Spit, Blood, Fire (New Year’s Day 03)

Fire did not come

Snow Rabbit did not arrive

Cat ran off

Other cat has been called

We saw a rockstar

Bought chewing gum on Prince Street

Had my smoked chicken

On Mott Street

No gangs here

Just outside

But a beauty of blonde

Writing creatives just under my bills

A toast at home

Shirt removal too

Went to ten and one

Visited the lesbians

Left rather quickly

Brisk walk

Did not go

Lounge around back

For One Twenty Five

Turn round the corner

What do you see?

Tom & Jerry’s and a big T.V.

She thought he was hot

He ate her arm

She hugged he and he and her and her and even me

She felt her ass

We all bought drinks

I asked for a better hug

She gave her pussy to her Three Thousand Dollar Ass

Laughter shared

But no B. here

Fun times round

Minnesota, Wisconsin, run into the ground

The beautiful librarian kissed

Smacked in the nose

The blood dripped down

Fifty Dollar shirt, now blood stained memory

Fire on the corner

Put out the fire

Saved a life

Saved a life

On New Year’s Day

© 2003 David Greg Harth

03.01.01.10:27:06@296NYC

I Got Shot At

I’ve been up working on my art through Christmas Eve and the entire night.

It’s now early morning Christmas Day.

I am an atheist, so I don’t celebrate the holiday.

At about 3:30am I went out to Han’s Deli on Broadway and Bleecker St.

to get a snack to eat. I knew Han’s Deli would be open on Christmas.

They are always open! While walking East on the south side of Bleecker back to my studio, I was approached by a man between Mulberry and Mott Streets. He was a Caucasian man, slightly taller than I, with a black haired mustache. He had dark green pants and white sneakers, Nike to be exact. His jacket was quite puffy, unsure of the brand, but it was black, or a really dark shade of midnight blue.

The man approached rather quickly. He didn’t surprise me, because I am well aware of my surroundings. After all, they call me a Bad Ass Mother Fucker. (well, that’s what I call myself when walking the streets of New York City) I saw the man was on the same side of the street as me. I had a plastic bag in one hand, which had some cookies and a Hershey’s chocolate milk in it. (That was my snack.) As we approached each other even closer, that’s when I knew something might happen. It was in my gut I guess.

I’ve always waited for the day for this to happen. It finally did. We walk closer and closer to each other, he going West, I going East. In the final moments in our head on collision, his eyes meet mine and he deliberately pushes his shoulder in mine, causing me to drop the plastic bag and stumble into the wall. He grabs my arm and pushes me against the wall, with his other hand he pulls out a gun from his right front jacket pocket.

Confronted with a gun just blocks from my studio is where I am at 3:30am on Christmas Day. He demands money, with the actual classic phrase “Give me your money!” Although it actually sounded like “Gimme Yoh Money!”

Again, I’ve always waited for this day. I always knew that I would never give up my money for someone. It’s mine. And my theory was always ‘to say no, and if they wanted it, they would have to kill me for it’ I responded with “No.” The man looks puzzled in disbelief, and in that split moment I just took my right hand, brought it up as quickly as possible and knocked that gun right out of his grasp! The gun went flying in the air (more in a sideways motion). I saw the silver piece shine in the street lamp’s light and it hit the wintery concrete side walk. All this happened extremely quickly in a matter of seconds. I seized my opportunity to run. And run I did.

But I discovered something I knew already. Humans can’t out run bullets. As I ran down Bleecker St, only a few yards now away from the man. He fires his gun, probably more out of rage, then out of determination to get my money. I hear a ‘BANG!’ and, which seemed like at the exact same time, a whistle right by my right ear. It must have been a bullet, but I’ll never know. Still running, about to near the next corner, I hear another ‘BANG!’ Only this time, I did not hear the whistle wizz by my ear. This time I felt a bee sting on my shoulder. This whistle sounded different from the previous one.

I then rounded the corner as fast as I could. I hear no footsteps following me and make it to the next corner, breathing heavily. I look back and do not see the man. I take a few slight detours before determining that it would be best for me to get back to my studio as soon as possible.

I arrive back to my studio and find that the bee sting on my shoulder was actually an open wound. The bullet actually grazed my skin! I couldn’t believe it. I’ve actually been shot! That fucker actually shot me! There was a hole in my jacket and my shirt was missing some cloth. And there was a big streak which appeared like a heavy rug burn on my right shoulder!

As I inspect my slight wound some more, I phone 911. I speak to the police and give them details and information. The officers arrive in full force, I must say! EMS, the Fire Department, NYPD, all converged within a matter of minutes on my block and front door. It’s about 3:40am now. In my studio there is about 10 Emergency workers. Attending to my slight wounds, but many asking me questions.

As they clean up my shoulder and the cops continue to ask me questions, over the radio we are notified they picked up the man which fit the description I gave earlier! Of course, this was now about 4am. The man was found on 2nd Ave near 5th street. A few blocks East and North of our location.

It is now 6am when I write this. I went to the Precinct to identify the man, fill out paperwork, and file charges. In the meantime, the NYPD told me that the guy will be put away for a while. Especially since they had evidence and an eye witness.

Now I’m going to bed because I have a lot to do today.

I might go back to the Soup Kitchen to feed the homeless,

as I had such a wonderful experience doing that yesterday.

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.12.25.05:56:22@296NYC

Kitchen Mixing

I made the mix in the kitchen

Got out the milk

Got out the cocoa

Got out the blender

I made the shake

I ate the pear

She ate the banana

Cherry Pie delivered

She brought the apple cider

Flames up the side

I count, one, two, three

Women here, no one free

But me

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.12.19.03:18:28@296NYC

Love (Version #15)

You told me to wait.

You told me not to look.

You told me it did not exist.

I always believe it did.

And today, I discovered it does!

And you can’t have any.

It’s right here.

I cradle it in my hands.

I cradle love in my hands.

Love.

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.12.18.23:04:13 296 New York City

Dear Ms. Copyright #2

Dear Ms. Copyright,

I received your letter in response to the previous acceptance. Unfortunately, we cannot fully accommodate your needs and/or requests. You have not pre-determined your Act in which we would need to comply with. We are unaware, at this time, of such an Act which engages the reasonings of one, two, or three, in or during the proposal. I apologize in advance but the Nevada lay cannot occur due to the following reason. I am happy to inform you that your prize package has changed to include a trip to London and a visit from Jack the Ripper!

We encourage you to quickly return to the home of your choice, we will then award you with the fabulous prize of, once again, Exchange Material Overhaul. We hope you enjoy your gifts and prizes.

Should you have any questions, feel free to contact us.

Sincerely,

Surprise Surprise Department

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.11.23.18:21:08 @ 296 New York City

My Lover’s Unique Ass

My Lover

Has a very unique ass

Too bad

You’ll never see it.

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.11.19.22:10:00@Spring&ElizabethNYC

Virgin

I call her,

            my virgin

My little

            virgin

Everything she does

            is oh,

            so nice

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.11.19.22:08:00@Spring&ElizabethNYC

Crawl

slowly

uncovering

I approach steadily

with my eyes squinting in the dark light

with my nose downwards, sniffing the night air

my hands in front of me

my legs below me

laying horizontally

I slowly crawl across

approach with precise caution

my smooth hands touch the sides

gliding towards

I get closer and closer

crawling nearer

my eyes speaking

my tongue licking my lips

about to divulge in my prey

my feet and calf muscles push me in closer

my elbows dig a deeper brace among the surroundings

my fingers know the direction

the scent is stronger than ever

I feel the heat coming

not even exhausting

but surely, pulsating

even towards me

finally, my head is near

my mouth opens

my tongue extends outwards

and with beautiful strokes and touches

I lick your pussy

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.10.30.17:57:34@1515NYC

Art Slave

I’m pulled around, fucked with

I’m not driven around in black cars

I’m not escorted by the runway models

I’m not high enough or in demand

I’m not shoved from occupation to occupation

I’m not understood, I don’t look to be understood

I’m not accepted, I’m not supported

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.10.30.24:44:00@296NYC

Gold, Silver, Ruby, Shrubby, Bush, Powder, Sluts, Whores, and Me

Been there,

Did her.

Did that,

Did her.

Did her, did she, didn’t do her, did that, did this, around back, around front

did it, did it again

did do, do that, did the deed, planted my seed

forget that forgot that holiday inserted

advertise with me

lighted buildings

take me in your arms

make a stain on my bed

took out - out back

took your bottom, made a smack!

push pull - pull push

plump pimp stump smash sunk punk funk dunk

you’re in luck,

I’m ready to fuck

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.10.28.17:01:07@1515NYC

Goodbye (Version #4)

I’m sorry, I didn’t want to say goodbye.

I told you if you smothered me with your love,

that would push me away.

Further and further away I would travel.

Abandon the love we had and future we could have had.

You rushed me too much.

I couldn’t travel the pace you were at.

I’m sorry, but I must hide now.

I cannot take the pain that both of us would develop.

It’s already too painful.

You know my love for you exists.

I apologize that I have huge walls that border my emotions, my feelings, my mind.

I’m sorry for all of this.

Goodbye...

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.10.28.16:01:23 @ 1515 NYC

I swallowed my tongue for you

I love you so very much.

My love is so powerful for you.

So very intense.

I couldn’t help myself

but begin to chew on my tongue

Putting my tongue side to side

In between my teeth

Chomping and biting down on it

Tasting the warm blood swoosh around my mouth

Chewing it and thinking of you at the same time.

Thinking about how much I love you.

My meaty tongue

Bitten over and over with my powerful jaw

And bony teeth

Puncturing it and pulling it apart.

Tearing it from the tendons that hold it secure in my mouth

The blood dribbling from my lips

I feel the blood dripping down my throat

Coating it with a lovely warmth

Finally, no longer,

I love you so much,

I swallow my tongue

And devour its every taste bud.

I love you.

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.10.28.15:54:52 @ 1515 NYC

I’ve seen you

I’ve seen you brush your hair

I’ve seen you turn the corner around the city block

I’ve seen you get a manicure on your toe nails

I’ve seen you in line to get bakery cookies

I’ve seen you on the subway car

I’ve seen you pass me in the hall

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.10.27.23:55@296NYC

Put Your Gloves On, I’m Coming Home

Turn the heat up

Turn it on

Get underneath the blankets

Look overhead at the fighter jets

My work is done here

No more time to spend,

Must not delay my lover’s end

Put your gloves on, I’m coming home!

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.10.25.15:12:12@1515NYC

sniper

sniper, we don’t want you here no more

you have no speech to share with us

your bullets are nothing but the NRA’s whore

sniper, ya better duck

cause I’m coming to town

to kill you, ya dumb-ass-fuck

sniper, be gone before dawn

or you will be put to rest

below the cemetery lawn

sniper, show your face

let the public eat you alive

you are a human disgrace

sniper, don’t put the children in the grave

they are not the enemy,

all of us will remain brave

sniper, leave immediately,

go back to your hell hole

if you must kill, then kill me

sniper, go away

wickedly,

you look like me today

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.10.23.17:49:29@1515NYC

Stranger (Version #2)

Keeping my eyes out of view

I hoped our hearts would connect

Interlocking in the wind from the West

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.10.18.17:22:00@296NYC

Trouble Maker

I’m the Trouble Maker

You better watch out.

I’m the Trouble Maker

I’ll make love to you

I’m the Trouble Maker

You’ll fall in love with me

I’m the Trouble Maker

You can’t take it

I’m the Trouble Maker

There is no hope left

I’m the Trouble Maker

I’ll make you eat it

I’m the Trouble Maker

I’ll make you take it

I’m the Trouble Maker

I’ll make you part it

I’m the Trouble Maker

You better watch out!

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.10.17.16:30:33@1515NYC

Dear Ms. Copyright

Dear Ms. Copyright,

I received your phone call regarding our previous encounter with the elements of reasonings one, two, and three. At this time, we have reviewed your proposal and have accepted it. We will send you a voucher for two airline tickets to Las Vegas. There you will meet up with Elvis. Upon arrival you will not get laid like you do on the volcanic islands, but maybe Elvis has something up his sleeve. We are unsure of the details at this moment.

When you return to your present home, we will then award you with the fabulous prize of Exchange Material Overhaul. We hope you enjoy your gifts and prizes.

Should you have any questions, feel free to contact us.

Sincerely,

Surprise Surprise Department

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.10.17.16:15:14 @ 1515 New York City

Winter, Religion, Stars, Fire

Winter:

against my skin

Religion:

against my skin

Stars:

against my skin

Fire:

against my skin

One thing missing,

Love

against my skin

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.10.07.15:38:30 @ 1515NYC

Defend

I’ll defend you to the night’s end, and to the world’s collapse

I’ll defend you to the critic’s slays, and diamond pushers

I’ll defend you to the photographer from the press, and the ladies in dress

I’ll defend your wonderful faults and talented beauties

I’ll defend your mistakes and errors, your weaknesses and illnesses

I’ll defend your sadness and loneliness, and let you be yourself

I’ll defend your name and the actions you make

I’ll defend your black paintings and the music you listen too

I’ll defend your taste and the diseases you breed

I’ll defend your personality and your secrets

I’ll defend your honor and your death

I’ll defend your history and all the work you do

I’ll defend you when you are gone, and when you are present

I’ll defend you when you are crawled up in the fetal position, in the corner, or on the doctor’s table

I’ll defend you when your score plays on loud speakers throughout the world’s places of worship

I’ll defend your previous lovers and dreams

I’ll defend your impressions and alterations

I’ll defend your movements and realizations

I’ll defend you to the side gallerists, and the avid collector

I’ll defend you to the writer’s questions, and the curator’s contact

I’ll defend you to the Holy denials, and the waves of the sea

I’ll defend you, forever and ever,

she whispered in my ear,

as the fear I once had,

came true

at 41.

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.09.24.09:36:40@1515NYC