I Know
I know nothing
Of what is right and wrong
I don’t know politics
And I don’t know science
I know I have been close to death
On multiple occasions
I know I grew up in a good home
And I know how much I adore my niece and nephew
I know I don’t love my day job
And I know I want to do fine art full time
I know one day I’ll exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art in New York
And I know who likes my art and who understands it
I know I write poetry about love
And I know I’ve made CD mixes about love
I know I’ve been a firm believer of the fairy tale
And I know I’ve been a rebel against it
I know what inspires me
From music to art
I know that I inspire others
And I know how to exchange ideas
I know many have fallen for me
Some even in love
I know how not to pick up women
And I know I am a Ladies’ Man
I know what I like to eat
Or what airline to travel
I know where to go for groceries
And I know the best spot for a cab at Penn Station
I know which Avenues go North
The nearest exit at a subway station
I know the quickest route from A to B
And I know the path we’ll take
I know I donate platelets at least once a month
People need them like I need you
I know the donations I’ve made
And I know the donations I’ve accepted
I know how beautiful you are
Inside and out
I know when we are together life is amazing and wonderful
And I know how I feel when I’m with you
I know my heart can be powerful
Even overwhelming for the greatest of lovers
I know the passion can surpass logic
And I know that I love you
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.09.07.02:25:59@296NYC
Death (Version #2)
Not before long,
You will die.
We all die,
In the end.
But before you die,
The last few moments of your life,
You may ask yourself,
“During my stay on this earth,
Did I truly live life to the fullest?
Did I truly follow my heart?”
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.09.06.24:19:02@296NYC
95
Today you are Ninety-Five
Opa
95 years old
Its hard to believe
You have been here for 95 years
Almost 100
Ninety-Five years!
Incredible
So much witnessed
So much love
So much pain
I have learned so much from you
I love you
You are the gift that expands my heart
I want my eyebrows to grow bushy like yours
I hope to be as half of a giver as you are
I can not believe it
95 years old
95 years young
I know you want to go
And your time will come
But for now
95 year old man
My Opa
My grandfather
I love you
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.09.02.24:34:14@296NYC
Ability
I have lost my ability
To reason & think
I cannot calculate my calculations
I have lost my ability
To cook & clean
I cannot even tie my shoe laces
I have lost my ability
To brush my teeth & comb my hair
I cannot even rinse with mouth wash
Because
I admit
I am consumed
With thoughts of you
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.09.01.08:30:00@296NYC
Bravery In The Window
Dear Lover,
I hope this note finds you well.
I haven’t heard from you in weeks.
Really heard, really listened.
I haven’t had you close, near.
Have you caught the trade winds in your sails?
Have you realized your unhappiness can be pure bliss?
Have you determined the reality of your senses?
Have you executed any new decisions?
I hope progress is moving in forward directions.
I have been waiting and time is ticking.
Time is only on my side, not yours.
I have been available for years.
The window is now open,
But only for a little while longer.
So be brave,
And seize the opportunity.
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.08.31.01:18:15@296NYC
Cold
It’s been cold in my office for days now.
Unusual.
Even more unusual that I’m actually putting on another shirt.
Yes, even I’m a bit chilly. Or, perhaps even cold.
And when this coldness surrounds me,
I can’t help but think of you,
And all the days you’ve been cold in your office.
Putting on your extra layers,
And sipping your hot chocolate.
This cold,
It reminds me of you,
And how much I love you.
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.08.30.10:29:04@205HudsonNYC
Plastic Wrapper
Do you know what it’s like?
To not be able to open the plastic wrapper?
Your mind wants to
Your fingertips wish too
But your coordination cannot succeed
Because you are not yourself
You are not you
The car travels on Route 6
Over Bear Mountain
You know who the champion is
But that does not matter
Your heart beats
But still
You are not you
Speaking with the person across from you
Dinner on the table
You may fall asleep not knowing
What tomorrow will bring
Not knowing when the switch will turn
You are not you
So, you put on the repeats
You read nothing
Taste nothing
Speak to no one
You have no Mr.
You have no misses
Alone trapped in a mirror
Suicide is an option
You are not you
Shatter the glass
Not Picasso
Not on the 12th floor
And let her watch
As you get thrown down in restraints
Let her cry knowing
She never got to love
You are not you
Do you know what it’s like?
To not be able to open the plastic wrapper?
I bet you don’t
And you thought you’d make it out alive
I assure you
You can’t
Because
You are not you
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.08.29.03:00:54@296NYC
I Believe The Beatles
All You Need Is Love
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.08.28.09:36:00@205HudsonNYC
Cannons
When I hear the cannons,
I think of you.
In beautiful white.
Walking to the completion of yourself.
Your life long partner.
The love of your life.
Reflection of your spirit.
Your soulmate.
When I hear the cannons,
I’ll be waiting for years but only minutes.
Arrive in my arms and become forever mine.
Hold my hands and interlock.
Become the woman you’ve dreamed of.
The one half of me, and I, the one half of you.
Let the orchestra play.
And the guests gaze in amazement.
When I hear the cannons,
You are beautiful.
With the gorgeous smile you possess.
The walk you dance.
Your blue eyes glaring at mine.
Captivating every chamber of my heart.
I am yours.
And you are mine.
When I hear the cannons,
Peace is through the land.
The sun shines on rainy days.
Clouds part to display doves in flight.
Your heart mixes with mine.
Together we become one.
And one we are.
Because it is love we share.
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.08.22.02:41:21@296NYC
Don’t Look At Me
Look the other way,
I don’t want you to see me like this.
Don’t look at me.
I’m in pieces,
little bits,
fragments.
I’m in shit.
Don’t look at my pimply face.
My scars.
My ratty hair.
My dandruff.
Look over there.
Not at me.
I’m horrible.
My puss oozes.
My hair is falling out.
I stink a stench.
Get away from me.
You don’t want to be around me.
Look at me fall apart.
My finger nails bitten.
Lint between my toes
And my ass crack.
Who am I?
I’ve been sleeping these streets.
Poor these streets.
I’m in puddles of filth.
Spit & urine.
Who am I?
Don’t look at me.
I’m nothing.
Not even a discarded piece of trash.
I am but trash. Garbage. Rotten.
Look at my teeth.
Yellow. Aged. Old.
I’m death.
And death parted me.
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.08.21.16:56:34@205HudsonNYC
Start The Break, Break The Start
Don’t start the break before you even started.
Don’t break the start before we even started.
Start before you break.
And break after you start.
But never break before you start.
So don’t break the start.
Instead, start after the break.
And don’t break the start.
You can’t start the break before you start.
So start before the break and after the break.
Break the start and start the break.
Start the break and break the start.
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.08.21.16:41:44@205HudsonNYC
Of You
Elderly
Years from now
I’ll look back on these days
The choices I had made
And come to the very same conclusion
That I have concluded today
Just moments ago
I have concluded
That without hesitation
Or delayed thought
I am one hundred percent positive
That I love you.
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.08.10.02:53:36@296NYC
Talk
Mothers talk to your sons
Fathers talk to your daughters
Grandchildren talk to your grandparents
And brothers to their sisters
Rabbis talk to priests
Jews talk to antisemites
Catholics talk to Arabs
And Atheists talk to born-again Christians
Women talk to men
And rich talk to poor
Black talk to white
Fags talk to homophobes
Artists talk to other artists
Teachers talk to your students
Song writers talk to your fans
Doctors talk to patients
Depressed talk to those who smile
Friends talk to your enemies
Hosts talk to your guests
And lovers talk to lovers
Sun talk to Moon
And Earth talk to Sky
Let your heart talk
For, without talking,
No one will get anywhere.
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.08.09.03:03:35@296NYC
Banana Toothbrush
You might not think
But this is indeed
A love poem.
I’ll be your monkey
And you’ll be my duckling
You’ll have my banana
And I’ll have your quack.
I see your toothbrush
Every day staring at me
I wonder when you’ll use it
Next.
Unravel the laughter
Sing songs out loud
Even bananas and toothbrushes
Can be coming around the mountain, when they come.
Call me in the morning
And let our eyes meet once more
Declare you are mine
And I’ll be yours
I welcome you to the Heart of Harth
Please step inside
Find a cozy spot to curl up
And stay a while.
When we do our river walk next
At the end of the night
Let me walk you to your door
And kiss you goodnight.
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.08.04.13:02:03@205HudsonNYC
August Wind
I walk the streets
The warm breeze runs through my hair
Like your fingers
The lights are dim on the skyscrapers
People walk in chaotic serpentine paths
Avoiding pockets of heat
Water drips from the sky
As air conditioners empty out
Upon the sidewalk below
Circling towards my home
Contemplating, reflecting, thinking.
A smile widens my horizon
Her blue eyes are on my mind
The soft skin I yearn for
It’s the August Wind that brings her to me.
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.08.02.11:49:44@205HudsonNYC
My Heart Has Spoken
I put out my hand
and now it’s up to you
if you’ll take it.
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.07.31.12:47:53@205HudsonNYC
Stone
My heart, once ached, now stone.
My heart, once available, now stone.
You have turned me to stone.
My eyes, once matched yours, now stone.
My eyes, once opened bedside, now stone.
You have turned me to stone.
My hands, once held yours, now stone.
My hands, once cupped your breasts, now stone.
You have turned me to stone.
My soul, once enlightened by yours, now stone.
My soul, once shared yours, now stone.
You have turned me to stone.
My spirit, once beautified by yours, now stone.
My spirit, once raised by you, now stone.
You have turned me to stone.
My poetry, once inspired by you, now stone.
My poetry, once written for you, now stone.
You have turned me to stone.
My mind, once wrapped in yours, now stone.
My mind, once thought of you, now stone.
You have turned me to stone.
My life, once seen with you, now stone.
My life, once here to stay, now stone.
You have turned me to stone.
My laughter, once engaged with yours, now stone.
My laughter, once loud with smiles, now stone.
You have turned me to stone.
My voice, once whispered in your ear, now stone.
My voice, once spoken words of love, now stone.
You have turned me to stone.
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.07.31.02:20:32@205HudsonNYC
Everyone
Everyone stops to think
and everyone stops to reflect.
Everyone stops to smell the flowers
and everyone stops to inhale.
Everyone stops to smile
and everyone stops to laugh.
Everyone stops to rest
and everyone stops to sleep.
Everyone stops to create
and everyone stops to grow.
Everyone stops to thank you
and everyone stops to welcome.
Everyone stops to write
and everyone stops to read.
Everyone stops to witness
and everyone stops to admire.
Everyone stops
But who will stop to love?
© 2006 David Greg Harth
06.07.31.01:58:26@205HudsonNYC