It’s New Year’s Day

Come re-invent yourself

And play hopscotch upon my chest

It’s New Year’s Day

Feel the new as it gets older

And feel sorry about last year

It’s New Year’s Day

Kill the bad ones

And create new luxurious habits

It’s New Year’s Day

The eighteen wheelers have not come by

I lay

Still

Waiting

For the next celebration

To be forgotten and forbidden

99.01.01.01:01:01 @ 296NYC

New Year’s Day

David Harth 1998-12-31 David Harth 1998-12-31

Re: Huummh!

Dead ants waterskiing

relatives that drink down

the backs of

young women

on used coffee grinds.

tasted black from the forms

out back

can’t do much

because that’s that

and it sure ain’t hell that miss ivy

league bitch

stroked

the freshmen team!

cause it ain’t miss town.

the busses running obscure hours

all the time

to get to and from

left of the right

around the back

lost on the back of a gnat

cum drenched winos in time.

for the mothers who had sons

lost at the war

ribbons tied to the bums

just one more

begging for sniff

even a scratch

big brick of USDA cheese

with its mother fucker of a latch.

yule logs burn

and so does disease

constitutions of tradition

the reciprocal of ease.

between my crotch

is someone’s snatch

i wish i had a match

to lite up miss america’s little ass!

hairy man

in the tub full of spam

its corporate CEOs

that don’t give me blows

wish i had a 9mm

shoot them all down

eat the pig’s feet

lick up the juices i could defeat

sucking cock at 3 a.m.

and assholes bleeding amen!

time to rape my fate

and break away from this track

find a big titted slut

and fuck her rack

with angst anxiety and touch of love

her nipples hard and driven

with hope from above

it’s a whaling sound

I made her scream

like the sheep i rammed

i fucked way back when

a child i was

horny as can be

now I’m only aged to ripeness

for firm titted women adjusted

i remember when

my veiny cock

it flowed of blood and cum

and a goat’s lasting jizz

i remember when

the professors fucked me

and when my thick one

was bulging

as I am today

for he and she and she and he

its all around the monopoly!!

my only friend is my cock

in my hand

fucking myself each night

with a cheap bottle

too late too fast too hard

fuck you!

each day passes with thoughts

of how to avoid being molested

by society.

long hard pull

drink orgasm smoke shit.

i will shave for you.

wanting to rub your cock against a poodle

dreams of all young men

the silver screen drives

ideals like Fat Albert

scantily clad young lovers

with M-16’s tattooed on their chests

escape from war crimes

by visiting the Met.

an icon’s wheels went

round and round - hit the ground

caught by a catcher in the raw

stuck on rye.

watch me now

catch me now

i am falling

i’m down.

blow jobs for the country

all around.

my ass rots and

my stomach stinks

perfumes and laxatives

defunk.

imagine no toilets or showers?

i desire a piece of plate glass on my face

while you shit on me.

defecation proclamation!

and with a tongue and cheek

I suck on the poison

the blood leaked from my asshole

only to find it

wrapped around my finger

for a mother to dine for, above

I hear the rhythm in the distance

and all they do is light up a smoke

the elder jerks off beneath his sheets

as the one in blue wears my hue

with donation baskets that

reek of filth and lies

and someone else’s bloody mess

i sit and wait to hear you say

halleluiah brother i covet

your fucking wife.

olive oil seeping down

the crack up a prostitute’s back

while families die in vain

over the tree.

the children

are drowning in a sea of

sweat pouring off of the

sacks and cracks of parents

who just

live with the it.

recalling the priest at the steps

begging me to blow him

suck his long cock

full of 7inches of semen

rock hard

uncut

recalling pounds of patty cake patty cake

bakers MY!

and that good tasting coffee cake

that I used to get in my lunch box

as a kid

Abused

Last gym pick

skinny mother

Wish I fucked her.

Recalling the great masturbator

Of the undercover floor - he died

or the Dali floor

Licked up

Fucked up

Chained up

And he asks to be dominated

Like an abortion pizza.

my head aches because

I can’t act out and let

you know how much

I fucking hate you and

your fat fucking face with

all that shit you spew on a

daily weekly monthly yearly

basis.

I look forward to the day the nail is

driven deep into your final place

of failure.

Instigation, guilt, mental tormentation

devised by your sick and twisted skull

fuck you

taking a bat to you blubbering body

would be like a rhapsody

as climactic as blowing a load

on the face of some school girl

for the first time.

Years later you still linger inside my head

each time I look in the mirror I

see you

hear you

smell you

feel you

loathe you

curse you

want to spit.

Sexual ambiguities stem from

your dominatrix brain.

you could have fucked me

beat me

kicked me

shit on me,

but you decided too mentally

tie my brain in a knot

to the bed posts of life

with your ever wrenching clinch on

all dreams and aspirations.

You emasculating bitch

I hope you rot in Hell!

and then lyrics

i heard them

about you and you and you and you

your wavy white ass in front of my face

a demolition beer

a beautiful ass

so tight it can be

all you do is stand in front of me

and blow out of your fuckin’ hole!

Ill sew you up

that’s what I’ll do!

Your lips on top

and between your thighs

Ill strap a dildo

I won’t let you inside

I remember your phone calls

And how you died tonight

I cut of your finger

as you begged for a locker

You had a slice of fish

And I, Play-Dough

Then the image burned

From TIME magazine

for you

a candle

in the wind...

BLOW UP!!!!

doll.

fucking your stinky

pussy with a cucumber

i bite the head off

of my own existence

with my finger up your

ass the shit still

remnant.

slapping cocks against your

chinny chin chin

you were my fortune

cookie!

school bells ring-aling

ring-aling

here I am another Pavlovian

ding-aling.

I need a drink.

I want my cigarettes.

I’m tired!

and then she came home

closed the door

put on the music

and dripped

hot wax all over my body

the the woman next to me

and the man next to her

heat all over

it was nice

nice

nice nice nice

nice

FUCK THE NICE

i fucked her without

a hat

last night

came all over her face

stomach clit and thighs.

woke up half drunk

kicking myself in the ass

for my

irresponsible idiocies.

i scrubbed my cock

beet red

till i realized

it doesn’t fucking really

matter anyways because eventually

i’ll be dead.

but when I die

I will recall

that mother of the dead

will portray her daughter

the mothers will come from a far

to visit the graves of the dead

their daughters and sons

and husbands too

the widows come

sorry and sad

hungry for sex

and a big thick cock too

the mothers would come

to worship the dead

and there I lay

for them to mount

the mothers come

they straddle my dead thick cock

and with movements known to the dead

the mothers open their legs

they ride me like a stallion

amongst the dark graves

of the night

they fuck me till daylight

or when their daughters rise

from the graves I dug

each night i lay in

my coffin

scratching the walls

to freedom.

the felt lining was

once a place to ejaculate

fantasies over and over

and again and

again and

again.

and then i finally realized

that mothers do inspect the

laundry.

embarrassing loads of thick

dried cracking cum stain

my adolescence.

i want to cum mother

and you can’t stop me!

i no longer share the

bathroom with anyone

because now i have sprouts of

puberty popping in

my p.j.’s and Winnie-the-Pooh

even looks at me in a different light.

do you and dad fuck?

hard to imagine you bending over for anyone!

plus, there wasn’t anything he could

give any of us anyhow.

and even today

as I press my covered cock

against their wet covered pussies

as I dry fuck them

then I explode

with overflowing cum

into my boxers

above their wet cunt

should I be embarrassed?

or just continue on?

should i get breakfast?

or a lesson in control?

or maybe I should just be straight?

or gay?

or bisexual?

or just a mule in a castle and go home for

the night?

twiddling my thumbs!

oh like Dorothy

like a television show

sucking on honey

and a lasting impression

of big

cock-a-doodle-doos!

you have seen

behind my curtain.

the controls which control

my Oz.

Lions and Tigers and Bears

Oh my!

I am melting!

Can I cum in your

red slipper?

am I not a buffoon?

or just dr. seuss?

last mr. magoo?

do i taste thy cum?

or just wish you made me hum!

green eggs and ham

or a tub full of spam

it doesn’t matter to me

i just want to go on a

cumming spree.

Hee hee said the quaint

little chickadee

until i bent her over

and fucked her until

her eggs broke.

i’d like to crack an

egg on your skull and

lick the yoke until

it dries hard on your

chinny chin chin

she said

while i read your favorite

nursery rhymes to you

so i wont wet the bed.

plastic sheets drawn

tight with nurses

corners can make an

autoerotic day so

bright and so gay.

all sleep and no play

makes me a bad boy!

she said eloquent

I said, bitch, just kneel at my feet

she said eloquent

I said, babe, I’m just an elephant

she said don’t quit

I said, babe, I’m faithful 100%

she kneeled down

I bit at her frown

she made me cum

a sticky hot load

down her snob of a neck

she died in my arms

because i shot her in the head

love is nothing but

a sodomites fantasy

cum true.

the smell of your unwashed

ass

makes me harder than

a totem pole at

a pigmy bonfire.

roasted

nuts

and tea bags

sit well

upon your chin.

i want to smother you,

control you,

and make you the

object of my desire.

she responded with

a smile and said,

why don’t you just fuck me

like the pig that i am

for starters,

than we can move on

to the real fucking.

i want to fuck your

brain

from the inside out

and play handball with your

feelings, she replied.

oh goodie!

wake up dead man!

urine pouring down your back

beauty breaking at the spine

sunny days around here

garbage cans filled everywhere

beauty americans in the street

shooting killings out west beat

grateful sins on little tins

tiny children sucking their thumbs

photographs displayed

meat portrayed

buy it buy it

i am a consumer

deciding on your tombstone

what i wish were my birth

i go walking to the lines

of blurred sensations

and get my highs from

someone other than you.

licking your legs in

the afternoon,

and hearing you on the telephone crying

today

got me hard.

I wish I had a tomato

I’d let it rot outside

and then when it’s nice

and gooshy

and moldy

and wet

and awful smelly

I’d take it inside

to your nude chest

and drive a nail through it

the red rounded tomato

right upon your breast

roll me around in syrup

shave the hair off my nuts

and fuck me

in the ass with your

brush

bristles!

degrade me.

rape me.

hate me.

love me.

can i buy you a cup of me?

dear peanut butter dust,

I think I ran out of rust

Just the other day

How about we forget

about the fat man’s hand

on my crotch today.

that sounds lovely

because i feel like jumping

off the GWB!

there isn’t

anything to do

there isn’t

anything to say

just trying to make it

through one

more day.

i got to make it

through the day!

whatever?

feeling the lovely boy

feeling the lovely tape

I hardly knew you yesterday

but today i feel like a raped ape

ah the sweet smell of a

hairy shit

after a real long night

of heavy drinking.

I once saw a person

She barfed in the toilet

I once pulled a chain

Like from that toilet and chain

I once had an ankle with a ball

Like a chain and ball

I once had a friend

With big blue balls

Like elephants and rhinos

and super duper bouncing balls

I once saw a women

her tits bounced all over

I once had a woman

she between my balls

Like an elephant and rhino

AND THEN, THE FAT LADY HAD FINALLY SUNG!

98.01.01.01:00:00@Earth

98.12.31.00:00:00@Earth

David Harth 1998-12-27 David Harth 1998-12-27

Darkness (Version #2)

I’m starting to descend

Into the angel’s grave

I’m painting dark paintings now

Come into their depth

The paintings are blackness

Cold, dark midnight blue

I need to bolt them to the walls

Permanent and Resistant

To the children’s grabbing

And to Salomé

My passion is growing

To fertilize the land

With my lasting soul

My shadows no longer lurk

They capture me and pull me

To the underground

The silence is no longer my enemy

But my constant friend

And eager lover

They continue to lie to me

Telling me about the fantasy lover fame

And I cannot even make a frame

I pretend all these years

Not to work in a morgue

Not to feel the grooves in which we slide

The door is opening for me

I must go

For it is time

To move

The door is ajar

I can see the darkness

Forgive me

As I must go ...

98.12.27.22:09:49 @ 296 NYC