Mistake Win
I never thought you could recover from the mistakes you made
But now tears roll down my eyes and all I want
Is my cheek to be next to yours
I never thought I could be wrong or make someone so beautiful
But now the mirror is broken and the garage glass shattered
You made me mad because you should have waited.
Now you have left with no news of today; only yesterday
Mistakes come and go
People come and go
But I’ll never find another lesson
Another bruise
Another time for manipulation or prostitution
Youve inspired me to grow up
Grow older
And grow higher
But now youve left me
With my fist in the glass; bloody
It’s pouring rain outside
But I am not wet
The wind is burning my face
But it is not windy
The ground is shaking beneath me
But the money is not falling from the tree
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.10.12.03:16:00@296NYC
00.11.12.24:45:00@296NYC
Morning
The morning bird calls
My restless sleep ends
Only a few days to go
And you’ll be in my arms again
Elvis Presley & America plays
On the cold stereo
I’m wrapped up in blankets
Without you
I believe in you
That you make me warmer
And smile longer
And cherish life greater
It’s morning
I rise up out of bed
Scratching my head
Running my fingers through my hair
Making my way down
From my deep sleep
Looking in the mirror
At myself
I look deep in my blue eyes
And deep down inside
I see great beautiful
Brown eyes
You are always with me
Near or far
You are in my heart
Never forgotten
A few days will pass
And once again
Arm in arm
I’ll remember why
I’m with you
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.08.07.17:07:25 @ 1515 NYC
00.08.07.22:54:55 @ 296 NYC
Alaska
Making Love (Version #2)
It was perfect
Just after our wine
From the wicker picnic basket
On our fresh down blanket
Upon the grass
Under a great huge oak tree
Lying under the stars
In the warm summer night
A slight summer breeze blowing
My fingers running through your hair
I was penetrating you with passion
In a steady rhythm over and over
Kissing your lips with desire
And staring into your sparkling eyes
The night sky was overhead
Filled with bright stars and constellations
The rustle of the oak leaves could be heard
As we clenched each other’s hands
Still, I would grind away
Rub our hips together
As I nibble on your stiff nipples
And trace the contour of your beauty with my tongue
Under that lasting nighttime sky
We celebrate together
Our unity and share our affection
Caressing your soft skin and kissing your ears
Over and over again
I push inwards and thrust
Bare in the warm summer air
Your breasts pressed firmly against my chest
It was just perfect
But you were not there
Not your mind nor your body
Not even a trace of your scent
And I cried alone
Under the nighttime sky
Under the great oak tree
Wishing you were there
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.04.14.06:58:02 @ 296 NYC
00.04.14.12:08:56 @ 1515 NYC
Making Love
It was perfect
Just after our wine
From the wicker picnic basket
On our fresh down blanket
Upon the grass
Under a great huge oak tree
Lying under the stars
In the warm summer night
A slight summer breeze blowing
My fingers running through your hair
I was penetrating you with passion
In a steady rhythm over and over
Kissing your lips with desire
And staring into your sparkling eyes
The night sky was overhead
Filled with bright stars and constellations
The rustle of the oak leaves could be heard
As we clenched each other’s hands
Still, I would grind away
Rub our hips together
As I nibble on your stiff nipples
And trace the contour of your beauty with my tongue
Under that lasting nighttime sky
We celebrate together
Our unity and share our affection
Caressing your soft skin and kissing your ears
Over and over again
I push inwards and thrust
Bare in the warm summer air
Your breasts pressed firmly against my chest
It was just perfect
But you were not there
Not your mind nor your body
Not even a trace of your scent
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.04.14.06:58:02 @ 296 NYC
00.04.14.12:08:56 @ 1515 NYC
Misery
I hope I get sick again
To get me out of my misery
It’s a bad plea
But it will be a success for both of us
I’ll wake up in the new
Different features
Different water fountains
You’ll forget about me
As I remain silent for days and weeks
Even months
You’ll move on
Go forward
Forget about the past
I’ll be ill
But I won’t be in pain
Never the pain that I experience
When alive with the ache
I hope I get sick again
So, I can count the tiles
And watch the Jags roll in
And eat hospital food
I hope I get sick again
To be punished for sins of not knowing
To live it up once again
And dream the wildest dreams
I hope I get sick again
It brings the distant closer
Near death
And it will make me soft
Hiding and never coming out
You can see me
But you’ll never see through me
And you’ll never see me
But in my mind
I’ll have a lasting memory
Of what could have been
If I wasn’t in misery
© 2000 David Greg Harth
00.01.29.03:45:00@14ST7THAVENYC
00.01.29.13:11:00@296NYC
Mass gun killings, they’re not just for kids anymore
Mass gun killings, they’re not just for kids anymore
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.08.11.23:18:52 @ 296
New York City
with direct inspiration from H. Wagner
Medium
Not quite large
But bigger than small
Not happy
Nor sad
Just about on the line
Or even
On the line
She thought he knew
He only saw a thin line
He balanced
And waited to cross
He thought she knew
She was medium
Sized perfect
Waiting for something
Medium
Like between a devil and a dove
Mint chocolate chip ice cream
Dog walking bird chirping
Silent waves
Medium
Waiting of the time spent
Recalled
Like an opera singer
In the musical devotion
Have a bottle of wine
Medium
Put Bob Marley on
And relax in a bath
Candles burn
Chill
Be medium
But be beyond
Medium
California dressing
Undress
Bermuda shorts
Miami screams
Medium
Reaching upwards
Bending and curving
Hear the calling
Medium
Howling at the wind
Or just the full moon
Picture snapped
Etched in my head
Medium
Don’t fear
Just go medium
Medium shade
Medium drive
Medium pulse
Medium rocket
Medium honey
Medium sheet
Medium paint brush
Medium color
Medium whiteness
Medium
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.06.10.14:29:57@1515nyc
Midnight
Midnight we hear their laughter
Noon we remember their cries
And taste their foreign tears
Late afternoon I smelt her in the air
Waves coming over me, pulsating perfume
And taste my youth of trapped dreams
Late June the end is near
Beginning July, they all forget and I crawl
August I’m in heat
September rain comes the fall
Man slipping off a roof’s edge
As the English sip their tea
October I recall
November I don’t thank you for killing my natives
December we get drunk and wonder
Go on to the next promising year
And depression sets on those days
Of holiday wonder we die
Midnight we hear their laughter
Noon we remember their cries
And taste their foreign tears
Beginning years of January, we stand the bitter cold
February we get lost in love of hallmark and the red zone
Which is not my erogenous zone
March we come out and pop and die under sunshine
April glitz and maple gritz
May suck me up
And become an interviewee
Shout
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.05.21.16:37:44 @ 1515 nyc
Mixed Media Killer
Whites killing blacks
Blacks killing whites
Liposuction fat suckas
Believing in god to rescue
Ain’t no Popeye
gonna save our batch
Think I’ll light a match
Littleton snow falling
Wet rain flower graves
Students balling
Publicity suicide stunt
Making bucks for NBC, CBS, ABC and CNN
Just 2 Shot men
Bomb the black kid
Blaming Manson
Wish I hid
Violence in Kosovo
Violence in Colorado
I’d much rather get lost
In the violence in my own head
Trench coat Mafia
Remembrance of Matthew Sheppard I knew
Psychology Today
Preventing your bloody hue
Interviewing the grieving
For America’s rating
The Boss was born here one evening
John’s little pink houses debating
Sawed-off shot guns
Bleeding bones
Crying tears
Swat teams
Children killing children
Imagine my man
in the mirror
Rebel revolutions
Civil revolutions
Student revolutions
Gothic revolutions
Building wars
Destroying guns
No one’s safe
Laughing killers
Ooooooo...Black clothing
Come to New York City
I’ll show you your black
& hate
& god on riverside
You know?
Silent images = $
Silence = death
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.04.23.4:46:17@Earth
Memory Song
We are the pea-NUTS
The mighty mighty pea-NUTS
Wherever we go-OHhh
People want to know-OHhh
Whooooo we are-R
Soooooo we tell them
We are the pea-NUTS
The mighty mighty pea-NUTS
Wherever we go-OHhh
People want to know-OHhh
Whooooo we are-R
Soooooo we tell them
We are the pea-NUTS
The mighty mighty pea-NUTS
Wherever we go-OHhh
People want to know-OHhh
Whooooo we are-R
Soooooo we tell them
© 1999 David Greg Harth
99.02.05.03:16:16 @ 296 NYC
My Cat
I was driving my cat
From New York to New Jersey
Just across the border
He usually meows and cries
A lot
On these mysterious trips
But this time he was silent
Quiet
Did not say anything
It was a short trip
Only lasting four minutes
Or so
Listening to “Running to Stand Still”
And “With or Without You”
While sticking my finger
Into my cat’s ‘kennel cab’
Still, my cat would not meow
Nor would he rub his face
Or body against my fingers
He was eerily silent
And I knew something was odd
Wrong
The music playing
No meowing
No touching
I knew my cat was dead
I felt happy and sad
He wanted to be with me
When he died
He tried so hard
His tired old body
Waiting to be with me
One last time
I was prepared
To end my trip in New Jersey
And take my cat
Out of the car
And cradle his soft
Not yet stiff
Body
In my arms
Looking up towards the sky
Embracing on of the rare beings
I will have ever loved.
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.12.20.22:40:00@505NJ
Moon Abuse
I send you my apology
My deepest one
I’m sorry, moon
I have abused you
I was unaware
Of your actual beauty
The passion that you possess
The sensuality you share
I’m sorry that I abused you,
Moon
There is nothing too compare
You are a mighty peace
For all to enjoy and hold
Not just for me
To abuse
Please accept my deepest sorrow
For I was blind to your power
Romanticism and truth
I’m sorry moon,
But I have abused you...
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.11.08.20:52:00@Tampa -> NYC Flt#1874
Moonlight Temptation
I would watch the moonlight
Reflect on your face
As you ease your shadows
Upon my chest
My temptation to go inside
Wrap around you with hugging arms
Kills me every day
Eats me up inside
I would kiss you
Under summer skies
The blue midnight that melts
In the beauty of your hands
I miss your soul
That I never had
Show me heaven
I’ll show you another universe
Capture colors with me
And I’ll enter your brown eyes
I’ll come out from beneath
And share my thoughts
I’ll kiss your tears
Of sadness and joy every day
My honor will disappear
As I kneel for sculpted bronze
I whisper sweetness
Into your ear
As my fingertips let you escape
From the ordinary day
I will howl at many moons
To divide the winds and seas
For your insight to absorb
And breath to take in
Speak to the ocean and land with me
Let me cradle you in my arms
As we grasp the sensation
And conquer our feelings
Cuddle outside with me
And see the sunset
And watch a new dawn rise
While intertwining with each other
I’ll let you inside
Discover the changes among
Curves, eyes, touch, and desire
My heart is forever enslaved
But when set free
The glow you will see
Ignited by your moonlight
By your smile
By your mind
By your vibration
I will live
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.07.16.22:30:50@NYCNJ
My Crucifixion
For you
My tears are drops of rain
My affection is a wounded heart
Your beauty is a cobra’s venom
Poisoning my body to unearthly heaven
Making me spin out of control
In a tornado of optional corrupted hard thickness
Deep down inside
In the bush
Between the gods, the land, and the sky
I hide
I wait for people like you
To gather around my waist
And hold me tight
Like the grip of last night’s wind
For you
I slice at my skin and save your sins
I collect seeds to plant
To water and nurse
The growth of us
Seeing your smile
Hearing your laugh
I have to make noise
Yell and scream
Show my orgasm
As your beauty shades my existence
Again Again
I make myself known
To you and the world
I give up everything
For you
I crucify myself
To be with you
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.07.06.00:00:00@NYC10036
98.07.07.00:00:00@NYC10036
98.07.08.00:00:00@NYC10036
98.07.09.00:00:00@NYC10036
98.07.10.00:00:00@NYC10036
Myself: Destination
I sat at the front of the 49-passenger-bus
We were going down the highway
Passing all the lights and the travelers
It was dark out, a midnight blue - casted shadows around
The rain on the windshield bounced on and off
I looked down the aisle
And what did I see
I saw myself
About half-way back down the aisle of grey seats
There I sat staring to the front at myself
And I stared at myself, looking, gazed like a ghostly soul
In the center of the aisle
There was a box
A cardboard box with printed black ink
It stunk of fish and meat and octo-pussy
It leaked down the thin aisle to my black covered feet
I got freaked out
Could not understand
How could there be two of me
Right then and there
How could this be
Terrified
I leaped out of my red-striped, semi-comfortable, grey seat
And jumped through the front windshield of the autobus
Crashing through, landing hard on the wet cold ground
Shards of sharp glass punctured my soft pale skin
And blood splattered my structured self and the other innocent passengers
The driver swerved
But it was too late
Before I hit the ground
The bus slammed at my fleshy blurred form
Crushing my hair and eyes into my thoughts
My crucified red liquid flowing
Across bright headlights and creamy-white dashes on the pavement
But now there is one of me
And he
Smells like meat
And is still going to his destination
© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.01.22.00:00:00@07430/10036
98.01.24.00:00:00@07430/10036
98.01.25.00:00:00@07430/10036