J, 2021 - 25 David Harth J, 2021 - 25 David Harth

Just Like That

And just like that

The loaf of bread is gone!

No more crumbs

No more bread

No more for you

No more for me

Just like that!

 

© 2022 David Greg Harth

22.09.08.15:15:55@130NYC

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J, 2011 - 15 David Harth J, 2011 - 15 David Harth

Judgement

You’ve all become witnesses

Hear me now and hear me clear

Time has come and time is near

 

All before me now have come to this ritual moment

When time collides with existence

Mind leaves inclination at a distance

 

This space between becomes unnatural

Filled with fire and rage

Motionless and trapped in a cage

 

You wanted truth and honesty

From the deepest crux, I gave you all

My ship has departed, carried on this mammoth squall

 

As the ocean always does

Put up your walls and keep your locks

I shall voyage until I find new docks

 

Embers always glowing

A tortured soul brings awareness

Covering the innocent from bareness

 

Wait for the arbitrator and wait for the guardian

I pull off my cloak and lie down upon these rails

The purest heart now sails

 

Judge me now

For no matter my shortcoming

I’m dissolving into nothing

 

Dismissed into eternity

Ideal time to be fleeing

Terminated from being

 

Until we meet again

My limbs disconnected

Until I’m resurrected

 

© 2013 David Greg Harth

13.04.04.03:39:07@323BklynNYC

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J, 2011 - 15 David Harth J, 2011 - 15 David Harth

Joleen Grussing

She was the Lord’s answer to a pillar of salt

She was salted before me on Jerry’s wall

Socially we don’t know, electronically begun

One day we finally broke bread

Before the African kingdom

With introductions to strangers

And participants of the Lord’s book

I sent an invitation

Once, twice

She asked “How much?”

I couldn’t come up with a good answer

Even in her castle unseen

I wonder if she’ll take me for a ride

On her triumphant

Triumph

To our church

At least once more

With plastic lips

From West to East

She knows every he and she

And now knows me

Electronically, begun

Physically, started

See you again,

See you again

 

© 2012 David Greg Harth

12.09.29.13:27:30@130BklynNYC

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J, 2011 - 15 David Harth J, 2011 - 15 David Harth

Jorge Castano

He lit up my journey

And gave me spicy chocolate

He offered me a bite

And invited me to join him after a long flight

He made the hours go by fast

And reminded me of my approaching past

He collected my art

And was at the beginning of the start

He was about 35,000 feet

And he never did mistreat

 

© 2012 David Greg Harth

12.07.08.11:41:59@130BklynNYC

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J, 2006 - 10 David Harth J, 2006 - 10 David Harth

Jamaica Liberation Movement (JLM)

You don’t need much;

A good job, a roof over your head, some food.

Is that Jesus I see at the subway door?

Or is that Che? Or Daniel from yesterday?

 

I’m joining the Jamaica Liberation Movement

It’s something you should know about

As I begin to rid myself of these possessions

No longer needed and no longer necessary

 

I’m disposing of all the ones not in use

No sense to have them with me

Even the Volvo must go

It’s better I work for the district

And see the shows

From the Brighton Beach Q

From Afghanistan’s long ass haul

 

I’m joining the Jamaica Liberation Movement

And I’m not coming home

I’ll be gone forever

Even with broken glass knocking at my door

My back turned, I won’t turn into Middle East seasoning

 

You don’t have to trust me, take my word, or make any promises

A good listener always finds the faults

Who is to blame? Who takes responsibility?

With no one answering these questions, they exist unanswered

 

I’ve joined the Jamaica Liberation Movement. The JLM.

From Valeria of Panama to Cuba’s hope.

From the injustice of my Brooklyn streets

To President Obama’s incompetence

My laughter is here now, my pain is here now

 

I’ve joined the JLM. I’m not coming back. I’m not coming home.

You don’t need much;

Just a good job, just a roof over your head, just some food.

 

© 2010 David Greg Harth

10.01.29.24:53:07@130BklynNYC

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J, 2006 - 10 David Harth J, 2006 - 10 David Harth

Just Like

I’ve lost you.

Everything you stood for.

I opened up my heart to you.

Completely, my door was open forever.

I was innocent. I was available. I was yours.

 

Wednesday.

You toppled my everything.

With a divine thrust of misguided trust.

You deceived me, placed a black widow down my throat.

You drenched me in gasoline, you lit me on fire.

 

I am poisoned from the inside.

You commanded.

My veins and arteries wrapped around you like unearthed roots.

Like a parasite you sucked me dry of anything I had left.

 

I could not hurt more.

My eyes cannot produce any more tears.

You killed my heart.

You killed my love.

It’s just like suicide.

 

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.10.16.20:39:36@130BKLYN

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J, 2006 - 10 David Harth J, 2006 - 10 David Harth

June

I can’t help but wonder

         What’s eating at you

         Gnawing at your insides

Has my heart opened to you

         Like no other woman before

         The eyes of a pond

Why won’t I be bound

         Committed to love

         It’s not what my heart can contemplate

Your brown sky

         Looking down upon me

         Trace your thigh with a blade of grass

Native tongues

         What we could share

         Is the quad of possibility

But I am one

         and one I shall remain.

 

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.05.28.12:00:00@PortAuthorityBusTerminalNYC

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J, 2006 - 10 David Harth J, 2006 - 10 David Harth

Just Doing Rebecca

You can gaze,

You can take my portrait,

In Goldin’s light.

 

Bring me home to your waters,

We’ll throw tea overboard,

And make for the tunnel.

 

Shed your shoes,

Allow me to take you,

And maybe even Matthew will watch us.

 

 

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.25.03:43:21@29NYC

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J, 2001 - 05 David Harth J, 2001 - 05 David Harth

January 22, 1974

I love you.

Every day I try to stitch up my heart.

But I cannot. It bleeds forever, for you.

There is nothing more I can do.

There is nothing more to say.

 

I love you.

I want to make a difference.

I want to make a change.

I want to turn back time.

I want to turn back your heart.

 

I love you.

Every day I think of how it could have been.

But all I have are lost reflections.

Patterns of your beauty

Retain their intensity on my mind daily.

 

I love you.

I want to make love to you.

I want to make you remember.

I want to invite you.

I want to hold you.

 

I love you.

I do not say these words often.

I do not say these words to anyone.

But for you, I say them.

For you, I love.

 

 

© 2005 David Greg Harth

05.03.17.04:01:36@296NYC

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J, 2001 - 05 David Harth J, 2001 - 05 David Harth

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

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J, 2001 - 05 David Harth J, 2001 - 05 David Harth

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

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J, 2001 - 05 David Harth J, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Jobless, Homeless, Loveless, Loneliness and Despair, Hunger, Ache

I asked you for forgiveness,

you gave me shame.

I asked you for protection,

you gave me abandonment.

I asked you for bread,

you gave me not even a crumb.

I asked you for guidance,

you gave me shadow without light.

I asked you for love,

you gave me empty hope.

I asked you for healing,

you gave me illness.

I asked you for comfort

you gave me hell.

I asked you for safety,

you gave me processions of death.

I asked you for someone’s heart

you gave me nothing but grief.

 

 

 

© 2004 David Greg Harth

04.04.20.21:46:11@296NYC

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J, 2001 - 05 David Harth J, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Jordan

It’s beyond amazing.

Beyond beautiful.

Beyond wonderful.

Beyond all of the great words and terms and feelings,

I could describe using words from the dictionary.

The feeling is pure love.

Love like I have never felt.

Love that I have never experienced.

Love that I never knew existed.

When I sit Indian-Style,

you approach me with book in hand,

make your little grunt for me to read that book to you,

and you plop yourself in my lap.

Your back against mine.

You fit your tiny body on my lap.

Your little shirt,

  your little shorts,

  your little socks,

  your little shoes.

You carry the smell of baby with you.

Your curly hair and big baby green eyes.

You sit in my lap and listen to me read to you.

You are a genius, pointing to the fire engine, the horse and the kittens.

This overwhelming feeling.

I had to write about it.

It’s so hard to express.

So, beyond anything I could possibly write.

But that feeling of love.

That overwhelming feeling of when you’re in my lap.

Knowing I will protect you from ocean to ocean.

World to world, barrier to barrier, land to land.

Knowing that you are more precious than gold and diamonds.

It’s beyond amazing.

Beyond beautiful.

Beyond wonderful.

Again, that overwhelming feeling of when you’re in my lap.

You are the definition of love.

 

© 2003 David Greg Harth

03.08.12.04:13:32@296NYC

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J, 2001 - 05 David Harth J, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Johnny, Bring Me The Gun

Johnny,

I’m calling your name.

Come down the stairs,

Washing the damp walls.

 

Scurry about,

Collect the papers,

Find the holes

And patch them up.

Patch them up.

 

Johnny,

Come down the stairs.

Scale and climb,

Run your fingers against the wooden grain.

It’s time to go.

Time to go.

 

Feel your way down,

Pass the pigeon-blood red walls,

And step down the carpeted stairs.

I’m waiting for you here.

Come quickly,

No time to waste today.

 

Johnny,

Come as swiftly as you can.

I left the silk work upstairs.

Safe keeping is the best way to keep.

It’s raining, don’t keep me waiting too long.

 

We’re about to get wet, soaked,

I felt this before, leaking.

Inside, it’s time to run,

Past the deep ochre hallways.

We really must go.

 

Johnny,

Bring me the gun,

We’re not fooling anyone here.

Let’s hurry up and go.

It’s raining outside.

 

 

© 2003 David Greg Harth

03.08.06.05:17:53 @ 296 NYC

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J, 2001 - 05 David Harth J, 2001 - 05 David Harth

July 10th

Everyone has gone

They have left the green grassy hill

Seen the rain come down and wash away the dirt

 

Umbrellas retracted

Sunshine opening up behind the dark clouds

All have dispersed into their own daily events

 

De-constructed paintings lie on the fresh mound

No words spoken or exchanged previously

Only broken down tears

 

Everyone has gone

No one is coming back

Don’t dig me up, I’m gone forever

 

© 2002 David Greg Harth @ NYC

02.07.10.10:10:10@NYC

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J, 2001 - 05 David Harth J, 2001 - 05 David Harth

Julie & Meryl

Julie & Meryl

Are two lucky ladies

Two lesbian lovers

Loving in love

 

Julie & Meryl

Jam & Jelly

Cock-a-doodle doo

Laughter ruff ruff whooo!

 

Julie & Meryl

Smack my bottom

Meet you at the gallery

I’ll be gathery

Sigs from them and them

 

Julie & Meryl

Sitting in a carriage

Singing in a tree

Sweeping the cookies

Wish I was under her knee

 

Julie & Meryl

Silly girls at toe

Whose toe?

Tow my toe

I don’t like or tell

Tell a tale

I have no tail!

 

Julie & Meryl

Meet you at blue

See you at two

Right over here and there

 

Julie & Meryl

Are two friendly ladies

Met em years ago

And now I’ve written Poe, a tree.

 

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.05.05.01:36:30@296NYC

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J, 1996 - 00 David Harth J, 1996 - 00 David Harth

JFK

USS Grasp won’t lift me out of the sea

The United States Citizens won’t pay to fly my father via helicopter

to my crash site out in the ocean bed

At least now I know there is a big loft available in Tribeca

I could be doing lots of art there, and not be just a rich folk

How come I’m not famous?

Because my father didn’t die?

Because my father didn’t work for the government?

Maybe my father did more, if he saved one person from suicide, does that

make him famous? A hero?

Would you dive for me?

Would you dive for my dead father?

And his airplane?

Would the President give a damn?

Will Newspapers cover my death or will I be buried in lonesome without

public knowledge?

Will a Coast Guard ship ferry my father out to see my dead plane?

Will England and Australia and Japan write about my disappearance in the sea?

Why is it appropriate for the Navy to find them?

Aren’t we all equal? all human? Isn’t there an Amendment?

If I contribute the birth of a child or a smile, is that not enough to save

my life?

Or now, my taxes, my money, must pay for the salvage of three I never knew?

 

I know what really happened, you see...

It was just a little Orgy.

You know the car fun, why not airplane fun?

JFK’s wife was going down on him, giving head, on that airplane, now there dead.

Her sister got hot, and her panties, damn wet - before you know it, the

windows were foggy

and wha-la! JFK was going speedy, and kaboom! (remember that cereal?)

All right, you may be disgusted, but we all know what happened.

It was a double murder-suicide.

You see - JFK was smackin’ around his bitch. The bitch’s sister interfered.

JFK lost his cool and punched her in the face and pushed and pushed and now

she’s gone without a trace; he pushed her out of the plane

JFK knows he done wrong - so now he must beat his bitch out of the plane too

He beat and beat and killed two - that’s a double murder on his plate - what

to do?

He didn’t want fame nor George nor boats nor airports nor common sense,

murder just led him to heaven,

so, he committed suicide after a double Dutch!

And now i buy the papers, it’s what we call art,

or I use for kitty litter and abbey road junior can make a piss on.

 

How can you say, that the Kennedy family contributed more than the Harth family?

And this justifies why I spent my tax dollars on a man I never gave a damn

about?

I would never get the USS Briscoe out to sea for my commitment

Now I have to go home and take a JFK Jr highway home or bridge over waters?

And later plan my schedule to go around blocked streets because I’m paying

for the President to come to town to pay respect. Fuck that, It’s a free

world, let me walk on the street, or If I do, I’ll be arrested?

 

I went on the online auctions today

Did you see them?

You can get the first issue of GEORGE magazine for currently $150

You can get the current issue of GEORGE magazine for currently $26

You can get the next month’s issue of GEORGE magazine for currently $26

(with JFK Jr on the cover!)

I got mine; did you get yours?

You can also buy domain names, like JFK-Jr.com and such, for five thousand,

fifteen thousand and twenty thousand dollars. There’s something I need!

 

I went to St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral

Just a few blocks away

I was just there, a few weeks ago

Out on the street watching girls eat mangos and French films projected on

the church walls.

The old Irish lad came out and said it was a circus in there

Kind of like the media circus out here?

I heard the bag pipes

And took some photographs

The priest came out to those who couldn’t get in, though those that were in,

were hot smelly sweaty pigs and dogs. With no air conditioning, the FDNY

went in often. And Con-Edison, that I paid for, set up unique

air-conditioning that didn’t work.

The priest giving Communion. He came around. He placed a wafer in my hand,

circular with a cross in the middle. I saved it in my palm close to my

heart and now tomorrow, check out the online auctions I’ll make a million

with it!!

After services I toured the church, couldn’t find my art but lit a candle

for a friend.

 

I ran away and got more tape

I ran away and printed up signs

I trekked down to Tribeca where I posted signs on the Police barricade.

They said

(in small letters):

WE LOVE JFK-BASSETTE

(in big letters):

PRESS

LET

THEM

REST

 

A woman asked me, “What organization are you with?”

I replied, “None, I’m just Human.”

 

But the press didn’t like me.

Gave me weird looks

Yelled and called me names with sarcastic thankyous.

I took photos of my art and went on the waiting line.

It’s time to fuck up the mainstream, and I’ll start with my medium, the media.

so, I went to the flower shrine in TriBeCa

waste of money flowers? how about all the dying children and cancer?

i left an “I AM AMERICA” bill there to lay

and on it I wrote

‘In JFK we don’t trust to fly us’

I have photos to prove it, I’ll show you one day.

And I taped up all over the walls and flowers my signage to the press;

PRESS LET THEM REST

 

I passed the candles, American-flags, teddy-bears, signs, photos, children,

letters, drawings, paintings, guitars, caps, dead flowers, 20-dollar bills,

glitter, marker, ink, non-American flags, poetry, hands, flashes, elevator

shaft ways, and life

went back to my Police barricades and my signs were ripped down

The press doesn’t like it when I fight back

 

So now I plead with you all

Realize today we play the bagpipes all together

Like the bum on the corner making a dime

We once were told we were equal, but you see we are not.

Some pigs are more equal than other pigs

 

 

 

© 1999 David Greg Harth

99.07.23.02:10:17 @ Tribeca/New York City

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J, 1996 - 00 David Harth J, 1996 - 00 David Harth

Jacksun Polluck (Talk This, Talk That Revisited #2)

dun dun - dun dun - dun dun

dun dun dun

 

Jacksun Polluck

My potluck

 

Feel a bit Warholee?

Prime time colour Me!

 

Pin stripes

Smokin' pipes

 

Velvet girls of 4teen

Loosing feathers, what I mean

 

Elegant arrogant

She is so hesitant

 

Gracias Do

It meanta lot for me to go

 

8 Cathedrals and 1 Trojan Horse

In my pocket of course

 

Ice protector

Erection for her

 

Flat chested fake marriages

And cheetah languages

 

The sequence man, or warrior, or queer

Tongue Red-framed glasses showing no fear!

 

HOLY CRAP!! What nice leggs! (advert)

She makes me hurt!

 

Lady bare back

I'm gonna have a heartattack

 

Romantic wood

I'd be serious, if I could

 

Some gay boys

And girl toys

 

Plastic surgery

King of imagery

 

Lighted memory

Enchanted glamoury

 

Blue tunes

Cigar log flumes

 

Orange Man crossing my path

Just after the noon bath

 

Old busy poppy bags

Salt & Pepper hags

 

Blue eyes, blue dress - contact

I've been backed

 

 

What the fuck is that!? -

   That string around your neck!

Round-a-bout cat! -

   You look like a fuckin' wreck!

 

 

 

“Is it Beauty, or is it Art?”

“It's Art”

“Can they both co-exist with eachother?”

“Yes”

“Something to think about...”

 

 

 

Purple pusher, fuzzy man, sexy status, beg me tun, rafoss spiffy

tuxedo warrants, maniac laughter, Egyptian short tight silver skirts

 

 

BLUE

 

 

PoeticK jazz

& jazz rain

 

 

 

dance to the jazz

the jazz

the jazz .....

 

 

 

 

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.10.28.23:00:00@MOMANYC

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