No One
My love is gigantic.
Larger than a long gone prehistoric reptile.
Greater than a sailing blue whale.
My love is cosmic.
Stretches far past these terrestrial galaxies.
Beyond the suns and the moons.
My love is wind.
Soaring and swirling with nineteenth century clouds.
To carry you throughout your life.
My love is fiery.
It is an ignition.
Fuel to light cities across the planet.
My love is heroic.
A shield to protect the aged and the ill.
The weak and the poor.
My love is honorable.
The heart I possess has been bludgeoned.
Coat of arms is yours.
My love is an empire.
Searching wide and far.
To give all to its rightful Queen.
My love is passionate.
Dedicated to the pleasure of my lover.
External and internal; body and mind.
My love is everything.
It is what makes me continue.
Makes my heart pulsate.
But I have no one to give my love to.
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.12.19.01:06:05@296NYC
North Dakota
Love is in the air,
for I’ve bitten your lip,
your blood flows,
falls, scrolls,
drowning my tears
in your gown of thorns
Love is in my step,
for I’ve kneeled before you
your outstretched arm
gently caressed
my virgin head
Love is beneath you,
I sit worshipping
between your legs
panting like a wet black dog
from across the Styx
Love is stolen,
straight from the cabinet
wooden ornaments misplaced
silent souls escaped
my heart pounds for you
Love is lost,
I shrivel in the light of the day
dust is what I become
as you forbid me to love you
with a thickness of gore
in the wound under thy breast
Love has died,
your soft skin never against mine
I fade into the darkness
the downward spiral of the abyss
never to love
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.04.22.04:32:58@296NYC
A Note to You
the moon reflects
on the ripples in the water
I see you peeking
in and out
you keep me hidden
only to discover
I’ve been inside of you
all this time
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.04.24.19:10:25@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
Note
Sorry I had to go.
Sorry I couldn’t live in consistent pain.
Sorry I had trouble dealing with the way we lived our lives.
Sorry that it was hard to grasp the life.
I’m sorry I was unable to reach my full potential at the young age I was.
I’m sorry I was unable to illustrate or communicate my true feelings.
I’m sorry for the debt I left you in.
I’m sorry for the pain I have left you in.
Please know that I had to do this,
I had to do this for me.
Many times, throughout my life I do many things for others,
Now it was time to do something for me.
It felt right. It felt like an answer. A completion. My choice.
I’m sorry for the evidence of no reasons.
I’m sorry that it will never be the same.
I’m sorry for a vacant spot that will be at the dinner table.
Sorry that I was unable to end the famine.
Sorry that I was unable to end the wars.
Sorry that I was unable to declare world peace.
Sorry that I was unable to grow old with you.
I’m sorry I had to go.
I’m sorry I had to leave this way.
I hope you’ll still love me.
As I will love you forever.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.12.16.20:28:05@296NYC
Not That I’m The Devil
I’ll lock the door behind us,
and come up close in back of you.
I’ll whisper in your ear
and stretch my split tongue beyond.
I’ll start a scorching inferno that burns
and kill myself for the love in my arms.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.12.16.01:33:51@296NYC
Numb
Numb from the blindness
Numb from the taste
Numb from what she left behind
Numb in my throat
Numb in my mind
Numb in my cancer
Numb without spit
Numb without love
Numb without regret
Numb with thought
Numb with ease
Numb with wonderment
Numb through the valley of darkness
Numb through the parted waters by staff
Numb through the sky of limits
Numb on the ark of forage
Numb on the sea of waiting
Numb on the land of growth
Numb feeling in my memory
Numb feeling in my overloaded senses
Numb feeling in my wet tongue
Numb from sealing envelopes of the fourteenth
Numb from stroking the tired
Numb from thinking aloud
Numb waiting for she
Numb waiting for the hunger to end
Numb waiting for the completion
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.08.26.03:50:47@296NYC
No Love
No,
not here.
No love to give
Penetrated mind.
I’m locked forever.
I’m boarded up.
Forever bound,
never, will I ever,
let you in
and inside.
No Love
to receive,
or accept
I’m not here anymore.
Nothing can be done.
No love
No honor
Swept away
left you,
not on your feet.
I’m solid
Rock.
Chained and sealed.
Dagger through my heart
Hurt so much,
forgot your name
from city to city
Search, an end.
No love,
today.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.08.14.12:03:22@296NYC
Norman
It was hot and crowded at the gallery on 126th Street in Harlem. Black viewers dominated the Jazz inspired exhibition. I was standing along the East wall with a plate in hand. Some rice, some pasta and some fresh vegetables were spread evenly on my white foam plate. With my plastic fork I stood there eating my free food, my starving artist food that I scored at this gallery opening. I stood and observed the crowd. As I stood there, to my left was a man of about age 70 who sat on one of the rare wooden chairs in the gallery. I saw him earlier in the space. He was decked out in a very fashionable jazz outfit. I remember him distinctly because he was dressed in a bright red suit and yellow shirt with matching colourful shoes. His shoes were red and glazed with a shine. They looked like great works of art, almost like Dutch shoes, but these were more electrified with Jazz, like Coltrane blew music through the soles. He walked with a fancy cane held by a hand with a silver nugget ring. Now I stand along the wall, eating my freely scored meal. Out of the corner of my eye I see this wonderful beautiful man all of a sudden slump over and fall out of the chair. For half of a second I pondered if this was performance art, then the other half of the second I realize that there was something seriously wrong. I quickly put my freely scored meal down on the floor with my bag which contained my Bible and went over to the aging black man in the red suit. His face was against the floor and his body twisted in a fashion quite unusual. His cane to the side and his legs overlapping each other. His thick rimmed glasses knocked off of his face, with the weight of his head pressing down on them against the floor. His red cap still on his head. I cradle him in my arms and yell, “Sir! Sir!?” I get no response. A woman walks quickly over from the front of the gallery, “Norman!? Norman!” I realize this woman must know this man and this man was Norman. I cradle him more, with my arms around his back and pick up his head slowly. I yell “Norman!? Norman!?” As I hear various other art viewers yell “Call 9-1-1! Call 9-1-1!” Finally, Norman, with the yellow ochre pants and grey socks slowly opens his eyes. The first being this black man sees in this Harlem gallery is a young white man with blue eyes. I wonder if he thought he was in heaven with white folk or knew where he was. In this hot gallery. This overcrowded space with people who chit chatted to loudly when the speakers wanted to speak. I continue to soothe Norman and his companion leans over with tears and yells for Norman to come to complete consciousness. Norman was only probably out a mere eight to ten seconds, but felt like the lifetime of a pet with four legs. His glasses were off his face now. Yellow glasses with black stripes forming the pattern of a zebra. His yellow shirt cleanly pressed under his stop-sign red jacket. As I continued to cradle this beautiful Jazz man, a man approached me and said “I am a doctor, can I help?” I said yes, and the doctor took over the procedure for caring for the man. As the doctor continued to assist, I stood nearby in case if another helping hand was needed. Finally, in a short amount of time, the emergency workers arrived and attended to my beautiful jazz friend and he finally arose and walked with assistance to the waiting ambulance outside.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.06.18.20:30:00@104E126thStNYC
03.06.24.05:23:00@296NYC
No Time On Earth
No time is left,
Let’s leave this place
and shut the door.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.05.22.12:28:40@296NYC
New Orleans, Definitely, On the 15th
Canadian Goose flew down
Great grasping the blanket down
Awesome she went down
On the 15th, vivid memories
Temples and Churches
Brought you to the cemetery
Visited your next plot
I saw your back door
Pulled out and broke
Under the tree
New Orleans Bible
Found you yesterday
Five Foot Over
Showing your feet to me
An angel landing
I looked up
All I could see
Was you in the sky
Definitely
Stay one more night
Catch the early flight
On the 15th, I’ll be back
No more time
For the dance and rhyme
Dance of the dead
New Orleans Head
Come to me, better off dead.
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.08.08.13:10:40@1515NYC
New Year’s Day: Learned
I learned she couldn’t sing
Couldn’t sing on top
Or even in the back
She danced
Taught me about dancing on the line
I couldn’t ignore the eyes
Just those eyes
It never was a blank stare
On a New Year’s Day
Not today
I’ve been great, how are you?
See you tomorrow
Not tonight
See you later
Not tonight
She hung up, never phoned me back
Left with her nipples hard,
Never Again
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.01.01.20:02:02 @ 296 NYC
New Year’s Day
New Year’s Eve 01-2002
I can’t sing tonight
I can only try to smirk
Try not to smile
I can only put my head down
Wrapped around in the fetal position
Jam Jam Jam
The doctors jam the needle in my spine
Drain Drain Drain
The doctors drain my spinal fluid
I can’t sing tonight
I’m not allowed
It’s not proper
It’s not right
It’s not connecting the dots
Father knows
Neuro Twelve Times Two In Two Thousand And Two
Not any more
Not here today
Gone today
More tomorrow
I can’t sing
No more singing
I can’t sing tonight
Just have to count those tiles
Up and down, up and down
Watch the Benz and Bulette go by
Go by
Go by...
© 2002 David Greg Harth
01.12.31.23:59:59@NYC
02.01.01.24:00:01@NYC
Nowhere
...in the middle of the sentence, she got up from the oak table,
and walked out. She in her ravishing red velvet dress that has
been worn out for many years. Threads hung from it until they
dragged along the beer-soaked wooden floor. She dragged her
tapestry of filth with her, like the slutty Vegas whore she was.
Walked right out away from me, passed the yellow hissing lights
and drunk couples who only dream of copulating in pornographic
films. Passed the midget on the bar stool who is smothering his
oversaturated moustache in the cleavage of a buxom blonde bitch.
She walked swiftly in that red old dress, I could hear her
thighs move back and forth, swish, as they rubbed her pubic
hairs together like Velcro...
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.08.17.12:32:38 @ 1515 NYC
Romantic Lovie
Oh Romeo
My big buddy
My fat cat
Sweet stinker
You run after fishy
You are a great thumper
Romping around
Running around
Laughing
Goofy
Oh Romeo
You black and white
You big eyed wonder
You silly goose!
Showing a path
A running bolt
A stalker
And birdie chirper
Lovie Dovie in bed
Humping thy breast
Tonight, and night
Tickle Tickle toe tickler
Oh Romeo
What?
Whadya say?
What?
You want to play with fishy??
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.12.22.01:39:49 @ 296NYC
Cheesecake, Blueberry Pie
Cheesecake
Blueberry Pie
Chocolate Chip Cookies
Brownies
Peanut Butter Heaven
Raspberry Croissant
Banana Bread
Crumb Coffee Cake
Chocolate Covered Pretzels
Mississippi Mud Pie
Apple Strudel
Fudge
Key Lime Pie
Apple Pie
Oreo Cake
Carrot Muffin
Chocolate Glazed Doughnuts
Seven Layer Cake
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.12.14.23:48:13 @ 296NYC
Tooth Fighter of the Night
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I won’t let you down.
I’ll rise straight back up
From the dead
From the dirt in which I’m buried under.
I’d burn in hell because I’m the forgiver of greatest sins
I’d make love to you if you were a larva carcass
I’d kill your mother if only she was still alive
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I’ll purchase products by Sony and Mattel
I’ll purchase products by Fuji and Banana Republic
I’ll strengthen my weakness by feeding on your weak
I’ll strengthen my weakness by eating at your soul
Eating the flesh off your back
Licking your blood up off the floor
Your menstrual blood
Your baby blood
Your fuck blood
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I’ll sink under and come up again
I’ll keep coming back for more
You can’t beat me down
You can’t erase me
You can’t make me disappear
You can’t dissolve my image
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I’ll steal your teeth and make pretty necklace charms
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I’ll leave you stamped bills beneath your fluffy pillow
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I’ll fuck your daughter’s angel
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I won’t amend to please or surpass your dream
I won’t soothe or edit text-based imagery
I won’t use nicer words or be romantic
I won’t laugh or cry for your benefit
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I’ll be a fighter
I’ll search and never die
I’ll always reach higher
I’ll always try again and again
I’ll survive
I’ll listen, look, learn, live and love
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night.
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.12.05.01:03:14@296NYC
not mechanical
Bionic Blend
Blurred vision
Cellular devices hooked up
Surrounding my brain
Encompass my thoughts
Bookend around the B Train
RA-Dio waves passing through
Traveling speeds
Fast speed
High on crack
On wave tunes
High tunes
Electronic exchanges
B sides
Brave ballrooms
Hung balls
Nut cracking massages
Super Duper High Tech
Revolution
Lube
Glued
television
multiplication the simplification
B frank B kite B byte
Singapore
Tye
Von
Ren the dollar, rent the book
Streak
Light
Mental note
note of sugar
Sugar cane
note in the bag
B
B the travel
B the plane
jet just blast
Bring on
Become the ring
Role off the tongue
9 8 20 23 20 2 sea you 2 Bnm
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.11.21.12:47:34 @ 296 NYC