Suicide (Version #2)
Today I thought about killing myself.
Thought about the ways I could.
I could stab myself.
I could shoot myself.
I could go to the shop and run circular saws over my body.
Drill my head.
But If I did all this, my boyfriend won’t be able to fuck me anymore.
I’d be nothing.
Just a dead woman.
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.07.13.01:59:57@296NYC
Water
I’m hoping the water has stopped for some reason.
I had a plumber out today.
Not sure if he fixed it.
My neighbor and I have the same problem.
Only he had stuff stuffed in his storage room.
He got it out just now.
So, we’ll see what happens when we both have it cleaned out.
If any more water comes out.
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.07.11.24:16:28@296NYC
Direct Inspiration from S.C.
Four/IV/4
Four times I told you to stop it
Four times I asked for more
Four times I said sorry, and
Four times I said please
Four times I begged
Four times I said “Shut Up!”
Four times I repeated, and
Four times I cleaned bed
Four times I soaped up
Four times I made coffee
Four times I helped your son, and
Four times I was left alone
Four times I hurt myself
Four times I asked for forgiveness
Four times I went naked, and
Four times I prayed to the Lord
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.07.09.22:42:58@296NYC
Cirville
You stupid fuck,
I’ll rip out your eye balls
I’ll tear off your testicles
And replace them with your ear lobes
I’ll shove a cattle prod up your ass
and turn you into hot corn beef
I’ll introduce you to Rochelle
Make you in debt for life
I won’t bring back your owner,
but I’ll take your job forever
Maybe even kill your daughter
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.07.06.01:24:40@296nyc
Hairy Man
You are big and husky
Huge
A man’s man
Hairy man.
Fuckin brilliant.
Tremendous
Overwhelming
Incomprehensible
A wonderful machine
Pressed
Clean & Fuckin dirty
You are a huge giant
Your fingers are bigger than my palm
Your tongue is bigger than my femur
Your hair is scratchy then the velcro on my shoe
You are a beast
A monkey
A fuckin ape
A gigantic tarantula
Your tears make the Great Lakes miniature
Your shit is bigger then all the Buffalo roaming
Your ideas should be printed on currency
You are unspeakable
You are obsession
You get in my fuckin way
You freeze when in the line of duty
You crawl up a woman’s sleeve
You die alone and you’re left with nothing
You’re fuckin huge
A brilliant warrior
Hairy fucker
A tower of thickness
Lust and Bullshit
Obsession
You are broken
A fuckin pane of glass
A fuckin vile of blood
A mason jar of fat
A pool of urine
A photograph of puberty
A leftover dinner
A piece of shit
You are on top
Positioned yourself on top of the highest point
The farthest destination
The lonelist place on earth
The coldest
The most sacred
Dusty, Grey, Smelly, Dirty, Fuckin place in the world
You are a man's man.
And you mean nothing to me
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.07.03.17:08:00@1515NYC
Little Bird & Big Bear
And the Little Bird said “No, don’t do it!”
But the Big Bear said “I have to do it, the pain is too much, I’m in too much pain.”
The Little Bird continued with “No, don’t. The Owl loves you. All of our friends love you. The Deer, The Squirrel, even the Bat loves you.”
But the Big Bear only insisted, “I must do it; I have to, the pain is too much.”
In a convincing voice, the Little Bird tries desperately to talk to the Big Bear, “But Big Bear, surely there must be another way to rid yourself of such horrible pain? Why not talk to me, talk to your friend the Owl, he is so wise. Talk to your friend the Woodchuck or the Woodpecker. Let us help you solve your pain, won’t you?”
The Big Bear only became furious and argumentative, “I am in so much pain. You cannot perceive the amount of pain I am in. The pain is horrifying, tormenting, and extremely difficult to comprehend!”
But Little Bird, continued with a calm voice, “Big Bear, you must trust me, you must remain calm; we will work together and get you out of this pain.”
Now Big Bear is even more angry, with a ferocious roar, “I will eat you alive Little Bird, I will eat you alive! You just flutter on by with flying wings. Free to go there and free to go here. Your friends can try all they want, even the Elk or the mighty Mountain Lion. I will not budge; I will not change. I have to rid myself of this pain, and I have to do it today!”
Little Bird stunned that his lifetime friend is violently twisting in his position and is so argumentative. He doesn’t know what to do. Little Bird is stunned and surprised. He flies to all the other animals. The Owl, The Squirrel, The Deer, The Bat, The Woodchuck, The Woodpecker, The Elk, and even the Mountain Lion! He flies to them for help. Little Bird gathers all the animals around the Big Bear, in hopes to convince him that his pain will recede. As they gather around, they hear a loud bang. A huge bang! An amazing BANG! The Big Bear drops to his side. To the ground of the forest. The dirty leaves. No longer in pain. The Big Bear is dead, and the hunters take him away.
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.07.03.12:39:00@1515NYC
Hot & Sticky
After fucking, we took a shower, rinsed off the cum from her legs and her lower back. Rubbed her shoulders and washed her hair. Had a scavenger hunt between her thighs and cupped her breasts. Hot & Sticky.
Riding the A train home, it was 95 degrees and extremely hot. Sweat bubbled up on top your skin and all you could do was bake in the oven. I got out and walked up the steps behind a young woman with olive skin wearing a thin white skirt. I could see her tight G-String right through the fabric. Hot & Sticky.
At the park I watched the dogs chase each other. Each time they made a pass; I got pelted by small little stones. Each hitting me with a snap. The dogs would run around in circles, chasing nothing, chasing each other, and greeting each other. They would run right up to each other’s asses and sniff. Some dogs would even mount other dogs and begin humping. Hot & Sticky.
Walking on Grand Street on this hot summer day, I pass tons of fish. Smell fish, octopuses and eel. Headless, or finless, perhaps even brainless. Pig parts, pig heads, pig feet, pig ears and pig insides. All displayed for the little China man to eat. I didn’t have any chopsticks handy so I just dug my hands in deep, into the bucket of ice and felt around. Didn’t find that electric eel, didn’t know it was alive in the case to the right. Hot & Sticky.
In SoHo there is a gallery on Wooster Street. I’m sure you know it. I went there for an opening and what did I see? Some new art to be examined. At the opening I met this woman with brunette hair. She told me to get down on one knee and be a delight to her navel. Oh, what a sight! I got down on one knee, and with a twirl of a tongue, I’m back at her place eating her Cinnamon Bun! Hot & Sticky.
I went to the marketplace and had drinks with my friend. He brought along his new girlfriend from Detroit. Although he never told me that she was so slutty, so dirty and married with two kids. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, I’ve seen him suck and I’ve seen him probe. But it was still stuck in her hole, so I excused myself and they left for pork. Hot & Sticky.
On a faraway planet, let’s say, Baby Jupiter. That’s where I met her. My beautiful girlfriend. She served me up and I met her out back. She was wearing a turquoise shirt that day. Tight and blue. Cyan. Even horrifying! I got her out back, on that July summer day. I bent her over that barrel and slapped her ass! Slapped it so hard, she drenched my fist. Hot & Sticky.
Sitting alone, resting upon my sheets, on my bed. I hear the couple above me fucking. Making loud noises and shifting the bed over and over again. I heard the scratching of her fingernails into his back. I heard the moans of his early cum. And I heard the cries shortly after. I realized masturbating was not a crime, so I stroked my cock and listened once more. Hot & Sticky.
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.06.28.17:15:31@1515NYC
Off
Today is different
Instructor said
Teacher said
Professor said
Captain said
President said
Leader said
I can’t touch you
I can’t pray with you
I can’t feel you
I can’t be with you
Today is Tuesday
I can’t lie to you
I can’t see you
I can’t even love you
Today is Wednesday
I can’t find you
I can’t look at you
I can’t smile at you
Today is Thursday
I can’t sit next to you
I can’t stand in the park with you
I can’t eat with you
Today is Friday
I can’t do anything with you
Because I’m not here anymore
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.06.26.09:12:03@296NYC
Wind
Come harvest with me
Under our mighty sun
My blood is thicker for my love that passes
Thousands of times I have smoked
Weeping Red ends the sky
Oak Red makes sky greater
The strength of mountains can no longer hold me
The strength of currents can no longer carry me
Kneel down by the river
An eagle lands upon a rock
My heart is now in summer
And summer is my heart
Weeping Red makes good rope
Oak Red makes good boil
Leaves fall for long
Colored teas gathered
Winter winds blow in my face
Blistered hands burnt
Move Westward said Eagle God
Become named and never return
Come back a new son
Return as a mighty one
Come back a new daughter
Return as a blade of grass
Weeping Red now gone
Oak Red now gone
Drum beat played on hill
Drum beat played on ground
Men with cow carcass bellies
Blow to your burial
The wind leaves a trail
And the rain pours on your dead
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.06.26.04:21:18@296NYC
reading / read
I am not here.
Reading Read
I am over here.
Reading Read
I haven’t found you
Read that story last night
Haven’t slept in days
Reading Read
I read your mind
I found that heart
Deep inside
Reading Read
Punching thirst
Thinking of a sprinkle
Won’t believe the dust
Reading Read
I’m not reading
Don’t like to read
But I’ll read you up
And forget the soul
Because Reading tonight
Is a book worth reading...
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.06.25.16:39:24@1515NYC
Spoken Word
If you let me write poetry on you
Ink on your inner thigh
Put my mark on your inner thigh
Would you let me read
Would you let me give you
My spoken word?
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.06.19.14:19:09@1515NYC
Dirt
I’m digging in the dirt.
What will I find?
I’m digging in the dirt.
What will I find today?
I’m digging deeper
Deep in the depth of this rich dirt
Soil of the hands
Minerals of the soul
I’m digging deeper today
Down in the depths of the earth
What will I find?
What will I dig up?
Excavate?
Reveal?
I’m digging in the dirt.
I see an eye looking up at me
I see that beautiful eye in the soil
Under that dirt
Under that veil
Behind that wall
Behind that barrier
I’m digging down
I see her piercing through
Bolting like a standing beauty
Electrifying and gorgeous
Lighting up the ground
I grasp her hand
Soft and tender
I reach down and pull her out of the dirt
Out of today’s soil
Out of yesterday’s mud
I pull her up onto the earth
Onto myself
Locked
No dirt to be found.
I’m digging in the dirt.
What will I find?
I’m digging in the dirt.
What will I find today?
The majestic beauty arose
Her curves conquer the sea
Her eyes speak languages of lust
Her lips soft and pink
Her mind, open -
I’m digging in the dirt.
What will I find?
I found the angel of beauty.
The dirt.
The beauty of dirt.
And the angel sleeping beneath my feet.
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.06.19.13:33:55@1515NYC
Damaged
Damage my heart
Damage my memory
Damage me to eternity
so, I don’t feel anything
nothing.
Fill my suitcase with damage
Take my mother away from me
Leave your kiss on my skin
Damage my surface
Bring on the storm
Push me off,
fall from the sky
Fall like a rock,
a bird.
Damage me
Damage my driven love
Damage my thirst and hunger
Damage my wings
Forget about my world
The words I speak
and hands I hold
Damage them.
Teach me about the lust
About the remembrances
The walkways to heaven
and your God.
Clue me into your universe
Let me speak when spoken to
Let me listen forever
Let me feel the wind and taste the salt
Damage my mind
Damage my hands
Damage my art
Damage my love
Nothing
Nothing is left
In my empty hands
No one to grace
No one to lose
No one at all.
Damage me to wood
Wood of the earth
And sweat of my peoples
Damage me to the dirt
Dirt of the heart
And tears from them.
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.06.13.17:16:58 @ 1515 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
Magnetic Poem
I sleep in my shadows
and she moans
I have my tongue
her beauty is how I ache
Language is a gorgeous symphony
Rain on me for moments
© 2001 David Greg Harth
99.06.06.06:00:00@NYC
01.06.06.06:00:00@NYC
Pain (Version #2)
I know what pain is.
Lifting your index and middle finger upwards,
forming a “V”
That international peace symbol,
now a memorable symbol for Verizon.
Staring out the small glass window of that
locked wooden door. The glass with the wire mesh
imbedded in it to prevent breaking and smashing.
The wooden door with sharp nails that protrude outwards,
towards my white face. The nails I might have thought about
smashing my skull against and splitting my head open
or my dream open.
Sitting on a porcelain ivory toilet bowl,
staring at blue tiled walls and praying to God
that you would have a normal, solid shit. Praying
you wouldn’t have diarrhea scattered with corn again.
Praying for one instant in your life to be good.
Looking at yourself in the mirror and unable to see.
Unable to see the stubble forming on your face. Unable to
see the color of your iris. The lashes surrounding your eyes.
Unable to split the fog open and see the truth, your skin,
and the sins you never had a chance to commit.
Watching television for hours, watching the News, reruns,
talk shows, comedies, soap operas, infomercials, dramas,
entertainment shows, car races and realizing the only
programs you understand are movies you have seen before,
because you base your understanding of it by your recollected
memory of it.
Eating your favorite mashed potatoes or French fries with
red ketchup and not tasting a grain of salt. Listening to
the wind howl outside of your 12th floor room and wondering
if Tic Tacs changed your life. Reminding yourself that
when you write this, that the only person that will fully
grasp most of these implications is your father.
Walking down hallways with patterns unrecalled, and one day
you see a water fountain that was not there for months.
But today it is there, and it always has been.
Contemplating why you aren’t allowed to have deodorant next
to your bedside. Perhaps fear that the Black Man or White Man
or the So-Called Man will eat my deodorant, overdose on the
freshness and die. Leading to a lawsuit?
Drawing dots, being punched, being thrown around, being stared at
and being worshipped by voices I never heard, but only dressed in
white and sweats even though I was not working out. Sleeping every
night, being comfortable, with no pillows.
I know what pain is.
The pain that only 1 in a billion get.
The pain you can’t describe
The pain you can pretend to illustrate by smashing glass frames
holding portraits of 3 wise and 3 blooms.
The pain you can pretend to express by sleeping forever.
The pain you can pretend to share by writing.
The pain you can’t touch, hear, see, smell, or feel.
The pain is so large that you know it will happen again.
Because my pain, saves the lives of millions.
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.05.31.14:33:48 @ 1515 NYC
Bible Is The Womb
Inside I only hear lost voices
Taste buds of the tongue
And burnt sensations at fingertips
Healed now
Forgotten cries and howls
Daughters lost and stolen
Sons sent for battle to fight
Gone now
Her new spring dress bleached
Stained from the power struggle
Laughter kept away
Hidden from yesterday’s children
The trees now sway
Without a trace of wind
The rain soaks up the ground
And the dead rise from the earth
You are not sad today
Just remembering the horror
Of airplane dreams
And truth of today’s news
© 2001 David Greg Harth
01.05.23.17:43:00@GUGGENHEIMMUSEUMNYC