Sad
Sad because you don’t know why
Sad because I made a black painting
Sad because I thought about cutting off my ear
Sad because no one is here to put their arms around me
Sad because my will is incomplete and I don’t have a phone number handy
Sad because the bed that is usually on fire is shadowed by the pretend music
Sad because she knows
Sad because she is so mighty
Sad because she is so beautiful
Sad because she is so right
Sad because she is so tremendous
Sad because she is not here
Sad because she is not mine
Sad because a candle burns alone
Sad because I smell of smoke
Sad because I’ve been sold
Sad because my property went
Sad because
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.11.12.23:21:33 @ 296 New York City
Sea Of Grass
Long stemmed Japanese grass
Swallowed me up
And baby birds fell from the sky
In the curves of my ear
I could hear the soundtrack of my life
An orchestrated musical journey
She twisted around me
Encompassed my passion
She knew my thoughts and circled my being
The panda bear sits eating still leaves
The butterfly floats on a shared dream
The ladybug survives an ocean tide
Today is brought to me
Delivered with soft hands
And brown eyes
She sits and waits
I search and turn
We join again and again
Nothing stopping
Not even poison or ice
I sit and wait
She is the cherished speed
We join again and again
Nothing stopping
Not even red glows or gliding rubber
We are two
From an island unknown
But we survive
Grow together
We follow the examples
of the great panda bear
delicate butterfly and soft ladybug
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.08.11.22:00:00@296NYC
00.09.12.12:39:00@296NYC
Scent (Version #2)
I love it when
I can still smell your scent
On the bath towel you just used
On the pillow case you just slept on
On the shirt of mine you just borrowed
I love it when
I can smell your scent
When I’m up against your neck
Sleeping next to your shoulder
Or licking the curves of your back
I love it when
I can still smell your scent
On the sheets I wrap myself in
On the candle you just burned
On the soap you just used
I love it when
I can smell your scent
When I hold your hand
Remembering your eyes
Or kissing your lips
I love it when
I can still smell your scent
On the card you sent me
On the shoulder you cuddled upon
On the flowers you left behind
I love it when
I can smell your scent
When I’m hugging you goodbye and hello
Smiling with your heart
Or listening to your passion
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.06.20.09:14:13@296NYC
00.06.22.01:45:11@296NYC
Satan’s Pride
I walked in
Brain went warm and swelled
I was wet in my mouth and dry in the eyes
The stained glass colors made the thick columns gay
Palms were in my palms
I held them, felt them, but could not sculpt them
A crowd gathered
No famous person here
No Hollywood make-believe
No rock-star
Calm
Sitting still
Listening
Learning
And feeding on the truth of those before me,
Infront of me, behind me and all around me
This is the hour when he triumphed over Satan’s pride
The hour when he can deliver and show me the reason for arches
The hour when my eyes stop twitching
This is the hour when he triumphed over Harth’s pride
The hour when art became true reality
The hour when my palms dropped to the hard wood
Organ sound systems
Tight
The scent surrounding
Deep swallowing I roll back
I wish I could turn around and see who is standing at the door
I drank a cup of wine
And the invisible man did not show
I drank a cup of wine
And plagued my bread and butter
I could not dip
For I might burn
I could not walk
For I might burn
But the suicides tell me Ill burn in hell
And the snowfall lit her night and broke glass on the steps
But the beauties tell me to obey
And the men bring the cure
This is the hour when he triumphed over Satan’s pride
This is the hour when he triumphed over Harth’s pride
This is the hour
And the hour lasts
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.04.21.03:23:56@296NYC
Speechless
Speechless
Wordless
Only a Kiss
Can convey my feelings
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.03.16.10:22:01 @ Q-Train NYC BWAYLAF->TIMESSQ
Snowfall
It’s 1am
And I’m wandering these old streets
of lower Manhattan
The gentle snow is cascading down
Each flake is reflected
in the yellow light of the lamppost
I walk on the snow covered
cobble stone roads
I see the whiteness forever
settling on the red brick buildings
bordering these street labyrinths
It’s cold in the air
I can see my breath
But all around
I feel warm
The snow falls on my hair
Covers my jacket
And lays upon my soft lips
Everywhere I look
Snow falls in patterns of joy
In a hurry to fall and land
They land on window sills
And on parked cars
Even on dogs walking by
They land on my feet
And on my ears
Even on the space between my upper lip and nose
I see all this beautiful snow
It blankets the city down
And I smile
How could I not think of you
When I see such beauty in this world?
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.02.04.04:47:43@296NYC
Sexually Explicit Uncomfortable-ality
I thrust my cock deep inside of her pussy.
She sucked my cock.
Deep throat.
I fucked her hard.
I ate her out.
I finger-fucked her.
I penetrated her young innocence
I cummed on her face.
She fucked me hard.
She licked my cock.
I tit-fucked her.
I sucked her.
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.01.28.02:00:00 @ New York City
Shit Blood
It’s been 3 days
And 3 nights
For 3 days
And 3 nights
Ive had blood in my shit
Shit in my blood
Red blood shit
I’ve shitted my blood, red
Red shit
My shit had blood
And bled from my ass
As I shit, shit red
Blood shit
Red shit
For 3 days
And 3 nights
I’ve bled in my shit
From my red shit ass
Shit red
Blood shit
Don’t go up my ass
I don’t want to shit
Blood red shit
Shit
Red shit
From my ass
Blood drip
From my shit
Shit red
Red Shit
Blood red
Shit
From my red ass
Blood in my shit
Don’t shit up my ass
My shit was red
For 3 days
And 3 nights
I shit my blood
And red was my shit
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.11.16.16:27:30@1515NYC
The Sound Of Silence
Deaf
I hear nothing
Silence
She made me keep quiet
An orchestra of violins
And ultramarine hues
Asian sun
Humid air over my two moons rising
The ocean steps foward on white sands
Three times I called out
No return, no echo
Shaved myself clean today
No stubble on my jaw
No under arm hair or eyebrow hair
Just an empty road taken alone
Curving and bending
Oncoming cars and hotel tips
My army shirt
Afternoon tea and biscuits
She made me deaf
I drown in the pools of my tears
They swallow my body and shadow
And I sink to the bottom of the dark blue
In the coldness of silence
As Iπm kneeling down infront
I hear an angels voice calling my name
Breathing in the ebony air
Wrap my arms around empty self
My tears of salt and past drop to the floor
The aged wooden floor absorbs my history
And the dreams of fallen teeth
Fly up to the windows from beneath my stained self
I hear nothing
The thoughts in my head
Yells from my father and mother
Wind birds on my shoulder
The silence now buried
And you can kiss the air and taste the scent
Chisel my name into your stone heart and memory
Always remember that I cared you
© 1999 David Greg Harth
1999.09.03.24:13:25 @ 296 and 1999.09.05.23:56:12 @ 296
Sunday
I was with my family and friends at dinner
When I looked down upon each of my wrists
And had gaping holes in them
On the underside of the arm
My arteries were open
With black holes like dark shark eyes
And blood was spurting out
And dripping beyond
I look over the white linen table cloth
And it’s soaked with my rich red blood
I feel wet coldness on my shoulders
As old blood from the ceiling sprays upon me
I awkwardly look at my family and friends for help
Only to find they have no faces
But traces of dust shadows
I arise with my palms at my side
I look lost and had panic eyes in my skull
I step outside to my red earth haunting
And the sky is dark
And the stars are pelting down to the land
Like fireballs from hell
Dark black clouds rolling
And brought deep thunder
A blood red lightning that came up from the land
Creating cracks of flowing red rivers
And leeches and parasites unearthed
With swollen glands and venous eyes
I died in my ache
As I became engulfed —
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.06.06.12:25:00@FLT#1750
99.06.07.00:25:10@296NYC
Selfish Learning
Velvet Elvis hangs on the mango wall
The elderly couple walk in from early-bird
and the dog races
Last week it thunder rained
This week all sunshine
She used dry chalk for make up
And rotated Q-tips in her waxy ears until they bled
She brushed fake her teeth clean
until the gums became a ravishing red and sore with blood
At night she cried in her death sleep and
choked on her salt tears
Her husband wakes up
and cleans her ass full of waste and debris
from the restless night
He has a fag in the dawn light
looking at his love
She raises herself upwards
giving birth once more
to a hairless creature of blind faith and albino devotion
It stinks of raw fish in the smoldering hot room
The paint chips and falls
And the vinyl player dances
Scum baby, Scum baby
The baby delivers his blue eyes
And the theatre audience looks on
The husband wishes he had a fuck
And sweet Jane gives good head
After her bladder gives new
She gets up on her all fours
Wham Bam Thank you Ma’am husband hops on board
And whales the fragile chalked woman
From behind
way up in the ass
And the day starts once more
Married for only two years
On the west coast of Florida
They keep making children with no eyes and
Velcro hair
Both previous spouses
died in horrible car accidents or natural causes
The doctor came today and tied up the husband
really good
The doctor fucked his wife today
And now the husband knows candle pain
The children scatter on the household floor
imitate their dying parents
by playing house and doctor
with toys from the closet and cupboard
The doctor leaves
untying the husband
leaving him to clean up the mess on his wife’s
old sagging tits
And sending the bill in the mail
The aging couple repeat yesterday’s day
and when they lay to sleep
once again
They pray that they will be the first one to die
so, they will not once more be in mourning
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.05.21.21:08:44 @ 1515/296 New York City
99.05.28.19:02:32 @ 1515/296 New York City
99.06.01.02:34:24 @ 1515/296 New York City
Stolen Cream
Before the rush came. Before the Christie’s men in black escorted the collectors, the rich, the famous, the infamous, and the wasted, with umbrellas from the extended cars on the rainy street to the covered building of thousands, I ran. I swiftly ran inside, all dressed in artists attire; black pants, black shirt, black shoes, black ski mask, as fast as I could, I ran. Swiftly with a gentle crowbar in black-gloved hand, I ran to the center. There in the glass case at waist height was the magnificently lit art. Flesh toned rubber and silk blues and yellows with laser guided video for my home entertainment system. With a flash and a crack I smashed the thin, yet elegant, glass covering. No one in sight, not a soul hears the breakage, the symbols, I smash. With my huge powerful downward motion, one swoosh of angry art and emotion. The glass broken, not a cut, not a curve, not a cream. I leave the flesh and satin and silk and flowers alone. Today I just grab the disc. The secret code, the pleasure dome, and provide you all with video cameras on this advertising day! As swiftly as I ran in, I run out. With laserdisc under my arm and crowbar swinging overhead, like a wild boar from Lord Of The Flies, or a huge black King-Kong, I run. Straight pass the umbrella sculptures waiting to come alive, I run into the darkness to bootleg my way to stardom, to surrender to the darkness, to deface Picasso and become an art thief of my own obsession.
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.05.20.04:49:44 @ 296 New York City
Skip The Smokey Ones
My hair was filled with smoke
Girls’ tits were popping out of tight shirts
Guy bartenders went topless
Feeding hungry boys
Down with tubing devices
Filled with beer
Blue shirt boy
Guzzles down beer
As OPP plays and the Beastie ones too
He drinks it all
And seconds later
He vomits his defeat onto the floor before him
And the bar that fed him
The pipe above smokey land
And the wall
Both covered in ladies’ bras
White, Green, Red, Pink, and Black
I see her across the room
Out of place
She stood
Beautiful, exquisite, wondered why she was here?
Or there?
Or why not here?
The college boys dressed the same
In their flannel shirts
And baseball caps
Working out to impress their mother’s fantasy
Not showing real paths
To women’s hearts
But only decoys of make believe
My hair
My jacket
My shirt
Still stink of their nicotine
And their lies
I approached for a change
Told her what I thought
The bar became quiet
In the loud dark atmosphere
Looking
We kissed
Intensely we exchanged
Our tongues
Intertwine
Uptown New York City
Grasping her young body
She holding mine
Beer on the floor
Hearts kept inside
We left to go elsewhere
To walk
We left the cover shop
The Identity crisis and identifiers
We walked away from it all
And entered the realm
Of neglect
Moses is homeless
With a neon Mets winter cap
New Reebok sneakers and squeaky clean hair
Makes the dreadlocks thicker and the rabbi’s leg hurt
The faggots are homophobic in this car
They aren’t letting go
She kissed me on the lips
The beauty left me there
Masturbating in the car alone
To the image of a magazine
I bought long ago
At the ripe age of thirteen
Thirteen car seats
And all I have left
Is my Eggbert
College boys
College girls
I missed it
I skipped it
To ride with you
And you left me
You bailed
You blew me
You wished me
And now you are gone
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.02.28.01:15:19 @ Downtown 6 NYC
99.03.01.02:56:12 @ 296 NYC
sexual juxtaposition
Feeling my side
Against yours
The Bass pumps up
We feel the groove
The dancing drugsters around us
In the limelight heat
The red orange glows
The neon green striped gays
Smelling the hot sex
Up and down your thigh
We feel the grass
Coming down
Twining around our feet
The roots pull us down
Deep under the bass of the earth
Takes us under
The ground in which we knew was solid
Pulls us deeper
To the depths of our emotions
Until we die from our own wisdom
In the dirt where we were born.
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.01.14.02:21:47 @ 296 NYC
Shattered
I’m shattered
My self-scattered across
This heartless land
This desolate place
I say goodbyes
And give away my gold
And dance to the
Hammer tunes
My pretend dreams
Broken
Lost
And stolen
Dead grandmother’s
Rolling and turning
In their graves
Because it’s just you and me
Baby
I’ve received signs
I’ve fortified and
Made adjustments
To accept
And pretend
I may be shattered
But I’ll never be destroyed
Every time I fuckin go
I just realize
And I stand by my beliefs
I don’t believe in love
It’s just imaginary
A fuck for false fighters
My love is for you
Always
But when you fuck around
You kill me
It hurts
But you have NOT destroyed me
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.11.07.05:57:00@ St Petersburg Florida Reddington Beach
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
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
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