Spice My Dice
you’ve got ade
I need to get laid
turn your tongue over
I’ll be over you in a hover
take her from behind
something I surely wouldn’t mind
tell it like it is
flat out say the biz
she wants to fuck
he is in luck
a swallowing serpent inside
forever a penetrating glide
a heated Thursday
I’ll put you at bay
put her in restraints
we’ll be called saints
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.06.23.17:02:18@NYC
Spice
Knock at my door,
I’ll show you the floor.
Touch my wrist,
I’ll put your heart in a twist.
Kiss my lips,
I’ll jive your hips.
Meet in the night,
I will surely bite.
Bend the curve,
Work up the nerve.
Sheets are on the bed,
She might just give head.
The heat sinks in,
Time to make our sin.
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.06.23.16:17:20@NYC
Love (Version #18)
She twisted my soul in pieces.
Parts broken on the hard wood floor.
Her dog licked my fingers,
And I licked her cat.
I was about to admit,
Try something new,
Something toned.
I rang the bells,
and heaven answered.
She lured me in,
with her beauty dance
and smile.
All I could do was go forth
And walk across the water.
I was about to become,
One for some.
She was winning my heart
And she captured much more.
Every day a thought.
Race gone by.
She slept at my side.
A cool breeze lifted.
Sheets above her thigh.
My mind intensified.
The world came to peace.
My grandfather asks again.
I was prepared to tell him,
that I have stopped,
and no longer need
to see.
She awakened my senses.
Most of all, she began,
to occupy my heart.
No fear is near.
On the field,
or in the kitchen.
For my heart does not belong
to her.
My heart belongs
To January.
for it is January that
I am not over,
but could have been.
Instead,
I am in love.
In love with you.
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.06.14.13:00:01@205HudsonNYC
Under David’s
I am so excited. The Mayor is very kind and wonderful
Three entire floors. Levels. Little nooks. Little crannies.
So, I can curl up and read a book to my daughter.
In a chair. Beneath the iron cast ceilings.
Smell the scent of street sausages and cotton candy.
I am so excited. I’ll have all the access to this knowledge.
The data. The documents. The concepts. The history.
So much to consume. Right here. So many books.
I’ll read. I’ll look. I’ll borrow. I’ll check out.
All within walking distance. Right under David’s place!
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.05.27.24:09:29@296NYC
Legend of a Man
Year 3975,
After the war of the Americas
After the small nuclear accidents
After the continental plates shifted once more
And the newly Gondwana has formed,
Being named Euroecalia.
People across the land
The metropolitan gothams,
And fresh dairy farms, vegetable farms, and organic farms,
Across the plantations of wheat, corn, and soy.
Across the salt seas and lava rocks and urban communities.
They would talk and tell the tale,
The great story
They would call that story,
“Legend of a Man”
Most people knew of the man.
Who the man was.
The years he was living
In the late 20th century and early 21st century.
Doctors still study his childhood illness.
Still a mystery today.
Many professors teach their young art students
About the work of this man.
Many religious leaders share their thoughts
On this great man,
And his power to bring people together,
For his stand against religion
And for his stand in the belief of the human race.
Many poets still write about
His powerful sensuality and sexuality
And most importantly,
His love.
In his 45th year
Doctors performing a triple bypass
Like that of his father
And his grandfather
They discovered the vacancy
The emptiness
Like never before
The man had an abnormal heart
A heart with standard four chambers
Two ventricles and two atriums
However, his heart only allowed love
To be given and not received
They noticed the radiating love
Like ghostly mirages of water in the desert
Pouring out from his heart
They concluded then
This was a clear scientific reason
Why the man could never fall in love
Why he constantly would ache to be in love
And why he could never actually be in love
So, the legend continues
Of the man who changed art
Of the man who changed religion
Of the man who changed the world
And
Of the man who changed love
Legend of a Man
A man at the age of One Hundred
Early last millennium
After 100 years of never being in love
To his heart he took a blade
And died of a broken heart
Of never being in love
That is the Legend of a Man.
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.05.20.03:41:06@296NYC
five
five fingers
five toes
five thoughts of you
five bare
five snail
five up stream
and five deep down
five inside
and five alive
five to six
and six to five
beg for five
and give you high
up your thigh
goodbye tonight
with all my might
fire the five
and news at o’clock
return the sent
and send the scent
forgot the five
sugar up my hive
salt the vinegar
and shake my hand
say the five
prayers till you die
alone again
on the 5th of five
in zero five
here i am
and there she went
could not have said
you better be wet
five is what I meant
and five is what I had
five
five
five
five
five
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.05.05.05:05:05@296NYC
53 Floors
As I passed the 52nd floor,
I thought of you, Cara.
As I passed the 51st floor,
I thought of you, Jordan.
As I passed the 50th floor,
I thought of you, Sophie
As I passed the 49th floor,
I thought of you, Marshall
As I passed the 48th floor,
I thought of you, Martin
As I passed the 47th floor,
I thought of you, Rochelle
As I passed the 46th floor,
I thought of you, Nili
As I passed the 45th floor,
I thought of you, Julie
As I passed the 44th floor,
I thought of you, Lance
As I passed the 43rd floor,
I thought of you, Samantha
As I passed the 42nd floor,
I thought of you, James
As I passed the 41st floor,
I thought of you, Tiffani
As I passed the 40th floor,
I thought of you, Meryl
As I passed the 39th floor,
I thought of you, Jill
As I passed the 38th floor,
I thought of you,, Jack
As I passed the 37th floor,
I thought of you, Richard
As I passed the 36th floor,
I thought of you, Linda
As I passed the 35th floor,
I thought of you, Jacqui
As I passed the 34th floor,
I thought of you, Christine
As I passed the 33rd floor,
I thought of you, Peter
As I passed the 32nd floor,
I thought of you, Robert
As I passed the 31st floor,
I thought of you, Oli
As I passed the 30th floor,
I thought of you, Ryan
As I passed the 29th floor,
I thought of you, Liliana
As I passed the 28th floor,
I thought of you, Stacey
As I passed the 27th floor,
I thought of you, Leora
As I passed the 26th floor,
I thought of you, Courtney
As I passed the 25th floor,
I thought of you, Kristy
As I passed the 24th floor,
I thought of you, Nackie
As I passed the 23rd floor,
I thought of you, Sarah
As I passed the 22nd floor,
I thought of you, Sue
As I passed the 21st floor,
I thought of you, Kai
As I passed the 20th floor,
I thought of you, Amanda
As I passed the 19th floor,
I thought of you, Tim
As I passed the 18th floor,
I thought of you, Robyn
As I passed the 17th floor,
I thought of you, Thom
As I passed the 16th floor,
I thought of you, Sol
As I passed the 15th floor,
I thought of you, Emily
As I passed the 14th floor,
I thought of you, Bobbie
As I passed the 13th floor,
I thought of you, Dana
As I passed the 12th floor,
I thought of you, Anitra
As I passed the 11th floor,
I thought of you, Sheila
As I passed the 10th floor,
I thought of you, Melissa
As I passed the 9th floor,
I thought of you, Erin
As I passed the 8th floor,
I thought of you, Kaare
As I passed the 7th floor,
I thought of you, Matt
As I passed the 6th floor,
I thought of you, Kurt
As I passed the 5th floor,
I thought of you, Tony
As I passed the 4th floor,
I thought of you, Jerry
As I passed the 3rd floor,
I thought of you, Babette
As I passed the 2nd floor,
I thought of you, Pablo
As I passed the 1st floor,
I thought of you, Diane
I stopped thinking.
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.05.03.21:21:59@296NYC
North Dakota
Love is in the air,
for I’ve bitten your lip,
your blood flows,
falls, scrolls,
drowning my tears
in your gown of thorns
Love is in my step,
for I’ve kneeled before you
your outstretched arm
gently caressed
my virgin head
Love is beneath you,
I sit worshipping
between your legs
panting like a wet black dog
from across the Styx
Love is stolen,
straight from the cabinet
wooden ornaments misplaced
silent souls escaped
my heart pounds for you
Love is lost,
I shrivel in the light of the day
dust is what I become
as you forbid me to love you
with a thickness of gore
in the wound under thy breast
Love has died,
your soft skin never against mine
I fade into the darkness
the downward spiral of the abyss
never to love
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.04.22.04:32:58@296NYC
Beneath The Sea
Here I am, existing,
floating a drift,
thirsty for water.
I cannot drink
for this sea is ladened with salt.
The medusas swim freely,
I am unaware of the truth,
but their beauty intoxicates my beliefs.
So, I continue to sail
The high seas of love
With a search of no other
For love
Existing in this world
Of chaotic misery and joyful births
With women of beauty all around
They have all wet my appetite
And I hope to have wet them.
The dance continues
On threatening seas
I rise and I fall
Like the solar stars above
This delectable planet.
The sea is vast
And wide open
It’s power lures me
Swallows me whole.
I permeate through
Fight in the tight
Until love is thrusted upon me
I am nothing but alone
Perhaps it will be
or perhaps She
Is beneath the sea.
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.03.23.12:52:11@205HUDSONNYC
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
Oma and Opa (Version #7)
I adore both of you forever.
But one of you passed away the other day.
The morning of the 15th of February.
The morning after my celebrated Valentine’s Day.
Dear Oma.
You’ve passed on. You’ve left us. No more.
Opa is empty. Alone. Wanting to escape. End.
But we’ll not let him. Not with our love.
Dear Oma,
You died in Opa’s arms. Lifeless. After 65 years wed.
Your great grandson says “Omama died, Omama died”
He knows and he’ll know your legend. Your story. Your love.
We’ll teach him and your little baby great granddaughter too.
Dear Oma,
At age 90. So many battles won. I’m so happy to have known you.
For my 29 years. So very proud that you made it to this point.
So very proud that you were able to attend
your great grandson’s third birthday celebration.
Just 10 days before you left us
Dear Oma,
I missed you at home. I only saw your box draped at the home of funerals.
I had the most silent car ride to the cemetery. With Opa and Dad. It was so quiet.
You could hear the wind speak. You could hear the tears roll on one’s cheek.
You could hear birds sing in Lithuania. You could hear the leaves sway on the trees.
Dear Oma,
You could hear sorrow from each mourner’s footsteps.
We buried you completely. Your fragile pale body placed in a pine wood box.
Lowered to the dirt at the bottom of the grave. We did what Dad dreamed of.
What Dad needed to do. Shovel after shovel. We buried you completely in dirt.
We did not stop until the grave was full. Completely.
Suit jackets off. Shirts cuffed up. Shovel after shovel.
Why? Because your two sisters and mother never got,
the proper burial from the Nazis.
On your day, with our hearts, with our kindness, with gentle care,
we buried you and properly buried your sisters and mother.
We did with our tears, our sweat, our souls, our love.
Because we love you all.
As soon as we finished. The drizzle began.
The drizzle quickly turned to rain to pour.
Giving flowers around the earth a chance to grow.
Dear Oma,
I have a blister on my thumb from the shovel. My arms and hands are a bit sore.
I’ve washed mud and dirt from my shoes. My heart aches for you and Opa.
Opa says, “That’s it, it’s all over.”
Opa says, “I want to go up. I want to go away.”
Opa says, “Maybe I should stop eating.”
Opa says, “I want Rochelle back”
Oma - I want you to know. I’ll be here forever.
For your Martin. For your Marshall.
For your Cara. For Jordan. For Sophie.
I will take care of them. For I have the loving strength from you.
Dear Oma,
Dad looks at his old Bar Mitzvah photograph album.
Places his finger upon each person’s face.
He says “Gestorben, Gestorben, Gestorben,” and he arrives,
at your beautiful face and with tears shared by all he says,
“Gestorben”
Dear Oma,
We ate Cervelot Wurst the other day.
In your honor. In your kindness. In your love.
I wrote the warmest Eulogy. I think I’ll read it every year.
More than once. As I look at photographs of you.
Such beautiful memories. Such wonderful memories.
You will not be forgotten.
Dear Oma,
Phone calls were made. Cookies were shared.
I will visit the Vermont mountains.
I will visit Auschwitz. I will visit Lithuania.
I will go to Second Avenue Deli. I will go to services.
Dear Oma,
I’ve been taking care of Opa for days now.
Sleeping with him. Putting him to bed. Caressing his hair.
Kissing him. Holding him. Speaking to him with my eyes.
Speaking to him with my soft voice. Spending time with him.
At his pace. His aging slow pace. His warm pace.
I’ve been eating dinner with him at the dining hall.
You should see all the people coming up to him.
You were special to all. An extraordinary being.
Dear Oma,
I will never forget. I will always remember.
So much sadness. Yet for me, I have happiness.
For I know how much you changed the world.
For I know how much you have changed my life.
And how much you made my life better.
Dear Oma,
I love you.
I will love you forever.
Thank you for you.
I love you.
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.02.24.03:15:46@296NYC
She is Dead
She is dead.
The bells are ringing.
The bagpipers are playing.
The mourners are coming.
The doves are flying.
The lovers are crying.
The souls are dying.
She is dead.
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.02.16.12:28:59@296NYC
Valentine’s Day Purchase
This Valentine’s Day
I did not have to purchase
Flowers or Chocolates
Diamonds or Lingerie
400 Thread Count Sheets
Or A Fancy New York Dinner
All I had to purchase,
Like every Valentine’s Day,
Every year,
Is a new heart,
To replace my constant broken heart
To replace my heart that aches
every day to be in love.
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.02.14.10:15:15@205HudsonNYC
Lost (Version #2)”
I’m lost today.
I have space around me.
Surrounding me. Entirely.
I’m lost.
I found a way out.
I found a way out, and I’m taking it.
© 2005 David Greg Harth
05.01.16.05:14:32@296NYC
Agnes, From Poland
She was an angel from heaven.
God sent her down to this earth.
She made beautiful paintings.
Blind from birth with amazing green eyes.
Eyes I could stare into and get lost in.
Forever in Poland she stayed.
Forever in my heart she became.
Agnes, I’ll miss you.
Your green eyes adore you.
Let my blue eyes see you once more.
Let me love you from now on.
Agnes, I’ll miss you.
I’ve blinked so many times.
But you have not left.
The porcelain is clean.
The canvas is stretched.
The paint is applied.
Your green eyes can no longer hide.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.12.21.02:06:57@296NYC
Godzilla short changed me at the dairy counter, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Bing, Zing.
Ding, Bling, Gold Ring.
Swollen. Holy. Shitty. Fiery.
Fat. Cow. Chance. Hat. Bat.
Smack. Smunk. Punk. Skunk.
Lizard. Gizzard. Hillary Dillary.
Muff. Puff. Huff. Snuff.
Shush. Hush. Dart. Tart.
Except. Regret. Be. Sea.
Knowledge. Beaten. Heaten. Eaten.
Look. Right. Look. Left.
Round. In. Out. About. Shout.
Wash. Rinse. Cycle. Yell. Smell. Fell. Hell.
Hidden. Digging. Skulling. Hulling.
Bully. Pulley. Pussy. Goofy.
Razor. Bulldozer. Holzer.
Switzerland. London. Bangkok.
Red Light. Die Tonight. Great Fright. Small Might.
Wear it tight. Wear it close. Wear it near. Wear it far.
I’m in white. Better not win. Got nothing to lose. Got nothing to gain.
I’m afraid. Short changed counter. Platform shoes. Cancer’s disease. Man at his knees.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.12.09.01:31:27@296NYC
The Language You Speak
She looked like you.
She spoke the language you speak.
I was in Japan town by the East River.
She spoke in words you spoke.
Loving words.
I turned, I glanced.
I saw you. But she was not you and you were not her.
She spoke the language you speak.
She had your lips, and her lips were yours.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.11.22.15:30:00@DUMBONYC
04.12.09.01:19:24@296NYC
Oma and Opa (Version #6)
They have escaped the holocaust.
Some of their family did not.
She defeated melanoma.
He had tongue surgery.
She developed shingles.
He had open heart surgery.
She lost eye sight in one eye years ago.
He had a stroke and has a pacemaker that keeps ticking.
A million other things happened during their lives.
The sicknesses, the deaths, the anguish, the pain.
The happiness, the births, the utopia, the pleasure.
She was an EEG technician for years.
He was a tailor and served in the war.
They are disintegrating before my eyes.
With their black and blue marks. Their bloody nicks. And drooping skin.
Their liver spots, sun spots, cancer spots and hairy spots.
He now farts in my presence.
She wears a diaper and talks to me about crapping in it.
Their breath needs freshening.
They forget. They get lost.
They both no longer have their teeth.
They have bad hearing and bad understanding.
They are fragile to the touch and to the wind.
Bony and white and short and small and thin.
They both have fallen, but never out of love.
But as much as they decay before my eyes.
My love for them is stronger than anything.
I love them dearly. Forever.
And I will have the warmest eulogy when the time comes.
But is certainly has not come yet.
© 2004 David Greg Harth
04.12.09.01:08:24@296NYC
November & December
Bronx & Manhattan
Hospital Observing