(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
I Am
I Am Sold.
I Am Corporate.
I Am Used.
I Am The Devil.
I Am Now.
I Am All Your Ears.
I Am A Number.
I Am A Meaning.
I Am Here.
I Am Sighted.
I Am Improved.
I Am Welcomed.
I Am Cut.
I Am Raw Fed.
I Am Recent.
I Am Breakfast.
I Am Clothed.
I Am Devoured.
I Am Feeling.
I Am Thinking.
I Am Someone’s.
I Am An Eyebrow.
I Am Exploring.
I Am Time.
I Am An Event.
I Am Silence.
I Am A Hostage.
I Am Stolen.
I Am Machinery.
I Am A Navel Fetishist.
I Am Sinking.
I Am Deeper.
I Am Destroyed.
I Am New Material.
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.10.11:30:00@NYC1515
98.08.13.12:00:00@NYC1515
98.08.17.13:00:00@NYC1515
Fixed
Operator
Give me the drugs
Let me sleep tonight
And not wake up tomorrow
Let me hear knocks at the door
And shoot me up with morphine
So I cant see her beauty
Or hear her laugh
Surgeon
Transplant my heart
I need a snake’s coldness
Let me violently whip around
And never be able to hug her again
Or if, so ever
Donor
Give me your eyes
So, a new set can be held
And I’ll never have the pain of thinking about her
Nurse
Wash me down
So, I can forget about my beliefs
Show me the view
To translate my horrors
Take me downtown
To get tests that reveal my truths
Security
Restrain me
So I wont break glass down your chest
So I wont cry myself to sleep
Cradiling my head in my arms
Flowers
Send yourself to me
Because when I’m with you I forget about her
And I’d like to absorb the scent from which you grow
And I’d like to remember you
As the lasting image of beauty
not her
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.16.03:49:00@NJ07430
Plastic
Spread wide open
Let me slide
Spend and get lost
Twice is better
Cost more
I am money
Control me with your feelings
Rent me
Lubrication is not necessary
Watch me
I remember you
You were here before
Discount activated
Wait -
You did not come here before
You just come and go
You left
Stay right there for a minute
Apply now
Some heavy pressure
Feel the breathing
That’s a big one!!
Double that!!
Color fabricated for your perfect desire
It’s kind of like a toy
Remember link-n-logs and tinker-toys?
Putting things together
It’s all making sense
cents
Enter
At your own risk
Debt my ass
Breeze
Whipped
Check
Stroked in your wallet
Marked
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.14.23:41:40@NYCNJ
ArtOfficial
I am cool christ
a superstar
space junk and cardboard plastic
a fan
for pure amusement
Constantly I rush
straight into carriages of carrying bottles
and mommy said this, and mommy said that!
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.14.23:36:00@NJ07430
Surrender Your Hostage
duck
dive down
in
handcuff me
to an old metal kitchen chair
make me drunk
become a talked about secret
and the frontpage news
eat a red cherry
from my sweating lips
and become a story teller
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.13.22:54:00@ Rt17 Ramsey NJ
2 Pussies/2 Pussys
2 Pussys sitting at the pool
One with four
One with two legs
One pussy winks at me
The other is my lover
One pussy,
Her legs are spread wide open
For the sun to invade
The other pussy
Is sipping
In the sunshine
One pussy’s
Nipples are stiff
And licks her lips
While staring at me
The other pussy
Rolls around
Acting like a
Pussy cat in bed
One pussy
Is clean shaven
And smooth
The other pussy
Is furry in all the right places
And oh, so soft!
Both pussys
Let their lover mount them
And enjoy the pleasure
Both pussys
Struggle and twist
At the sight of my gaze
One pussy
Walks to the water
The other
Pussy walks towards me
Now
I have a pussy
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.09.22:14:00@Bermuda
The Laughter Of Life
This is my life
Find the humor
I was defense
I marched in parades
I drive over the speed limit
With a great big smile
Knowing she’s at my side
This is my life
The one who I want
She does not give a damn
The one who wants me
I hate
The one I need
Doesn’t exist
Laugh
I spend dollars on art
Because I need too
To prevent lovers from hating each other
No one understands
The thin line
Of an artist’s life
Laugh
Sometimes I wish
Other times I seek
Sometimes I wait
Other times I fall
But all in all
It’s a mystery
They think I want
A beauty queen
An art freak
A lover
A human
Laugh
I get more romance
With my cat
And the moon
Then I do with
You
Or a paintbrush
Laugh
They think I need a shoulder
To cry upon
Reality
I offer my shoulder
For all of you
Laugh
I’ve been ticketed
I’ve been in jail
I’ve been an exhibitionist
I’ve been in love
I’ve been rescued
I’ve been hurt
I’ve been afloat
I’ve been flying
I’ve been under water
I’ve been upside down
I’ve been fetal
I’ve been dancing
I’ve been going down
I’ve been returned
I’ve been burned
I’ve been sucked
I’ve been forgotten
I’ve been mailed
I’ve been lost
I’ve been sleeping
I’ve been wanted
I’ve been yours
Laugh
I’ve been laughed at
I’ve laughed with
I’m a laugher
Come feel ridiculous with me...
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.09.22:08:00@WhiteSands Bermuda
235
A man without an ear
Was photographing my face
His left ear was bandaged
With ivory white gauze
And no trickles of blood
His flash would go off
Replicating my self
My features
My ears
He was an elder man
With greying hairs
And an aged-wisdom look
Dressed in slacks of burnt sienna
And a light weight top
Photographing me
...As if I was unaware of the events
...The past
At 235 he got Brazilian
At 130 a break from the day
He got kisses and luxury cigar smoking ladies
At 235 he was half-a-man
At 130 a traffic light shadow
A Van Gough look-a-like
Amusing himself to death
Around central neon
And upward steps
Laughter paid
The illegals scattered
The reggae made old stiff
And young, younger
At 235 he was sorry
At 130 better
© 1998 David Greg Harth
1998.08.09.00:00:00@FrontSt/WhiteSands Bermuda
Washed Away
My girlfriend passed away
Just two years ago
To this very same day
As I stood there
It was just after dusk
About 8:30pm as I stood on the beach at Grape Bay
In the lighted darkness
I watched the moonshine ripple
On the waves that rolled
Upon the sandy shore in front of me
Slowly the waves washed away
The set of footprints
Left over by two lovers walking by
Behind me in the tropical bush
I heard the orchestra of tree frogs
Chanting songs of harmony
I stood there
Staring out into the ocean
Thinking about her
With a stick I found on the beach
I carved her name into the grainy sand
And with stick in hand, I stood
Forever at the gleaming full moon
And the light patterns it reflected
On the deep ocean darkness
Stars came out and clouds passed by
Determined to the end
Until the tide moved near
And the waves washed her name away
Sometimes I thought I could hear
Her name being called
By the chirping of the frogs
But all it was, was my memory
I stared at the calmness
The few waves which broke
On the sand
The few that rolled
I stared
I thought about
Walking straight into the moonlight
That was reflected
On the ocean’s surface
To surrender to my pain
And to be with her forever
As I would be welcomed by the sea
And finally
The waves came crawling
And washed her name away
I walked away
Into the darkness
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.06.23:32:00@Grape Bay Bermuda
Saw Blade
I am a saw blade
Circular and round
I spin in cycles
I have a painted number on my side
It’s a number eleven
I am a saw blade
I cut and slice
I’m bold to go further and deeper
I have a number stained into me
It’s a number eleven
I am a saw blade
Similar to yin and yang
But certainly not
I can be spun on a driving nail
Or your vinyl player
But what makes me work
Is the electric hole
From copper wires
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.08.02.22:29:25@NJ07430