F, 2021 - 25 David Harth F, 2021 - 25 David Harth

Filling Time. Filling Space. Filling Up.

Filling time and filling space and filling up.

Fill you inside and fill up the gasoline.

Fill up your mind and pack up the hide.

Pitch the tent and find the nest.

Hunt around back and turn up front.

Periods on ends and period pieces and periods between.

Giving and gave.

Forgotten glory.

Grievances and graves.

Satellites and clusters of lights.

Back seat lovers and motion in the ocean.

No errors and no exclamations.

No more fears and no more revolutions.

Piece by piece.

Cut the cloth.

Spread is spread.

Welcome to my night bed.

© 2024 David Greg Harth

2024.11.09.22.00.00@130BklynNYC

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F, 2016 - 20 David Harth F, 2016 - 20 David Harth

False Artist

“False Artist”

I am a false artist

I am a fraud

A fake

I’m a scam, a cheat, a dupe

Bogus and phony – Shit

I am invalid

I’m such a fake fucking artist

I’m a coward

With knees shaking at the entrance

Graphite on my fingers

The scent of oils in my mouth

Angst of the unaffordable

Torn and twisted of what is attainable

Gutted

Drenched in tears

Claimed to be without fears

Often lying in pain from my man made disease

Studio walls close in on you

Art supplies come crashing down

You sink in the quicksand

Swallowing your last stand

And you give up

So easily you surrender

Because you’re a fake fucking artist

Making up deadlines

Drawing portraits and lines and lines and more damn lines

Coughing up blood

Oozing a better symphonic plea

Born in Canaan

Got hit by a landslide and walked once more

My spine raddled

Spew forth the nightmares of encephalitis

A snake’s autosarcophagy has become my wet dream

Poisoned by the hollow promises of 213 feet

I am a false artist

I am a fraud

A fake, an invalid

© 2019 David Greg Harth

2019.09.24.12:06:27@130BklynNYC

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2016 - 20, F David Harth 2016 - 20, F David Harth

The Fall Of Heaven

I.

 

The rickety rackety of the train kept me up all night

Rickey rackety, rickety rackety

The train would sway back and forth

As we catapulted straight for long stretches

Rickey rackety, rickety rackety

Then, grasp onto your seat!

We’d almost be jumping off the tracks

As the train would bend around a sharp curve

The blinds would titter tatter, titter tatter

Wind rushing inside the rail car

Swooooosh!

Rustling my hair about with dirt and dust

Dirt and dust

 

II.

 

Twelve flights up

I would gnaw at my restraints

Attempting to escape

This internal prison where I was held hostage

Vanquish out the demons that would possess my mind

The bondage was ironclad

I’d scrape my fingernails on the wooden door

Edging splinters deeper beneath my skin

Peering at the intersection down below

Hoping for an interrupted fall

Scolded for stroking

Living on yesterday’s potatoes

 

III.

 

Behind the teacher’s desk

We exchanged gifts for Valentine’s Day

I gave her a tiny box of sugary candy with pre-printed messages

Various colored hearts with words I never wrote

She gave me a much larger box in the shape of a heart

With individually wrapped chocolates

Each with a different delicate presentation

And unique taste memorable impression

And I wore blush for that photo

And I wore blush for that photo

Can’t you see?

 

IV.

 

Walking back empty handed

Along the long gravel road

Hands bloody

My forehead dripping

Precum at the tip of my –

Walking aimlessly

Trying to locate my plot

Helpless before the sun rises once more

I’ve had my faults

And I’ve given my apologies

I’ve had my excuses

My lies and presumptions

But this dedication

After my heart was demolished

© 2017 David Greg Harth

17.02.21.17:52:00@200VeseyNYC

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F, 2016 - 20 David Harth F, 2016 - 20 David Harth

Five Years Too Late

Five years too late

Our love affair

Seems to coincide again

I find myself

Crossing the Baltic Sea

North once more

I left my heart behind me

For a moment’s gaze

Is about to become

A debauched reality

Without awareness or reason

She emerged from the sea

As my canopy of Eden

And poison to which

I surrender

There is something about

These fluid waters

Creating an ignition of 

Craving to dedicate

A bonding word said

Remember my name

I’ll find you again

For your allure

Is what carries this current

In your direction

Descend into

The madness

You are my cure

My hope

And my only love

© David Greg Harth

16.02.28.20:40:00@BalticSea (Tallinn > Helsinki)

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F, 2011 - 15 David Harth F, 2011 - 15 David Harth

The Family Announcement

After washing my hands

I dried them with the towel that hung just to the right of the sink.

The towel was blue, freshly washed, slightly warm from just being removed from the dryer.

It felt good on my hands, soft to the touch.

For some reason I thought of childhood as my wet hands were wrapped up in the towel.

Which made me think of the buzzing sound of a lawn mower.

And the scent of freshly cut grass.

And the clumps of green grass left on the yard or in the street.

Leftovers from a mower’s passing.

And the sound of other neighborhood children playing outside.

Their laughter and screams of joy.

After washing up, I went down stairs to join the family.

I walked slowly, passing the picture frames on the wall.

Examining each one quickly.

Each contained a different portrait. Some in black and white. Some in color.

All of family. Some older than others. Some depicting long deceased family members.

Some formal portraits. Some candid shots.

I got downstairs to the family room, which was busy with people. 

It was like a major transportation hub. People moving from afar to near. And near to afar.

Talking and noshing and greeting and hugging and sharing and telling and listening and smiling.

The family was new, or, at least we had some new members to introduce.

It’s been many years since we all gathered in the same place.

But this was an event we all looked forward to.

A big announcement was to be made.

She knew I was nervous as I ducked into a corner.

A corner which managed to drown in shadows.

A corner which escaped the outside sunlight.

The sunlight which was doing an excellent job of draping most of the room’s walls with warm light.

She grabbed my nervous hand.

My palms were sweaty.

But with her hand in mine, I began to feel more secure.

Conscious of the sounds around me.

The high-pitched greetings, the grumbling of elders, kids telling imaginary secrets.

A lonely chocolate candy without its wrapper sat on the floor unclaimed.

We all watched as he took center stage.

Which was actually just a chair. A chrome metal chair with a vinyl seat. Green-yellow. Left over from the 70’s.

He carefully got on top of the chair. Balanced like a professional tight-rope walker.

He stood tall and proud to deliver the announcement we’ve all been waiting for.

© 2015 David Greg Harth

15.06.25.07:45:02@130BklynNYC

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F, 2011 - 15 David Harth F, 2011 - 15 David Harth

Four Apologies

Four notes of yours.

I found shortly after.

An apology for you on this day.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man you wanted me to be.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be the father for our son.

I tried my best to raise him alone.

Painfully, shortly after you departed us;

I had to give him up.

We were so young.

I was so young.

What was I to do? Now that you were gone?

What was I to do? Alone with him.

A memory of you daily.

The pain was too much.

I wanted him to have a good life.

A solid one. With a good foundation. A good support system.

You know me. The artist that I am.

I couldn’t give him what someone else could.

You know that. I always knew that.

But as you forever drift,

Know that I will always be his hidden angel.

I watch him from a distance;

I observe him in my own way.

He carries a different last name,

But has your hair and your nose and my eyes.

Between the two of us, I’m sure he is a creative soul.

I wish you didn’t leave me.

I wish I could hear you say good morning,

I wish I could smell the nape of your neck.

I wish I could hold your hand.

I wish we left five minutes later or five minutes earlier.

I’m sorry the train came along the tracks.

I’m sorry I’ve lost you forever.

I love you.

© David Greg Harth

15.06.24.14:39:20@200VeseyNYC

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F, 2011 - 15 David Harth F, 2011 - 15 David Harth

Five More To Parisi

I wish you had told me that you were about to commit suicide

 

These are the disclaimers of death

That we should have listened to

Before you took your last breath

 

Every time I leaned in closer to you

And would whisper words into your ear

The ear that I would nibble upon

Whisper words which would hide my profound love for you

But you knew what I meant, when I said every word

Except for the one word

But you knew that I was in love with you

Because I did everything for you

I crossed rivers and climbed mountains for you

I halted the world and put down my bible for you

 

I was a witness to your running

You tried desperately to depart

You would fiercely make every attempt

To hide the truth and seek an escape

But you would let me in

Your hollow eyes seemed so lost over the years

Kept secrets from everyone with your weeping tears

 

Everyone thought we were so innocent

No one knew the truth of the despair

How much pain we were in

Or the magnitude of our wrenched hearts

As we longed for each other

And each generator of our creations ignored

Despite us having our finest Sunday sword

 

I still yearn for you

A thousand times each twilight

And yet still I refuse love

Even when it is so real

Right there in front of me

Echoes of your haunting last plea

 

I am hopeless with stories of you

When you’d wake up in my arms

Crying in fear of abandonment

Even though the greatest love

Was in front of you

You were ready to ignore another suffering day

Putting treasured ink and voice foremost

Compositions of an unusual ghost

 

Our hearts were so caliginous

Enemies of each other

Conquering the very life which kept us alive

So near in distance

Impervious emotions

Separated by boundless oceans

 

You did it before I could even hit the ground

My door was always ajar

And now you have gone too far

 

So, I wander and walk upon this earth

Lost and broken without you

Blood flows in my veins

Until the day I join you

That day is not today

Five More To Parisi

 

© 2013 David Greg Harth

13.10.07.01:59:12@130BklynNYC

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F, 2011 - 15 David Harth F, 2011 - 15 David Harth

Finding

I am weeping inside

Do you taste my tears in your morning cereal?

Do you hear my screams in your evening sleep?

Do you feel my heart trembling beneath your daily footsteps?

 

Scared in such a terrible fear

I can no longer think straight

Every subject and every errand

Every gesture and every to do

Every moment and every breath

 

No longer

Can I commit to this existence

Early exodus was always inevitable

As I strangle my cock from too much masturbation

As I slam my migraine-ridden head against the pavement

As I cut off my ears and gouge out my eyes

I cut off my tongue and offer to you

My

Very

Last

Speech

 

© 2013 David Greg Harth

13.07.17.22:44:08@130BklynNYC

 

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F, 2011 - 15 David Harth F, 2011 - 15 David Harth

For The Vanished

The grey skies swallowed up your colorful existence

Disappeared under the blanketing clouds of New York

They tell me that time brings healing distance

 

My subconsciousness repeats visions of you

Reproducing each evening walk and day light kiss

Wish I had viral encephalitis again from the flu

 

Affection for you overflowed like scorching lava

That love I had was of the deadliness venom

Placed a tourniquet around my superior vena cava

 

I’m the faithful poet soldier with the greatest fidelity

Only memories of you are constant

Like a hamster spinning its wheel of eternity

 

Recollections of you begin to fade

I hope for a life full of amnesia

It was inevitable that my heart was to be betrayed

 

The echo of your voice now dissolved

No more whispers of unlawful infatuation

Now free from my clenching heart and absolved

 

You were a humming bird’s song and a tulip’s bloom

Long vanished from my existence

Forever I’m buried in a lover’s tomb

 

I did not ask for this torture and anguish inside

Perpetual unbearable pain and agony

Makes me want to commit the grandest suicide

 

 

© 2012 David Greg Harth

12.10.02.16:59@323NYC

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F, 2011 - 15 David Harth F, 2011 - 15 David Harth

Fetish Sex Party: The Report

It was just the other evening

It wasn’t too cold out it wasn’t too warm

It was five flights up in a loft in midtown Manhattan

We took the elevator up

There was a mysterious liquid on the floor of the elevator

We didn’t know what it was

It didn’t smell like sex juice

And it didn’t smell like pee

It didn’t’ smell like anything flammable

And it didn’t smell sweet

The elevator door opened

Two naked women greeted us at the door

They took our coats

And took a small fee

For we came as a couple

For the evening’s festivities

 

The night started off slow

We arrived just shy of midnight

The bar was open

A small petite woman in a tight purple dress served us

At the foot of the bar was a man wrapped in a blanket

We were instructed to step on him

Step on his body

Step on his face

We did

This man got off on this

He was a “Human Carpet”

Even the sign said so

I had a Guinness

She had a vodka cranberry

 

The loft was a decent size

A front room, we’ll call it “The Blue Room”

Because of the blue lights

A back room, we’ll call it “The Red Room”

Because of the red lights

And the main room, with the bar and multiple couches

Most of the couches had a black and white zebra print

I’m sure they were covered with stains of various fluids

I heard the loft was usually used to shoot porn films

There was also suspension points and restraint equipment

A large flat screen TV that played porn

The floors were wooden, the ceiling beams exposed

The Red Room had some chairs, a beanbag sofa, a bed, and a bowl of condoms

The Blue Room had some chairs, a sofa, and a stool chair

Which was perfect for bending people over

 

There were some single men

But not many

There were some single women who arrived with other single women

There weren’t many single women who arrived solo

There didn’t appear to be many lesbians

There actually weren’t that many gay men

But there were some

There were young people, perhaps early 20s

There were older people, perhaps early 60s

There were people too skinny

Only bones

And they needed to eat some hamburgers

Some had tattoos

Some had piercings

Some had neither

There were some voluptuous people

Some average people

Some well-toned fantastic people

Some really tall people

Some short people

Some people with bellies

Some people with short hair or long hair or no hair

Some wore leather and some wore plastic and some wore PVC

Some wore lace and some wore fishnets and some wore suits

 

Everyone was there for fun

Everyone was there to show off

Everyone was there to witness

Everyone was respectful

Everyone was social

 

There was a woman in a silky red dress

She spanked numerous submissive men

As anyone watched

 

There was a middle-aged man with silver hair and eyeglasses

He had an attractive middle-aged female partner with flowing blonde hair

Small breasts with perky nipples

He chained her up

And flogged her ass

And flogged her tits

As anyone watched

 

There was an old man

I would say around age 55

He was dressed as a baby

He called himself “Potty Princess”

He carried his own pink diaper bag

Which had a baby bottle

And a wooden paddle

And change of diapers

He wore baby shoes

Baby socks which glowed purplish in the black light

He wore a bonnet, diaper, and baby dress

He even changed his own diaper

And sucked on his pacifier all night

His binky

He would always stare at you in your eyes

Whether you were a male or female

But he truly wanted a woman to boss him around

 

There were two men dressed as women

They weren’t gay

Although, secretly, I thought they were

But no, they were just submissive

Seeking a woman to boss them around

Use them

Treat them like dirt

One of these guys had pussycat ears

And a pussycat tail

Between his thin pasty white ass

 

There was a time

When we went to the front of the loft

And looked into The Blue Room

And in the corner

We saw a woman

With a fat chunky ass jiggling

As she gave head to a seated man

A gentleman

 

All nightlong

There was rigging

And there was flogging

And there was tipping

That woman in the purple

At the bar

And the young man with her

Also serving

And maybe

Being served

 

There were spectators

And voyeurs

And exhibitionists

There were professionals

And amateurs

 

There was a very quiet Asian couple

Dressed in black

Early in the evening they were fully clothed

As the evening progressed, she had less clothes

And he had a collar and chain around her neck

Leading her around

At one point they were in The Blue Room

And the Asian man asked a dominant woman

To spank his woman

She obliged

We all watched

As she was bent over that stool chair

Which was metal

And had a blue strobe light beneath it

Which made a cross like image on the wall

When flashing

This Asian couple

Is the type of couple you would see in an Asian porn film

Their body parts

Their privates

Should have been blurred

Digitally blurred

Pixelated

 

At some point

The woman in red spanked Potty Princess

I hope that made him happy

All should have happiness

 

There was a very large black man

He wore a leather kilt

I wondered if he had a small dick

I never did ask

I only did wonder

 

Later in the evening

The big black guy

In the leather kilt

Brought a passed out skinny boney white girl

To The Blue Room

I’m not sure what ever did happen to her

The last I saw her she was on a couch

Like an overdosed rag doll

 

There was a very large white man

He was very large

Like big, but not fat

Tall

He wore a black top hat

I’m nick naming him

“Edgar Allen Poe”

 

There was a man playing with fire

He had a nude woman lay before him

She had big tits and an eager smile

She was on a table in front of everyone

He would light his glove on fire

And trace her naked curves with flame

As we all watched

 

There was an exquisite woman

With smooth creamy white skin

Soft to the touch

With penetrating hazel eyes

With perfect lips

And her tits protruded forth

From her outfit of black

She wore black stockings and a black garter belt

A black bra that accentuated her perfect breasts

The slight hair on her mound

Displayed in the open air

Throughout the evening

Her eyes caught mine

And I caught hers

 

There was a group of women

Dressed in black lingerie

I would have taken them all home with me

But that night I was not free

I was dedicated to one

I was eyed

By women

By men

But there is only one set of eyes

That has me whole

 

At around 5am

As I sat on the cum stained zebra print couch

She took my thick cock out of my pants

And just started to suck away

Giving me a nice sloppy wet blowjob

In front of any gazer

Any audience member

She choked away on my cock

And sucked and sucked

I stopped her short

And led her to The Blue Room

Where I put her on the couch

And thrusted my thick cock

Inside her

It was so easy

Since she was wearing a crotchless fishnet body stocking

And she was dripping wet in anticipation

Spectators watched

We could have charged admission

Because we were such a hot fuck

The smell of our sex drifted from room to room

And from room to room

We went

Until it was time to go

And leave

This

Fetish Sex Party

 

 

© 2012 David Greg Harth

12.02.17.10:18:00@130BklynNYC

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F, 2011 - 15 David Harth F, 2011 - 15 David Harth

Fall In Their Midst

I’ve been hunting

And I’ve been searching

Repeating this sequential confronting

 

I execute the daily working

As my enemy is waiting for me

Always behind the mountain lurking

 

Watching every move I make

Silently in the valley they remain unseen

Listening to every step I take

 

They wait for me each day

Stalk me by my trailing scent

I become their prey

 

I continue with my crusade

With an enveloping heart

No matter how much I am dismayed

 

With all my given reason

Advance with colossal potency

Even if held accountable for treason

 

It is my duty as a man with a wounded knee

In this midst I will reach out for you

And release your innocent soul free

 

 

© 2011 David Greg Harth

11.11.25.02:27:45@130BklynNYC

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F, 2011 - 15 David Harth F, 2011 - 15 David Harth

Frost

Frost

Chilling up my spine

Executing my mortality

 

Frost

Delivering the final blow

Echoing my dreams into eternity

 

Frost

Deleting my memories

My bones being pulled by gravity

 

Frost

Catapulting my fantasies

Interfering with my true destiny

 

Frost

Wishing I was never erect

My heart is always an empty cavity

 

Frost

Transporting my mind everywhere

Emotions in an uncontrollable velocity

 

Frost

Claiming what is rightfully mine

Taking early my innocent fidelity

 

Frost

Losing control to pressure

Giving up my sanity

 

Frost

Exquisite corpse cold to the touch

I have no immunity

 

Frost

Now that I’ve been dismembered and disemboweled

Love and Life is filled with absolute clarity

 

 

© 2011 David Greg Harth

11.10.07.16:37:17@130BklynNYC

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F, 2006 - 10 David Harth F, 2006 - 10 David Harth

Fructose

I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you so much

I want you all

Pour yourself all

over my body

Make love to me

I love you Fructose

 

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.12.10.24:08:00@Bway13StNYC

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F, F

I got your letter in the mail yesterday.

 

You told me —

 your feelings, your thoughts.

 your poems, your memories.

 

Included a photograph of how you look now.

I see your son, he looks just like me.

 

I wish I hadn’t moved so far away.

I wish we didn’t part.

I wish for so many things.

 

We could forget, we could forgive.

But I don’t know if I could, with Franklin being there.

 

 

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.12.04.01:38:17@130BklnNYC

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F, 2006 - 10 David Harth F, 2006 - 10 David Harth

Fat Men Sing, Too

Flying high

On the white rock

With a big thick black dick up your ass

$100 richer

I’m no pancake

But I’m not a virgin either!

 

 

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.06.17.21:35:16@296NYC

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F, 2006 - 10 David Harth F, 2006 - 10 David Harth

The Final Fall

I fell down

The space is narrowing down on me

I have nothing left to do

No more options, no ways out

I can’t get out of this place

The walls are closing in

I tumble, I fade

 

Morning rises

Body is dead

I’m free in the plains

My mother is in happiness,

She swallows me whole,

Puts her arms around me,

The roots never let me go.

This is my final resting place.

 

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.05.27.24:58:00@296NYC

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F, 2006 - 10 David Harth F, 2006 - 10 David Harth

Flesh, Blood, and Bones

What am I? Who am I?

I’m just flesh, blood and bones?

I have a brain, I’m taught to think, I’m taught to love?

I attempt to write poetry, perhaps I do write poetry.

I create art, I think its good, some even great.

I don’t show in galleries, I don’t show in museums.

I work Monday thru Friday.

I love and hate.

I hate and love.

I even masturbate.

But really, who am I?

But just flesh and blood and bones.

Could I be anything if you were not here?

The one I’m talking too?

Would I be nothing without an audience?

Without participation?

A viewer? A listener?

Who am I?

What am I doing here?

Why am I here and not there - right now?

 

These are all unanswered questions.

 

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.05.12.13:31:01@599NYC

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F, 2006 - 10 David Harth F, 2006 - 10 David Harth

Farewell

Just listen to me for a second.

You aren’t even listening?

Don’t shut me out, shut me down.

Take a moment.

I might not speak aloud.

I might not speak at the right moments.

I might not share, I might not spread, I might not declare.

But right now, I need to talk to you.

I need to shed, to whisper, to reveal.

But you aren’t even listening.

You are blocking me. Paving me. Closing me.

You’ve sealed me. Locked me. Rejected me.

Just listen for a second.

One second.

 

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.03.25.15:43:16@599NYC

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F, 2006 - 10 David Harth F, 2006 - 10 David Harth

Facing

After three months and eleven years.

I’ve fallen many times. Placed my soiled hands upon the cliffs edge.

Built myself up again. This morning I faced daylight once more.

A goodbye will last forever.

 

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.03.25.15:40:18@599NYC

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