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 1998-11-16 David Harth 1998-11-16

Albino

I remember your albino hair

And gaze you gave me

Your over the shoulder shrugs

Filled of straps

You and your vanilla-cherry lips

I devour so much

The bites at your neck

And the nights shooting stars

We can puncture our veins together

And take the fake drug underneath the docks

By the cold gulf waters

As war rages on across seas

Let’s unzip and let go

Surrendering to the darkest times

Nightmares about losing teeth

And straddling around my waist; dentistry

Boxing fights, Mighty Joe Young and Family re-runs

It’s all old news to me, making me erect

For numerous albinos in the fields

Taking a cab, a dollar tip

Making it fair

And don’t believe, just a lie

Making it hot and squishy

For a little while ..

just a bit

Twiddle Dee - Twiddle Dum

Feeling woozy, I think I’ll get drunk like a bum

Albino throbbing

Hard for you

Poetry is dead

Art is dead

and so are you...

and so are you.....

98.11.16.02:56:36 @ 505NJ/(WS@NYC)

David Harth 1998-11-08 David Harth 1998-11-08

Angel X

I’m an angel

You introduced me to God

Held my hand as I entered God’s realm

You followed me in

Took care of my needs

And then you took my beauty away

My dreams

My thoughts

You raped me of possibility

And erased my doubt

You had brought me to God

But now I see

God is dead

And business is alive

You will fuck me

Perhaps up the ass

But you will not

Never will you

Ever

Destroy me

98.11.08.21:07:00 @ Tampa -> NYC Flt#1874

David Harth 1998-10-05 David Harth 1998-10-05

Amsexrica

We go up and down

Cattle sheep on escalator gunk

They do the Sarajevo shuffle

As we ignore them behind closed doors

A man stands doing nothing

With his baggage

Staring at space

As slow walkers make my rage

Ego maniacs beat their girlfriends

Bloody messes found by cops, pigs and rabbits

Forbidden fruit bitten by Iowa girls

Skinned for my own viewing pleasure

It’s an absolute drug

Needed daily for the sick boys

Brown eyes, green eyes, blue eyes, we all like red eyes!

Amsexrica

Let’s get down

Let’s boogie

Come on under

Another

Sixty-Nine

(Gold Fish arches

Cowboy Roy

Blockmister

Rented tuxedos)

Amsexrica

Go to the Avenue

Amsexrica

Go make an appointment

Amsexrica

Go stand in line

Amsexrica

I think I like ya!

98.10.03.02:20:00@NYC

98.10.05.02:22:01@505NJ

David Harth 1998-08-14 David Harth 1998-08-14

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!

98.08.14.23:36:00@NJ07430

David Harth 1997-11-26 David Harth 1997-11-26

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.

97.11.26.02:19:00@NYC

David Harth 1997-05-12 David Harth 1997-05-12

And Then The Rain Came

The sun came up

The trees made shadows

The pavement, dark, cool

The sun made patterns

Between the leaves

It fell,

To the ground

The sun came up

Over the hill,

Beyond the lake

The sun came up,

A beauty laid

She laid there,

On the blanket

Peacefully

She laid there,

Her hair glistened in the sun

Her eyes sparkled in the sun

She laid there,

Motionless,

But not emotionless,

she laid there; still

Beauty

Fine

A woman; like a statute

One to admire, one to respect, one to honor

Beauty,

Where the heart is and the sunshine flows

Where the sense is

Where the fountain of holding is

She is there, on that blanket

She is there, dressed in white

She is there, calm, and quite

She is there, wanting a hug

I took a walk one day

I saw that beauty

On that blanket

On that great grassy green field

Infront of the hills, below the sunshine

I took a walk one day

I saw her

That beauty

But where is she?

I cannot see her.

And then the rain came.

97.05.12.17:26:19@NYC

David Harth 1996-12-11 David Harth 1996-12-11

Anger

Help me

As I lay here

I am dying slowly

You all know

I am in red

Covered in red

I am going down

In a hail of bullets

Like JFK and MLK

I wish I was Gandhi

I wish I was him

I wish I was Indian

I wish I was a spider

I wish I was a wolf

I wish I was a refrigerator

I wish I was you and not me

For I am dying

And you are not

I am dying

And you know

You are not helping

And neither are you

I plea

Take me to Neuro 12

You think I am wrong

When 33 is my number

She offered 200

I offered 300 to he

She was Bi, and he did not leave

He thought I was in the middle

I slammed on the car

I killed that cat

I brought him a squirrel

I eat the dead

And take from the living

I committed

I must be admitted

I will crush you all

With my teeth

Check my back

There is a knife back there

The Beatles are back

And I am crossing Abbey Road

Under 3 seconds

And I will kill you

So, help yourself

Help me

Do not let me cross that bridge

DO NOT LET ME

I will cross the bridge

I will meet my lover

I will dive

Dive into heaven off the roof

Dive into my lover

My lover is death

Who is my lover?

I will tell you;

Death

If I could, I would fuck death

If I could, I would fuck art

If I could, I would make world peace

I will,

by killing

96.12.11.03:00:00@31USQWNYC