TraLurning & FndLurning
At age fourteen I learned an important lesson
At age twenty-something I learned another important lesson
At age thirty-something I learned a very important lesson
And now, ageless,
I apologize from the depth of my heart,
For being a man,
To you, specifically,
I am sorry.
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.07.11.08:21:06@296NYC
Two
Every night
I sleep alone
Every commercial
I see you
And I smile
I think of you
And I sink inside
Feel warm inside
I walk by a new mother
And I smile
Because of you
I’ve got to go on
Forever
To see you grow
Older and older
And see your laughs and smiles
All so very fine
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.07.01.12:08:58@1515NYC
Twenty Two
22 of you
22 beauties
22 morals
22 filled
22 smiles
22 above
22 right here
22 couldn’t ask
22 didn’t know
22 one more time
22 tonight
22 month of may
22 meanings united
22 twenty two
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.05.23.18:13@1515NYC
Tenth Of May
On the Tenth Of May
My proceedings will come to a halt
I’ll be coming out
And magnifying my electricity I share with you all
I’ll take a bow and finish my acting
Be aware
On the Tenth Of May
© 2002 David Greg Harth
02.02.17.16:59:47@1515NYC
Todd
I love you.
You are the greatest of human beings
You are music to the ears of doves
You are inspiration to live
You are the king of civilization
You are bright light at the darkest times
You are mighty, strong, wonderful
You are great, brave, real
You are my hero,
and I would do the same for you, any day.
But today, you did it for all of us,
A moment of silence, for you,
remains in my heart yearly.
Dedicated to Todd Beamer, a Human Hero
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.09.29.01:00:00@296NYC
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
Waiting for the fuckin clock
The world will close
Nothing left
Tick Tock
I’m running out of time
I’m waiting for you
I don’t want you to hold my hand
Tick Tock
It’s fuckin late
I’m going to be late
It won’t be on time
Tick Tock
No more time
I missed it
Ran out of time
Tick Tock
You were late
I am gone
Nothing left
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.09.25.16:16:16 @ 1515 NYC
Two Hundred Thirty Eight
Swallow the numbers dialed
Swallow the bird’s chirp
Swallow the phrases the King has said
Swallow the instructions taught
Swallow the reflection of yourself
Swallow the company
Swallow the middle of the road
Swallow the darkness of the night
Swallow the work that has to be done
Swallow the washed sheets
Swallow the man and woman
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.08.23.02:20:39 @ 296 NYC
(There Is A) Puddle Of Liquid
In the center of the table
Cold
Reflecting an image
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.06.10.21:22:00@179Boston->NYC
Thinking of You
And in that rainfall
In those clouds that come by
Seeing the wind rip up my soul
Feeling the twirl in my hair
And biting my lip
I think of you
© 2001 David Greg Harth
00.05.15.15:08:20 @ NYC
01.05.22.03:04:57 @ NYC
Tooth Fighter of the Night
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I won’t let you down.
I’ll rise straight back up
From the dead
From the dirt in which I’m buried under.
I’d burn in hell because I’m the forgiver of greatest sins
I’d make love to you if you were a larva carcass
I’d kill your mother if only she was still alive
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I’ll purchase products by Sony and Mattel
I’ll purchase products by Fuji and Banana Republic
I’ll strengthen my weakness by feeding on your weak
I’ll strengthen my weakness by eating at your soul
Eating the flesh off your back
Licking your blood up off the floor
Your menstrual blood
Your baby blood
Your fuck blood
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I’ll sink under and come up again
I’ll keep coming back for more
You can’t beat me down
You can’t erase me
You can’t make me disappear
You can’t dissolve my image
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I’ll steal your teeth and make pretty necklace charms
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I’ll leave you stamped bills beneath your fluffy pillow
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I’ll fuck your daughter’s angel
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I won’t amend to please or surpass your dream
I won’t soothe or edit text-based imagery
I won’t use nicer words or be romantic
I won’t laugh or cry for your benefit
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night,
I’ll be a fighter
I’ll search and never die
I’ll always reach higher
I’ll always try again and again
I’ll survive
I’ll listen, look, learn, live and love
Because I’m the Tooth Fighter of the Night.
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.12.05.01:03:14@296NYC
Tuna Fish
“Tuna Fish”
My father makes the best tuna fish (salad).
I always know, if the tuna fish I’m eating,
is made by my father or not. His tuna fish
has a unique taste. It’s not about added pepper
or celery or extra mayo. It’s just the taste,
or maybe it’s in the knowing. It’s not just
tuna fish. It’s tuna fish that has unseen
love inside.
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.10.11.16:10:51 @ 1515 NYC
Top Ten Reasons Not To Kill Yourself
1) Eyes
2) They love you
3) She loves you
4) He loves you
5) Someone has a job to do
6) Smiles should not be forgotten so easily
7) Cookies
8) The scent always remembered
9) You inspire others
10) An artist is not there to record your last moment
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.06.02.04:11:02@296NYC
Tale
Let me tell you a tale
He lied. His father didn’t tell him the truth.
He put a gun against his father’s head.
He threatened his father.
But he was strong.
And saw the fear in his father’s eyes.
Both live on
One in federal one in honor of what?
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.02.29.18:08:30 @ New York City
True Wishes
I was standing outside of Maximus in St. Petersburg Florida
Talking with a friend.
Up comes a man, I’ve only met once before
Months ago.
The man comes up and interrupts
He says to me,
“How is conceptual art working for you?”
I reply,
“I think everything works for me.”
He says to me,
“I think you should work on finding some talent.”
He walks away.
My friend and I look at each other, puzzled.
We knew that man had not seen my current show titled ‘Wishes.’
So, we continue in our puzzlement.
I go on living.
Strong, hungry and thirsty.
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.11.14.18:20:15@FLT#1796
Turning Insides
I love it
And I hate it
When things are in the flow
Like Yin & Yang
Do you know what I mean?
The other day, I was talking to a friend
About the full moon
The next night I look up, and the next, and just yesterday too,
The moon is full
In glory
The other day, I wrote a poem
And referred to Lord Of The Flies
And what do you know
Just the other day after that,
On the television I see
Lord Of The Flies
The other day, I listened to a song
I haven’t heard it in years
And then
I’m sitting in the diner to eat
And what do I hear?
That song
The other day, I was driving
Down along the Hudson
I wish I would hear this one song
Or at least a song from this band I know
And you know what happened?
The song I was thinking of
By the band I wanted
Just played on the radio
As I drove along
The other day, I admitted to myself
That I’m quite attracted to those New York City women
Who wear those pointed cow boy hats
It’s such a turn-on
It drives me crazy
Delicious
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.06.01.12:53:49 @ 296 w/PIP&59@287
Turnstile
Turnstile
It’s my style
Feel the cologne rubbing on my thigh
New wave hair-dos
I wanna be traveling at speed
Revolving
Passing through, going to the underground
Subway passageway
Delicious
Turnstile
Turnstyle
It’s not my way of life
But I’m committed with my hard work
And saving attitude
Time and Time and Time
Turnstile
To everything, Turn, Turn, Turn
Around
Rotate
Spin-Dry
Twister
Left foot my bed
Turnstile
1635-45
Numbered
Educated
Taught
Experienced
Made me deliver for you
The orange man knows
Turnstile
Number six downtown
Mr. Noisy
Mr. Tonight
Ms. Sexy
Ms. Mix
Turnstile
Dollar fifty
I’ll write a letter
My time is worth more than three minutes
Of an eighteen-minute session
Because I’ve just been used
Turnstile
Turn-around
Brush around
Blush
I blush
See the big vein pop in my forehead
Foreskin
Foresee
For come
Forth
Faith
Filth
God
Turnstile
It’s my swagger
A jack-o-lantern
A red ruby lipstick
Purple added
Strawberry
Red down there
Here
Turnstile
Imprinted
Stainless steal
Took and stole
Drum beat
Indians
And passion
Turnstile
On forever
Turning
Playing
Traveling
Walking-thru
Disease
Trapped
Turnstile
Bent
Forward
Death to the maids
The cross-dresser vacuum cleaners
Turnstile
I’m bleeding at my side
I took the gun from your bathroom
And now I hold it in front of your face
We hear sirens in the background
I drop to my knees
No
But No
I’m better than you
With a gun pointed at you
You taught me well
But I’m not you
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.05.18:04:12:49@296NYC
Tuesday & Wednesday
The sun sets and rises with you everyday
Your beauty is burnt into my memory bank
The bank that gets robbed but you are in the safe
Locked in forever
On 8th avenue way, all the men check me out
Look me up and down
Check out my package and cute face
I can get any one of them
Where are the women that ache my heart?
Where do they hide?
When do they want to ‘pick me up?’
Which avenue do they walk on?
Washington Square park is filled with participants
Useful ones that could have confronted camera artists
And celebrity stars I find on thirty four television stations
Including my nude self in central park
Hey, you, yes you -
Pretty one...
If I tell you to meet me in the park
Where the marble arch is
High noon on my grandmothers sabbath
Would you meet me there?
My heart is knotted
Tied and bolted
To platters passed around from blonde to brunette to red to black
From blue eyes to brown eyes to green eyes
and the grey mystery of my own
I’m coming to New York City
I was born here, there
Post office customers
I’m just a believer with bad credit
Certainty is now still in the concept of a book
That I will never read
So, I guess I don’t know the rules
Maybe you’ll teach, maybe you wont
Maybe I’ll just die in a rocking chair
It’s time to go
Thirst to produce has engulfed my mind
I’ll be inspired by you
Because until I meet you
I won’t be disappointed
Or shot down
Or in an orgasm of truth of my own disbelief
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.05.05.22:34:00 @ 296 NYC
99.05.06.03:04:23 @ 296 NYC
Tired Of Art
I’m tired of art
The lies
The pain
The bullshit
The corporations
The money
The realm
The animals
The courts
The circles
The rich
The poor
The heartbeats
The fakes
The abuse
The sexuality
The performance
I got a phone call
Every little thing is gonna be all right
Now that beauty is in my heart
Even though I realize I’m just dreaming
Perhaps just a wet dream
Or not, I remember grey-haired men
And black-bearded dogs crashing through my window panes
I’m just a piece in the board game
Just pay attention
Watch me grow
Fifteen minutes multiply
We’ll be together
And then I’ll forget you
I love your art
Smakin’ cereal
I’m tired of that art
The art
This art
Their art
Annoyed because you didn’t care
Expressed because who I am, I’m allowed to, I’m permitted
Rejuvenated because of the gallery, the museum, the show, the womyn
In my flame, my heart, my head, my art
Then like a tease in the wind
She comes on to me
Like a tease in the wind
And the night engulfs her, swallows her up
And rapes me of my own dreams
And I’m left with nothing
But my art and I hear Indian music playing
Drum beats
And I see Jesus Christ on the horizon
And I ask him for my forgiveness
For art
Everything for art they tell me
They spend
They erase and take and duplicate and rip-off and cherry-blossom and
virgins and thoughts and tough-guys and homeless and gorgeous and wanna-bes
and anti-Vs and record shops and rainy london gals and new york billies and
downtown billboards and san fran surfers and alaska wives and canadian skies
and concert-goers and builders of pages and destruction stories of my life
come and gone. I still smell her perfume on my wrist.
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.04.09.21:12:00 @ 296
99.04.10.02:28:00 @ 296
New York City