Business
She knocked at my door. It was a quarter to nine O’clock Thursday evening.
I spoke to her earlier in the day, in the late afternoon. She came just on time.
I opened the door, after bolt and bolt. There she was, standing perfectly still.
Dressed in black and pink. Soft pink. Just as requested. She smoked a long cigarette.
Quite ill. I asked her to come on in and she did, with a wag and a tight stroll.
I asked her what kind of music she wanted to listen too. She said she didn’t mind.
I suggested some jazz. Not the contemporary kind, but the older kind.
Her golden hair waved as she tossed it back to the other shoulder in a graceful movement.
She picked up today’s Times from my bare floor and asked for a glass of water,
before I could even offer. I told her to feel at home and have a seat.
I went to the kitchen, scratching, and poured her a glass of water in one of my finest clear glasses.
Came back out, still scratching, and found her on my used couch in a gaze, still.
I reached out and gave her the water and told her how much I appreciated her business.
She thanked me back, and took a sip of her cold water.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.05.14.02:14:52@296NYC
Lost
I can’t help but feel
my loneliness
conversations scattered
in my bleeding heart
dying without you
alone with nothing
I’m lost without
and still haven’t found
I thought I did
recently
and years ago
I walked on empty beaches
and climbed occasions of joy
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.05.11.20:19:00@296NYC
I Thought Love Was True
I thought love was true,
was real
was possible
but since she left me
alone
I have rethought
my initial thought
and have gone back to my original
thought
on the topic
at hand.
Love is not true
Love is not possible
And now the street worker
will have to sweep up my skin,
my lashes,
and my secreted ointments.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.05.05.24:58:56@296NYC
Calling Your Name
I’m calling your name.
Why can’t you hear me?
I’m leaning out the window.
I’m shouting for you.
I’m expressing my most honest emotions.
I’m showing you.
I’m illustrating to you.
I’m becoming vulnerable.
I’m about to love you.
I’m calling your name.
I’m in love with you.
Why don’t you hear me call your name?
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.05.01.22:58:23@296NYC
Ice Cube, Ice Tea
Ice Cube
Ice Tea
Ice Cream
Ice Coffee
I Scream
I Sweat
I Stomp
I Sea
I See
I Sink
I Sunk
I Suck
I Sip
I Soothe
I Surreal
I Scoop
I Pop
I Push
I Pull
I Penetrate
I Pulsate
I Pump
I Pimp
I Pinch
I Pry
I Envelope
I Engage
© 2004 David Greg Harth
03.06.26.13:36:02@296NYC
04.05.01.08:13:00@296NYC
Top Ten Most Embarrassing Songs On My MP3 Player (As of April 30th 2004)
“Right Here Waiting” - Richard Marx
“Save The Best For Last” - Vanessa Williams
“My Heart Will Go On (Love Theme From Titanic)” - Celine Dion
“Jessie” - Joshua Kadison
“Glory Of Love” - Peter Cetera
“Hero” - Enrique Iglesias
“I Swear” - All 4 One
“Look Away” - Chicago
“I’d Do Anything For Love” - Meatloaf
“I’m With You” - Avril Lavigne
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.30.02:22:54@296NYC
Leave Me George
Leave me George,
for I no longer love you.
We’ve been together
for over forty years.
They have been quite
wonderful years.
Amazing, exquisite, personal.
But I’ve changed,
and I no longer love you.
I deeply care for you.
I am sorry. I do hope you understand.
Leave me George,
for I no longer love you.
I have fallen in love
and I have fallen out.
You were my light,
my devotion, my night time kiss.
You were mine,
for most of my life,
but changes are upon me.
Leave me George,
for I no longer love you.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.27.02:21:39@296NYC
Alive
I am so alive.
Alive right now.
Because of you.
You’ve saved me.
Falling stars drop in my backyard.
In my midnight dream.
I am so alive.
Because I know you’ll be back.
You won’t ever disappear.
Existing in my heart forever.
Thank you for saving me.
Making me beat one more time.
I am so alive.
You make me feel so alive.
Real and happy and never with shallow dreams.
Today I am alive.
I’m not going anywhere.
Just chasing my dreams around here.
I am so alive.
I’ve never felt this way.
Thank you for your love.
I’ll see you in my mind.
When you save me once more.
I am so alive.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.26.21:08:03@296NYC
A Note to You
the moon reflects
on the ripples in the water
I see you peeking
in and out
you keep me hidden
only to discover
I’ve been inside of you
all this time
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.24.19:10:25@296NYC
(something)
not here,
found,
roaming in the
hallway.
found a fountain,
communicated to traffic signals,
sheets pulled up,
over himself.
in your eyes,
i found everything i’ve wanted to be
and much more
beyond your physical beauty.
hearing your voice,
i can’t stand no longer
in this world we call earth
falling apart without a dove.
i belly up at the end of the day,
figuring you’ll love me,
in silence
or heavy noise
travelled deep,
found those returned to me,
emptiness after the course
i’ll reach for you forever
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.24.19:08:14@296NYC
It Is A Good Day
Traveling through the states of my land.
Following my path to find my beloved.
Across mountains of earth and rivers of birth.
I moved through the woods and through the valleys.
My partner awaited me in the high desert sun.
She called my name again and again.
I sucked poisonous rattle snake venom out of my limbs.
I lived with my brothers among wolf packs in the wild.
Nightly I danced around the flames of the fire.
Like a crazy horse chasing his tail.
Through the fields of golden still wheat.
Beyond the trenches of my empty ache.
Visions of her kept my path clear.
Struggling among dirt of the mother.
Finally, I arrived to her beautiful side.
Put on my dress and placed on my paint.
Against the wind I approached my love.
An angel came down from the heavens.
She whispered in my ear.
“It is a good day to die.”
So, I took my pride and walked once more.
Great red of the core ate at my holy insides.
Drifting to my sleepless constant sleep.
My body became numb and my tongue ill.
I die a slow death becoming dead.
On this mighty good day under the same sky as she.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.23.02:49:22@296NYC
Friends
I have so many friends.
So many that love me.
My family and so many great friends.
But I don’t have any best friends.
I never had a best friend.
I’ve had many great friends. Plenty of good friends.
Seriously, I have very many GREAT friends.
But when everything is wrong in the world,
you want that one really close friend.
That best friend.
To count on.
To phone.
When you’re alone.
And contemplating suicide.
But there is no one to call.
Because you have so many great friends.
But you don’t have a best friend.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.20.22:07:44@296NYC
Jobless, Homeless, Loveless, Loneliness and Despair, Hunger, Ache
I asked you for forgiveness,
you gave me shame.
I asked you for protection,
you gave me abandonment.
I asked you for bread,
you gave me not even a crumb.
I asked you for guidance,
you gave me shadow without light.
I asked you for love,
you gave me empty hope.
I asked you for healing,
you gave me illness.
I asked you for comfort
you gave me hell.
I asked you for safety,
you gave me processions of death.
I asked you for someone’s heart
you gave me nothing but grief.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.20.21:46:11@296NYC
I’m Digging In The Dirt
I’m digging in the dirt,
trying to find support.
I’m repairing my spine,
restructuring my backbone.
I’m digging in the dirt
trying to find myself, lost.
I’m listening with open ears,
feeling my heart beating empty.
I’m digging in the dirt,
with nothing left to win or gain.
I’m taking a leap of faith,
believe it not.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.15.10:55:00@NYC
Time To Go
I’m long overdue.
It’s time to visit my favorite floor.
To not have pillows and see nails in doors.
I’ll give my father the peace symbol.
Witness my grandparents cry again.
Get scolded for pleasuring myself.
Admitting to no wrong doings.
Keep sketches not created by me.
Eat with the roaches at the dining table.
Not understand the television.
Eat my sweet bananas.
Escape this cynical world.
Visit the bad waiters.
Get lost on the subway train to the museum.
Go underground in secret passageways.
Spring buds on the trees, but it was just winter.
Time to spit, time to color, and time to break.
Let’s play pool and ping-pong and hang-man.
I’ll let all of them worry about me.
Some can quit smoking or drinking.
Loose your weight and gain your strength.
Watch me shrivel up into the fetal position.
I’ll get punctured in my back.
Once again we’ll measure my protein levels.
Objects will appear closer; I’ve got a disease.
Time to go.
I’m long overdue.
Time to go...
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.06.03:14:36@296NYC
Four
I’ve got four hands.
Four hands for holding you.
Blisters on my hands from the pleasure.
Dancing to the dusted planet.
I hear satellite phones.
Four times the speed of sound.
I can’t take this foursome.
Let’s have a drink, and make it right.
Do the right thing.
Black cars, black cars, black cars.
Four girls waving good bye.
Children riding the merry-go-round.
Time to go out and get the newspaper.
I’ll pour the coffee if you pour the juice.
We’ll cut coupons.
Four.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.04.04:04:04@296NYC
Decipher The Lover’s Poetry
Hunting in the lover’s words.
Looking deep inside.
Knowing the statements.
Consuming the nightly challenges.
Bordering insanity.
Singing to the lover’s tongue.
Experiencing the thoughts.
Eating at the plate of the devil.
Smelling the scent of the lover’s breadth.
Listening to the heart.
Thanking the lover for the evening.
Laughing to the spoken silence.
Parting the lips to welcome.
Softening the touch behind the nape.
Hiding the pleasant untold secrets.
Turning over and moving your hips.
Painting the picture of the flourishing valley.
Opening the door to the soul.
Standing near the open window with a breeze in your hair.
Sharing the mind’s eye.
Feeling the sensitivity.
Playing the part of the unwanted friend.
Stretching rules and guidelines of humanity.
Changing mournful times to healthy pleasure.
Growing older with the lover hand in hand.
Greeting with a salt sea and scroll.
Penetrating walls of thick mortar.
Swimming lost oceans of messages.
Creaming whipped blends of ache.
Ending with lines of amendments.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.02.05:12:40@296NYC
Held to Words
She held me to my words,
she held me to the false promises
the false truths
the false love.
She held me in her arms
as I said my last words
upon my death bed
bleeding inside
from never being loved
on this jobless day.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.03.30.01:15:41@296NYC
Through My Brain
I don’t know how I could be typing this.
Because I put a bullet through my brain.
Pop. Snap. Blam.
I know how I could be typing this.
Because I’m typing this.
This poem.
Before I pulled the trigger.
And now I’ll hit send.
And one of you,
will have to come to my studio
and clean up the bits and pieces
of brain matter
on my lap
and lap top
keyboard.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.03.24.21:04:12@296NYC