Glass Glass Glass
Glass Glass Glass
Broken glass
Bottle glass
Windshield glass
Jar glass plate glass pottery glass
Everywhere glass
Glass eyes Glass tolls Glass toes
Gas in the glass, light in the glass, colored glass
Gasoline glass, Fire glass, Sandstone glass
Glass on the beach
Glass on the floor
Glass full of lies
Glass empty
Glass full
Glass in your belly
Glass up the ass
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.05.07.16.18.35@345NYC
Redemption
I’m just a man on a mission
A man cloaked in black
With a bible under my arm
Preaching to those that would listen
About my harm and about my reason
About my charm and about my treason
–
Dancing with Lucifer
Holding hands
Stepping across the stone floor
A lyre whispers in the distance
Wearing a torn bride’s dress
Spotted red above the knees
See my hands
Please my eyes
Wine in my beard
Heart crucified to the wooden ark
Blood dripping down to the bimah
Slithering snakes tease to please
Love me
Don’t just unjust me
Scanning the congregation for hope
Eyes meeting your eyes
In this uncontrolled territory
Sea of Kineret excursion
My feet flirt with the benthos
Head south for the pillar
To wash my wounds with salt
Could not sink my toes into the Dead Sea
Infidels biting Eden’s forbidden fruit
Fighting over lands that do not forgive
For unkept promises
Casting out my shadow
My forever plea
It is something so ordinary
That I cannot see
For I am a man
A man on a mission
–
I’m just a man on a mission
A man cloaked in black
With a bible under my arm
Preaching to those that would listen
About my harm and about my reason
About my charm and about my treason
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.05.07.13.40.08@345NYC
Finding Grace
You have my heart
But my love is mine
While barefoot
I wandered into the woods
Got lost beneath the canopy of leaves
Below the needles of pine trees
Acorns at my feet
Grey skies hover overhead
Can’t see the clouds blanketing this forest
My heart tries to escape
But your hands hold me near
Tied down and guided
No echoes in faraway canyons
Attempting to evade
Making a path from beginning to end
Without a compass and without reason
Without justification and without apology
The trees sway in unison
Dancing a ballet of hidden truths
Making you a forgotten false memory
Tried to find an exit
Instead of this constant existence
Where you own my heart
And I own your heart
Where my love is mine
And your love is yours
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.05.06.15.24.02@345NYC
Wishful Banana
Yellow pencil
Siting on my desk
Morning sunshine taking my breath away
Shadows dance on my desk
Painted yellow wood
Filled with graphite
My pencil
Wishes it was a banana
A calcium filled delight
Ready to be peeled
Eaten bite by bite
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.05.04.15.56.18@345NYC
Mosquito
Swat so near
Never going to fear
That pest in my ear
Brain empty flood
Dragged me through the mud
Sucking my positive red blood
Tied me up like a hog
Left me in a breathless fog
Prayed in yesterday’s synagogue
Tried to get me to mate
Delivered me on a silver plate
Desperate measures to coordinate
Took me for a fool so anonymous
Abused every inch of my consciousness
Buried me to rot in a concrete sarcophagus
Ripped off my lizard scales
Chopped off my finger and toenails
Slipped me substance in dry cocktails
I shy away from
I ooze and seep and cum
I shrivel and shrink and succumb
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.30.15.57.30@345NYC
Given, Forgotten
We were young
You gave me your most hidden secret
It was my most prized possession
I kept it deep inside my heart
For the longest time
Never told anyone
As promised
We've grown older
Weathered and worn
We don’t move as easily
Watching sitcom reruns with laughter
Cherish our everyday prunes and nap time
Our joints get stiff
Our lips are chapped
Our skin has sunspots
Our hair turns kinky grey
Our eyes fail to see truths
Our organs don’t work properly
Our mind struggles to remember
Our diapers remind us of our younger years
Our dentures clean with effervescent tablets
Our bones twist our skin into their own unnatural forms
Lying in bed
Staring at the ceiling
In my cardigan over my flannel shirt
I’m reminded of my grandfather
Whom I look exactly like
Bundled up for a winter’s day
On this summer day
Lying in bed
I’ve now forgotten
The secret you’ve given me
All those years ago
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.30.13.44.19@345NYC
Apology
Execution was a fabrication
A Crookes radiometer sits on the sill
Birds sing their song as they land nearby
A cold glass of freshly poured lemonade dampens the white cloth it sits upon
Ice cubes crack in the heat of the sun
Claiming love as the only true vocation
Splinters from the wooden rocking chair puncture palms
Hands are weaving in the corner of the front porch
Ocean tide is conversing where the yard meets the rocky beach
The key is in the lock ready to turn
Hands up in time for negotiation
The sea sweeps vitality into its great gyre
Swallowing salt and honor
Weakness brought to the barrel at one’s knees
Apologizing for a broken heart
Thought about bridge’s height or immolation
Not catered to the public doubt
Cheeking medication on the ward yearning for cyanide
Lovers lost and found after the greatest compromised promise
Vacancy celebrated and remembered from the altar
With head down ready to surrender to suffocation
Dreams of fate and reason
Crushed with a deadly blow to the head
Name etched into the discharged bullet
Embedded deep within the frontal lobe
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.30.12.36.24@345NYC
Twice a Blade
Blade of grass in my teeth
Switchblade in my pocket
Neither an answer
Blade to my throat
Blade to my wrist
Neither an answer
Could surrender to the blade
Sharpen the blade
Polish the blade
Could hide the blade
Under my shoulder
In the drawer
Beneath the bed
So, they don’t see
So
they
don’t see
So
they
My shoulder rotates just fine
Healed well from surgery decades ago
After the crush on pavement
My razor glides across my jaw
Shaving tightly
Rounding the corners of my mouth
My one-minute soldier
Standing brave
Standing tall
Blade in my sheath
On my hip
At my side
Stolen my pride
I tried to roll down the street
I tried to get back on my feet
It’s all I could do
So, they don’t see
So, they don’t see
Blade of grass between my toes
Blade of grass compliments my woes
Neither an answer
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.30.10.52.16@345NYC
Returning Silence
I did not ask for this silence
I’d like to return this silence
-
I’d like to hear her voice once more
And hear her giggle filled laughter
I’d like to hold her hand
And cradle her head in my lap
I’d like to wipe tears away from her cheek
And help her chase her dreams
-
I’d like to return this silence
I did not ask for this silence
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.29.11.56.01@345NYC
Tabled Love
Wrote you poetry
Forgot your name
Photographed the wildflowers
Forgot your name
Waited under the willow
Forgot your name
Woke up from the dream
Without knowing my own name
Wandered into the tall grass
Helpless
I call out your name
Your name
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.28.16.54.52@345NYC
Letting Go
So many knives
So many cuts
So many ways to make you proud
Classes are over
Gotta go to work
Gotta make it on time
Didn’t ask for this (way of living)
Gotta get up in the morning
Set the alarm
See the sunrise
See another day
Just want to find my way
Follow my path
Construct the dream
It’s a struggle
To carry this weight
To share with you
I don’t want to burden you
You all - All of you
Punching the clock
Taking a swig
Falling down the stairs
Tripping over my thoughts
Cycling through the predictions
Smarten up
Hanging on to the last piece of rope
The thread is so thin
Temptation is at its all-time high
For the easier way out
Giving up on hope
Sometimes,
You must let go of the wind
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.28.14.39.52@345NYC
Listen Carefully
Placing my ear to the ground
Attempting to listen
Listen carefully
To the oncoming crusade
Intently
With soft pause
Without anger
With my hand not in a fist
I listen
To the trembling
The slight murmur of movement
From far away
The rattle is getting louder
Close
I listen carefully
I reflect
I remember
I’m tempted to respond
I stand tall
Steadfast
No intention of leaving
No departure
I listen carefully
To the wind
Carrying the echoes from canyons beyond
Listening to the flights of birds
The rain landing on the earth
The slow trickle of a river
Placing my ear to the ground
Attempting to listen
Listen carefully
To the oncoming crusade
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.23.16.09.23@345NYC
Simple Pimple
Simple pimple
On my chin
I’ve got a simple pimple
On my chin
I don’t have a simple pimple
On my chin
Just a simple pimple
Hanging out on the bottom of my chin
Simple pimple
Waiting to be popped
Simple pimple
On the bottom of my chin!
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.23.15.38.59@345NYC
Fire or Concrete
Burn your head on fire
Slam your head into concrete
Yes, that feels better
Thank you
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.21.16.41.39@345NYC
These Old Bones
These old bones
These bones are breaking
Breaking apart
Breaking down
Breaking like a wishing bone
Cracking and crackling
Fracturing and splintering
In my fingers
And in my legs
In my arms and in my spine
These old bones
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.02.04.21.45.00@NYC
Uncontrolled
Can’t control toddlers on a yellow school bus
Mommy and daddy creating a fuss
Can’t control kids on a plane
Feed them straight up sugar cane
Can’t control the steering wheel
Sitting on the couch watching let’s make a deal
Can’t control your sleep
Difficulty counting jumping sheep
Can’t control the irresistible taboo urge
Even the ugliest of the ugly splurge
Can’t control gas at a high price
Unified Gestapo agents disguised as ICE
Can’t control satellites in space
Politician pedophiles saying grace
Can’t control the weather station
Wayward citizens of the not so great nation
Can’t procrastinate any longer
Orange man is the greatest fear monger
Can’t change anything without much to say
Gotta cast a vote yesterday
Can’t hold your hand anymore
Ain’t no madam president a 2-dollar whore
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.21.12.19.00@345NYC
Reaching For You
When I’m stuck
In the dreary dirt below
In the void that echoes
In the deepest pit of mud
In the coldest cave
In the darkest abyss
In the vast nothingness
In the somber storm
In the deafening silence
In the dismal darkness
In the dreadful loneliness
In the melancholy of heartache
It is your hand I reach for
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.20.14.56.53@345NYC
The Smell of Fire on a Thursday Afternoon
It’s just another Thursday afternoon
Working at my desk
On Park Avenue
in New York City
Grand Central Terminal is to the South
Park Avenue Armory is to the North
To the East is the United Nations
To the West is Rockfeller Center
I’m just sitting here
Typing on keys
Smelling the all-consuming fire
That no one else smells
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.16.16.40.12@345NYC
Changing Lanes
Forward
Reverse
You continue doing what you know
The comfortable routine
The common tradition
The repetitive pattern
The everyday habit
The go-to ritual
The daily grind
The same
Sometimes,
you just have to change lanes
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.15.15.44.22@245NYC
In The Center of the Heart
In the center of the heart,
My heart
You’ll find a small, tiny chamber
The smallest chamber of all
And in that little space
That tiny space
That tiny little space
I store every memory
Every moment
Every sacred second
Every record
Every note
About you
About you and I
About our time together
Think of it as a tiny filing cabinet
Deep inside that tiny little chamber
Deep inside the center of my heart
And this is where my love for you
Is my most favorite Möbius strip
© 2026 David Greg Harth
26.04.13.24.47.08@345NYC