Five Years At Least One

I remember growing up.

My dad was at Attica.

And I would burn ants as a kid.

And play with the rat poison mom had in the cabinet under the sink.

Richard and I would come up with these weird con-cock-shins.

Like little league volcano science experiments.

I grew up in a farm state.

Filled with apples and I remember cow tipping and buying crap at Sugar Loaf.

And being yelled at to “Just answer the fookin’ question” by my uncle who

gave me the big-ass tannish teddy bear.

I remember the Fourth of July when both of my grandfathers would come down

the walkway and shake hands with open arms, as if they haven’t seen

each other in years.

It’s funny, when I think about it, I remember seeing my next door neighbor

completely naked. She saw a sock on my cock and I saw her breasts divulge

that her puberty had beaten mine. I once saw a kid on a roof and once in a

puddle of rain.

All my memories fade away now in the sun, because that’s when I get these

awful headaches and have to run inside in the shade and darkness. And when

I do, I think of my father that I had lost in upstate New York. The 2nd

largest killing of Americans by Americans since the Civil War. I feel

bleeding on my side because of that, and I’ll never be complete. Even though

I gain a brother every now and then.

I wonder where Jessica is. She sure was pretty, her golden long hair in

braids. That’s what I remember. Too bad I repress certain memories, she

wasn’t my kid. I would have supported her if she was. She didn’t have my

eyes. My eyes. You know what I mean. I’m a seduction sucker. But do I get

sucked or do I suck?

If I asked you to sit in the photobooth and take a photo with me, would

you? That reminds me, I have to go to the meat market and get something for

a self-portrait. Christo said that something was not his and I believed him.

Because I’m unconditional, that’s why I can do this. And he was broken and

bent out of shape? Maybe he should have gone to the doctor then, right?

Doctor? Page them please.

My grandfather would make little toy cars out of Quaker Oat Meal cylinder

cartons and pencils. He also helped me to draw. I remember one distinct

thing he taught me. If you look at the corner of a room, where the two

walls meet, the seam; you’ll notice that its actually lighter than the two

walls. You might think that this is wrong, but actually the two walls are

both reflecting light into the seam, hence, making it brighter. I recall

drawing a pack of True cigarettes with him one day.

She made some pasta for me, and we had some wine. She danced Infront of me

in my year of Nineteen Ninety Nine. We went skinny dipping in her outdoor

pool and the towel she wrapped herself in dropped to the floor.

I was making a list the other day and I was checking it twice. I didn’t want

to see who was naughty and who was nice. A lot are not nice and I want some

more to be naughty. Say naughty. Be naughty with me. Let’s get together and

feel all right. I’m a rebel and I can hear the chimes in the wind. And see

the kite fly above me on the beach of the New Jersey shore. I’m not from

there.

One time I had a friend that introduced me to frog legs. He was an artist

at Columbia. He killed these little frogs and used the back leg muscles to

operate his art frog that was made of metal and machinery. It was a robot

frog with real muscles. David must have thought and wondered if the world

changed just because this little frog left the world. Kind of like when you

step into the ocean, the entire ocean rises around the earth, just because

you are in it! Amazing.

He had a dream about urinating in garbage cans. One Infront of Robin, one

Infront of Travis.

It’s kind of like design, or performance, or a bad artist, or bad move.

Almost like chess, but not checkers; that’s a hot dog, run it through, drag

it through the garden, take me to the river.

I once knew a man that had steel plates in his head. After gutting him I

tied my shoelaces around his neck and hanged him out in the yard.

My brother once taught me about love. But he left the family and has never

come back. He stole lots of things and hearts but I forgave him. He’s my

Valentine, and you are not. Do you hear that laughing or is it the gas in

my head?

Anyway, just a taste of fluid, that today, might be 100%. But give me at

most five years at least one year and I’ll show you something strange in the

mirror. But I won’t be talkin’ to you for a while. Sorry Pop, you know it

and I know it, I’ll catch your tears, if you catch mine.

© 1999 David Greg Harth

99.06.20.23:59:25 @ 296NYC

Fathers Day 1999

99.06.24.03.15:21 @ 296NYC

Thursday after eating some French Toast at VG Bar

A First Possible Attempt At A Poem For Jack

Resistful junk

wish I had a backyard bunk

I think I thunk

it’s going to duck

Be around dark midnight

it’s just about my luck

not to get any maid fuck

to make a damn American buck!

a roo - wish I wore

a tutu

cock-a-roo

fee fi foe thumbs

is that peat moss I smell?

Be pod lows

Come around low dying crows

Here seed med shows

Lice cauliflower hoes

Be fi fiddle diddle toes

Tickle me torture me

silly goose woes

Temple dimple in a hippo

Surround my buttocks upon your nipple

Could it be pleasure

or just a quadruple

or just a round-a-bout

table topple?

Doodie foodie times - keedy

Sans, sands, so and serifs

Big small and neatly

How I wonder what you are

and if you really are that far!!!

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98:09:09.01:36:44@MAHWAH07430

Freshly Cut Grass

It’s going to be okay

I smell the fresh cut grass

I love it when I hear

The lawn mowers across the street

Right before the school day

The scent of the new grass

Giving birth to my passages

Afternoon Saturdays and morning hours

Filled with lawn mowers

Across the neighborhood

After school with Scooby-Doo and fruity snacks

Vibration and gasoline love

The sound of lawn mowers

Telling me that every thing

Is going to be all right

Reminded of childhood

Forgetting the now

Traveling back in time

To crushes, child’s play, and freedom of toys

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.09.01.05:15:00@NJ

Fixed

Operator

Give me the drugs

Let me sleep tonight

And not wake up tomorrow

Let me hear knocks at the door

And shoot me up with morphine

So I cant see her beauty

Or hear her laugh

Surgeon

Transplant my heart

I need a snake’s coldness

Let me violently whip around

And never be able to hug her again

Or if, so ever

Donor

Give me your eyes

So, a new set can be held

And I’ll never have the pain of thinking about her

Nurse

Wash me down

So, I can forget about my beliefs

Show me the view

To translate my horrors

Take me downtown

To get tests that reveal my truths

Security

Restrain me

So I wont break glass down your chest

So I wont cry myself to sleep

Cradiling my head in my arms

Flowers

Send yourself to me

Because when I’m with you I forget about her

And I’d like to absorb the scent from which you grow

And I’d like to remember you

As the lasting image of beauty

not her

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.08.16.03:49:00@NJ07430

Freedom

Heading West

At sixty-five

Seeing the hills roll over

The burning hills on fire

Glowing reds and oranges

With a great wonderful halo

Hearing the tune and hymns

Of rediscovery

And all I can say is

Freedom at Last! Freedom at Last!

Heading West

Realizing there is no more

Had it all

Until the end

Survived much

To continue on

Had a bird

And nut-less board

Missed my cat

His eyes and glare

Decision of mades

And maids dancing with red

Sled riding hills

The West on Fire

Freedom at Last! Freedom at Last!

With thoughts of you,

My friend

You.

Messages of thanks

As re-runs get fatter

Recalling hatred

Over misty mountains

Control is thirst

And I for you.

Freedom at Last!

Freedom at Last!

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.06.21.21:27:42@NJ07430

Father’s Day

FUCKOUS

on the painting

on her beauty

on their wisdom

on the children at play

on the sparrows in flight

on the currents in the brook

on the chained prisoners

on the revolutionaries

on the goddesses

on the trapped

on my knee

on the lady bug recently set free

on the model train, going round and round

on the gift I have given

on the bed of sunflowers

on the water sitting still

on the hymns being sung

on the parents walking by

on my hope

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.04.04.12:09:00@10954NANUETNY

Forgotten

I forgot her

Damn It!

I did wrong.

Now she is gone

I gave her a painting

She left with my poetry

I have done no good

I scarred myself forever

Forever I am damned!

I threw myself in a cave

Sealed my soul

After pouring out my cum!

I remember squeezing her breasts

In a shower I took

I remember squeezing her ass

In the bed I destroyed

But now I forgot her

Damn It!

And now I am homeless

Without her I am dead.

With her I am a lie.

Today is no different

For she is still at my knees.

From the magazine shelf

To the soul music

She is a memory

Of tiger hood

And overalls

But I have died

I forgot her.

What can I say?

But I am dead today?

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.03.06.01:26:25@07430

Film & Radio

Film

is thin

Thinning like my lost father’s hair

Film is revolution

Rotating around my index

Film is portraying

On the wall in white

Film is a pornographic documentary

Of Presidential lies and palace steps

Railroads and Wildebeests

Plant growth and boxing matches

Radio is a recording

From my history

To this present day

A tune to the lips of a dancer

And the horror which brings back memories

Radio you can’t hear

When fucked in the brain

Nor films to be played

But better than Ra-Dio

Ra-Dio

Radio I can hear it

But it’s not me

It’s not me hearing it

Just the audience

As I try to escape from the toilet flushes

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.02.26.24:51:00@NJ07430

For You

Feel the wind

Take you there

Feel the thigh

Feel you there

Feel the sunshine

Upon your chest

Upon my breast

See those colors

The ones you cannot imagine

I make them for you

I give them to you

For you

I would die

For you I would revolt

I would make pain

I would conquer the world

For you

For you I would climb

I would dive

I would divide

I would render

I would shoot

I would kill

For you

For you I would be wind

I would be time

and the womb which you protect

For you I would be the rain

I would be the fire

And the hurt which you feel

For you I would be the mirror

The reflection of your hatred

The reality of life

The wonders of birth

For you

For you I would tear at myself

I would rip apart

Seal the insides

And give you my pride

For you

For you no secrets are allowed

No possessions are understood

No time without you is real

For you one cannot hold

For you one cannot be

For you I would die

I would take you

To feel the wind

Upon my breast

Your holy chest

Upon the Cross

Where my father had died

For you

I would create sunshine

And pour the rain

Down your back

For you

I would love

© 1997 David Greg Harth

97.02.24.01:22:00@31USQWNYC

Fall

Fall means many things to me.

Outside there are lots of things to see.

The changing color of the beautiful leaves

Swaying in the sudden gentle breeze.

The squirrels are gathering their acorns

        near and far.

For they know winter is coming like a

        shooting star.

© 1985 David Greg Harth

85.10.28.00:00:00@SpringValleyNY