Comparison To A Hard Roll

One is hard

One is soft

One is old

One is young

One tastes sweet to men

One tastes sweet to women

One has impersonators

One is an impersonator

One goes well with soup

One goes well with meat

One is a world favorite

One is a family favorite

One produces inspiration

One listens for inspiration

One has been cataloged

One will be cataloged

One will be remembered

One remembers

© 2000 David Greg Harth

00.09.17.14:51:00@BABSON/MASS.

Closed

I’m sad

Broken

Lost

I don’t know what to do

Say

Where to go

Or if I should hide

I’m cold

Naked

Silent

I will not pretend

I will not write

I will not call

I’m empty

Alone

Dead

I will no longer hold

Cherish

Or share

Smile

Hug

Or open up

I thought I could be the best me

I didn’t know that the best me

Could destroy and hurt so much

Something so beautiful

© 2000 David Greg Harth

00.05.29.18:02:00@3097GHWDC

Christmas Evening

Alone I sit

Surrounded by America’s religion

I’m forgotten

I’m nothing today

Insignificant

I’m Hallmark’s enemy

And Santa Claus’ doormat

I’m the thief

And I drip hot candle wax on my wrists

I’ve never been invited

Or maybe only once

Although my mind escaped the coldness

I prepare my own army

And make a new bomb

My feet are cold

My tongue numb

And I begin to fall apart

In my shadows of nothingness

It’s Christmas Eve

Where have all the flowers gone?

The single Jews

The yellow stars

My father Hitler

And friends in Seattle

My grandmother beats me

Into a pulp over meeting

She doesn’t understand

© 1999 David Greg Harth

99.12.24.22:59:20 @ 296 NYC

Crush

crush oranges

crush lemons

crush bug

crush car

crush eyes

crush hush

crush push

crush banana pancakes

crush streets

crush my footprints

crush in the doorway

crush on the floor

crush in my pants

crush outdoors

crush in the snow

crush down below

crush last night

crush just right

crush ice

crush dump

crush memory

crush hand holding

crush eye glancing

crush cold wind

crush warm fire

crush hug

crush kitten

crush ropes

crush tears

crush bird

crush drink

crush fag

crush sweater

crush ache

crush tomorrow

crush music

crush writings

crush smile

crush flower

crush photographs

crushed.

© 1999 David Greg Harth

99.09.23.02:33:42 @ 296 New York City

99.09.25.20:12:41 @ 296 New York City

Circles

If you happen to bump into me tomorrow

Or see me

You’ll notice something new

Something different

Great big red rings

Circles

Circles around my neck

Around my wrists

Circles from my knife

Traveling around my wrists

Around and around

Cutting and slicing open the skin

Making it warm red

And irritated

The same around my entire neck

A complete circle around

© 1999 David Greg Harth

99.06.15.01:49:26 @ 296 NYC

Count The Tiles

I remember singing the song

Drinking the apple juice

And praying to God

I counted the tiles

And got yelled at for lookin reddish

Devilish under

I said I would fuck em’

And still will for those who do not

Deserve better days

I’ll go down with everyone together

Eating sweet bananas

In day trips

Along sidewalk homes

I’ll take rapid eye movements

And listen to them from Jesus

I’ll offer you a mint

A candy

And get in trouble for using

God-damn deodorant!

Shove your dots

Up your ass

I like dogs now

What do you think about that?

Inject me with the over-ness

And slip on your slip

Together we’ll straddle

The IV post

And we can then discover

How to take a normal one

Count the tiles

And sleep in the white

Because you are mine

And you have read

And I know the code

And you

You do not

You do not

You do not

© 1999 David Greg Harth

99.02.14.19.20:00 @ 296NYC

Cover Me in Chocolate

As my tears roll down

As I carve maps of constellations

into my neck with a surgeon’s

scalpel. Believe my words and

feel my thighs. See the man

in blue surrounded by yellow

stars. Buy me a Porsche. See

my art in museums. Feel the

cat up against the wall. Pick

me up at 8:00. They think Im

lost. But I only have two pupils.

Kiss my iris and burn cigarettes

in my skin. Hold my insecurities

in a box and record my

answering machine.

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.04.20.00:00:00@Earth

Charcoal

The man approached the table

Dancing to the jazz

Getting down

A funky dance

Wearing a black cloak

Sits down on the rotated chair

Coffee in front

About to drink

He rubs his hair

On his round head

With his charcoal hands

Dirty from the bum’s life of dance

Like a vampire from Astor Place

Sipping the coffee of heated violence

Rubbing his hair

With soiled, worked palms

He sees his reflection

In the window in front

Beyond the steaming cup

And cookies brought to him by far

A crew cut

Rubbed with blackness

And tan clothing

Portraying a son

He casts out spells

And talks to himself

Conversations about the lover’s paradise

And last night’s opening

He is a clergy man

Mother Superior’s bouncer

With an unshaven face

One complete frigid stare

Yells a potion

And becomes an exorcist

Helps them from the evil they once were

As he draws on the napkin at his finger tips

One white from art of below

And the other

New York City dirt

Rising from the chair

Passing him

I slip him a five

And he holds onto my fingers

The clean ones he once had

A few seconds he is my brother

A lover

Both wanted to hold each other

Caress

To cradle each other’s life

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.02.14.04:28:06@NYC

Valentine’s Day

Coffee

I thought I met a reflection

But coffee only flows down my back

Alone as it burns

All I have remembered

Is your chaos

As I’m crucified in cold winter nights

I thought I would open a door

And let my soul pour out

From my pale palms

All I have to recall

Is the brief glance

A friend from years ago

I go on

As the boxing crushes my head

My art is dead

As all the fury is dying tonight

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.02.02.01:54:00@NYNJ

Chaos: A new Beauty

chaos is in the air

the scent invades my mind

my senses take over

by a truth of lust

chaos is in the air

the doves flew home tonight

brown eyes stare

blue eyes welcome

love is defined

he paints a picture

together they are poets

separated from birth

a welcoming horizon

never thought to exist

a real being found inside

can no longer hide

a barrier once built

now taken down and defeated

a castle of overwhelming magnitude

tracks leading to the fields

vast plains constitute

lions guard the dens

as perfume prevents desires

a cure is near

chaos penetrates my being

the smell conquers my thoughts

she moves swiftly

stinging lioness going for a kill

infiltrates my mind

intrigues my inner self

a poetry writer

a sculptor at heart

beautiful bi-line

twist and turn

a recommended St. Jude

I see an angel in my reflection

running through God’s waters

I find a lasting place

an unexpected face

is what I found in this state of grace

a gyration of fluid

a simple mind

a complex thought

share, bond, comprehend

a goddess from heaven

a Botticelli’s slast dance

sunset colors

and blood dried dreams

an embrace of warmth

glowing from within the heart

I tear at myself

rip apart my soul

so, you can enter

and dance with me

in the midnight sky

a small town womyn

Japan a far

romantic scenes

portrait of an enigma

classy through choice

an 80’s lover

a 90’s conqueror

a developed reason

chaos is in the air

someone fainted back there

lift me up, guide me through

I found someone tonight

chaos is in the air

I breathe it all the time

chaos is in the air

I make love to my dreams

chaos is in the air

the beauty is stunning

the mind is beyond a wish

chaos is my lioness

a reality of my truth

an existence together

© 1997 David Greg Harth

97.12.08.23:45:00@NJ07430

97.12.09.23:45:00@NJ07430

97.12.10.23:45:00@NJ07430