My Favorite Sounds
Here is a short list of some of my favorite sounds::
–
Rain on metal (Rain on a metal roof or car hood or window air conditioner)
Lawn mower / mowing of a lawn
Gravel roads / foot steps on a gravel road or a moving car’s tires slowly moving on gravel road
Children on a playground / children’s laughter while playing on a playground or in a swimming pool
Subway rushing through a tunnel, not at the station, but when the subway is traveling through the depths of a tunnel
My cat’s purr
Crickets chirping in the dark night
The systematic rhythmic beeps in a hospital
Trees swaying in the wind after a storm at dusk
Rustle of leaves
An oscillating fan
The sound of a crackling (controlled) fire. Like a fire in a fireplace or fire pit.
Wind chimes; especially during a sunlit afternoon with temperature around 70F and especially when lightly napping
A snow plow plowing snow on the street at night
Church bells ringing in the distance
The Muslim call to prayer over an audio system
Howling wind at night outside a window
© 2024 David Greg Harth
24.11.13.09.47.00@130BklynNYC
She Came Inside
Pry
Pull
Pick
Peel
Prod
Plow
Push
Poke
Pluck
Probe
Pierce
Prompt
Puncture
Permeate
Penetrate
Emancipate
Evacuate
Excavate
Exorcism
Exfoliate
Extrude
Escape
Extract
Egress
Elude
Expel
Eject
Evict
Exit
Infiltrate
Intrude
Invade
Inject
Assault
Attack
Access
Autopsy
Sneak
& Peak
Trespass
Pass
Paassssssst…
Pssst…..
Psss….
–
Entrance
–
She’s going inside
And inside she went
I opened wide
And she came inside
© 2024 David Greg Harth
24.11.07.09.45.48@130BklynNYC
I Love Your Disaster
Your disaster is a hurricane
Twirling fiercely inside you
With untamable winds that refuse to rest
You birth calm out of chaos
Your disaster is a wildfire
Furious and free, shining bright in the night
Always burning without fear of going out
You shed light in forever darkness
Your disaster is a flood
Filling all dusty plains and dry deserts
With midnight visions and journey dreams
You bring beauty out of loss
Your disaster is a volcano
With explosive rage of molten rock
Shooting and seeping and penetrating
You drape your heart around new growth
Your disaster is a landslide
Aborting trees from their roots
Bequeathing paths of destruction down mountains
You conquer previous footsteps with optimism
Your disaster is an avalanche
Denying to obey gravity
Turning echoing canyons into whisperings graves
You keep serenity to hidden tempers
Your disaster is a tornado
Erasing shadows from the horizon
Catapulting life across valleys of death
You rotate the righteousness with empathy
Your disaster is an earthquake
Raging tremors crack to reveal weaknesses
Refusing resistance from the toughest structures
You always end with reconstruction generously
Your disaster is a tsunami
Torturing the unsuspecting innocent
With fury and rampage crashing upon the shore
You erase pain from solitary abyss
Your disaster is a blizzard
Blinding routes of egress
Icing and freezing without retribution
You bring children guided hope about tomorrow
Your disaster is a pandemic
Breeching agreements among the swan songs of the living
Challenging reasoning of the educated
You infect worldly ideas uninvited
Your disaster is war
Catastrophic at the very core
Edges and cults and riches and ideas
You shake disillusion aside with executed harmony
© 2024 David Greg Harth
2024.11.01.17.08.42@1000MountainRestRdNewPaltzNY (Mohonk Mountain House)
2024.09.15.22.00.00@130Bklyn
Masturbation Marathon
I woke up aroused
I knew how today’s events would unfold
And I go right to it
I put on my cock ring
It wraps under my big balls
It wraps around the base of my big cock
Constricts
Excites
I lay on the couch
Pull down my pants
And just spread out
And start stroking
I look at photos
And watch porn
And look at photos
And watch porn
And stroke
Stroke
Stroke
Stroke
Watch
Stroke
Stroke
Stroke
I edge myself
I get myself super hard
Super erect
I’m bulging and thick and throbbing and purple
I stop myself just before exploding a hot cum load
I take myself down
I slow down
Easy does it
Easy
Slow
And then I find my rhythm again
I look at photos
I look at porn
I intoxicate myself with stimulation
Over and over I stroke my thick hard cock
Over and over I stroke
Until just before I cum
And stop
Pre-Cum is on the tip of my cock
Slippery
I rub my finger on the tip
Slippery
Slippery
Stroke
Slippery
Stroke
It’s still so early in the morning
Not even 8am
I should be somewhat productive today
Don’t you think?
I decide its time to take a shower
I get into the shower
Hot soapy wet water
Pouring all over down my body
Making me slippery
Wet
Steamy
Super aroused
And hard
I put soap in my hand
And grasp my fat cock
And start stroking
Everything is so slippery
It feels like the real thing
It feels like I’m inside
It feels like I’m inside a tight wet pussy
I stroke
I stroke
I stroke
I’m about to cum
I’m about to shoot a load
And I bring myself down
Easy does it
I stop myself
And repeat
I stroke again
And again
Until I’m fully erect
And my cock is super purple
As if it’s about to explode
Burst blood
Explosion of sensory overload
I stop myself again
I collect my thoughts
I exit the shower
I dry off
The day progresses
I’m on the bed
I’m on the couch
I’m on a chair
I’m in the shower
I masturbate hours upon hours
I masturbate continuously
I’m edging myself for hours
I’m naked. Or clothed. Or partially clothed.
Or my cock is just slipped out of my jeans
I’ll twist
And I’ll turn
I’ll tremble
And I’ll resist
I watch porn
I look at photos
I use my imagination
I think of her and her and her and her
Then I think of her and her and her and her
I remember the time
I think of the time
I only take short breaks
For the bathroom
For quick snacks
No time for breakfast
No time for lunch
No time for dinner
Only time to stroke
For hours
I whip it out
For hours and hours
I stroke my throbbing thick hard cock!
Stroke
Stroke
Stroke
I’m so hard
Take it easy
Bring yourself down
Down
Down
Calm down
Everything is calm
I hear whispers
I hear the refrigerator buzz
An outside noise
Sounds of the city
But I’m too horny
Can’t focus
Must touch myself
Getting aroused
I look at porn
I look at photos
I’m at it again
Repeat
Over and over
Stroke
Stroke
Stroke
I can’t take it anymore
It’s been 2 hours
4 hours
6 hours
8 hours
10 hours
I got up at 5am
And now its 6pm
And now its 10pm
And now its midnight
I’ve been stroking my hard cock for 18 hours straight
For 18 hours
I didn’t do anything
Nothing
But pull back
And pull forth
Pull back
And pull forth
All energy
Everything
On my cock
All eyes on my cock
My hand on my cock
Drooling on my cock
Squeezing on my cock
Cock ring on my cock
All day on my cock
It’s been too long
I must focus
I must get on with life
I stroke
I stroke
I grasp my cock
I stroke
I stroke my throbbing thick cock
Feverishly
Fast
Thrusting
I finally cum my hot creamy load!
I’m at ease
I am calm
I am calm
I can sleep
I go to bed
Guilty
© 2024 David Greg Harth
24.10.29.22.00.00@130BklynNYC
Revoked
No one to blame
Not a moment
Not a person
Battled the pain
Unbearable
Unhappiness
No caffeine
No alcohol
No day time fantasies
No time to keep track of
Salty tears
Floating upon the Dead Sea
Memories of Nazareth
Feet bleeding in pain
Knees fallen
Broken
Wishes of seppuku
Following footsteps
Gray & Blake
And all the coffees unknown
Anitra & Noah
And all the forgotten friends
No Ark I want to be in
Vomiting the poisonous
No neighbor
No pen to compose
Everyone thought
Would not leave
Would not write
Would not call
Eye; I see, I am
Epic tales
Of fallen heroes
No presidential moment
No van Gogh
I did not invent
Nor did I escape
All I did was
Was
So
Remember my name
Etched in history
Sunken ships
Reminiscence
Of consciousness
Uncomplicated
© 2024 David Greg Harth
24.10.03.11.14.00@130BkllynNYC
Sleepless Nights
quiet
night
silence
drift
fray
whisper
unknown
falls
end
tie knot
dark
loss
lost
yesterday
tomorrow
mourning
night shade
listen
alone
final
untold
secret
wind
footsteps
moment
shadow
grace
forgotten
last
echoes
© 2024 David Greg Harth
24.09.22.21.23.00@130BklynNYC
In The Absence
Lean in a little closer
I brush the hair away from your ear
My lips part and I send you a whispering postcard
© 2024 David Greg Harth
24.08.20.22.45.00@130BklynNYC
Black Skies
Secret whispers fell from the sky
Diluted in the puddles on the empty roads
Dreams rode the waves that crashed upon the shore
They broke apart as they smashed upon the jagged rocks
Ideas burning flesh from bones
Empty hearts filled with charcoal
Hatred breeding the glorious cowards
Now mothers of tomorrow’s generation
An avalanche of darkness covers meadows of delusion
Conquered barren skulls with not a moment’s last breath
Left over gods with no sermons or lectures
No spells, no tales, no disciples, no rōnin
No bee hive, no vessel, no fuselage, no urn
No power exchange, no bound wrists,
no unseen ward, no conversation spoken
No mausoleum, no resurrection,
No temptation, no river birth
Just the black skies
Which now cover this earth
© 2024 David Greg Harth
2024.07.31.17.28.00@130BklynNYC
The Beginning
I find it most difficult to start
But once you start, everything falls into place
Sorting things out
Organizing tasks
Repeating false memories
Playing a song for the morning swans
Inevitable fears cancelled
Enveloped cash memories
Planning estates
Meal preparation
Canceling the services
Coming to attention
Ocean waves crashing
Couldn’t compare
Couldn’t comprehend
Found something to eat
Complaints written down
Asked for a gun
Got sweet plantains
Asked for an extension
Got a wooden box
The most difficult part is starting
The hardest part is always the start
© 2024 David Greg Harth
2024.07.30.11.41.00@130BklynNYC
Among The Forgotten
Questions left unanswered
Always a mystery why he left so soon
No written note or epic story to read
Just scattered belongings to piece together
Questions left unanswered
He was alone and lonely
She was the very cloud
Swept him into a rescued eternity
Questions left unanswered
Sometimes actions cannot be prevented
No matter the day of the week
Or time the sun rises
Questions left unanswered
Each community slightly more empty
An art world untouched
Never forgiven but always forgotten
© 2024 David Greg Harth
24.07.20.18.48.58@130BklynNYC
Cookies & The Radio
She sat me down
Bandaged up my knee
Trio walked off into the morning sun
Most important objects of all
Anywhere in the world right here
Right now, in her back pack
She’s got the cookies
She’s got the radio
And away we go –
© 2023 David Greg Harth
23.03.23.07.00.00@ElChaltenChilePatagonia
Mr. Mr. Clock
Clock strikes 4pm.
Clock came racing down.
Didn’t know the race was on.
Didn’t know the dust had settled.
Didn’t know my scent was left lingering.
I was just seated. Alone. Lonesome. Lonely. Single.
Retracted.
I was just seated. Honored. Guarded. Walled. Single.
You came along. Brought your broom. Brought your dust bin.
Here we are and the clock strikes 4pm
In love,
My heart goes –
Tick Tick Tick Tick
In love,
My heart goes –
On forever
Because I’m the man without a clock.
I’m the man without time.
Because I’ve been bought and I’ve been sold.
I’ve been living on borrowed time.
It’s 4pm.
Time to get wed.
© 2022 David Greg Harth
22.11.11.15:31:30@130BklynNYC
List of 10: Concerts I’ve been too
1. U2
2. The Who
3. The Rolling Stones
4. Nine Inch Nails
5. Bruce Springsteen
6. David Bowie
7. James
8. Leonard Cohen
9. Pete Seeger
10. Madonna
Note: Concerts are listed in random order, not chronologically.
© 2022 David Greg Harth
22.10.14.17:43:27@130BklynNYC
Just Like That
And just like that
The loaf of bread is gone!
No more crumbs
No more bread
No more for you
No more for me
Just like that!
© 2022 David Greg Harth
22.09.08.15:15:55@130NYC
Mayor Scott
This plague has come upon us
It’s no common New York rodent
And I know you’ve witnessed a lot
Bullet holes and gentrification
Cracked sidewalks and burning houses
Nothing previously made you transition to the Lord so fast
In the end it was deadly COVID-19
That guided your journey past
A dozen years of conversations
Neighborhood discussions
Wishing wells and grilling smells
Firecrackers and insanity pleas
Seen you daily at sunrise
and you’ve seen me daily at dusk
Seen you dapper
and you’ve seen me somber
Seen you filled with laughter
and you’ve seen me with my love
Gardening yards
that were not yours
Hugging children
that were not yours
Helping elderly
that were not yours
Fending crooks
that were not yours
Hellos & Goodbyes
that were always ours
Good days & bad days
that were always ours
You’ll be missed
Oh, great Mayor of the block
May you rest in peace
Oh, great Mayor of the block
© 2020 David Greg Harth
2020.05.03.18:09:31@130BklynNYC
False Artist
“False Artist”
I am a false artist
I am a fraud
A fake
I’m a scam, a cheat, a dupe
Bogus and phony – Shit
I am invalid
I’m such a fake fucking artist
I’m a coward
With knees shaking at the entrance
Graphite on my fingers
The scent of oils in my mouth
Angst of the unaffordable
Torn and twisted of what is attainable
Gutted
Drenched in tears
Claimed to be without fears
Often lying in pain from my man made disease
Studio walls close in on you
Art supplies come crashing down
You sink in the quicksand
Swallowing your last stand
And you give up
So easily you surrender
Because you’re a fake fucking artist
Making up deadlines
Drawing portraits and lines and lines and more damn lines
Coughing up blood
Oozing a better symphonic plea
Born in Canaan
Got hit by a landslide and walked once more
My spine raddled
Spew forth the nightmares of encephalitis
A snake’s autosarcophagy has become my wet dream
Poisoned by the hollow promises of 213 feet
I am a false artist
I am a fraud
A fake, an invalid
© 2019 David Greg Harth
2019.09.24.12:06:27@130BklynNYC
Broken/Fixed
Temptation of sorrow elevated me to great spans
It was the crusade that kept me afloat
Ferocious venom from my inner beast
See me thrash, and see me live
I marched on
Like an unclaimed warrior
Chivalry was my badge of honor
Midnight trysts were a common theme
Rich stories of being lost on the streets with ghosts
Often seen abandonment as the only option
Through the strongest tides pulling me
And the howling winds pushing me
It has been an exhaustive search
Twisted side arrived
Seated in the round with compassion
Repeating sparrow sung my symphonic song
In pride, I march down the witnesses’ aisle of disbelief
Letters penned, calls made, paintings painted
Hunting for a waltz in the city of music
Pierced through until the end
Swallow my limited time
Release the paired doves
Call out the sun and call out the moon
Announce the truth and close the books
The scorched chariot waits for the both of us
Her lips reeled me in
Her mind seized my heart
Her hips peeled back my senses
Her empathy captured my everything
I’ve been broken for over four decades
But now that she is with me
I am no longer broken
I am fixed
© 2018 David Greg Harth
18.07.10.13:35:50@1CTSQWLICNYC
These Hard Earned Tears
Infant eyes intimidated reason
Incubated empty dreams into emerging concepts
Grown out of lust and melancholy
Howling wind filled vacant hearts with rage
Chasing love on the storm’s wave
Echoing pleas from the drowning sea
Treading each territory with new hope
With constant loss and destroyed visions
Testimonials will recall the tale
As it was told and as it was captured
Surrendered to the fulfilled dream
His leman has the evidence
Last flight never forgotten
An abrupt end executed from desire
© 2017 David Greg Harth
17.09.06.13:31:04@1CTSQWLICNYC
The Fall Of Heaven
I.
The rickety rackety of the train kept me up all night
Rickey rackety, rickety rackety
The train would sway back and forth
As we catapulted straight for long stretches
Rickey rackety, rickety rackety
Then, grasp onto your seat!
We’d almost be jumping off the tracks
As the train would bend around a sharp curve
The blinds would titter tatter, titter tatter
Wind rushing inside the rail car
Swooooosh!
Rustling my hair about with dirt and dust
Dirt and dust
II.
Twelve flights up
I would gnaw at my restraints
Attempting to escape
This internal prison where I was held hostage
Vanquish out the demons that would possess my mind
The bondage was ironclad
I’d scrape my fingernails on the wooden door
Edging splinters deeper beneath my skin
Peering at the intersection down below
Hoping for an interrupted fall
Scolded for stroking
Living on yesterday’s potatoes
III.
Behind the teacher’s desk
We exchanged gifts for Valentine’s Day
I gave her a tiny box of sugary candy with pre-printed messages
Various colored hearts with words I never wrote
She gave me a much larger box in the shape of a heart
With individually wrapped chocolates
Each with a different delicate presentation
And unique taste memorable impression
And I wore blush for that photo
And I wore blush for that photo
Can’t you see?
IV.
Walking back empty handed
Along the long gravel road
Hands bloody
My forehead dripping
Precum at the tip of my –
Walking aimlessly
Trying to locate my plot
Helpless before the sun rises once more
I’ve had my faults
And I’ve given my apologies
I’ve had my excuses
My lies and presumptions
But this dedication
After my heart was demolished
© 2017 David Greg Harth
17.02.21.17:52:00@200VeseyNYC