Traveler
I was a traveler today
Passing in front of everyone
Behind a car
It was a station wagon
Of maroon color
Two children were in the back
Back of that 4-runner vehicle
I saw them waving and yelling
Yelling at each other
A boy, a girl
Fighting humorously
I only saw them
Through the rain absorbed windshield
But oddly,
I could hear them
Hear them in my head
The sounds coming from behind me
The children’s laughter
And amusing little cries
And wonderful tearful sounds
Pleading, cracking, smiles
I was a traveler today
Followed the children
I heard them all
Laughing
Crying
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.12.30.04:30:00@NYCUSA
Love
love - strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties
love - attraction based on sexual desire: affection and tenderness felt by lovers
love - a god or personification of love
love - a score of zero
love - the death of hope
© 1997 David Greg Harth
1997.12.26.03:33:00@NYC10003 -> 07430
sweeping
I sat in the airport
watched the faceless woman
she was sweeping
sweeping away
I observed her every move
with her long broomstick
sweeping
sweeping
she stood there
faceless
in a blue jump outfit
faceless
no features were there
just a blackness
an oval black shape
like on a television screen
she was sweeping
sweeping away
I watched carefully
all the other travelers
and passengers
they were faceless too
passing by
rushing
running
faceless
with big black ovals
I watched the woman sweep
sweep away
intrigued
she was feet deep
in what she was sweeping
at the airport
she swept
faceless
I had to know
what was she sweeping?
I climbed out of my chair
walked towards the woman
the faceless woman sweeping
I looked down
she was sweeping
all the dead skin
left behind from the
passengers and travelers
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.12.15.01:26:00@MNJ07430
97.12.16.22:39:00@MNJ07430
97.12.17.23:07:00@MNJ07430
Untitled (Time)
it makes a bird fly
and the clouds move
it turns heads
and ruins cities
it burns in the night
and floats above the land
it is inside and out
it is above and below
it makes a train run
and the water flow
it reaches a destination
but continues on
it is red and blue
and white and green
it is orange and violet
and amber too
it is interruption
and birth
it is a carriage to a wheelchair
a bicycle to a car
it is a cross on a mound
it is dense and whole
round and square
it is many and few
beyond a far
it is future and past
and everything at last
it is what you and I are made of
and made from
and are going too.
what is it?
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.03.24.16:21:00@31USQWNYC
97.12.11.16:21:00@31USQWNYC
Chaos: A new Beauty
chaos is in the air
the scent invades my mind
my senses take over
by a truth of lust
chaos is in the air
the doves flew home tonight
brown eyes stare
blue eyes welcome
love is defined
he paints a picture
together they are poets
separated from birth
a welcoming horizon
never thought to exist
a real being found inside
can no longer hide
a barrier once built
now taken down and defeated
a castle of overwhelming magnitude
tracks leading to the fields
vast plains constitute
lions guard the dens
as perfume prevents desires
a cure is near
chaos penetrates my being
the smell conquers my thoughts
she moves swiftly
stinging lioness going for a kill
infiltrates my mind
intrigues my inner self
a poetry writer
a sculptor at heart
beautiful bi-line
twist and turn
a recommended St. Jude
I see an angel in my reflection
running through God’s waters
I find a lasting place
an unexpected face
is what I found in this state of grace
a gyration of fluid
a simple mind
a complex thought
share, bond, comprehend
a goddess from heaven
a Botticelli’s last dance
sunset colors
and blood dried dreams
an embrace of warmth
glowing from within the heart
I tear at myself
rip apart my soul
so, you can enter
and dance with me
in the midnight sky
a small town womyn
Japan a far
romantic scenes
portrait of an enigma
classy through choice
an 80’s lover
a 90’s conqueror
a developed reason
chaos is in the air
someone fainted back there
lift me up, guide me through
I found someone tonight
chaos is in the air
I breathe it all the time
chaos is in the air
I make love to my dreams
chaos is in the air
the beauty is stunning
the mind is beyond a wish
chaos is my lioness
a reality of my truth
an existence together
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.12.08.23:45:00@NJ07430
97.12.09.23:45:00@NJ07430
97.12.10.23:45:00@NJ07430
The Lion & The Blue Man
He died today
They wanted to shoot him
That Anthony man
She took photos
Remembered the scene
For later poetry
She defined love
He painted a picture
The winter breeze
Passed the sirens galore
He died that day
Obesity set in
And the womyn
No performance of CPR
She carried a cane
And two weighed bags
She smiled at me
And retreated to the sea
A scent of chaos
Sitting beside a lion tonight
A mosaic of utopia
Last night’s St. Jude
Bloated man
Down the aisle
Shifting feet
911
Let us plea for life
Anthony’s
An English accent
A lesbian lover
A line cutter
And a 3 some
4,5,6 trooper
Jerry curl at front
Go out for a ciggie
Wish it was for a shag
Go out for a rescue
Shove through the glass
Let’s all move on
As the dead are dying
Let’s all move on
We have to illustrate
Then the life is shortened
A distant fighter
A right hook
To the jaw; to the gut
Deep down inside
The man in blue
His flesh tone of cobalt
The cold man
With a Hong Kong’s 137
He died that day
Back in the center
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.12.06.00:00:00@NYC
97.12.07.00:00:00@NYC
A Life Of Listening (The Beauty Of Passion #1)
Do you hear me?
As I plead guilty?
To the crimes I did not commit?
To the suicide of the others?
To the love I was denied?
Do you hear me?
I tear out my tongue and twist it around
I long for your dreams
And put power into your soul
I eat at my own flesh
To hear your own pain
I live for your feelings
To comfort your life
Do you hear me?
As I cry myself to sleep
To deal with the pain
To survive from the hell
And bring dead to the graves?
Do you hear me?
As I press a stake through my heart
And pound at my feelings
I last a short while
As long as you want
I last the longest time
The day of your life
Do you hear me?
As I call upon your mother and father?
As I sit beside you at your lonesome night?
As I stroke your hair
And caress your face?
As I take care of you
Nurse you to the life you had
To the gift you are
To the one I dedicate my life to
To the one I burned for
Died for
Decomposed for?
Do you hear me?
As I yell in sheer agony?
As nails of love puncture my dreams?
To the one I have not forgotten
To the one I will forgive
For I have sinned
Take me now.
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.11.26.08:37:00@NYC
ASSIGNMENT
I wonder if it’s true
The invitation
To tomorrow’s party
The one down under
The one with wine down the back
A channel
An influence of animals
A Zoo Channel
One to be discovered
An Assignment completed
Yet just started on a statue
A sculpture from heaven
With the gaze of mystery
A rose with its thorns up
Protection, a front
Boundaries broken
Until I come inside
I wonder if it’s true
The beloved ghost’s last train
The pondering thoughts
And lasting impressions
An Assignment given and taken
One with ends that meet commons
One with twists and turns
From the waist to the breast
Sexy
Eyebrows to shout
I imagine, a navel
Navel of no other
A French kind for me
A brown-eyed sunset
Down from the earth, so very near
Together an experience
Every time, she wonders
I wonder if it’s true
If he is the one in the sea
She dances with me
I know she will wear that shoe
If the blue matches
The brown mixes
The painting is like a Warhol
An origin of delight
Beauty upon a platter
A lasting lust of crime
Danger is near
Around her curves
I can feel them here
Every bend
Every turn
Mind set to go
A deliver punch of intensity
I wonder if Assignments should be given
Or if he just died in heaven.
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.11.26.02:19:00@NYC
The Phone Man
The man on the phone
he stared at me today
his curly hair
like a cherry tree
He gazed at me
glass ball-eyed
he yelled and screamed
did not piss in his pants
Hand in pocket
he knows me
I try to pass
he stabs through me
The man on the phone
he hunts for me
I ran down the hall
pass a sign
he follows
the man on the phone
I ran past the crew
and the bed men too
I ran to the alley
and past the white ghosts
I have a glimpse
woman in the window
her bare breasts
sticking out
Her nipples hard
as can be
man on the phone
on my ass
I stare at the woman
the woman in the shadows
out from the window
she gives a yell
I climb the ladder
to the woman
her breasts bare
in front of my stare
She takes me inside
the phone man behind
I lay on the bed
as she straddles my waist
The window crashes open
the man who knew me
he runs into the room
as the woman grinds her hips
The phone man approaches
the woman atop
pulls a caliber
out from his jacket pocket
Points it behind her
In front of me
behind her bare breasts
her stiff nipples
in front of me
The phone man
he pulls the trigger
I bleed
Her nipples toss
In front of me
The phone man
he knew me
I lay there
as he calls 911
as his lover
falls to the ground
as I die
beneath dead bare breasts...
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.11.20.22:17:57@NYC
Beauty
I gaze into your beauty
see strength deep within
sexy in a grey color sweater
underneath, slip a few
Eyebrows
lifted to enjoy
explore
and protect your eyes
leading to the bridge
slender
like the figure below
I get lost
in your brown eyes
over and over again
I can travel your pathways
and long hallways
any day
all day
Traveling through
your mystery brown eyes
baby seal eyes
attraction at its peak
your eyelashes at guard
only a glimpse
captures me
and makes me dive deeper
and sink into your eyes
beautiful brown eyes
I trace your curves
your smooth skin face
with my eyes
or feathers or ice
to your mouth
parted slightly
rose lips
pink in tone
for a nibble tonight
When you smile
all wars come to a halt
around mother earth
we stand still
at sight of your
glorious smile
healing a wound inside
Still a passenger
I travel down
see your sexy neck
outside you protrude
from the sweater cover
your hair
perfect
with the black
the brown
and the red color around
Slick
to the touch
feel
fingers through your hair
streak down
stroke upwards
The surrounding
incase
your mind of wonders
intelligence projected
ice water placed
down to earth
of Egyptian decent
If you were across a sea
I would row a boat
build a steam ship
create a bridge
If you were atop a mountain
I would be the first to climb
parachute down
or fly to your soul
Come with me
take a walk
an imagination
a chance of no other
your beauty interlocking
exchanging
finding
becoming “a one”
Dance with me
to the moon’s hymn
and the sun’s first open arms
with the animals of the forest
and the wonderful desert skies
and later
a dessert
to expand a horizon
And now I wonder
If your bolted tongue
slithers like that of your mind
and your beautiful brown eyes
down a slippery escape
of today’s reality
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.11.18.13:20:00@NYCUSA
Brown Ashes
they danced
exchanged
slithered up
each other’s bodies
melted
bended together
they bonded
candles ignited
the waitress laughed
customers scattered
rotations rushed
water poured
but did not stop us
wooden ones left
as the glass shattered
the mirror busted
drinks on me
they don’t sell well
we are being fed
as the others
left to bled
that night
I lay in bed
wonder how
I escaped
I survived
as a pile of slender ashes
lays beside me
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.11.07.12:52:00@505MAHWAH
Reaching
I’m reaching out
I try harder and harder
an open arm
I guide my hand
She fades away from me
each step I take
I can see her faintly
every inch I move
her curves blow away
with the wind from under my breath
and from the heavens
I try to stop myself
from being under
but I can’t help it
I only want to try
try for a welcoming hug
a feel
a touch
But every time I near
she pulls away
further and further
into the darkness
of a corner unknown to me
I try to see her
I push myself
I dig in deep
I conquer any obstacle
tackle warriors
break boundaries
cross borders
all for her
But
as I get nearer
she fades away...
she becomes silent
pulls herself out of reach...
So...
I wait,
with my hand on my soul
folded arms
I wait
for her
to reach
me
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.10.30.17:30:00@NYC
Slip
If you slip
wearing that black
a slip under
satin against soft smooth
A slip thru a curtain
silky sheets
slip thru a net
down below
Were you wet?
slippery at the time?
Under the ground
deeper and deeper
You slip
and fade
into the shadows
under the earth
under your slip
You slip away
you hear secrets
a whisper
of warm breath
in your right ear
than left
a whisper
a slip of the tongue
and then you wonder...
Am I slipping...
or is this just a dream?
a climb?
not slip...
but a climb....
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.10.30.16:57:00@NYC
Red Addiction #1 (False Version)
slicing up my skin
my vein
clenching my fist
pumping my arm
puncturing it
sliding it in
deeper
inject it
an orgasm
a delight
a daydream
an experience of no other
a highlighted color
a god-blessed Mary
my soul intertwines
with the tree trunks
and pathways of arteries
within my flesh
I release
let go
fall backwards
upon the mattress
explore it
feel it
pump no longer
and then
I pass away
at the sound of a doorbell
ringing
ringing
buzzing in my ear...
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.10.29.22:46:00@505MAHWAH
Laughter
it makes one happy
and clears the tears away
putting a smile on your face
from cheek to cheek
it’s funny and romantic
cherish the moment
friends can laugh
and cuddle too
smile at the uniqueness
the special bond
the broad whiteness
that they display
olive against pasty
smile wide
for that photo shoot
in a Miami booth
smile and laugh
all through the night
take no moment for granted
just laugh and laugh
Laughter
two smiles share it
two friends create it
Laughter
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.10.23.15:17:00@NYC
Untitled (Autumn Leaves)
The leaves were out today
in different shades
yellow and red
green and brown
orange and burnt sienna
They were beautiful
changing colors
with the swaying trees
the cool breeze
and all over
they are on their knees
Two intertwining souls
wrapping around
the thick trunk
leading up to those fascinating
dying leaves
The mountains were covered
with all kinds of foliage
each little bush
each little tree
was a place for you and me
The breeze continued
the trees still swayed
the leaves fell today
but we are still
on our knees
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.10.21.14:09:00@NYC
Dream
I met her
just the other day
she was walking
in my shadow
I knew her all along
but just met her the other day
Beauty presented herself
In my darkness
She came in front of me
My lonesome path
She entered me
passed through me
but she got caught
caught in my heart
She is dancing there
dancing, wearing black velvet
She thinks there
and as She does
I whisper to Her
during the nighttime
and day
I try to dream
but no memories come out
accept the one in my shadow
the Princess of my heart
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.10.20.21:46:22@505MAHWAH
Stranger
there he was
he sat in front of me
today
he sat there
his moldy face
his crew cut
in front of me
that there,
that strange man
reading the foreign hieroglyphics
looking out my window
his smell haunted me
seeped thru my clothes
made me choke on his hovering shadow
the stranger
that strange man
he sat there
reading all day
small light above
his amber eyes
stared back at me
wondered if I was the one
wondered if I was getting off
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.10.20.21:28:00 @ NYC USA
42nd street
I used to walk those days
passing the whores
the drugs
the sexy stores
see the lights
flashing arrows
light up the sky
hot pink, bright yellow,
neon green and orange too
smell of sweetness in the air
weed on the side
black man white man
inside out
girls in heels
knee high boots
mini skirts
cheeks seen
feathers around necks
stocking covered long legs
I used to walk those streets
filled with motion
and sperm lotion
with chaos and nudity
pornography
and money money money
twenty-five cents
televisions
I have 125 stations
it’s time to go back to join other creations
prostitutes
no institute for freedom
where the men all go
to dance and prey
where the men all rape
the young of their innocence
the children still cry
for cigarette butts
was inspiration
for artists and poets
musicians too
for films and movies
and womyn too
Now it’s no more lust
but falling dust
demolition
to create a new political nation
filled with children
not selling
but buying
mickey mouse
and donald duck
theatres and candies
no more sluts
Now its towers of products
no more vibrations
just new fun
no more poetry
no more art
that is dead
instead,
corporate business
making a buck
instead of a fuck
Now it’s no strip
for the men who tip
it’s just a collection
and only a few
stand at 42nd and 8th
offer me a smoke
or a blow
but don’t ever
ever
offer me disney again
© 1997 David Greg Harth
97.10.16.18:46:00@505MAHWAH