Spectrum

Swiftly moving

In this underground galaxy

Beneath rivers of imports

And solid granite rock

In long metal cans

Conditioned with cold air

Stuffy urine sweat

Or wet dogs of August heat

I travel to and from

Among every color and background

With Puerto Ricans, Koreans and Indians

With Germans, Greeks, and Chinese

With Christians, Muslims and Jews

With punks, preps and beauty queens

Each shade of a person

Next to me

I’m the minority

On these orange seats of paradise

We are all in transit

Dressed in black

Or the monk’s cloth

Short skirts and platforms

Or jeans below the knees

In our suits and ties

And grandmother mothballs

In our Yankee caps

And Cole, Karan and Klein

Reading, jiving and gazing

Writing, listening, and sleeping

We ride at night

And sunrise must

We travel for dollars

Five borough hollers

This is my New York City

My journey, my home

© 2009 David Greg Harth

09.05.01.11:40:00@ManhattanBridgeNYC

09.05.14.22:33:49@130BklynNYC

Seppuku

I guarantee you.

You have a full warranty.

For years to come.

Full replacement.

Parts plus labor.

You have nothing to worry about.

Everything is perfect with your purchase.

Like said.

Like declared.

Like old age.

Like neuro twelve.

Like loving you.

Like telling true.

© 2009 David Greg Harth

09.03.17.24:18:00@130BklynNYC

She heard me, She heard what I said

I told her what I thought

She was who I sought

I leaned in near

Whispered a secret in her ear

I spoke my mind

She was a goddess to mankind

I told her the truth

During her blooming youth

I warmed her soul

She completes me whole

I spoke from my arresting heart

No force could keep us apart

I told her forever I’d be here

Continued each and every year

I did not pretend, I did not lie

She is my earth and she is my sky

I spoke true

Love was making a debut

© 2009 David Greg Harth

09.03.15.22:16:48@130BklynNYC

Sock Pimp

You pusher

You Swiss Mother Fucker

Bringing your Euro trash wants to

America’s K-Mart and Target and Hanes Catalog Order

You Swiss Mother Fucker!

You trailing behind my gold striped socks

You trading in your comfort greys for black thins

Pushing and pulling and putting on and taking off

You waiting in line for the Mode and Vox and Architect!

You bulldozer sprayer, hand holder, Shinjuku fish eater, squirt maker!

You waffle maker, breast molester, radiology tumbler, fowl mouth kisser!

You fart smeller, shit blood remixer, rock star, Mountain Dew addict!

You Swiss Mother Fucker!

Sock pusher, Sock hustler, Sock whore, Sock pimp!

© 2009 David Greg Harth

09.03.11.21:29:38@130BklynNYC

Snake

Winding down the year

I count the times of thoughts I had

It was more than the days we had

More than several hour’s worth of seconds

But I’m still here

Without reason or conscious

Only two thumbs

And an index that didn’t pull

© 2009 David Greg Harth

09.01.01.11:05:37@130BklynNYC

So Many Times

Every encounter

With every moment

With every calendar day

With each month

Every second

Hour after hour

With every person

Every lover

Every sexual encounter

With every visit

Every solution

Every consumption

Daily

Minute by minute

Every full moon

Every cycle

Every revolution

Every evolution

Numerous

Every occasion

Every holiday

Every day off

Every time

Suicide

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.10.30.17:05:30@130BklynNYC

Stopping Love

I stop time.

I stop the earth’s rotation.

I stop the clouds moving across the skyline.

I stop the clock rotating.

I stop the birds in flight.

I stop the flower growing.

I stop the river flowing.

I stop the volcano erupting.

I stop the tear crying.

I stop the ladybug crawling.

I stop the enemies fighting.

I stop the bombs dropping.

I stop the dew forming.

I stop the rain falling.

I stop the race beginning.

I stop the heart beating.

I stop the light shining.

I stop the sun setting.

I stop the wind blowing.

I stop the music playing.

I stop the painter painting.

I stop the singer singing.

I love to stop.

I stop to love.

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.07.25.13:20:23@130BKLYN

Silver Coughing

I expected a delivery package.

I coughed up a mouth full of silver.

© 2008 David Greg Harth

07.08.28.15:37:00@505HudsonNYC

08.05.25.20:09:16@296NYC

Starting Ending

If you are entitled to only

One dream and one heart,

How do you pick?

If you cannot pick, cannot select

If you cannot control time,

If you cannot do so many things

In the limited time of life

What shall you do?

Sleep in your coma?

Give birth to your children?

Love your lover?

Do you sing your songs?

Believe in your religion?

Carry your Bible?

Take it to the longest day?

The poetry? The diary? The drawing?

What will you do?

When you have but one choice -

One choice only?

Do you discard your memory?

Your experience? Your future?

How do you decide?

What makes the decision?

What starts the fire? What makes the heat?

What drowns the sadness? What makes the tears roll?

How does your day get better?

How worse?

How common?

How do you tell the truth? Or live a lie?

How do you live the truth? Or tell a lie?

How often are you real?

How often are you someone else?

They ask -

What will you do? What should you do?

Some day -

It may be just the day you are in love with

While the day, is not in love with you

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.05.18.19:26:55@296NYC

She’s In Love

Stopped eating months ago,

Took off her gown, her dress,

Finished up her hair,

Put away her make up,

It was Tuesday,

She’s in love now.

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.01.10.16:15:07@599BwayNYC

Sleeping (Version #2)

There is no time to sleep.

Only to command.

Movements of research beneath the sheets.

Let communists suck my thick cock.

Blondes line down the street

An officer finds my hole.

Peggy and take it on in.

Critics say I’m nothing

But they haven’t even critiqued.

I drool, I spit, I defecate, I spunk like two G’s.

Thank you Benjamin.

© 2007 David Greg Harth

07.10.22.15:30:00@505HudsonNYC

Standing For No Reason

I’m standing for no reason.

No reason at all.

But I want to meet you.

I cannot sit and I cannot read and I cannot listen to music.

I’ll stand until the exit and I’ll stand until the rain.

I’ll stand until the end and I’ll stand until you have completed.

I’ll stand forever until I meet you.

For it is you that I stand for.

You are the reason I stand,

I stand for nothing.

And nothing is what I stand for.

With no reason I stand.

© 2007 David Greg Harth

07.10.22.14:49:19@599BwayNYC

Sherwood Forest

He's big and bulky.

A wire trapped in his ear.

He was careful, cautious, manly.

A piece so very large, prominent and hidden.

He wouldn't let me get near Putin.

Never would he, he didn't really care, but he warned,

The Russians will shoot first, and they have every right to do so.

© 2007 David Greg Harth

07.09.04.17.35.00@296NYC

Suicide (Version #3)

I think of suicide every day.

© 2007 David Greg Harth

07.08.20.02:28:13@296NYC

She Loves You

Because you are in love with another woman.

Because your heart belongs to someone else.

Because you are committed.

Because you are head over heels.

That is why, she loves you.

© 2007 David Greg Harth

07.08.08.11:20:00@599BwayNYC

Sad Heart

I hate my day job.

I love a woman.

I can’t perceive that I will live the rest of my life doing what I do today.

I contemplate regularly killing myself, more often than you could imagine.

I wish I could see my niece and nephew every day.

I wish I had unlimited funds of money.

I wish I was a little taller.

Despite my great girth of my cock, I wish I was a little bit longer.

Sometimes I wish my nose sloped differently.

I wish my gut was smaller.

I don’t understand why there is crap at some galleries and I’m at none.

I wish I was a better poet.

I am darker than anyone can imagine.

Not my sister, not my one

Not a therapist, and not a psychoanalyst.

I’m dangerous. Be aware.

This is not a note of death.

Its truth. Its honesty. And I’m not afraid to admit it.

In the end, it’s just language, words written, a poem perhaps.

© 2007 David Greg Harth

07.04.24.14:15:08@205HudsonNYC

Shit

I’m tired of this shit

Shit on the walls

Shit on the stalls

Shit here, there and everywhere.

I’m tired of your shit

His shit and her shit

My shit and their shit

Political shit, emotional shit, and art shit

I’m tired of painting shit

Sculpting shit, producing shit, pushing shit

Making shit, eating shit, drinking shit

I’m tired of all this shit.

I’m tired of the shit standing

Shit traveling, shit escaping, shit music

Shit reads, shit plays, shit films

Shit mom, shit dad and shit you.

I’m tired of the shit

But mainly the shit on the wall

No more shit on the wall

Tired of the shit

© 2007 David Greg Harth

07.04.13.20:01:23@296NYC

Slow Madness

I’m going mad

Telling you lies

Why won’t you love me?

He knocks his head against the door frame once more.

© 2007 David Greg Harth

07.03.15.13:09:41@205HudsonNYC

Sleeping Commercially

She’s organizing

Preparing

And categorizing

She’s Putting things in order

Labeling

And sorting

She’s twisting, she’s turning

Placing and calculating

She’s doing the math

She’s doing the science

Figuring it out

Finding the proportion

She’s got the formula going

She found the quantity

And the cost

She’s classifying

And arranging

She identified

Grouped and determined

She found the need

Completed the task

And she’s specifying

Determining

And sifting

She’s compartmentalizing

Finding solutions

And she’s sleeping

© 2007 David Greg Harth

07.02.09.16:01:39@205HudsonNYC

Swollen Thursday

A romp

You left me swollen

In my eye,

You punched

I’m never dry

I’m sore

Left that taste in your mouth

So sour

I pour

I’m drenched

Tonight -  open up the door

© 2007 David Greg Harth

07.02.01.12:46:42@205HudsonNYC