T, 2001 - 05 David Harth T, 2001 - 05 David Harth

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

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N, 2001 - 05 David Harth N, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Nothing

I can’t do anything

My feet hurt

I walked these empty smelly streets

These toxic fumes

These winds carry tears

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.09.25.07:00:00@296NYC

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P, 2001 - 05 David Harth P, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Peace, Goodbye

Fighter fly

Go away

I don’t want to see you

Today

 

Helicopter

Shed your wing

Split up the light

The twins once made shade

 

It surrounds us tonight

Stench of rotting

Death at my door

I don’t want to cover my mouth anymore

 

Whole digger

Dig your own

My family is hurt

And I bury my friends

 

United States

I don’t know what to say

I burn your symbol on four

But today I see the shine from sea to sea

 

Come back and set foot

Put you in the ring

And a street fight from my fist

Ill blow you to bits

After sitting down forever in peace

 

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.09.19.22:38:42@296NYC

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Y, 2001 - 05 David Harth Y, 2001 - 05 David Harth

You Mother Fucker

You mother fucker

Bomb the Embassy

Bomb another Embassy

Bomb the USS Cole

Bomb the Pentagon

 

But don’t ever

Ever step into my fuckin back yard

My fuckin New York City

My fuckin America

And Kill my friends, my family, and my neighbors

Now you’ve really fuckin pissed me off!

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.09.11.07:00:00@296NYC

01.09.12.07:00:00@296NYC

01.09.13.07:00:00@296NYC

01.09.14.07:00:00@296NYC

01.09.15.07:00:00@296NYC

01.09.16.07:00:00@296NYC

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S, 2001 - 05 David Harth S, 2001 - 05 David Harth

September 11th 2001

It’s a beautiful day

Sunny. Warm. Not a cloud in the sky.

Peaceful. A day that all should get wed on.

A day that all should play ball on. A day that all

should be on a swing set. A day that all should picnic on.

A day that all should take a winding walk on.

 

Now there is one cloud in the sky. A huge tremendous wrong cloud.

A black cloud over Manhattan attacking Brooklyn from West to East.

A flowing evil cloud with Financial Paper debris. With lifeless thoughts

and burnt dreams. With the smell of body parts of falling lovers.

 

Today is a national holiday. I’ll have off work next year. What will I do?

 

It’s a beautiful day. My world is gone. My children live in a new world today.

Everything is different. Milk and bread, no longer. Milk and bread, is the new.

Watch your back, and watch your friend.

Watch your enemy, and watch your friend.

Watch your front, and watch your friend.

 

It’s so sunny and warm out. I’m mad. I’m angry.

I’m furious. I’m intense. I’m not walking backwards.

I’m moving. I’m coming. I’m leading.

 

It was a beautiful day, today.

I’ll never forget it. Won’t forget it.

I’ll have America in me every day.

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.09.11.15:00:00@296NYC

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U, 2001 - 05 David Harth U, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Up Down

Don’t know which way is up

The direction today

Left or right

Everything is a blur

Let go of it

East & West

North & South

He says “Do or die”

Wish I could die

Wish I could die

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.09.11.10:30:00@296NYC

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#, 2001 - 05 David Harth #, 2001 - 05 David Harth

10048

Happy Birthday.

Please join us for our wedding day.

I love you.

Happy New Year.

Miss you.

Thinking of you.

Your order number.

You owe.

Congratulations!

You are invited.

Daddy,

Mommy,

Sister,

Brother,

Uncle,

Aunt,

Son,

Daughter,

Grandpa,

Grandma,

Friend,

 

Didn’t even know you

But I’ll send you a postcard from the heart,

daily.

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.09.11.09:30:00@296NYC

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I, 2001 - 05 David Harth I, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Indigo

Indigo by the ninth sea

Room lit by TV

 

Your hair shown in a glare

Leaning over the wooden bar

 

Reflections cast on window panes

A mixture of London and African decent

 

Hidden secrets and oceans arriving

Don’t know what to say, but Monday away

 

Indigo in my mind

Blue all over the streets

 

Indigo I denied tonight

Blue under the sheets

 

Indigo poured rain

Blue inside a tear

 

Indigo blew a fire

Blue my great fear

 

 

See you at the sea,

Indigo.

 

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.09.11.03:18:21@296NYC

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D, 2001 - 05 David Harth D, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Dark

I wrote a poem today.

I wrote it for you.

I read it out loud.

For the world to hear.

 

The angel’s ears were open.

They listened and judged.

They took me by the hand.

And turned me around.

 

They threw me up against the wall.

Took the needles out of my pocket.

Arrested me for love.

And carried me away to God.

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.09.03.17:55:55@296NYC

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B, 2001 - 05 David Harth B, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Burn

I want to light you on fire

You in your suit

White collar

Golden nugget around your finger

I want to burn you

Burn you to death

 

I want to see the fire come between your teeth

In the cracks see the fire

See the lies light up in reds and yellows and oranges

Burn you

Burn you to death

 

I want to show you the blue light

The intense heat and take your Italian suit to the morgue

I want your flesh to burn and all at Broadway to watch

Burn burn burn

 

I want to light you on fire

And throw a happening around your stench

Burn you to the cross

Or burn you to the market stock

Burn you to the television

Or burn you in the Hamptons

 

I want to see you burn

I want to hear your heated screams

I want to see your flesh melt

And the dollar coins fall from your pockets

Back to my earth

Burn, burn, burn.

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.08.28.16:30:00 @ 1515 NYC

01.08.30.03:13:00 @ 296 NYC

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L, 2001 - 05 David Harth L, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Lush, Bizarre Musings, and Brain Spillage

Damn, you are diligent about transportation safety ... I’ve gotta take some

tips from you !  I just retain this stuff because my mother raised me with

the belief that death was just around the corner in the form of an accident,

a germ, a pervert ... everywhere you looked in my childhood the grim reaper

was flapping his leathery wings.  Actually, the hoof-and-mouth drama in

Britain offered bittersweet nostalgia for me and my siblings ...  sweet

because it brought back remembrances of Mom warning us that we’d get it if

our lips touched the spout on a water fountain ... bitter because I

discovered her abject lie that humans can’t get it !  First Santa Claus,

then hoof-and-mouth ... where does the deception end ?

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.08.30.02:34:44 @ 296 NYC

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T, 2001 - 05 David Harth T, 2001 - 05 David Harth

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

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N, 2001 - 05 David Harth N, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Nowhere

...in the middle of the sentence, she got up from the oak table,

and walked out. She in her ravishing red velvet dress that has

been worn out for many years. Threads hung from it until they

dragged along the beer-soaked wooden floor. She dragged her

tapestry of filth with her, like the slutty Vegas whore she was.

Walked right out away from me, passed the yellow hissing lights

and drunk couples who only dream of copulating in pornographic

films. Passed the midget on the bar stool who is smothering his

oversaturated moustache in the cleavage of a buxom blonde bitch.

She walked swiftly in that red old dress, I could hear her

thighs move back and forth, swish, as they rubbed her pubic

hairs together like Velcro...

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.08.17.12:32:38 @ 1515 NYC

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B, 2001 - 05 David Harth B, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Buh- bye

And with those last words

She paid her dues

 

She’s gone forever

Turned the corner

 

Never before here again

“Buh- bye”

“Buh- bye”

She said in her muttered voice

Her hair messed up

Like she just got up

From last night’s pancake house

Flattened

 

I won’t see her around here no more

Not at the cornerstone

Not at the bar

Not at the leftover room

Or under-stove stool

 

“Buh- bye”

She said

In her soft-toned voice

Her scratchy vocals

Her song of songs

 

“Buh- bye”

She said in my ear

Whispered to my insides

Kept from me for years

 

“Buh- bye”

She said along

Sing along

A children’s song

 

“Buh- bye”

She said

And she was gone

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.08.16.16:37:19 @ 1515 NYC

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G, 2001 - 05 David Harth G, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Green Alaska

I adore you, Green Alaska.

Your mountains, your beauty, your forests, your animals.

Your courage, your hidden talent, your devilish intentions, your dance.

 

I adore you, Green Alaska.

Your intense kindness, your happiness, your sounds, your silence.

Your belief, your children, your eyes, your drive

 

I adore the green shade of your skin

The coldness of your heart

And the ache that is found within

 

I adore you, Green Alaska.

 

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.08.15.22:00:20 @ 296 NYC

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I, 2001 - 05 David Harth I, 2001 - 05 David Harth

I Don’t Give A Shit, But You Send It To Me Anyway

Internap Network Services maintenance notification:

________________________________________________________________

 

The following event was successfully completed. No unexpected impact

to customers was observed.

 

 

EVENT ID:             27548

 

DATE:                 07/19/2001

START TIME:           22:00 EDT

ESTIMATED END TIME:   23:00 EDT

 

SERVICES/EQUIPMENT:   core[1-4].nyc

TYPE OF WORK:         Config download

PURPOSE OF WORK:      Upgrade

IMPACT OF WORK:       None expected

 

If you have any questions or concerns please address them to the

noc@internap.com or give us a call at 1-877-THE-INOC, and reference

event number 27548.

 

Regards,

 

Brian Kallinen

----------------------------------------------

Internap Network Operations Center

noc@internap.com

(206) 256-9500

(877) THE-INOC

 

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.08.10.12:09:15 @ 1515 NYC

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V, 2001 - 05 David Harth V, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Vagina Spy

I am the Vagina Spy

Let me come and spy on you

Let me come and spy on your vagina

Don’t like the word vagina?

Too bad, I’m the Vagina Spy!

And I’ve come here to spy on your vagina!

 

I am the Vagina Spy

Let me come inside

Let me open up and see

I’ve come to spy on you

Because I am the Vagina Spy

 

I am the Vagina Spy

Let me whisper secrets to you

Let me do a code red

I’m going to spy on you

With my magnify glass

With my props and tools

 

I am the Vagina Spy

I’m ready to spy on you

Open your lips and let me see

I see you under those sheets

I see your vagina

Because I am the Vagina Spy

 

I am the Vagina Spy

Let me introduce myself

I’ll spy on your vagina

Up and down

Around and round

Because I am the Vagina Spy

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.08.02.03:08:48 @ 296 New York City

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A, 2001 - 05 David Harth A, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Avenue

I’ve walked that Avenue before

I’ve been there before

That same roadside

I’ve seen the same faces

I’ve felt the same pain

 

The moon is still the same

The sun rises every day

But I feel like walking

Walking next to Michael and Kurt

Walking next to Jean Michel and Sid

Walking next to Freddie and David

 

This Avenue isn’t the same anymore

No more happiness here

No more ghosts to hold onto

No more

 

This Avenue isn’t true anymore

The color doesn’t shine here

The people don’t gather and talk

The friends don’t phone or gasp

 

This Avenue is different

I’ve walked this Avenue before

Along empty beaches

Along empty sidewalks

Along American gasoline stations

Along London’s soho

 

The Avenue is blank

I can’t see it

It’s not even here

The Avenue is dark

No one to help

No one to aid

No one to look up too

No one to feed on

 

I tried to tell you something

But you wouldn’t listen

You wouldn’t even listen

You refused

You blocked me out

Your “All Ears” weren’t there

You were gone

You were far away

You were beyond the Avenue

 

The Avenue is gone

It lasted so long

But now it’s a dead end

A dead walk

A walk of death

 

I’m walking alone

On the Avenue

Maybe you’ll walk next to me

Or maybe I’ll walk alone

 

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.08.02.02:44:33 @ 296 NYC

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O, 2001 - 05 David Harth O, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Open Up

Open Up

Open Wide

I can’t see you

Let me see you

I can’t enter

Let me enter you

 

© 2001 David Greg Harth

01.07.24.23:49:49@ 296 NYC

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