Suzanne Barse
She slept across from her
That’s how I knew her
I didn’t know much about her
Except that she slept across from her
Months turn into years
Decades past
A rediscovery made
In one of the most nontraditional senses
And there she was
Still only a memory
Of a woman who slept across from her
With new light
Caring about her mother
So active
So warm
She didn’t just sleep
Across from her
Anymore
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.09.29.11:17:29@130BklynNYC
The Stories We Tell
When we are children we tell stories
Usually make believe
Based upon figments of what we’ve experienced
Based upon fragments of our vivid imagination
A bit surreal like a Salvador Dalí panting
Our reality is blurred with fantasy
We accentuate the truth
Bend the truth or even ignore the truth
When we are teens
We try to make our stories become reality
We can tell the difference between fantasy and reality
But we try hard to make certain stories a reality
Even though some stories will remain a fantasy
When we are adults
We are actively creating real stories
We are actively participating in the stories we will at one time call our “life”
We make decisions which affect these stories
We make these stories take the directions we choose
As we mold and form these stories
As these stories mold and form us into who we become
When we are in our old age
When we look at our life that has occurred before us
We will have stories to tell
We will have stories to share
We will share these stories about our history
About our lives
The story I will tell is amazing
But how will your story be?
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.03.02.12:51:19@130BklynNYC
Speaking At My Funeral
Not fearing death comes easy to me
Quite simple actually
And quite often I seek death
I look for death
I welcome death
It’s an uncontrollable habit
And even easier at this moment
One day I’ll commit suicide
It won’t be a surprise to some
It won’t be a shock to others
It won’t be a performance art work
But the day will come
And I’ll be dead
By my choice
This is an invitation
To all of you
You may know me well
Or not at all
But you may come to my funeral
And speak
Now I must go
Because there is one more thing to write
One more work to create
And one more love to love
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.02.04.24:31:31@130BklynNYC
Swallowing Ajax
I’m healing
This is the fact that you should know
I didn’t know that I was being served a swallow on a plate
The plate was white porcelain with a blue trim
Quite beautiful actually
The swallow was hidden in sauce
With crispy onions and toasted almond slivers
Garnished with greens that looked like whiskers
Served with a white wine at room temperature
I ate the swallow without knowing it was a swallow
It went down simple
And was actually delicious
When I got home
I felt I did something morally wrong
And I still had no idea I just ate a swallow
To rid myself of this sin
I took a 14oz container of Ajax
Combined it with 32oz of water
And drank
My sins are gone
So is the lonely swallow
© 2011 David Greg Harth
11.11.18.13:05:03@130BklynNYC
Something We’re Not
When I was a baby
I was something I was not
When I was a child
I was something I was not
When I was a teenager
I was something I was not
When I was a young man
I was something I was not
When I was a man
I was something I was not
I am something I am not
And I am not something I am
Something I was and something I will be
Somethings are different and somethings are better
Better to be something than not something
And better to be something else than nothing at all
Something is better than nothing
And nothing could be better than something
If that something is something you are not
When I was something
I was not
And when I was not something
I was something
When something is wrong
Write something down
When something is written
Something is forgiven
And when something is forgiven
Something is not
And not something is still something
But something is not what I want
When all you want is something
Something else
And something you are not
© 2011 David Greg Harth
11.11.12.10:13:13@130BklynNYC
Silently Destroyed
Without warning –
I was attacked
The deadly serpent
Has been stalking me
Watching my every move for the past few months
Watching my comings and goings
Watching my daily routine
She tortured me
She wailed her songs
She lured me with her dance
She punctured my tough skin with her razor sharp teeth
She sucked everything out of me
She removed all of my vital organs
She dug out my heart from its skeletal shell
Without warning –
I was attacked
The serpent came
Quietly and slowly
From behind she crept
Beneath dark winter clouds
While time was passing on the evolutionary clock
I didn’t see it coming
These terrorist tribunals
These tremendous troubles
These explosive endearments
She stole my season
She captured all my reason
She made me commit to love’s treason
Without warning –
I was attacked
Night and day
She ate me alive
And she hijacked my heart
Now I am defeated
And now I am destroyed
© 2011 David Greg Harth
11.02.08.01:35:18@130BklynNYC
Sinking In Sorrow
I am sinking,
Water up to my neck,
I can’t help my ache.
Wanting you
Like never before,
Never healed.
Never in love.
I am sinking,
Over the rush.
Climbing and tackling,
Taking the journey
Head on.
I am sinking,
Following your steps.
Avoiding the flood.
The drops of pain.
Love is all around.
I’m here,
Always for you.
I am sinking,
My heart is breaking.
An ensemble of
Cloaked mourners gather.
Under dark skies
Bagpipers play.
Drowning out these
Tears of love.
I am sinking,
I’ve written you a love song.
I’ll whisper it in your ear,
As you get lost
In my arms.
I am sinking.
© 2005-11 David Greg Harth
05.07.01.21:56:00@NYC
11.01.05.16:59:21@550NYC
So Easily Forgotten
I was whisked
Uplifted and uprooted
That tornado came pounding at my door
No matter how I denied its entry
It still entered with such commanding force
Powerful to knock me from my stable stance
Spin me hundreds of feet into the air
Landing miles away from my origin
Now at a different location
With no sense of home
And no direction
No one knows my name
And no one recognizes my face
I am forgotten
© 2010 David Greg Harth
10.08.23.14:21:37@550MadisonNYC
She Doesn’t Know
Wake up
Slowly rise from your secure sheets
Set aside last year’s tears
Paperwork is done
Signatures made it complete
I love her beyond any moon’s dream
I love her from eternity to infinity
How come she doesn’t know?
I haven’t told her yet.
Wake up
From the sleep which hides you
Bring forth your beauty
Allow me to enter you
As no man has entered you before
I love her more than the stars cradle the moon
I love her more than the waves break on the beach
How come she doesn’t know?
I haven’t told her yet.
Wake up
Let my whispers guide you
Let my gentle touch caress you
This heart belongs to you
Forever you may keep its chambers
Let our lips collide
Through transatlantic borders we do not divide
Love like this will never hide
How come she doesn’t know?
I haven’t told her yet.
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.09.26.14:29:05@BirzeitPalestine
Starbucks Whore & Folgers Pimp
I will not hide
Declare the truth from deep inside
Broadcast my desire
The hills of Athens are on fire
I want to cup your perfect breast
From my palm to my mouth
Ideas simply suggest
So, remove your quill from your given
Install wishes to your lady’s driven
Touch your soft skin to mine
Let words intertwine
Round honey stare
Your skin sensitive and bare
From hourly champagne
To your splint with her in the rain
This is the break, the part, the area when you become a whore
From corner to corner, you always want more
Bring up the coffee to your rose lips
My caffeinated tongue shall trace the outline of your hips
But who am I? But just a Folgers Pimp
My beating heart has a continuous limp
Alone in my world of compositions
With coffee, we’ll have multiple positions!
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.08.30.19:51:33@130BklynNYC
Second Time
In the emptiness of it all
A string quartet plays melodies
Similar to the ones that of my grandfather hummed me to sleep
I break open
Pour the coffee, skip the milk, add the sugar
Silently sipping, now lukewarm after a few minutes wait
It was raining on that December day
I was brought by ambulance to the hospital
Given injections in my legs
Still, I lay
Still, I have become
No fear, or regrets
No embarrassments, no chartered waters
Like I said, no reasons, no more
I stand tall
With my fleshy weapon strong at my side
My eyes focused on the target
Rage in my heart — no sympathy
In my shade I cannot hide
In the sun, I will fade, and surely die
With no more options
No more running, making, inhaling
Without freedom
Without eight hours fight
Without her love
Only a small instance
Of left over scraps
Of left over disease
I beg you to forgive me
For what I am about to achieve
My achievement,
Museum quality
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.08.12.21:08:31@130BklynNYC
Spectrum
Swiftly moving
In this underground galaxy
Beneath rivers of imports
And solid granite rock
In long metal cans
Conditioned with cold air
Stuffy urine sweat
Or wet dogs of August heat
I travel to and from
Among every color and background
With Puerto Ricans, Koreans and Indians
With Germans, Greeks, and Chinese
With Christians, Muslims and Jews
With punks, preps and beauty queens
Each shade of a person
Next to me
I’m the minority
On these orange seats of paradise
We are all in transit
Dressed in black
Or the monk’s cloth
Short skirts and platforms
Or jeans below the knees
In our suits and ties
And grandmother mothballs
In our Yankee caps
And Cole, Karan and Klein
Reading, jiving and gazing
Writing, listening, and sleeping
We ride at night
And sunrise must
We travel for dollars
Five borough hollers
This is my New York City
My journey, my home
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.05.01.11:40:00@ManhattanBridgeNYC
09.05.14.22:33:49@130BklynNYC
Seppuku
I guarantee you.
You have a full warranty.
For years to come.
Full replacement.
Parts plus labor.
You have nothing to worry about.
Everything is perfect with your purchase.
Like said.
Like declared.
Like old age.
Like neuro twelve.
Like loving you.
Like telling true.
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.03.17.24:18:00@130BklynNYC
She heard me, She heard what I said
I told her what I thought
She was who I sought
I leaned in near
Whispered a secret in her ear
I spoke my mind
She was a goddess to mankind
I told her the truth
During her blooming youth
I warmed her soul
She completes me whole
I spoke from my arresting heart
No force could keep us apart
I told her forever I’d be here
Continued each and every year
I did not pretend, I did not lie
She is my earth and she is my sky
I spoke true
Love was making a debut
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.03.15.22:16:48@130BklynNYC
Sock Pimp
You pusher
You Swiss Mother Fucker
Bringing your Euro trash wants to
America’s K-Mart and Target and Hanes Catalog Order
You Swiss Mother Fucker!
You trailing behind my gold striped socks
You trading in your comfort greys for black thins
Pushing and pulling and putting on and taking off
You waiting in line for the Mode and Vox and Architect!
You bulldozer sprayer, hand holder, Shinjuku fish eater, squirt maker!
You waffle maker, breast molester, radiology tumbler, fowl mouth kisser!
You fart smeller, shit blood remixer, rock star, Mountain Dew addict!
You Swiss Mother Fucker!
Sock pusher, Sock hustler, Sock whore, Sock pimp!
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.03.11.21:29:38@130BklynNYC
So Many Times
Every encounter
With every moment
With every calendar day
With each month
Every second
Hour after hour
With every person
Every lover
Every sexual encounter
With every visit
Every solution
Every consumption
Daily
Minute by minute
Every full moon
Every cycle
Every revolution
Every evolution
Numerous
Every occasion
Every holiday
Every day off
Every time
Suicide
© 2008 David Greg Harth
08.10.30.17:05:30@130BklynNYC
Stopping Love
I stop time.
I stop the earth’s rotation.
I stop the clouds moving across the skyline.
I stop the clock rotating.
I stop the birds in flight.
I stop the flower growing.
I stop the river flowing.
I stop the volcano erupting.
I stop the tear crying.
I stop the ladybug crawling.
I stop the enemies fighting.
I stop the bombs dropping.
I stop the dew forming.
I stop the rain falling.
I stop the race beginning.
I stop the heart beating.
I stop the light shining.
I stop the sun setting.
I stop the wind blowing.
I stop the music playing.
I stop the painter painting.
I stop the singer singing.
I love to stop.
I stop to love.
© 2008 David Greg Harth
08.07.25.13:20:23@130BKLYN
Silver Coughing
I expected a delivery package.
I coughed up a mouth full of silver.
© 2008 David Greg Harth
07.08.28.15:37:00@505HudsonNYC
08.05.25.20:09:16@296NYC
Starting Ending
If you are entitled to only
One dream and one heart,
How do you pick?
If you cannot pick, cannot select
If you cannot control time,
If you cannot do so many things
In the limited time of life
What shall you do?
Sleep in your coma?
Give birth to your children?
Love your lover?
Do you sing your songs?
Believe in your religion?
Carry your Bible?
Take it to the longest day?
The poetry? The diary? The drawing?
What will you do?
When you have but one choice -
One choice only?
Do you discard your memory?
Your experience? Your future?
How do you decide?
What makes the decision?
What starts the fire? What makes the heat?
What drowns the sadness? What makes the tears roll?
How does your day get better?
How worse?
How common?
How do you tell the truth? Or live a lie?
How do you live the truth? Or tell a lie?
How often are you real?
How often are you someone else?
They ask -
What will you do? What should you do?
Some day -
It may be just the day you are in love with
While the day, is not in love with you
© 2008 David Greg Harth
08.05.18.19:26:55@296NYC