Miles Away
I can taste your lips against mine
Even when you’re miles away.
I can feel your hug embrace mine
Even when you’re miles away.
I can see your smile in my mind
See your hair down
And your hair put up
Even when you’re miles away.
I can hear your voice
Listen to your laugh
And feel your heart beat
Even when you’re miles away.
When you are miles away
It does not matter how far you are
How many mountains you have challenged
Or how many rivers you have crossed
You will always be near to my heart.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.08.09.15:22:10@205HUDSONNYC
Miss You
I went to my day job,
went out to the yard,
the field,
and dug a hole.
A hole as large as a casket.
I buried their loved one today.
Put that dirt back in,
on that solid grave.
I found the place where I hurt most.
My vacant hole, I dug a lasting plot.
Fill it in with your deepest and darkest secrets.
Whisper in my ear and make the dust settle.
I miss you, more than ever.
I hardly know you, in the present.
I miss you, today and tomorrow.
I miss you in my heart, lost at sea.
I went and did what I had to do,
went to do the work and stand in line,
approached the counter,
and ordered a twenty-four hour stomach ache.
An ache of butterflies,
I swallowed all the women one by one.
Put that net out,
in that blue sky.
I found a trace of your scent on my inner sleeve.
My black long-sleeved, freshly cleaned, pressed.
Comfortable under my chocolate house.
Listening for you calling my first name.
I miss you, more than ever.
I hardly know you, in the present.
I miss you, today and tomorrow.
I miss you in my heart, lost at sea.
I went down and kissed,
up and down your hips,
the beauty,
and found Eden.
A bayonet lies next to my bed.
I stay still, without motion.
Hiding my emotion,
not even a tap of spine will make me love.
I found a kiss no more bound against my lips.
My lips now empty and dry.
Looking for you under pilgrimage gardens.
Finding you in the bottom of the grave.
I miss you, more than ever.
I hardly know you, in the present.
I miss you, today and tomorrow.
I miss you in my heart, lost at sea.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.03.08.03:22:56@296NYC
I Don’t Want To Make You Cry
I don’t want to make you cry
I don’t want to make you sweat
Shed a tear
Or be afraid
I don’t want to make you hurt
I don’t want you to be in in pain
Crawl up inside
Or runaway
I don’t want to make you cry
I don’t want to make you hide
Become empty
Or scared
I don’t want to make you dive under
I don’t want to make you climb low
Surrender your self
Or remain silent
I don’t want to make you cry
Come home tonight
Let me inside
I’ve opened my heart
It stays ajar, for only so long
I don’t want to make you cry
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.02.11.18:00:00 @ SOHA NYC
00.02.24.14:49:00 @ 1515 NYC
Moving Water
I tried with all my might,
my physical strength
and my emotional strength;
but I could not do it.
I could not move the water.
I pushed and pushed with all my might.
I budged and I pulled and I pressed and I packed.
I couldn’t move that water.
I tried so very hard.
I tried to stare at it for lengthy period of times,
hoping for something out of this universe to move that water.
Hoping somehow, some way, that the water would move;
but it did not.
I tried my best,
but I was unsuccessful.
There was nothing more I could do.
I tried all my might to move that water.
But nothing happened.
The water didn’t even budge or sink or flow or trickle.
That water is staying put,
and put is put and put is put.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.11.18.03:41:02@296NYC
Morning (Version #2)
She smiled at me
as she rolled over
on the soft white bed sheets.
She looked up at me in a gaze
with the most beautiful morning eyes.
She left with no words spoken
and my heart was broken.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.10.20.01:12:07@296NYC
Macrocephaly
Some desire an introduction.
Some have it secretly in the dark.
Some have it in the light of day.
Some live through me vicariously.
Some never come back and drift into the distance.
Some make music so sweet, that the deaf hear the symphony.
Some whisper to me their most intimate cravings.
Some tell me about lock jaw or other lives spent.
Some share with me about their filling experience.
Some speak a different tongue while in the motion.
Some listen to the cries by the penetrating addict.
Some come back for more and trace the warm skin.
Some leave unashamed but looking for others.
Some crawl to the knees of thirst dripping.
Some devour the hours that have past.
Some have never witnessed.
Some only have seen from afar.
Some dream in the individual's nightmare.
Some are close to my heart.
Some are in my heart.
Some are part of my heart.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.03.03.03:03:03@296NYC
My Name is Jesus
My name is Jesus
and I play the banjo
My name is Jesus
cause I have a wooden stake
You can cook me tender
and make me real fake
My name is Jesus
and I play the banjo
I play you over my knee
cause my name is Jesus
and I really gotta pee
My name is Jesus
and I play the banjo
My name is Jesus
cause I have a wooden stake
You can cook me tender
and make me real fake
My name is Jesus
and I play the banjo
I play you over my knee
cause my name is Jesus
and I really gotta pee
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.08.19.12:24:25@296NYC
Moving Realism
Moving through the streets, the land, over the surface of the ocean
Hunting and being hunted by hungry cowards
Searching for the everlasting, making way to the far east
Moving quickly, smoothly, treading the dirt and the sea
Dancing and escaping to other worlds
Leaping from salt pillar to salt pillar
Moving beneath the fever and the diseases of humankind
Beyond the point of no return
Thirsting for the greatest quest knowledgeable
Moving in a forward direction, stimulated by the strength within
Waiting for nothing but to arrive at the established point of dreams
Letting the fantasy become truth as the others look on in awe
Moving to the kingdom to become crowned and loved
Look beyond the obstacles of today and attack the wounds
Be with the One while I grasp my tool of horse hair and wood
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.06.13.17:50:34@1515NYC
Money
i’ve been doing some exterior work on my house as of late. i guess the
activity attracts people. on tuesday a man knocked on my door with two
handfuls of pennies asking for work and telling me some story about his wife
and paralyzed child and how he needed to get to polk county. i told him that
he had more money in his hands than i had and that maybe he should employ me.
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.04.24.10:17:33@Earth
MOODY DOPE
Whhooooooooooooo!!
Oh come on baby!
Whhooooooo!!!
Sing it with me baby!
Oh baby!
1 - 2 - 3 !
Sugar Baby Pie!
Whoopie Doopie Doo Pie!
Sugar Love Dupity Dopity Bop bop bop!!!!!
Whhooooooooooooo!!!!
Oh baby!
Darling Baby!
Baby baby!!
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.05.01:12:39:00@296NYC