Almost A September 11th Day
Today is so beautiful out.
It’s almost a September 11th day,
but the sky is not blue enough.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.08.23.11:58:00@MahwahNJ07430
Miles Away
I can taste your lips against mine
Even when you’re miles away.
I can feel your hug embrace mine
Even when you’re miles away.
I can see your smile in my mind
See your hair down
And your hair put up
Even when you’re miles away.
I can hear your voice
Listen to your laugh
And feel your heart beat
Even when you’re miles away.
When you are miles away
It does not matter how far you are
How many mountains you have challenged
Or how many rivers you have crossed
You will always be near to my heart.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.08.09.15:22:10@205HUDSONNYC
Singapore Sweden
Empty glove on the floor.
White latex, not powdered.
Thrown on the floor, inside out.
Left over, on the floor.
Not a trace of its previous history.
Nothing.
Box cars on the railroad tracks can be heard.
There is a window in the bathroom painted baby blue.
With a thin white linen curtain.
A slight breeze blows in and shifts the curtain from side to side.
The faucet still runs a steady stream.
Trickling through the rusty pipes beneath the porcelain.
Twisting and turning until it enters the tiled floor.
My mind tracks back and listens to the box cars once more.
Echoes of my mother calling my name are bounced against these walls.
A recently extinguished cigarette sits on the tub basin.
The tub is filled with various plastic containers.
Different sizes, different colors, different weights.
Nothing leads to the used empty latex glove thrown on the floor.
The radio in the bedroom plays a filthy static.
My ears stall and my eyes twitch.
The stale smell in the room overwhelms me as I leave the bathroom.
The bedspread is perfectly and evenly placed upon the bed.
It has a mustard shade and a starch feel, quite uncomfortable.
Not inviting.
The opera singer is still practicing her voice in the room next door.
An enchanting beautiful sound seeping through the walls.
Penetrating my movements and my heart.
I still hear the box cars roll down the track.
No hair to be found.
Not a trace of spit.
A single stain.
Not blood, not semen, not urine.
Loving death can’t be this easy.
But I’ve found the owner.
The owner of that empty used discarded white latex glove on the floor.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.07.30.16:53:00@205Hudson10013NYC
Jaw Machine
Up and down
Inside and out
Twirl around
Show her what it’s about.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.07.25.20:08@ATRAINBRKLYN->NYC
Funeral
We have gathered here today
for the man that has been loved
but has never been in love.
Many have loved him over the years.
We all know about his immense amount
of great friendships
and the love he returned
to each of us individually.
He was a man that did not celebrate much.
But he shared his love to all of us every day.
Even though he was not in it himself.
We have gathered here today
to wish him a peaceful farewell
and hope that his powerful sense of love
can only be spread among us all.
Remember his love,
his being in the existence,
always loving and never being in.
A strong man with a heart torn,
but with that ache he delivered
his warmest love to us all.
Let us all gather around
this sad sight
and make our last respect
to a man that has redefined love
while searching all his life
to be in love.
We have gathered here today
for the man that has been loved
but has never been in love.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.07.22.01:14:47@296NYC
Angel Reflection
I walked along prince street today
I passed by all the store windows
As I walked on by
I looked at the windows
I thought I saw a reflection
Following me, close behind me
I looked really closely
It was an angel with wings
A beauty in white
Following right behind me
It was you
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.07.15.02:41:46@296NYC
Lost (Version #4)
In this sea
Trying to find an only she
Searching for something
Not knowing
Gazing into her eyes
Never saying any last goodbyes
Forever alone
I rattle my bone
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.07.09.16.30.32NYC
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown,
I adore you.
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown,
I want to make love to you.
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown,
Trap me in the corner.
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown,
Push me to the face.
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown,
Take off your skin.
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown,
Bring me to a boil.
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown,
Sing me a song.
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown,
Wake up to your breakfast.
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown,
Discover your breaks.
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown,
Leave you on the floor.
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown,
Summer is gone.
Hot Warm Gooey Eggs In Brown,
Open up the fridge door.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.07.07.19:11:00@523W24STNYCMMRKS
Jesus, I’m In Love
Jesus!
I’m in Love!
Jesus, I’m off of my knees!
Jesus!
I’m in Love!
Jesus!
I’m done with the praying!
Jesus!
I’m in Love!
Jesus!
I’ve got honey suckle bees.
Jesus!
I’m in Love!
Jesus!
I’m no longer decaying.
Jesus!
I’m in Love!
Jesus, I’m off of my knees!
Jesus!
I’m in Love!
Jesus!
I’m not betraying.
Jesus!
I’m in Love!
Jesus!
I’ve got honey suckle bees.
Jesus!
I’m in Love!
Jesus!
I’m proud in my saying.
Oh, Dear Jesus!
I’m in Love!
Jesus, I’m up off of my knees!
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.07.06.23:50:11@296NYC
I AM NOT A BUNNY
I am not a bunny.
Thump. Hop. Bump. Dump.
I am not a bunny.
Pet me now.
Feel me now.
See you at Suis.
See you tomorrow.
Main street bunny.
Bunny in fishnets.
What have I done?
What have I done?
I am not a bunny.
Cum cup Pump mop.
I am not a bunny.
Grope me now.
Love me now.
See you at Exhibition Square.
See you at dusk.
Plain suit bunny.
Bunny in top hat.
Where do I belong?
Where do I belong?
I am not a bunny.
Watch my hare hair grow.
I am not a bunny.
Bend me over
I am not a bunny.
Look for me.
I am not a bunny.
Just wanting love.
I am not a bunny.
Bold and beautiful.
I am not a bunny.
White and furry.
I am not a bunny.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.06.20.01:30:00@SUISBaselSwitzerland
I Met A Woman
I met a woman.
She is so much better than you.
She is so much better than
you’ll ever become.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.06.13.10:18:00@LONDON
Calling
I’ve been called.
It’s time to go,
I travel forth,
forward
without support.
I’ve been called.
It’s something I have to do.
I must cross the borders,
draw outside of the lines
follow my heart.
I need your support.
But you don’t give it.
I want your support
But you don’t offer it.
I’m alone
with no support.
I’ve been called.
It’s time to go.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
A&E, LTR
04.06.07.22:32:00@296NYC
Word of Advice
A small word of advice
to the man with facial hair,
I beg you to try with all of your might
your strength,
your beloved experience
from your grandfather and grandmother,
I beg of you
I beg for you
exist without learning,
and you’ll die like bark,
exist with welcoming arms of teachings,
and you’ll live forever in love.
A small word of advice.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.06.01.24:47:39@296NYC
Grapefruit
I haven’t heard from you Grapefruit.
Where did you go?
I knew someone that fell in love with Grapefruit.
He was one of my very good friends.
Came home one day, found you sleeping in his bed.
Came home one day, found you left of the right.
Dear Grapefruit.
I miss you and I have yet to blink an eye.
The clock has yet to strike twelve.
It is a brave new world.
I’m off before you know it.
Give me a last goodbye, a last goodbye.
Grapefruit.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.05.25.24:42:52@296NYC
Whose Side?
Whose side are you on?
Are you on Sue’s side?
Or the Carpenter’s side?
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.05.18.02:06:00@296NYC
Business
She knocked at my door. It was a quarter to nine O’clock Thursday evening.
I spoke to her earlier in the day, in the late afternoon. She came just on time.
I opened the door, after bolt and bolt. There she was, standing perfectly still.
Dressed in black and pink. Soft pink. Just as requested. She smoked a long cigarette.
Quite ill. I asked her to come on in and she did, with a wag and a tight stroll.
I asked her what kind of music she wanted to listen too. She said she didn’t mind.
I suggested some jazz. Not the contemporary kind, but the older kind.
Her golden hair waved as she tossed it back to the other shoulder in a graceful movement.
She picked up today’s Times from my bare floor and asked for a glass of water,
before I could even offer. I told her to feel at home and have a seat.
I went to the kitchen, scratching, and poured her a glass of water in one of my finest clear glasses.
Came back out, still scratching, and found her on my used couch in a gaze, still.
I reached out and gave her the water and told her how much I appreciated her business.
She thanked me back, and took a sip of her cold water.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.05.14.02:14:52@296NYC
Lost
I can’t help but feel
my loneliness
conversations scattered
in my bleeding heart
dying without you
alone with nothing
I’m lost without
and still haven’t found
I thought I did
recently
and years ago
I walked on empty beaches
and climbed occasions of joy
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.05.11.20:19:00@296NYC