HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: ghouse@gauss.cs.jhu.edu (Mujtaba Ghouse)
Subject: vision
Organization: Johns Hopkins Computer Science Department, Baltimore, MD
Date: Sat, 11 Apr 1992 16:45:13 GMT


I have visions in the night,
hear voices from afar.
But this is no mystic light,
no awful truth of awesome might.
They tell me to buy a car,
a soap, a drink, some new delight,
saying: "You need this to be desired!"
They need me or they'll be fired
For I'm the product they consume
Casting lies as bait they look
The rest of us they wish to hook.
With action, `toons, they sell perfumes,
and over all the TV loom,
as we consumers it consumes.

comments and criticism please,

-Mujtaba Ghouse

"One in a million chances happen nine times out of ten." -from
`Guards! Guards!' by Terry Pratchett.
From: sheila@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu (sheila)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: what is important?
Summary: to me.
Date: 17 Apr 92 20:27:52 GMT
Organization: The University of Texas at Austin, Austin TX


flowers
the nature of space
attempt to mistreat no one
---

after wondering what enlightenment is,
there is none
like we expect.
-- 
stark raving sane!   sheila@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu
From: cecilw@access.isc-br.com (Cecil Williams)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Mother?
Date: 7 Apr 92 19:59:05 GMT



>Mother, why is the water brown
>        why is daddy gone
>Mother, why do the flower die
>        why do I always cry

>Daddy, why have you run away
>       are you ever coming home to stay
>Daddy, Mother cried in bed tonight
>       Are you doing alright

Daughters, I'm home in our house 
           where we all use to laugh and play
Daughters, It's grown so cold in here
           since you all left on that day
 
    Wife,  is he good to my kids
           do they call him daddy
    Wife,  what am I in your new world
           do I still have a name

     Life, how can it be, that
           a man can steal another man's life
     Life, it's cruel, you see
           I had a family, now, just a memory...

the water turned brown
the flowers die
and I want to run away
and hide my tears


>Owl

Cecil
From: cecilw@access.isc-br.com (Cecil Williams)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Green Fan Club?
Keywords: Mr. Green Jeans is alive and well and living in Eagan?
Date: 17 Apr 92 15:46:18 GMT
Organization: ISC-Bunker Ramo, Spokane, WA



>The first issue of Washington Green, a newsletter for and about the
>Greens in the state is at the printer.  It is due to be mailed out on
>April 20.  If you are interested in the Greens or "thinking green" and
>would like to receive a free copy, send you mailing address to
>   green@fylz.wa.com
>or mail it to:
>   Washington Green
>   P.O. Box 1123
>   Enumclaw, WA 98022
> 
>Washington GREEN -- the newsletter Washington State Greens
>8315 Lake City Way #207, Seattle, WA 98115  -- (206)526-2919 x28


I copied this article from the Pacific Northwest NewsGroup.
It would seem as though a certain person, who shall remain nameless
but is commonly associated with the color "green", has his very own 
fan club  here in the estate of Washing-ton.  Perhaps other states
may wish to follow suit? What about that concept of "thinking green"?
(-:

Cecil
From: Ralph.Cherubini@f10.n382.z1.FidoNet.Org (Ralph Cherubini)
Sender: uucp@p0.f39.n382.z1.FidoNet.Org
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--Introducing...
Date: 10 Apr 92 09:08:50 EST

                        Introducing...

 

Why should I deny it,

it is Death,

to the left of me,

telling me of the wonders all around,

coloring in,

sharpening the edges of otherwise dull scenes,

spicing the dish with knowledge,

reminding me constantly that all this will disappear

at some any moment,

how can I introduce him as anything but

my

dear

friend.


 * Origin: Connect America #1, multiline, 512-459-3351 (1:382/10.0)

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: glj27240@uxa.cso.uiuc.edu (the cult of Carrie )
Subject: Re: john wesley hardin
Keywords: was a friend to the poor
Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana
Date: Fri, 17 Apr 1992 01:42:47 GMT

sharon@jpl-devvax.jpl.nasa.gov (Sharon Hopkins) writes:

[ a fairly compelling article (nothing out of the esp. recent ordinary)
  which 'll have to consdier at lenght, with more attention.  yet the
  following comment i did want to make                                   ]

>                                                                  (This
>poem an experiment, an exercise if you will, in response to the challenge
>of something written by someone else -- presented here for commentary on
>technique, not content.)  Possibly too obscure to succeed at anything, but
>an attempt at a kind of poetic lie.

>Context may be the necessary element:

as to the above, and the deleted (which was) above that:  H.D.'s 
"Fragments 36" might be decent reference.  [ also perhaps 'The Gift',
but that perhaps a slightly different matter ]

i realize i am not adhering to the matter here of interpretation and
intention.  but to content (of the above) and 'context' so to speak -
i think H.D.'s poem is successful without the attempt of 'a kind of
poetic lie'.  this attempt seems to me in league with Joe Green's
response the assertion that women can say (etc.) "... you treat me
like a cow".  it is the language of the oppressor, etc.

though i admit that i am not certain if actively seeking out the 
'poetic lie' would, as it first appears:  be playing doubly to the
whims of the oppressors, or if rather it is a possible means of
transcending these and their language by 'throwing it back in their
faces' or offering it up as 'meaning, or significant -less' or somesort.
it is a compelling notion.  and one which demands the original question:
the recognition of its use to this by the oppressor classes.  what it
would not demand is an question as to textual _intention_.  which i
think at least facilitates and supports the attempts as possible means
of offering the language back with a sort of unsatisfactory stamp on it.

i give up.  because i am at a lack of language to discuss this myself.
(for now).  but i recommend the H.D.



                                        people see me such and such a way,
>read the writings I produce, formulate an interpretive framework.  Work not
>fitting that framework is interpreted as intentionally false, as meant
>to be taken as contrary to the expressed idea.

>I've done some experimentation along these lines, but with only limited
>success.  Are others working on this?

hm. 

>--Sharon Hopkins
>  sharon@jpl-devvax.jpl.nasa.gov
-- 
							 
                                                  the cult of Carrie 
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jaguar@netcom.com (Elaine Pang)
Subject: Re: Reserving Rights on your poetry
Date: Wed, 15 Apr 92 17:31:44 GMT
Organization: Netcom - Online Communication Services  (408 241-9760 guest) 

comptec91072@camins.camosun.bc.ca writes:

>In article <9204141625.AA22420@ucbvax.Berkeley.EDU>, CCPHIL@UMCVMB.MISSOURI.EDU (Phil Leith) writes:
>> 
>> Ok, suppose you write a poem, somebody takes it and makes it their own,
>> and maybe even publishes it.

>The easiest way to copyright anything is to mail it (registered mail is best)
>to yourself. And of course, don't open it. That way your material is dated via

This makes me wonder how much poetry really gets stolen... are we paranoid?
Do we have confidence in our own genius?  Or are there really that many
poetry thieves out there?  I'd like to hear if anybody has direct experience
with this.  (That's a cool trick, by the way!)  No FOAF stuff now!
-- 

		  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
			  *jaguar  woman*
			(jaguar@netcom.com)
                  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: chungkuo@ais.org (Shawn FitzGerald)
Subject: Re: Reserving Rights on your poetry
Organization: UMCC
Date: Thu, 16 Apr 92 22:44:27 GMT

In the age we currently reside, the concept of copyright seems particularly
archaic. When a person can effectively self-publish their work where
potentialy thousands of people will see/read it, what is a copyright? If you
think one of your poems is going to make you famous/rich, you are probably
fooling yourself. We (writers) all have dreams of reaching Stephen King
status (hell, if I could have a group of people write a book, put *my* name
on it, and make millions of dollars, I would. Screw 'artistic integrity')
and havnig our names known by in almost every household. Today, this seems
pretty foolish.

A friend of mine says we are living in the 'late age of print' and I tend to
agree with him. We are moving towards a more electronic way of life. There
will be no more writers reaching godlike status. The most you can hope for
is a few brief moments of fame/admiration, perhaps from someone on the net.

And besides, if somebody *does* steal your poem, who cares?? There is most
likely no way they will reach any kind of godhood from it if you haven't. If
they do, sue the hell out of them.

Oh yeah, the thing about mailing something to yourself is a myth. It doesn't
really have any legal clout, but if it makes you feel better by all means do
it. I'm sure the post office won't mind.

-- 
   Shawn FitzGerald           |   chungkuo@ais.org
   (Rational Romantic         |   University of Michigan
    Mystic Cynical Idealist)  |   Computing Club
"I love you so I keep dreaming . . ." -Bananas, _The House of Blue Leaves_
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: crystal@glia.biostr.washington.edu (crystal)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: There's about 200 more - does anyone care?
Date: 13 Apr 92 22:52:22 GMT
Organization: University of Washington

*grin*

I just thought I'd show you folks a cross-section of what I write. If you don't
care much for my stuff, I'll go away.  And no, I'm not one to be offended. Each
person has their own perceptions of what is good poetry and what is bad.

In the words of Gahan Wilson:

 "I paint what I see"

Cheers!
Crystal
  ;>
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: n2412@cray.com (Joe Green)
Subject: Re: The Business of Poetry
Organization: Cray Research, Inc.
Date: 13 Apr 92 11:33:33 CDT

In article <22541@alice.att.com> rhh@alice.att.com (r hardin) writes:
>
>
>>death to make our own body immortal.  I can show this in action
>>and can show it again and again in literature.
>
>It has the structure of a transformation.  You can find it in
>anything with that structure.


Why no.  I can't.  I am talking about a specific sort of transformation
with a specific end.  I've described this.  


>
>Are you referring in general to the scapegoat principle?  Say
>in Kenneth Burke, or in Derrida's pharmacy.  Or something in addition?


 I was very specific.  Rene Girard a good source.  

>
>For Burke, it's an interesting discovery; for Derrida, an undecidable
>term.

And?  Read Spivak's essay on "Spurs" for the political consequences
of this undecidability and the typical ways it is employed by Derrida.


>
>The last ought to say that you won't escape the effect no matter
>what you do.  You could work everything out backwards from that.

Oh, that's simply the easy way out... and there is degree...
It is deployed for a specific political end.  Are you saying
that because appropriation is inescapable, then this kind
of appropriation must be accepted?  Nietzsche helps point the way
away from this.  

>
>Cinders there are.
>
>>I am not fantasizing inexpressiveness.  There are millions of
>>people who are not permitted to speak.  Any language they might
>>have has been taken from them by their masters.  Your grammar
>>of pain stuff is what you can chat about in the cruise ship
>>lounge.   Your dark-skinned waiter doesn't want to listen to these
>>marvelous chats.
>
>Stanzas where dark-skinned waiters come and go, showing off
>the author's ability
>
>The waiter needs development, you use him as a prop.
>
>One of the tricks for the fantasy of inexpressiveness, the inventor
>friend and his robot, who almost ``feels'' ``pain'', we've really
>got it down pretty good now, watch this!  etc


Of course.  And this is inevitable tho the deployment is, at least,
self-reflexive.  This is the beginning of a way out -- to see what
is done.  Chances are the prop will then use you the same way --
conditioned by what you have made him for you.  Still, you do nothing for
whatever and whoever is "described" by the "prop" -- except deplore
the way he is used to justify using him that way.


>----
>The anticapitalist rhetoric needs something to distinguish it from
>other anticapitalist rhetoric, I can't follow it very well. 
>The effect is that the village idiot has been replaced by the
>village explainer.


You haven't tried.  It is pretty clear.  The insult is a hope for escape.
This reply of yours is typical.  I offered rather an extensive
explanation.  This was deleted so that you could ask the usual fey
and moonly questions.  And the "rhetoric" is more than anticapitalist --
perhaps I was mistaken when I assumed that your ellipses and
little parantheses implied that you knew more than you did.  



--
From: jabolliger@miavx3.mid.muohio.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: daniel who is your host?
Date: 13 Apr 92 19:44:56 GMT

Daniel

Got your letter in the e mail some time ago.  I sent a reply and just now
realized it never got to you.  The system does not know where to 
take a letter to host unknown.

is your host known?

		I will send you another letter.

					ja
From: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Date: Mon, 13 Apr 1992 15:26:33 GMT
Subject: Re: The Business of Poetry
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

In rec.arts.poems, sharon@jpl-devvax.jpl.nasa.gov (Sharon Hopkins) writes:

> In article <1992Apr10.131536.28619@hemlock.cray.com> n2412@cray.com (Joe Green) writes:
> >
> >Another banality is the banality imposed by the commodification
> >of everything (including language).  This banality is a consequence
> >of capitalism.  Adorno.  Gramsci. Marx.  The metaphor of the commodity
> >is of a piece with the metaphor of apocalypse which is of a piece
> >with the process of the Hegelian dialectic, which is of a piece
> >with metaphors and myths imposed by patriarchy.
> 
> "This banality is a consequence of capitalism."
> 
> The cry of the dull, doomed youth of the '10s, wanting war, action,
> heroism, escape from the banality of bourgeois burgher life.  Getting
> the Great Machine instead.  Trenches, stalemate, industry as war hero
> and chief general.  Dead piled in heaps at the Somme, over ground
> abandoned in a tightening of lines.  Half a million, my recollection
> (too many books ago).  What is the alternative?  They envisioned one
> escape, found none.  And us, a new myth?  Some other economy, if that
> of Marx is discredited as that of the East India Company?  (That itself
> a thumbed nose at aristocracy, at land as fortune; again at old notions
> of exchange, at silver as wealth -- instead the exchange as profit.)
> What shall be enscribed on our collar, when the gift is also demand, is
> attack, is pledge?  Whence, whence, when "Only a man harrowing clods/
> In a slow silent walk ... Though Dynasties pass"?

This discussion has actually been fascinating, but Sharon framed
a question that has been on my mind.

I think that I agree with what I understand of many of Joes' points,
but I really wonder where that leaves us.  I, too, am greatly
offended by the commodification of EVERYTHING, but where do we
go?  Do we need new myths to create a better world or will the
new myths just lead us into more carnage.  Perhpas Sharon
was not trying to express this cynicism.

Joe claims to know the problem.  He claims to focus our eyes
on the prize that may yield solution.  But I am forced to
wonder if we are looking at THE problem or merely A problem.

doug
From: sheila@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu (sheila)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: sun in the window at morning
Summary: i must have some sort of light play obsession
Keywords: and airplanes too. but i saw it's shadow thismorning over!
Date: 14 Apr 92 15:54:00 GMT
Organization: The University of Texas at Austin, Austin TX


at nine o clock in april
no one else has a shadow but me
in the window of the leaves
and blink! when an airplane flies over.
-- 
stark raving sane -- sheila@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mfactor@taronga.com (Marco Landin)
Subject: HARVEST
Reply-To: mfactor@taronga.com (Marco Landin)
Organization: Taronga Park BBS
Date: Mon, 13 Apr 1992 19:49:41 GMT

Isn't it great when, even though you have nothing in common, even when you
were born on opposite sides of the proverbial tracks, even though you will
never see her again, you will love someone until your last breath finds
its solemn way into the skies?
	

                       A MOMENT'S NOTICE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We fall asleep, exhausted by our voyage into madness,
A nearby world where all is flowers and thunder,
Occasioned bursts of joyous breeze,
And Power-Love and happiness we breathe.

And to believe.  Could destiny reap such perfect harvest?
To harrow and bail together two straws from separate fields?
One born under rocks and cactus,
Other raised on rich and fertile soil from golden seed.

				Copyright 1990, Marco Landin
				In rememberance of Little Elf

-- 
      |                   |
       \0__,___   ___,__@/
        +  '         `  =
       / )             ( \
From: jabolliger@miavx3.mid.muohio.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: The Word Daniel
Date: 16 Apr 92 19:50:02 GMT

Daniel- seems in conversation we touched on this subject
The Word.  It is a slippering thing, something I am still
wrestling with.  ja



We are fragile
little wooden dolls 
with string on our wrists
delicate marionette
with string on our feet
carried under the armpit
of some Big God

I believe in Angels
I see those opaque filaments
drift in the air
	and settle on us

You could say we carry
forms or niches in our brains
that follow us millenia
		after millenia
This is possesion
	or psychosis
You cannot disassociate
We are connected by silver cord

Give me your ear
In the beginning was the word
and the word was with God
and the word was God
	Who dares approach the Word.

One does so with great peril
for below these images sit
in dark rooms lining the walls
A mortal enters trembling
	with only one candle.

Tread lightly through the dust
beneath hollow eyes
for you might not come
out of the maze to see
		the sun again
	For who but a god
		could return from hell.



Jean Ann Bolliger
Middletown Oh
1992
From: jjwebb@cruzio.santa-cruz.ca.us
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Choosing
Keywords: destruction
Date: Sun, 05 Apr 92 20:05:57 PDT
Reply-To: jjwebb@cruzio.santa-cruz.ca.us



Something from Robert Frost ... without permission ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those that favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
--
From: henning@acsu.buffalo.edu (Karl pillow Henning)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Welcome Back, Wlodek!  part ii
Date: 17 Apr 92 01:58:39 GMT
Distribution: rec
Organization: UB


	before you replace
	the cap on that pen
	take a look inside
	whose fingerprints?

		  (... whorls)
		kph; 16 April 92
-- 
 The violent Russian spring that seemed []	 Karl Prescott Henning
  to begin in an hour and was like the  []  128 Hewitt/upper [] 57 Glasgow st
   whole earth cracking. -- Stravinsky  []  Bflo NY 14215    [] Roch NY 14608
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: glj27240@uxa.cso.uiuc.edu (the cult of Carrie )
Subject: re:  a poem, etc. (i.e.: Ponge's poem and 'variation')
Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana
Date: Tue, 7 Apr 1992 04:08:12 GMT

"The Metamorphosis" par Francis Ponge (trans. by Cid Corman)

You can twist at the foot of stems
The elastic of your heart

It is not as a caterpillar
That you will know the flowers

When with more than a sign is announced
Your hastening towards happiness

........................................

He shudders and in one bound
Rejoins the butterflies.

				F. Ponge   (1944)


if i had been in a field, or his Pine woods, or in a pre outside his
Pine woods, with Francis Ponge, - watching butterflies, that might have
been my response (to the above).  i think, i would have rather been
with Ponge than Nabokov.  at any rate, after further discourse, and
having in mind the text giving significance to words - had we (i) only
this first sketch to work with, the poem might have been altered thus:

From slumber calculated
To the full _colour_ of your _existence_

You have wings
Now, and a much smaller frame

You fly!

No longer can you wrap your nebulous casing
Around the bark of a tree
(variation):
No longer does your amorphous casing brush
Against the bark of a tree

You have become the leaf you so ardently devoured, possessed.
It (This) the price for "knowing flowers..."

..............................................................

There is a saddness, in butterflies
Seldom seen

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

-- 
							 
                                                  the cult of Carrie
From: glj27240@uxa.cso.uiuc.edu (the cult of Carrie )
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Objective poetry, what is it?
Date: 7 Apr 92 19:42:37 GMT
Article-I.D.: ux1.1992Apr7.194237.186
Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana

sheila@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu (sheila) writes:

>this makes the poem incredibly subjective!?
                     ---------- 
apt choice of word.

>we can never write an objective word or thought.
>I will never be able to exit my stage. and the
>audience -- myself.

the implications of this realisation, necessay i think, portend
the self evident, of self-evidence.  but your stage is an object
within an object.  how, then, do we approach this larger object?
'standing' where?  in what manner, and in what manner deliver
our soliloquy?  monologue?  dialogue?  especially that last... 
                            --------- 

>but i do not really know.

important questions, nevertheless; or to point. 

>imagined emotions. is this objective poetry?
>to tease you by being aloof and then grabbing
>you in a warm scented embrase? your hair
>smells of honeysuckle and your skin musky
>from walking sweat. the heat rising off your
>shoulder onto my cheek.
>-- 
>stark raving sane -- sheila@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu

everything is imagined.      is this the way it happened?

-- 
							 
                                                  the cult of Carrie
From: denelsbe@washington.cs.unc.edu (Kevin Denelsbeck)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Pedestrian Verse
Keywords: yup sonnet
Date: 7 Apr 92 00:09:10 GMT




		Pedestrian Verse

	Hello I'm the Poet with words to the wise
	(the cognoscenti a-plenty with eyes
	aglitter, littering life with such non-
	biodegradable comments upon
	my words as if I skywrote them in fire
	for those chosen few who see the entire
	expanse of the heavens and must come down
	from the mountain swollen with puffy pride
	like freelance oracles hitting the town
	though confining themselves to the good side...
	Tell me, if a woman's driving and sees
	Mr. Right at a bus stop and her knees
	are knocking and she faints and nails him good --
	should she stay, or choose a new neighborhood?)


----------
Kev @ UNC
4/6/92
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: glj27240@uxa.cso.uiuc.edu (the cult of Carrie )
Subject: none
Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana
Date: Mon, 13 Apr 1992 02:10:06 GMT

a shadow on a turquoise sea
awash in sound  silence

the mind moves
not unlike our feet

we enter
without ships

without portation
umoving

the mirage of busy preparations
within the dark comfort of cotton

where life attends
(in repose

  ourselves -

surrounded by a world

for which we have no sentiment
only equalness

with what we shall happen to find

darkness


distance


a world introducing itself
just within reach


where wholly submerged, alien -
thoughts, sentiments

flee
and nothing is felt

but 'there'
_being_ *there*...

as attention

quivers

faints
into 

concrete

_being_ 

-- 
							 
                                                  the cult of Carrie 
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems