HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: newbeb@bray1a.its.rpi.edu (Brian Samuel Newberry)
Subject: Stormfront
Reply-To: newbeb@rpi.edu
Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, NY.
Date: Sun, 22 Nov 1992 20:04:51 GMT



	Stormfront

Bright points flicker on a dome of black
Blotting out the night
The storm rises
The winds whip
The light dies.

Wind beats my tattered form, twisting and
   turning it in pain
Sharpened by the cold rains bite
The storm rises
The winds whip
The light dies.

This roaring train plummets into the darkened
   scape
The shining light, the bell, the whistle, the
   clickety clack overpower
The storm rises
The winds whip
The light dies.

As if strapped to a mast I crash headlong
Forced helpless along the perilous track
The storm rises
The winds whip
The light dies.

Darkness smothers all.

		-Brian Newberry
		    1/22/92

C+C are welcome.

"The door is never open, to the child
   without a trace of sin."
		
		-Dio
Organization: University of Illinois at Chicago
Date: Monday, 16 Nov 1992 16:30:22 CST
From: <U19807@uicvm.uic.edu>
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: DISENCHANTED EVENING (4 Poems)

WEST IS WEST

O,the West is West
And the East is East
And Rudyard Kipling thought himself
A missionary-

Well,he was a screwy bastard,anyway.

And pompous.

You might read _Heart_of_Darkness_ to figure out why,
Although doubtless it's been banned
By the local Anglo-Saxon Commitee For Idiot Literary Morality
At a neighborhood library near you.

O,the East is West
And the West is East....

FRAGMENT FROM A BADLY STAINED NOTEBBOOK

and then,there were only three of us standing on the beech (SIC) when the
son (SIC) came up after al (SIC) that tequila drnkin (SIC) we did the nite
(SIC) before. we weren't sure whan (SIC) the car acsident (SIC) happened,
but poor craig and his gurlfirend (SIC) were killed instantly. god i wish
he didn't play chicken with those fuckin (SIC) trains so often. i hope that
he's not suffering whereever he is know (SIC). i think that wee (SIC) got
so damn drunk because we miss him. his gurlfirend (SIC) looked pretty good
too.

(3:45 AM,same morning)

Woke up with dry heaves and a really bad hangover,but Craig (and Sue) for that
matter would've probably wanted it that way.

Oh,shit. I threw up on this fucking thing _again_.

Gotta remind myself to throw this notebook out on the morning. It smells like
shit (as much as I do right now) and it brings back way too many harsh
memories.

FLESHPOT

The topless dancer,as saggy as she is,
Brings back more than a few wants needs memories
Despite her pushing forty easily.

(I wonder why she left.
Money?
Fame?
Someone else's bigger dick?

Emotional incompatibility,perhaps?)

I think I'll skip this next round of drinks.
I'm getting too nauseous again.

THE TOO TOO MANY REASONS WHY

If I have to reiterate them all again,
So as to explain why I fail to give a good rat's ass
About STAR SEARCH or the Wall Street Journal,
I'll write you off as totally hopeless....

...you want to watch Three's Company _again_?

...and then Wheel Of Fortune?

Later.

Much,_Much_ Later.

      ** Chris Krolczyk,esq.  * DISCLAIMER: My opinions are in **
      ** Maniac-at-Large      * no way endorsed by the Univer- **
      ** U19807@UICVM.BITNET  * sity of Illinois at Chicago.   **
      ** u19807@uicvm.uic.edu * So there. Nyaah.               **
From: gt7244c@prism.gatech.EDU (John G'alt)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: "students" / Marek, Re: Phil's apprentice
Keywords: level three
Date: 23 Nov 92 08:27:58 GMT
Organization: Georgia Tech

> zeleny@husc10.harvard.edu (Michael Zeleny) writes:
>>marek@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski) writes:
>
>>Home phone: (617) 661-8151
>Are you going to call me now, sweet buns?
   Oh instructor of prank calls, where ist thy prick?
   You really should be happy with just Niko's buns, mein herr.
>in the world's second greatest Polish city, -- some of them still
>harbor sweet memories of yours truly.
   All the old farts and their withered father still remember
quite well that rape of all males by a certain zany fellow.  In fact, 
they all lick their toothless smiles to this day.  You should go see
them again - they would have written, but they've no idea which province
you live in when you're not abusing Afghan livestock.
>cordially,
>mikhail zeleny@husc.harvard.edu
>"Le cul des femmes est monotone comme l'esprit des hommes."
   Or in this case "the ass of the vogon is lo mismo como the face of Mikh
                                                                  and Niko."
mordially,
John G'alt

      "you are a flatulant pain in the ass"
                             -Smiths,FMS

-- 
John Greenawalt, gt7244c@prism.gatech.edu whooptydoo yes I'm a number
I am the difference between  |  "All the poetry in the trunk you kept your
      A poet at heart        |   life in/ I knew that it would come to 
  And a poet at genitals.    |   light one day."             -CB
From: nikolay@husc10.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Errand of Mercy
Date: 24 Nov 92 05:27:03 GMT
Article-I.D.: husc10.NIKOLAY.92Nov23212703
Organization: The Kremlin Wall of Harvard
In-reply-to: gt7244c@prism.gatech.EDU's message of 23 Nov 92 08:46:28 GMT

gt7244c@prism.gatech.EDU (John G'alt) writes:

> oneofthefaggotsat@husc10.harvard.edu [Philip Nikolayev] writes:

PN
>>	From the saga of clueless ole Webb's
>>	Joyless fights for the rights of the plebs:
>>	   As his favourite stunt
>>	   He would stuff his raw cunt
>>	With cobwebs and cabobs and cubebs.

JG
>    Ah, and what a scanner yours was, Nikulturny.
>    I scanned it with a Quayle-ometer.  It read: Chump, eligible to run
> for VP.

As your 'meter, so your peter, John. Let's see what
you have to offer, tho'.

>    Mo' fun:
> Over legions of rhyme Niko's stench towers 
> Even after the thousand times Harvie showers; 
> Mikhail thinks he's brave, 
> But he's only hypocrisy's slave, 
> And both these guys constitute a coward.

>    *it doesn't scan but it plans*

>    Mikhail and Nikolayev should hold hands and call themselves a wit.

Nay, your limerick neither scans nor plans. But there's one
good thing about it: it is a gestalt. My generosity is
endless, so here's your lesson in elementary verse.

		The rheumatic quaint acrobat, G'alt,
		Once composed, to the joy of the halt,
		     A gestalt-limerick
		     As he tongued his lame prick
		In the throes of a wild somersault.

Marek, your turn. I know you barely can write, but I'm
sure your rap brethren will assist you.

> John G'alt (next: THE SHAVEN!)

Philip Nikolayev
nikolay@husc.harvard.edu
From: v124jw4y@ubvmsd.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Some poems by Ben
Date: 18 Nov 92 19:15:00 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41

Okay, here's some stuff I've been meaning to ask for feedback on...criticism
and comments are not only welcome, but requested.  Please let me know what you
think.

******************************************************************************
AMERICAN HOMETOWN

Do you know where you are?
This is the edge of the dead place.
If you walk with me, I will show you many things--
If you walk with me, I will show you the face of despair.
Will you walk with me?

Dead skunk
Squashed by the wheels of a car
Or a truck, maybe--there are so many
So many cars and trucks.
Notice how the drivers never look at you?
You frighten them.

Field full of scrub--
There used to be trees here, remember?
Now there's a sign:

           INDUSTRIAL PARK 380 SQ. ACRES

                      999-1313


Thunder mutters,
Rain would be good, it's been dry a long time now.
That can in the gutter--
It was there the last time we walked this way,
Remember?
I don't think it will rain.

There are people at the bus stop
Avoiding each other 
In a 4' by 6' coffin of plexiglass.
They might be wearing colors,
But everything looks grey in this light.

Down another street, left,
And down another street still,
Past rows of houses that all look the same,
Curtains and doors shut tight against the outside world.
We're almost there, now...
Do you want to go on?

We've arrived.
At the edge of the dead place,
Where we started.
Only, there is no edge, not really,
Just more of the same in the other direction.
You wanted to see despair?

Look at your own face.
****************************************************************************
@1992 by Ben Pierce
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: dmcheste@quads.uchicago.edu (dennis michael chester)
Subject: The Birthday Party
Followup-To: that revolution poem
Summary: c and c requested
Reply-To: dmcheste@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Distribution: usa
Date: Fri, 20 Nov 1992 17:32:21 GMT

_The Birthday Party_

They stand about
in the high cielinged 
house,
26 of them,
celebrating,
a birthday.
The youngest children
eat ice cream    cautiously.
They are frightened by their great
grandmother.
The sons and daughters talk
among themselves
wondering 
who will be next.
They have all grown
older


Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ktw@polaris.att.com (79243-wolman)
Subject: CRRRRRRRITIC! (was: Re: Urdu Ignorance (part II))
Summary: Beckett missed one here...
Originator: news@cbnewsb.cb.att.com
Organization: AT&T
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 1992 11:22:26 GMT

In article <24229@alice.att.com> rhh@alice.att.com (r hardin) writes:

>!>How coarse and ignoble are those who confine themselves to the
>!>pleasures of eating and drinking!
>!>
>!
>!    What?
>
>Why do you say it's difficult to swallow?   A figure of speech, no
>doubt.
>
>There's a confusion between figurative taste and actual tasting, is there not?


Dolce far niente.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jmc@SAIL.Stanford.EDU (John McCarthy)
Subject: Re: MICHAEL KANDEL! / Marek (Re: request, Stansilaw Lem poem ..for fun)
Reply-To: jmc@cs.Stanford.EDU
Organization: Computer Science Department, Stanford University
Date: 17 Nov 92 18:29:48

This does not seem to be as difficult as some of the other translations
that Kandel did in the Cyberiad.  The mathematics doesn't have to make
sense, and it doesn't except here and there.  The puns in the body of
the Cyberiad strike me as fantastic.

Too bad Lem and Kandel had a falling out.
--
John McCarthy, Computer Science Department, Stanford, CA 94305
*
He who refuses to do arithmetic is doomed to talk nonsense.
From: bunny@bsu-cs.bsu.edu (Marsh)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem - Tiger
Keywords: to L&L, fraternal twins...
Date: 19 Nov 92 00:45:35 GMT
Organization: CS Dept, Ball St U, Muncie, Indiana


TIGER

He wants something he knows he can never have
	except by force;
he's a gentleman.
He's content to sit and watch and long and
	sometimes touch.

He listens, he whispers, he reaches for two falls
	of sweet, cool water;
one blonde sunlight, one shadow.
He laughs, he dreams, he looks and whimpers
	soft, silent tears.

He is as a child betrayed, denied
	betraying himself
	...treacherous.

A tiger's claws and teeth lie there beneath
his smooth and rosy skin, a scimitar in velvet.

He wants something he knows he can never have...
	dark sugared rays fall outside...
why not death in forbidden dawn?
A gentleman, a great cat's spawn...at last
	I hear my blood at last.

Teeth rend, claws rip and pierce my heart
and then I feel the skin too late too late...

-Tracy Flynn-Marsh
From: mas4@ns1.cc.lehigh.edu (MICHAEL ANTHONY STRAUSS)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: My Inflamed Penile Orifice    -Stimpee
Date: 18 Nov 92 16:51:08 GMT
Organization: Lehigh University

Sometimes I stick things that shouldn't be
Heard, smelled, tasted or even seen,

Deep within the hole in my penis,
Sometimes things as big as Venus.

So now it hurts when I do take a leak,
Its not 'The Clap', my testicles are weak.

It is quite large and very big,
My dick head looks like a small pink pig.

It has some ears and a cute curly tail,
And some festering stinky ass smell.

Now let me out or I will piss,
Right out of my Inflamed Penile Orifice.

-Stimpee
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: itzenhui@cs.uwp.edu (Steve Itzenhuiser)
Subject: Journals?
Organization: University of Wisconsin - Parkside
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.1 PL7]
Date: Mon, 23 Nov 1992 00:03:27 GMT


I'm a young poet who like to start submitting to journals and such and was
wondering if anyone had any insight as to different publishings that I
might consider writing to.

Steve
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: lichter@oahu.cs.ucla.edu (Michael I. Lichter)
Subject: Re: sleep
Organization: UCLA, Computer Science Department
Date: Sat, 21 Nov 92 00:41:22 GMT

	In article <By1FGu.D6K@undergrad.math.waterloo.edu>
	jlitchfi@cayley.uwaterloo.ca (Jon Litchfield) writes:
	
	when all the feeling subsides into the ether
	there's nothing left but the empty shell
	of a tired man alone in the world
	
	for all his life
	he felt alive and vibrant
	now as the milk of existence
	flows freely from his pores
	he sees nothing
	but the miserable 
	

I'm not trying to be mean, but "as the milk of existence/flows freely
from his pores" is a really gross image.  Reminds me of the revolting
alien sex scenes in "The Man Who Fell To Earth".  I mean, think of this
guy lying there with some milky substance oozing out of his skin.
Blech!

Also, the excretion of milk is, in mammals (where else?) a female
function.  What does that imply here?

More seriously, it sounds like you have a specific person in mind.  I bet
you could write something interesting about him if you used some concrete
examples of his being "alive and vibrant" and of "the miserable" he
"sees" now.  Otherwise, all you have is

	there was this guy
	he did lots of stuff
	then he got old
	and felt really tired 
	and cranky

Michael
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Subhash Mukhopadhyay wins Gnanpeeth Award
From: nikolay@husc10.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev)
Date: 22 Nov 92 20:50:23
Organization: The Kremlin Wall of Harvard
In-reply-to: bhattach@quip.eecs.umich.edu's message of 21 Nov 92 16:55:48 GMT

bhattach@quip.eecs.umich.edu (sayan bhattacharyya) writes:

> I came to know recently that Subhash Mukhopadhyay has received the
> Gnanpeeth award this year. Does any rapper happen to know whether
> Subhash got the award for a particular book or whether it was kind
> of like a recognition for lifetime achievement ? The source I heard
> the news from was silent about the details , and living in diaspora
> as I do I was unable to get any first-hand information.

> The timing of this award seems very significant to me. As most
> rappers doubtless know, Subhash one of the leading figures of the
> leftist literary circles in Calcutta and was closely associated with
> the CPIM, i.e. Communist Party of India (Marxist) . About six years
> ago he did a sudden volte-face, dissociated himself from the CPIM
> (was it a coincidence that communism-bashing was getting to be
> popular around the world at this time ?) and became a sudden admirer
> of centrist politics . Now that the Narasimha Rao government is
> hell-bent on making India a capitalist economy, the grant of the
> country's highest literary award to an ex-communist turned advocate
> of capitalism like Subhash seems very suggestive.... Of course I may
> be reading more into this than warranted, and the award might have
> been quite innocent of political implications.

I don't know anything about the politics behind Subhas's award,
but I know, practically for certain, that he is West Bengal's
finest living poet. Besides, I have it on good and tested authority 
that his rupture with the Bengali communists was a most genuine act 
of conscience as well as the result of many empirical observations 
made on his visits to the USSR. His disillusionment with communism 
undoubtedly was caused by a process of viable analytical thinking. 
Please note also that it happened well after the Cold War, but
before Moscow started to move away from Communism. Clearly,
Subhas's abandonment of communism was perfectly selfless: recall
the storm of hatred with which his communist ex-brethren (who were
then and still are in power in the state of West Bengal) greeted 
that important event in Bengali intellectual history.

> -Sayan Bhattacharyya.

Philip Nikolayev
nikolay@husc.harvard.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: vbp8723@zeus.tamu.edu (PEREZ, VERONICA BEATRIX)
Subject: Poem by Moongazer
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41    
Organization: Texas A&M University, Academic Computing Services
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 1992 19:44:00 GMT

**Someone Else's Fantasy**

There we were...two people lost in the wind...
..only seeing the moonlight reflect...

Being, not doing...
..creating in each other's minds...the darkness that surrounded us...

Deep thoughts...
..yet simple in their own complexity...
..understandable only to each other..

Existing in only one space in time...only to drift away again in the wind...
..nothing but a dream...in some one else's fantasy...
..occuring once in a lifetime...
..beneath the mythical fullmoon...
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Subject: A few old poems...just 'cause I'm bored (c&c welcome)
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Wed, 18 Nov 1992 22:26:27 GMT

	Dual Vision

I sit with my lover on a Chicago beach,
	and watch the women walk by.

Through half-closed eyes I see a pair of long brown legs,
	but don't have the energy to turn my head and look more closely.

"Is she cute?"  I ask.
The reply comes slowly, after a moment's thought, "Yes, but not your type,
	I think...she's too tall for you."
"Hmph.  That's what you think.  Is she your type, then?"
"If I didn't have you...maybe.  She's not as beautiful as you are..."
"You're biased, you know."
"So?" and I can hear the smile behind the words.

I sigh, and relax contentedly back into his arms,
	which close securely around me.
And she keeps walking, brown legs receding down the sun-streaked beach.

*****

Copyright April 1992 M.A. Mohanraj

-- 
More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads.  One
path leads to despair and utter hopelessness.  The other to total
extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly.
						 - Woody Allen
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Subject: Oldest Daughters (c&c welcome)
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 1992 22:00:55 GMT

Oldest Daughters


"They say leave you alone,
you're only sixteen."		(popular song fragment)

She was twelve when it happened.
An unexpected death, and suddenly
cast adrift.
A mother is left with a child too young, fatherless.
Solution obvious.
Marriage.
(christian ceremony in an island church, mosquitoes heavy in the air,
and the scent of incense mingles with the sweat of overheated men to
form an unforgettable perfume underlying the snapshot of brown bodies)
Twelve years old.
She bore nine children of her own:  eight girls, one boy.

The oldest is Jacintha.
Seventeen when the fairy tale comes to life.
A doctor-to-be walks by her well,
on his way to visit a rich girl.
Instant passion (on his side, at least).
And he goes to her father and demands her hand.
Gladly, gratefully granted.
Jacintha marries her doctor at eighteen.
(seven more sisters after her, hurry, and soon she will travel to
America, following her doctor to icy New England winters and pale
faces in white Catholic church...a sea of white among which her red
sari is a forbidden note of forgotten joy)
Pregnant within weeks,
And another daughter is born, first of three.
True story.

This oldest is twenty-one.
Unmarried, and likely to remain so for a few years.
(although men aplenty, women too, have crisscrossed years of life and
learning; sorry that her mother left high school to marry...and her
grandmother never started)
Generations of sacrifice
To necessity and survival
Impose their weighty load.

In this moment may be found the luxury 
Of searching for 'true love'.
How many generations to reach this point?
And what sacrifices will be made for future oldest daughters?

*****

M.A. Mohanraj
-- 
More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads.  One
path leads to despair and utter hopelessness.  The other to total
extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly.
						 - Woody Allen
From: marek@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski)
Subject: "inexhausted are..." / Halina Poswiatowska / trans: Marek
Organization: Northwestern University, Evanston Illinois.
Date: Mon, 16 Nov 1992 03:53:24 GMT


Halina Poswiatowska in translation, #50.

If you would like to receive a file with first 40 translations from 1990/91,
write me.  Samples of one or several are also served.  Includes Polish text.

draft translation from Polish to English:

		untitled ("inexhausted are the mines of metaphor")
		[Marek #50, p. 269 of _Wiersze Wybrane_ (Selected Poems)]
		-------------------------------------------------------------

		inexhausted are the mines of metaphor
		for derision
		with gaping depths they haunt
		darkness
		but i want life -- flatwise
		but i want life -- low
		i don't want into the deep
		i don't want sideways
		or lengthwise

		i want for it to wrap itself
		around a wall's projection
		with the consistency of ivy
		i want it to grab at windows
		doors --
		for it to run its scent
		throughout the house
		for it to orbit with the earth
		with my heart lodged inside

		i want to be wet grass
		in your lips
		in the palms of your hands
		i just want to be wet grass
		until breathlessnes
		i want to be a very stupid grass
		at your feet
		to grow roadside


			Halina Poswiatowska, Polish,
			12 September 1958
			New York, New York
			translated by

			Marek Lugowski
			15 November 1992
			Chicago, Illinois


		"niewyczerpane sa kopalnie metafor"
			(p. 269, _Wiersze Wybrane_)
		-------------------------------------------------------------

		niewyczerpane sa kopalnie metafor
		na urongowisko
		otwarta glebia strasza
		mrok
		a ja chce zycia -- plasko
		a ja chce zycia -- nisko
		ja nie chce w glab
		ja nie chce wszerz
		ani wzdluz

		chce zeby sie owinelo
		o wystep muru
		konsystencja dzikiego wina
		chce zeby czepialo sie okien
		drzwi --
		zeby zapachem
		bieglo przez dom
		zeby dokola z ziemia krazylo
		z moim sercem co wewnatrz tkwi

		ja chce byc zmokla trawa
		w twoich ustach
		w twoich dloniach
		chce byc tylko zmokla trawa
		do utraty tchu
		chce byc bardzo glupia trawa
		u twych nog
		przydroznie rosc


			Halina Poswiatowska, Polish,
			12 September 1958
			New York, New York

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Subject: Chicago Winds (c&c welcome)
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Tue, 17 Nov 1992 19:54:19 GMT

Chicago Winds

I pull the memory of your strong embrace
around me.
A blanket against literal
and metaphorical
cold.

But time passes, heedless of attempts to hold it
still.
Each speeding second
snags on the memory-woven cloth,
carrying moments away to drift, mists dissipating on the breeze.

I am left with gaping holes,
and a harsh Chicago wind whistles through
chilling to the bone.

*****

M.A. Mohanraj
November 1992
-- 
More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads.  One
path leads to despair and utter hopelessness.  The other to total
extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly.
						 - Woody Allen
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: tolman%asylum.cs.utah.edu@cs.utah.edu (Kenneth Tolman)
Subject: see me
Date: 19 Nov 92 22:44:11 MST
Organization: University of Utah, CompSci Dept



this darkness creeps in from beneath the door
and when it reaches my chair it bursts forth
in brilliant colors and hues....

a search light passes across my soul
as the powers from beyond cursorily search me
exposing my dreams and darkest passions

it sees all that I hope for and all I might achieve
it etches my boundaries crisply with its bright light
quickly it sums all of my relations with the temporal plane


Have I served even my own dreams?
Or do I follow a shifting path in which fickle desires shape my destiny?
Have I served for even a bare moment under the great hand of good?

The bright light burns through me and then
moves past having finished here
then it passes away into darkness

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems