Constant Wanting
Looking.
Seeking.
Waiting.
To my right, no, not there.
To my left, no, not there.
The most beautiful woman in the world.
Where?
At the grocery store.
On the subway.
Riding the bus.
At the gallery.
Walking on the sidewalk.
In the museum.
Where?
Right next to me.
Daily.
In my heart.
Looking.
Seeking.
Waiting.
Always wanting.
Constant craving.
Hopeless Romantic,
Define Me.
Make Me.
Beautify Me.
Where?
Yesterday.
Today.
Tomorrow.
Lying right next to me.
Meeting my family.
With my friends.
Next door.
Sharing with me.
Escaping with me.
Learning.
Living.
Loving.
Looking.
Seeking.
Waiting.
Always,
a craving.
Always,
a constant wanting.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.06.27.20:14:10@296NYC
Norman
It was hot and crowded at the gallery on 126th Street in Harlem. Black viewers dominated the Jazz inspired exhibition. I was standing along the East wall with a plate in hand. Some rice, some pasta and some fresh vegetables were spread evenly on my white foam plate. With my plastic fork I stood there eating my free food, my starving artist food that I scored at this gallery opening. I stood and observed the crowd. As I stood there, to my left was a man of about age 70 who sat on one of the rare wooden chairs in the gallery. I saw him earlier in the space. He was decked out in a very fashionable jazz outfit. I remember him distinctly because he was dressed in a bright red suit and yellow shirt with matching colourful shoes. His shoes were red and glazed with a shine. They looked like great works of art, almost like Dutch shoes, but these were more electrified with Jazz, like Coltrane blew music through the soles. He walked with a fancy cane held by a hand with a silver nugget ring. Now I stand along the wall, eating my freely scored meal. Out of the corner of my eye I see this wonderful beautiful man all of a sudden slump over and fall out of the chair. For half of a second I pondered if this was performance art, then the other half of the second I realize that there was something seriously wrong. I quickly put my freely scored meal down on the floor with my bag which contained my Bible and went over to the aging black man in the red suit. His face was against the floor and his body twisted in a fashion quite unusual. His cane to the side and his legs overlapping each other. His thick rimmed glasses knocked off of his face, with the weight of his head pressing down on them against the floor. His red cap still on his head. I cradle him in my arms and yell, “Sir! Sir!?” I get no response. A woman walks quickly over from the front of the gallery, “Norman!? Norman!” I realize this woman must know this man and this man was Norman. I cradle him more, with my arms around his back and pick up his head slowly. I yell “Norman!? Norman!?” As I hear various other art viewers yell “Call 9-1-1! Call 9-1-1!” Finally, Norman, with the yellow ochre pants and grey socks slowly opens his eyes. The first being this black man sees in this Harlem gallery is a young white man with blue eyes. I wonder if he thought he was in heaven with white folk or knew where he was. In this hot gallery. This overcrowded space with people who chit chatted to loudly when the speakers wanted to speak. I continue to soothe Norman and his companion leans over with tears and yells for Norman to come to complete consciousness. Norman was only probably out a mere eight to ten seconds, but felt like the lifetime of a pet with four legs. His glasses were off his face now. Yellow glasses with black stripes forming the pattern of a zebra. His yellow shirt cleanly pressed under his stop-sign red jacket. As I continued to cradle this beautiful Jazz man, a man approached me and said “I am a doctor, can I help?” I said yes, and the doctor took over the procedure for caring for the man. As the doctor continued to assist, I stood nearby in case if another helping hand was needed. Finally, in a short amount of time, the emergency workers arrived and attended to my beautiful jazz friend and he finally arose and walked with assistance to the waiting ambulance outside.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.06.18.20:30:00@104E126thStNYC
03.06.24.05:23:00@296NYC
loving you
loving you is the hardest thing to do
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.06.14.02:07:34@296NYC
Sleeping Angel
Angel, in my sleep.
Sleeping next to you,
connecting
feeding my thirst for the ache.
The venture needed,
the emptiness filled.
One more, once more.
Sleeping with you,
forgetting the world behind
leaving for a moment
elevating
to a higher sensation of being.
One time, alone here.
Angel, in my sleep.
Next to you I breathe a deeper breath
I sleep a sounder sleep,
I dream a more colorful dream.
Angel, next to me.
I love you forever,
lying here, listening to your beating heart.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.06.04.02:39:16@296NYC
It’s been raining for days
It’s been raining for days.
It’s so wonderful.
You know why?
Because for days, we’ve stayed inside.
We haven’t gone out.
We’ve just stayed inside together.
For days.
And we just spooned, all day and all night.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.06.04.02:22:44@296NYC
Love, Again
I’m in love again.
I admit it.
I’ve fallen once more.
Head over heels.
I’m in cloud nine.
I’m high above.
Wonderful.
Sunshine is all around.
Everywhere.
Fate brought us together.
Love is all around.
I’m in love.
Love, again.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.06.04.01:04:22@296NYC
I Don’t Want To
I don’t want to fall.
I don’t want to.
It’s not my style.
I’m cold.
I don’t want to fall.
I don’t want to be in.
It’s not my way.
I’m alone.
I don’t want to fall.
I don’t want to wake up next to.
It’s not my method.
I’m strong.
I don’t want to fall.
I don’t want to experience.
It’s not my desire.
I’m closed.
I don’t want to fall.
I don’t want to hurt.
It’s not my ache.
I’m deep.
I don’t want to fall.
I don’t want to feel.
It’s not my path.
I’m singular.
I don’t want to fall.
Not today.
I fell long ago.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.05.31.02:44:16@296NYC
funny little artman
funny little artman
crawling on the bottom of the sea
crawling on the white walls of the Chelsea Gallery
crawling on the floor beneath Peggy Guggenheim’s skirt
funny little artman
showing his art all around town
showing his thick cock to all the viewers
showing his talent to the world
funny little artman
charming the moms and dads
charming the art critics
charming the women
funny little artman
creating with his camera
creating with his paintbrush
creating with his mind
funny little artman
up in the attic working
up in the sky working
up in the bed working
funny little artman
gone to the museum to study Pollock
gone to the gallery to study De Kooning
gone to the center to study Ryman
funny little artman
carrying the Bible wherever he may go
carrying the rubber bands around his wrist
carrying the black clothes on his back
funny little artman
in his studio
in his mind
in his development
watch him run!
watch him grow!
watch him succeed!
funny little artman!
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.05.23.04:48:59@296NYC
No Time On Earth
No time is left,
Let’s leave this place
and shut the door.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.05.22.12:28:40@296NYC
Silence, Nothing
Silence heard,
silence lost.
Nothing gained,
nothing learned.
Silence felt,
silence new.
Nothing inside,
nothing realized.
Silence kept,
silence given
Nothing taken,
nothing lasted.
Silence in my eyes,
silence at your lips.
Nothing here,
nothing there.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.05.22.12:15:12@296NYC
I Want It So Bad
Words cannot express
Art cannot express
Music cannot express
How badly I wish to love
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.05.04.22:39:12@296NYC
Rescue
Oh, darling, I hear your voice calling
Oh, darling, I smell your bounding scent on my sheets
Oh, darling, I taste your lips in my horizons
Rescue me from this pain I’m in
Rescue me from this cruel world
Rescue me from this symphony of love
Oh, darling, I see you in the daylight
Oh, darling, I view you in my dreams
Oh, darling, I listen to your beating heart
Rescue me from the poetry at the tip of my tongue
Rescue me from the thoughts I’ve had for years
Rescue me from the love I lack
Oh, darling, I wish you were here
Oh, darling, I can’t get you out of my mind
Oh, darling, I dream of you daily
Rescue me from this horrible sea
Rescue me from this quest I have for you
Rescue me from this struggle I’m in
Oh, darling, I want you in my arms
Oh, darling, I would die every day for your love
Oh, darling, I knew the falling would be hard
Rescue me from this unbearable disease
Rescue me from this unhappy emptiness
Rescue me from this uncontrollable suffering
Rescue me from the need I have
Rescue me from the desire I live
Rescue me from the heart ache
Oh darling, you’re the one,
Oh darling, I’ve waited so long,
Oh darling, come into my arms,
Oh darling, Oh darling,
Rescue me, Rescue me.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.04.27.03:26:07@296NYC
Subway Sandwich Shop
I am so very happy today.
Today, I was walking back to my studio
and noticed a Subway Sandwich Shop
being constructed just two blocks away
on Mulberry and Houston streets.
I am the Subway Sandwich Shop King.
Today is a very happy day!
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.04.12.16:16:16@PS1.QNS.NYC
I Am Getting Wed
Dear Friends,
I am getting wed. You are all invited to attend.
Best,
David Greg Harth
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.04.11.01:28:43@296NYC
Macrocephaly
Some desire an introduction.
Some have it secretly in the dark.
Some have it in the light of day.
Some live through me vicariously.
Some never come back and drift into the distance.
Some make music so sweet, that the deaf hear the symphony.
Some whisper to me their most intimate cravings.
Some tell me about lock jaw or other lives spent.
Some share with me about their filling experience.
Some speak a different tongue while in the motion.
Some listen to the cries by the penetrating addict.
Some come back for more and trace the warm skin.
Some leave unashamed but looking for others.
Some crawl to the knees of thirst dripping.
Some devour the hours that have past.
Some have never witnessed.
Some only have seen from afar.
Some dream in the individual's nightmare.
Some are close to my heart.
Some are in my heart.
Some are part of my heart.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.03.03.03:03:03@296NYC
Let’s Go MTA
Darling,
Let’s go on the MTA
Manhattan bound
Travel uptown and downtown
Let’s wave at the children on the sidewalks
Let’s play in our own minds
Never pressing that yellow tape
That signal for a noise
A stop
Not us
Darling,
Let’s go on the MTA
Manhattan bound
Travel uptown and downtown
Let’s smile as the passengers smile with us
Let’s not get off until the last stop
Never looking away
At the eyes of ourselves
You
And I
Darling,
Let’s go on the MTA
Manhattan bound
Travel uptown and downtown
It’s in my mind
You introduced me
From the jukebox heros
And from Queens and Brooklyn
A stop in The Bronx
It’s time, darling
Let’s get on the bus,
And kiss...
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.02.27.22:57:10@296NYC
You Went
You had to go
You told me your decision
You have left me for good,
no longer here, my bed is empty
You just got up and went
and left my heart to ache
and now I am all alone
But I never got to tell you
Those very words you had wished to here,
I love you.
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.02.27.18:56:38@296NYC
Stop, Dance
Stop,
Now watch me dance.
Dance, Dance, Dance
© 2003 David Greg Harth
03.02.27.18:03:00@296NYC