The Depth of Darkness
Not even one
Knows the truth
No sister, no friend, no father, no foe
Everyone underestimates
How sad
How lonely
How horrific
How painful
How dreadful
How disturbing
How loathsome
This life could become
And when life becomes
Such a headache
Such a mission
Such a burden
Such a barren
Such a waste
Such a battle
Such a task
It seems to me
One could
Find end
Find escape
Find resolve
Find closure
Find answers
Find steadfast
Find conclusion
Quite easily
If you just look around
At the suggestions
At the architecture
At the substances
At the information
At the methods
At the objects
At the tools
You have readily available
Right in front of you
© 2014 David Greg Harth
14.02.07.07:07:07@130BklynNYC
Decade
Can’t remember the last time I walked steps next to yours
In synch we would walk
Share stories about past loves
Whilst you glistened your lips with ChapStick
And drip last night’s sex from your inner thigh
We’d walk down Flatbush
To the subway
I’d go to work
And you’d get off a stop early
To go back home
While I waited for you
One day more
And covered the windows with plastic
And put a second blanket upon the bed
To keep you warm
Warm at night
It seems like a decade
Since I last saw you
In white
Beneath
Cloudy skies
© 2013 David Greg Harth
13.09.30.10:53:10@130BklynNYC
A Dozen Times
A dozen times I’ve told you that I love you.
A dozen times you’ve rejected my claim.
I lurk in the shadows
Peering at you from hidden corners
I play hide and seek with your emotions
Pretending your heart is an elevator to enlightenment
I’ve been told I’ll be alone forever
Unless I sort out these variety packs
Alter these habitual habits of yesterday
Change my ways of nocturnal exploration
A dozen times I’ve told you that I love you.
A dozen times you’ve rejected my claim.
I rise up on infatuation highs
Like the heroin I shot up
Drink my sorrows into oblivious slurs
Look at myself in the magic mirror
Each woman I’ve fallen in love with
Takes me for a poetic journey
Damaging my epicenter unintentionally
With their intentional misguidance
A dozen times I’ve told you that I love you.
A dozen times you’ve rejected my claim.
Our story was the greatest secret untold
From the suicidal agreement
To the exchange of self-inflicted disease
The bearings of direction kept us straight
I’ve filed a counter suit
I’m filling charges against you
Bringing in the law
And the men in finest suits
A dozen times I’ve told you that I love you.
A dozen times you’ve rejected my claim.
Our lives flashed before us
We were headed for a collision course
The consumers and commuters saw it
Sisters knew truths and mothers too
We both wished for something beautiful
But our loss was greater than our gains
The destruction of our consciousness
Became the focal point of our existence
A dozen times I’ve told you that I love you.
A dozen times you’ve rejected my claim.
A dozen times I tried to forget you
A dozen times I tried to leave you
A dozen times I tried to love you
A dozen times I tried to mend you
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.12.17.11.31.00@550NYC
Didn’t
Didn’t hear your voice calling my name
Didn’t turn around
And didn't get off the exit ramp
I know how much you wanted children
As did I
But sometimes our biology prevents it
We tried
We failed
I know how much you wanted me to be someone who I was not
Richer
Smarter
Taller
Thinner
I know how much it hurt you
But not once
Didn’t hear your voice
And
Didn’t answer your plea
Didn’t hear your voice
And
Didn’t forget it either
Didn’t turn off
And didn’t turn the key
Didn’t hear your voice
And didn't ask for more
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.10.05.21:23:29@323NYC
Debralee Elizabeth Marianna Iacobucci
She was climbing a tree and caught my eye
I met her friends and we grabbed a drink
My cap from Berlin wasn’t lost in the cab
She cooked, woke me up out of my blue
Before I had a square on my wrist
She illustrates with uncommon love
And uncommon brush
Alumni of the same
Years apart
She lives across the sound
And admires the same sound
Naked in the booth
With her good man of the north
After each past bad
Brushed under the tiled floor
She was climbing a tree and caught my eye
She ate my apple
And cleansed my (soul)
At the right timing
And still
She climbs trees
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.09.29.10:24:17@130BklynNYC
Diagnosed
They transported me by ambulance
Making numerous turns down congested streets
Rain plummeted down upon the grids of chaos
The windshield became a kaleidoscope of city lights
Reflecting hollow truths and past memories
They said I had a very faint vital sign left
A slight pulse which would fade in and out
Gradually it would come into existence
And disappear just as easily as it came forth
They said I was found unconscious on the concrete floor
They didn’t know how long I was there
They were unsure what happened to me
They found me bare, bruised and alone
As I have come out of previous deaths before
It is no marvel that I survived this brush as well
Slowly digesting what the doctors revealed to me
I lay in this hospital bed I’m quite familiar with
The team of doctors in white coats
Came into my room just as I was eating the hospital lunch
Which consisted of slightly warm pasta with tomato sauce that tasted more like ketchup
A pear, a roll with butter, and plasticware wrapped in clear plastic
The plasticware package also contained a napkin and salt & pepper packets
Also included with the lunch was a small carton of 2% milk and a ginger ale
It was then, during my hospital lunch that the doctors informed me
I’ve been diagnosed with a broken heart
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.02.04.24:51:56@130BklynNYC
Deception
After the wall collapsed, crumbled and disintegrated
It only takes a split second, a moment, to rebuild
When it is discovered
That everything was a lie
That there was an extravagant masquerade
That each evening was filled with deception
When deceit was revealed
And dishonesty was brought forth
When it is brought to attention
That there was betrayal
It is then
When everything in the world ends
And only microscopic dust of bones and flesh
Drift on the next outward wind
© 2012 David Greg Harth
12.01.02.17:43:36@130BklynNYC
Diving
I love diving
There is something so magnificent
About the way your body
Parts through the water
Upon landing
I love diving
There is something so majestic
About the way your body
Parts through the sky
Upon drifting
I love diving
There is something so morbid
About the way your body
Parts through the stillness
Upon the tracks
© 2011 David Greg Harth
11.08.02.21:50:20@130BklynNYC
The Divided Heart
Divided territories
Borders patrolled
Divided portions
Borders infiltrated
Something to be worried about
Something to be feared
Something to comprehend
And something invalid
This heart of mine is divided
As it often is
Torn in half
Torn in quarters
Torn in eighths
And so, on
When I first laid my eyes upon you
I fell in love
At very first sight
And this happens
Each time I come across you
If only
I knew your name
And forgot hers
© 2011 David Greg Harth
11.06.20.17:50:00@NYC
Doctor’s Appointment
I went to the Doctor’s office
Because I had an appointment
9am sharp
And I was there at 8:45am
Because I’m never late for anything
My doctor informed me
That I’m dying
Of a broken heart
© 2011 David Greg Harth
11.03.21.17:38:18@550NYC
Delayed Departure
You growl and moan death rattles
Send a howling wind across the room
Haunting deep songs echoed
Your baby brown eyes are closed shut
As if a tailor had sewn them permanently
To prevent one last look, one last glance
Your dry tongue cracked like the earth’s desert
On the roof and sides of your mouth
Resides a collection of yellow pus like material
A crackling cough is produced with congestion and mucous
Airways now clogged with life, delaying your wished departure
You are late, but your flight will take off
Bad breadth swarms your last cries
Your fresh new diaper emanates
Smells of shit and urine
You bring your left hand to your head
Combing your hair in the opposite direction
Your left arm crosses to bring your limp right one to your chest
Right leg lays still and lifeless
With a gathering of toes overlapping toes
Your nails are fungus ridden, on both feet and your right hand
You look like a photograph I’ve seen from the Holocaust
One of those humans in a pile on the street
Discarded but never forgotten
Your skin is melting off your skeleton
The skinny bones now draped in flesh
Falling off your frail frame, discarding their use
Fragile and splintering
Like a wishbone about to be broken
A twig fallen from the autumn tree
So pale and ghostly
You are white as a winter day
Flaking into eternal dust
Every day you were cold
Bundled in sweaters and shirts and layers
Now you remove the sheets and blankets, warm, moving toward the light
The oversized diaper reveals
Your thin scattered pubic hair
Long strands like Okinawa grass coming forth
Blood clots and scabs and bruises line the contour of your body
Gateways and damns preventing life and death
Your chest bruised from where we tried to wake you
Dentures sit in a plastic jar of water on the porcelain sink
Your aged cheeks sunken in, your moustache still proud
When you sneeze, your left hand automatically wipes your nose
Weight has gone rapidly, more than before
Your wedding band is too big for your thin finger
The ring is sliding off, slowly inching towards the dirt below
Your nipples protrude stiffly through your hospital gown
I can see the impression of the pacemaker on your chest
And feel the slight amount of hair on your arm
Your body quivers now and then
In an uncontrollable vibrating motion
Your knees and legs tremble to a rhythm unknown
You still carry a full head of hair
Thick grey hair so white
You have hair of God
When I kiss you goodbye, afraid I am not
On your cheek, your lips, your forehead
I say goodbye every day
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.12.07.11:18:47@306Greenwall2545UnivBronxNYC
Death is the End
I watch you slowly depart
Every organ halts
Even your heart
Uncontrollable body secretions
Beg for quick departure
Plead to escape these institutions
So grey and white
Old and pale
Perhaps taken this very night
Frail pile of bones
In a year’s time
Your grave covered in stones
Prayer to your Lord
No more despair
These gates you migrate toward
Last goodbyes
No more heartache
Lost loving eyes
Join her in heaven
Your one true love
One floor above eleven
You’ve lasted so long
Your voyage has begun
You’re about to sing your last song
At the end
All that is left is death
As the angel does descend
Almost free
You are at peace
Where you want to be
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.11.23.01:51:28@130BklynNYC
Disease of Difference
In my land of Palestine
I discovered a gold mine
Traveled to the Golan Heights
Witnessed forbidden sights
Washing out the dust
Telling these stories, I must
This smoke, this history
I surrender to the border control
To high walls and west banks
I smuggle in humanity
The necessary, the water
My black shoes now white
From white rock and desert trees
Powder of a thousand years and a thousand deaths
Government forced blood tears
Apples and infiltrators crossing borders
Syrian students hidden from their mothers
Destroyed a Jew, destroyed a martyr
I climbed these walls of stone, I walked over water
Stealing Jerusalem, tunnel digging
Launching rockets, rope rigging
Victory is yours and victory is mine
Rip out the signage and rip out my spine
Jews and Muslims embedded in bed
No answers, no reasons, bury the dead
In cloaks and hats and veils they dressed
A disease of difference confessed
Makes no sense or cents, no flood, no blood
I brush my hair, I brush my teeth
I trust you with rock, I trust you with flame
Their weak heavy tanks roll over my feet
Gather at my wooden table and let us meet
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.10.17.11:30:00@TK001Istanbul-NYC
09.11.07.23:57:53@130BklynNYC
Different
I woke up this morning,
And things were different.
I stayed in bed
To analyze these differences.
I started to speak languages foreign to my own tongue of American English.
I spoke Mandarin and Korean, German and Hebrew, French and Italian.
I spoke Polish and Spanish, Arabic and Swahili, Russian and Swedish.
I spoke Hindi and Danish, Polish and Japanese, Persian and Greek.
I spoke Lithuanian and Thai, Turkish and Portuguese, Catalan and Tonkawa.
To name a few.
I no longer had hair. Anywhere.
The hair on my arms was gone.
The hair under my arm pits.
The hair on my knuckles was gone, the hair on my toes was gone.
The hair on my legs, the hair on the back of my neck.
The hair on my head was gone.
My facial hair, my eyebrows, my eyelashes.
All my hair was gone.
The hair on my chest and the hair between my scrotum and anus.
I was smooth all over. Not a trace of hair. No evidence of its existence.
My hair was gone, I am bare.
Lying still
Thinking about these changes
These differences
I hear a sound upstairs.
A loud thump, a small bang, a coordinated rumble.
I don’t get out of my bed to investigate.
I stay still.
Different.
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.08.26.20:49:52@130BklynNYC
Down In The Middle, Down In Front
Escaping the grasp
you have over me.
Capturing the last train out,
the last flight out.
Sinking:
Level One
Level Two
Level Three
And Level Four
Fighting for comfort
Fighting for a seat
Fighting for
maddening tea
and salty feet
My view, unlike yours,
Is filled with trees
and sky so blue and high
© 2009 David Greg Harth
09.01.10.19:22:58@130BklyNYC
Dying A Long Death Without Love
I am not asking you to pay attention
I am not asking for sympathy
I do not plea
I don’t deserve anything
I am not entitled
I am not supposed
I am not given
I am not shown
I am not delivered
I am only you
Only what you could have been
I am calm, washed, clean
I am alive, living, not dead
Until recently
Undiscovered
Turned a corner
I looked, gazed
So slowly
A moment passed
Gone
© 2008 David Greg Harth
08.11.30.16:18:27@130BklynNYC
The Darkest Hour
Even at the darkest hour
One must find strength
Before lifting the blade of cessation
Before lifting the graphite of renaissance
Before lifting the armor of crusade
© 2008 David Greg Harth
08.05.31.01:55:45@296NYC
Don’t Die
I’m uneasy —
Today this day I die.
This new day, new year.
Bloody palms laid to rest,
Heart beat put to the test.
Glass shards thrown across the way,
I extended my unwelcomed stay.
Morning light, she slits her wrist,
In a fight, he raises his fist.
Night before marched soldiers of contradiction,
Artisan prepared for his crucifixion.
They said love wouldn’t last.
They said it would just past.
I’m a man of my word, commit to the fast.
I put up the sail, I put up the mast.
Haunted,
I returned to the scene.
Stained,
I’m no longer corporate’s machine.
© 2008 David Greg Harth
08.01.01.23:10:46@296NYC