Loving You (Version #2)
Rusty nails
Under my skin
Stuck between my memories
And my future sin
Unpredictable uncertainty
From the choices I made
As a child to adulthood
So many wrongs played
Forgotten names
Of every and each treasure
But nestled between her thighs
Was my greatest pleasure
Spewing out the truths
They set my inferno free
Threatened by limited time
I succumbed and bent my knee
Haunting’s from yesterday
Made my daydreams reality
A door ajar invited me inside
Even in surrendering I make a plea
I planted my strongest seed in the earth
To mark my early grave
Fallen from the sky at great speed
To this love I have become a slave
Turn off the kettle
A warm tea by the crackling fire
I melt in love with you
And wrap my scalp in barbwire
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.01.27.14.53.29@345ParkNYC
In The Center
In the center
Between
The two valleys
This isn’t your mother’s shopping center
Get out the cart
Take out the trash
Look at the rearview mirror
Objects are closer than they appear
Purchase what’s on sale
Return your full price items
Return the gifts
Return to the scene of the crime
Sign up for the store bonus
Shake out your chicken leg
And pay by check
Rolling over
Rolling under
Rolling thunder
Trying to find the receipt
Paid for
Exchange
Contemplate the rate
Layaway
Credit
This is a store announcement
This is a sore loser
This is a poor customer
This is a thank you
Lying to security
Lying flat
Temper tantrum on the floor
Bought a new hat
Lighting fuses
Refusing to leave
Put away the refuse
Take the dog out for a walk
Town Center
Center Fold
Center Reach
Center Insight
Birthing Rights
Women’s Rights
Right hand turn rights
Right wing lefts
Left hand turns
Turning to write
Written right
Correct
Between her legs
Bright
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.01.24.18.05.41@130BklynNYC
Catching Shooting Stars
To catch a shooting star
You’ll need:
A wide net
A good eye
A mighty drive
A pinch of hope
A cup of caffeine
A bundle of patience
A lot of determination
And an eager heart
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.01.21.11.56.10@345ParkNYC
First-Class Riot
His hair was unwashed
Messy and uncombed
His face aged with last week’s shave
Sandpaper skin; rattle snake envy
Well used paperback book
He put on his dark blue Levi’s
Buttoned his collared shirt
He dusted off his leather boots
And placed his wool hat on his head
He drove his pickup truck out to the desert
Had no rhyme only reason
Searching for her name under his breath
He howled at the lonesome sky
Hot sun beat down between the clouds
Baked the cracked riverbed dry
Tumbleweed blowing in the wind’s grasp
Echoes of vultures circling overhead
He showed up late
And she was nowhere to be found
Just a damaged pocket-watch out of time
That hoped for one last chime
Because he’s a first-class riot
Unreliable
Beaten down
Not trustworthy
And territorial
Completely unhinged
And gave her the back of his hand one too many times
She left before he arrived
Rode the lost stallion as far as she could
Headed towards the rising moon
Didn’t leave any memories behind
Burned them to ash before she left
Burned them to ash
Left her haunts on the upright cross
Bloodstains seeped deep into the dirt
Dropped ripped and torn cloth
Guided her hopes inside her treasure chest
Left her back home nest
He drove back to the border come dark
Without headlights to guide his path
Ended up in a ditch to die and waste out
Splayed to roast and rot
Coyotes call and moan
Towards his throat they do roam
Because he’s a first-class riot
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.01.14.16.24.00@345ParkNYC