Dream (Version #2)
I have a dream,
and you are not a part of it.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.01.23.19:16:00@87thSt&LexingtonNYC
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
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
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
Deeper
Inched in
Penetrated your walls
Your barriers
Your strict bloody cavity
Pushed through the membranes
The vessels that provide
Inched in
Had combat with your surroundings
Notified you I was coming in
Entering from atop
Going far inside
Feeling around for your thoughts
Inched in
Deeper
and
Deeper
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.09.12.16:07:10 @ 1515 nyc
Dear Lionel
I couldn’t imagine doing art without you in my life
Now you are gone forever
You never signed, only loved
Thank you for the inspiration
And the Number One
Wall drawings were erected
Danced to your wonders
My heart is empty
Continuously
And today, I’m without you
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.09.04.11:17:54@1515NYC
Don’t F With Me
Don’t Fuck With Me!
Don’t say you are going to phone, and don’t.
Don’t say you promise, and you don’t come through.
Don’t say you’ll dance with me, and you don’t!
Don’t fuckin fuck with me!
Don’t Fuck With Me!
Don’t say one thing, and do the direct opposite.
Don’t say you’ll visit me, and you don’t.
Don’t say you’ll attend the exhibit, and you don’t show up.
Don’t say you’ll cook dinner, and you don’t.
Don’t say you’ll be in New York, and you don’t come.
Don’t fuckin fuck with me!
Don’t tell me lies.
Don’t tell me you went off the pill.
Don’t tell me you won’t see me anymore.
Don’t tell me you got wed behind my back.
Don’t tell me you are a man.
Don’t tell me your mother wants you back home at eight.
Don’t tell me you left for the coast.
Don’t tell me that your lover is back in your life.
Don’t fuckin F with me.
Don’t fuckin lie.
Don’t fuckin be bitch.
A coward.
A slut fuck.
Don’t bend over and kiss the witness goodbye.
Don’t F with me!
Don’t fuckin penetrate my mind for one instant, then leave.
Don’t fuckin take the cheap fix.
Don’t be faceless in my life.
Don’t fuckin play the bass and leave the stage.
Don’t fuckin back out now.
Don’t Fuck with Me!
Don’t Fuckin F with me....
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.06.05.17:33:02@1515NYC
Don’t Wait Up For Me
How long has it been?
Operator, please put the phone call through
Haven’t heard your beautiful voice in days
Wish I could be with you for eternity
Your positives and negatives
I just won’t get over it
I just won’t get into the swing with you
How long has it been?
I’ll send you an SOS signal and see if you receive it
Follow me and not get wed or committed
Wish I could share unique languages with you
That can only be understood between you and I
Stay up late with me and ignore me when I’m not me
Wake up early with me for flights to foreign escapes
It’s been forever
Our lines are dead; they never were.
I think of you night and day.
Time is passing.
How long has it been?
Briefly we spoke together at the open table
Discovered hidden truth
Wish I could be among your spot of blue and loneliness
Above ground and below the earth’s lie
Kiss your cheek under the setting sun
And laugh with intelligent curves
How long has it been?
I saw your warm body everyday among my cold sheets
Even met those you care for
Wish you could be my lover’s tongue
That slips in and out of my conscious memory
Run with me to conquer this fairy-tale
Let’s whisper secrets of passion
It’s been forever
I’m closing the door.
Going for a lengthy walk to the end.
There is nothing around but the left over scent of your sexuality.
How long has it been?
Moments could have lasted if we didn’t read ourselves incorrectly
Seen the importance of one another
Wish I could have that rough sensual fornication we share
On those lost rainy nights
Gone blooming like a flower today
Became a perceptual subliminal person today
Don’t wait up long for me,
I’m not coming home tonight.
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.04.15.16:58:21@1515NYC
Deaf As A Dog
deaf as a dog doesn’t like camel shit.
twice on the hamper, been around back, been around front.
bubble double don’t want in the tub, trouble my hubble
telescopic pebble!
cause i made it big
never mind, when your older you’ll understand
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.01.03.18:28:22@296NYC
Dark
I wrote a poem today.
I wrote it for you.
I read it out loud.
For the world to hear.
The angel’s ears were open.
They listened and judged.
They took me by the hand.
And turned me around.
They threw me up against the wall.
Took the needles out of my pocket.
Arrested me for love.
And carried me away to God.
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.09.03.17:55:55@296NYC
Dirt
I’m digging in the dirt.
What will I find?
I’m digging in the dirt.
What will I find today?
I’m digging deeper
Deep in the depth of this rich dirt
Soil of the hands
Minerals of the soul
I’m digging deeper today
Down in the depths of the earth
What will I find?
What will I dig up?
Excavate?
Reveal?
I’m digging in the dirt.
I see an eye looking up at me
I see that beautiful eye in the soil
Under that dirt
Under that veil
Behind that wall
Behind that barrier
I’m digging down
I see her piercing through
Bolting like a standing beauty
Electrifying and gorgeous
Lighting up the ground
I grasp her hand
Soft and tender
I reach down and pull her out of the dirt
Out of today’s soil
Out of yesterday’s mud
I pull her up onto the earth
Onto myself
Locked
No dirt to be found.
I’m digging in the dirt.
What will I find?
I’m digging in the dirt.
What will I find today?
The majestic beauty arose
Her curves conquer the sea
Her eyes speak languages of lust
Her lips soft and pink
Her mind, open -
I’m digging in the dirt.
What will I find?
I found the angel of beauty.
The dirt.
The beauty of dirt.
And the angel sleeping beneath my feet.
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.06.19.13:33:55@1515NYC
Damaged
Damage my heart
Damage my memory
Damage me to eternity
so, I don’t feel anything
nothing.
Fill my suitcase with damage
Take my mother away from me
Leave your kiss on my skin
Damage my surface
Bring on the storm
Push me off,
fall from the sky
Fall like a rock,
a bird.
Damage me
Damage my driven love
Damage my thirst and hunger
Damage my wings
Forget about my world
The words I speak
and hands I hold
Damage them.
Teach me about the lust
About the remembrances
The walkways to heaven
and your God.
Clue me into your universe
Let me speak when spoken to
Let me listen forever
Let me feel the wind and taste the salt
Damage my mind
Damage my hands
Damage my art
Damage my love
Nothing
Nothing is left
In my empty hands
No one to grace
No one to lose
No one at all.
Damage me to wood
Wood of the earth
And sweat of my peoples
Damage me to the dirt
Dirt of the heart
And tears from them.
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.06.13.17:16:58 @ 1515 NYC
Death
His smile was no longer, just a frown, but why not a glorious smile? He had a mask of clean make-up on. It covered his cold thin body from head to toe. His grey hair perfectly combed like the work of insects with three days remaining to live. His bony structure punctured the newly starched white shirt and purchased black suit by an Italian designer. His frail dead hands held a rosary made of wood. The fresh colorful flowers filled the air capturing the scent of death. Such a large variety of flowers they did not even have time to burn their names into my memory. The large cranberry-red candle near the head of the coffin burned away spirits or rotting flesh. His veins pumped with stimulants of formaldehyde. To make him last longer, or at least until his burial the next morning.
The busy wall-paper pattern must be a great distraction. Makes everyone forget why the Priest is there and that a dead body is just at the front of the room. Makes people forget about the bouncing child on the imported sofa. I can see a cheap tissue box next to every finely upholstered chair in the room. But I do not see any trash can in sight.
The women with mustaches and the men with overweight problems, all these family and friends who I have not seen in years nor do I care to see; they all have problems with invading my personal space. I keep moving away but I bump into the fresh flowers. I can’t move further; I might bump the wooden box of thousands of dollars.
Amongst the laughter here are a few odd things I heard at the viewing:
“He’s gay!”
“Malcom X”
“Tennis”
“Penis”
and
“I felt threatened by your mother”
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.02.20.03:24:10 @ 296 NYC
The delivery type has not been selected
Yes it has.
I know I did.
Yes I did.
Oh gosh
Oh jolly gosh
Every little thing is gonna be all right
Japanese
Miami
Chicago
And back home
Could it be
Blue eyes
Mickey!
Oooooo
Sweet stinker!
Shoot
Darn it!
I missed out
I missed it
I’ll get in
Never doubt
Sugar
Shuga
Cube in the tube
Lube up
I’m going in
Coming out
I selected
It ain’t judgement day
Election or discriminate
I’ll be ready to terminate
Flick the switch
Powerful
Baby.
Oh well
I’ll see you later
Alligator
I’m walking
To the beat
The beat drum
I’m sexy
On the cat walk
Cat walk
Here we go
Round town
Driving around
Follow up
Milk shake
Thousand pounds
No more frowns
I’m smiling, smiling now
Can’t you see
My head just burst
I’ve got a bubble on my mind
Bubble on my mind...
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.01.11.01:01:01 @ 296 NYC
Dream Disease
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
Warhol
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.04.27.03:11:09 @ 296 NYC
Destruction of Innocence
Dive into the mere nothingness of vast blackness
dead sky
and lonely chambers
that I once knew
I can buy you a music personality
make you a hand puppet
and give you my puppy dog eyes
under my skin
I’m just a scratched hunter
insecure of pleasure
underdeveloped in the area of redness
and silent in timely hopes
Let me breathe
and push me away
I’ll find you under trap doors
and beneath the sea
Become forbidden with me
tear yourself away
Become silent with me
and lay under the stars
Let me in
and you’ll be my magnet
I’ll find you under the rubble
and beneath the flame
Become bitten with me
surrender to your surroundings
Become bonded with me
and smile with my smirk
I claim the moon to be yours
it’s my gift to you
the stars are for you
all this for you
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.02.01.16:45:11 @ NYC
00.02.08.22:15:15 @ Brooklyn
00.02.09.01:53:50 @ 296 NYC
00.02.09.12:35:41 @ 1515 NYC
dhubpup (Poopsie the Rooster & Fluffernutter)
Poopsie Whoopsie Woopsie Doo!
I fell on my bottom
Oh boy oh booty do!
Rooster Goose I once knew a Moose
A mouse in a house of course
Cutsie Poototsie Plus
Whacky Wacky Wacked-A-Roo
Whimped Wump Woo
Barefooten frook-a-doo!
Guess What?
Chicken Butt!
Shut my mut til my smut gut lut
Shrink brink dink sink mink
link a kink a rink a fool!
Banana Peanut Butter
Fluffernutter shutter
OOOOooooooooooooo
April Fresh
Don’t want to make a mess
How about less stress better be ness!
Big boss moss
Lost a sea a man at frost
She shore sunny day
Maybe today maybe tomorrow
Hay day, Hey La La!
Whacky Whacked Whack-a-Roo
Cock-A-Doodle-Doo!
Jack Smack Pack my Rat
Jack Rack Duck my chin
Dine Mine Rhine o Rhyme!
Deep Deeper Deepest Dope
Poopsie Whoopsie Woopsie Doo!
I fell on my bottom
Oh boy oh booty do!
Now what do I do??
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.01.27.03:57:17@296NYC
00.02.03.03.20:12@296NYC