HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: simran@inkstone.Eng.Sun.COM (George O'Toole)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Request: Poem of Admiration from a distance (Geopoems #15: Plutonic)
Date: 5 Nov 1992 17:06:01 GMT
Organization: Sun Microsystems
Distribution: world
Reply-To: simran@inkstone.Eng.Sun.COM
NNTP-Posting-Host: inkstone

Admiration from afar. hmmm. I guess it's time to unearth one of 
my geopoems that may just be about this? Afar measured, though,
somewhat um geologically. A plutonic relationship: izzeresuchathing?


		    Plutonic
    
    Physical attraction.
    Gravity.
    
    This aching batholith:
    deep past. Lithified, 
    origin unavailable.
    Hot, intrusive --
    my own tectonics
    pushing the slow rib-cage
    for those brief years.
    
	    I could have had you.
	    I was in your room, wanting,
	    and didn't know what to do,
	    needing only to wait
	    until evening.
    
	    [Instead] I had to escape,  
	    climbing out your window,
	    away from the tears 
	    (mine) stopped hot
	    below surface, long
	    before the crack
	    that would open
	    to the sweet outpour
		burning flood basalt
		to drown the border guards
		to cover our two countries
		together.
    
    Someday this cold gabbrous mass
    will rise in orogeny, and surface
    like the great batholiths
    of the sierras.
    
	Waking early after waiting
	all season for the snow,
	we strap on skiis
	and go backcountry.
    
    
April, 1992

  
(signed) George (troublemaker) O'Toole
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: <<<<< by hilan 00002
From: <DMP137@psuvm.psu.edu>
Date: Wed, 11 Nov 1992 11:56:34 EST
Organization: Penn State University

he pushed across

he pushed across
the cool flat mass
of light brown earth
his feet dragged a bit
but there was still spring
in his knees
he bobbed his head about
looking all around
at the rarely changing scenery
with its few distinguishing marks
that assured him sure
that he was where he was
and always seemed to be

white 2
From: hornpete@uctvax.uct.ac.za (Peter Horn)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: The poet as a clown
Date: 7 Nov 92 17:40:48 +0200
Organization: University of Cape Town

THE POET AS A CLEVER INVENTION
------------------------------


in purple shirt and orange tie
I the accredited clown
to this ailing society
am allowed to tell you a few truths
and similar nonsense

so listen you christened dung-heaps!
	I will lie for you
everything: I can invent: everything
	relative clauses registered clauses rehearsed clauses
	relaxed clauses reluctant clauses chopped-off clauses
the biography of a nightmare
	Sunday eats citizen its Sunday
OR (anything else for that matter)
	Uncle Dagobert invents new weapons
	for the localized war in the kindergarten:
	Buff. Zilch. BUMS! a comic strip

Don't tell me
"We live in
particularly bad times"
the poet always was a pimp
providing alibis for those
that seduce:
eyes persuaded to be blind.
	(visits of exploded soldiers
	amongst
	these dividing words)

Scarlet balloons cover me
	from head to toe
my face
my face creeps across sullied streets
my mouth is the laughter of many
	choked in dirt
my friends say I am crazy
	BECAUSE
my blue brain walks around
insulting people greedy for insults:

CROOKEDRIVERS! FURLOUSERS! 
KNOWBETTERS!
DIRTBRISTLERS! HYPOCRITEAPPRENTICES!
MURDERERS!

oh how I love you all!

in purple shirt and orange tie
half-automated beauty-dispenser
I am a clever invention
of careless homicides
who wash their souls
in Ajax and Ulysses

looking at you I realize: 1 bottle of beer
is better than 1 volume of poetry
of any FORM & CONTENT poet

looking at you I realize: the only
adequate criticism
of this society
would be
TO BASH IN YOUR HEADS


Peter Horn

-- 
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Peter Horn 
German Department, UCT 
43 Trevor Road, Lansdowne 7764, Cape, Republic of  South Africa . 
Phone Home ZA-(021)696-1983		e-Mail: HORNPETE@UCTVAX.UCT.AC.ZA 
      Work ZA-(021)650-2936		Fax ZA-(021) 650-3726 
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Peter Horn, Walking through our sleep (Poems), Ravan Press 1974
Peter Horn, Poems 1964-1989, Ravan Press 1991
Peter Horn, An Axe in the Ice (Poems), COSAW Publishing House 
forthcoming September/October 1992
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Ravan Press, P.O.Box 31134, Braamfontein 2017, Republic of South Africa
COSAW Publishing House, P.O.Box 421007, Fordsburg 2033, Republic of 
South Africa.
USA: Ohio University Press Fax (614) 593-4536
Britain: Central Books, Fax (71) 378-1811
Australia: New Era Books, Fax (02) 596-0045
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Date: Sun, 8 Nov 1992 19:28:01 GMT
Subject: Re: A.F.L.P.
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

In rec.arts.poems, sabbott@nmsu.edu (SDA) writes:

> 
> daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) writes:
> >
> >	   We Don't Need No Fucking Love Poems.
> >	   -----------------------------------
> >
> >   Departing with love,
> >   as you did, you know,
> >   left me feeling ethnically cleansed.
> 	:
> 	:
> 	:
> >
> >
> >   You You You You You You
> >   Memememememe
> >
> >   Good GOD!
> >
> >   doug
> 
> 
> 		Bitterness Haiku
> 	----------------------------------------
> 
> suppurating soul
> acrimonious adbverbs
> fuck off world (tm)
> --

I like it.

Good job.

doug
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Urdu Ignorance
From: conrad@kryton.UUCP (Konstatin Kalikanzaros)
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 92 20:58:01 PST
Organization: Paradox Alley F&SF BBS 805-492-8789

ali@simdiv1.mentorg.com (Aliasgar Haveliwala) writes:

> >>  (Cecil Williams) writes the epic, first ever posted Urdu poem:
> >> 
> >> >    There once was a man from Urdu,
> >> >    who had something bad on his shoe,
> >> >      so he went to his yard,
> >> >      and he shuffled real hard,
> >> >    And tried to wipe off all the...
> >> >
> >> >No, maybe not. 
> 
> 
> 	How about this for the world of ignorants
> 
> 		There once was a man from English (ha ha ha)
> 		who had something bad on his shoe
> 		so he went to his yard
> 		and he shuffled real hard
> 		And tried to EAT off all the .....
> 
> ALi
> 
> -- 
> ___________________________________________________________________________
> Ali Haveliwala					  ali_haveliwala@mentorg.com	

Children please!  A little decorum here?
conrad


____________________________________________________________________________
Reality is for people that can't handle Science fiction.

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: st923535@pip.cc.brandeis.edu (queen shalini)
Subject: four poems for Robin - December at Yase
Reply-To: st923535@pip.cc.brandeis.edu
Organization: Brandeis University
Date: Fri, 13 Nov 1992 04:33:18 GMT

this was written by Gary Snyder and is one of my favorite poems (well, at 
at least for today), hope some of you enjoy it...

	December at Yase

	You said, that October
	In the tall dry grass by the orchard
	When you chose to be free,
	"Again someday, maybe ten years."

	After college I saw you
	One time.  You were strange
	And I was obsessed with a plan.

	Now ten years and more have
	Gone by:I've always known
	        where you were -
	I might have gone to you
	Hoping to win your love back
	You still are single.

	I didn't.
	I thought I must make it alone. I
	Have done that.

	Only in dream, like this dawn,
	Does the grave, awed intensity
	Of our young love
	Return to my mind, to my flesh.

	We had what the others
	All crave and seek for;
	We left it behind at nineteen.

	I feel ancient, as though I had
	Lived many lives.
	And may never now know
	If I am a fool
	Or have done what my karma demands.






				-shalini
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--Neo-Homeric epic
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 92 13:20:18 GMT


                                Neo-Homeric epic

                I will tell you now
                in distance which stretches far beyond this page
                I will put into your awareness
                handily
                all the ingredients necessary to build a fair ship
                which riding
                incessantly
                you will float into far seas yet so near
                that your thoughts
                all water
                will reveal you to yourself as what you have always been
                a merest voyage to everywhere
                without once leaving the dock.

                You did not know that all things are here
                and now is the only time ever was
                presented you in a single glowing spike
                which embraces all mass in zero space
                and as my message arrives within you
                so do I
                messenger
                disappear
                leaving you with all things you never imagined
                naked of questioning
                on the shore
                next to the sea
                of fading desires.



-- 
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: gardabr@unix1 (Gard Eggesbo Abrahamsen)
Subject: Re: girl boy: an existential play, sad and rife with strife / Marek+Marie
Organization: University of Trondheim, Norway
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.1 PL6]
Date: Mon, 9 Nov 92 12:52:32 GMT

Marie Coffin (mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU) wrote:
: 
: 		girl boy: an existential play, sad and rife with strife
: 		-------------------------------------------------------------
: 
: 		girl: i feel really horny and like getting fucked.
: 		boy: your eyes are limpid pools in which i lose my thought.
: 		girl: my cunt is swimming and i am squirming.  fuck me.
: 		boy: i long to hold you in my arms (forever [optional]).
: 
: 		girl: would you please rub my back and kiss my neck.
: 		boy: i desire to know your every thought, every want.
: 		girl: fuck me immediately, you dweeb.
: 		boy: i think i like my christie brinkley poster better.
: 
: 			Marek Lugowski / Marie Coffin
: 			8 November 1992
: 			Chicago, Illinois / Ames, Iowa
: 

                Wet dreams: The other night
-------------------------------------------

        She sucked me last night
        in my dream
        and I didn't see who she was
        I didn't see her face
        she just sucked my dick
        and I really wanted to fuck her

                Gard Eggesboe Abrahamsen    8)=
From: ch526@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Les Jensen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: uncharted dreams (poem)
Date: 11 Nov 1992 02:02:18 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu


uncharted dreams

drowsy brains that day time wander
into daydreams soft and somber
drift away and sleep walk slowly
through the realm that is ours solely

with imagination's fruitful harvest
realities presence can not haunt us
so brainwaves float to unknown lands
with cool gold skies and soft blue sands

montage memories flick in rapid motion
dimensions swim in quicksand oceans
and time is just an hour glass
waiting for moments yet to pass

images drift down misty lanes
numbness fogs the window panes
and dark black clouds tuck in the sun
where celestial fantasies have begun

seduced into uncharted dreams
hypnotized by rest serene
the minds eye closes tight to sleep
deleted daydreams can only weep
--------
All opinions, comments and advise will be gratefully accepted
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: Ben.Magid@launchpad.unc.edu (Ben Magid)
Subject: ice reflections(c&c welcome)
Organization: University of North Carolina Extended Bulletin Board Service
Date: Mon, 9 Nov 1992 03:33:33 GMT

		Ice reflections

	our lights flash and reflect from ice sheet walls
	and beacon us to stop, we stop. and touch.
	shiver to step two steps from where we rush
	to feel, we felt so odd at odds- respond to calls
	from ice, so cold; was it? not i, who falls.
	and you again stand close and hear: cold hush
	that fell across and see the ice; too much- 
	breaks walls between the rock we stand and stall

	and touch, does ice? it seems too warm for me.
	two calls i hear and i am here, to go?
	we must not touch the walls too hard and break 
	the ice, so cold, lights flash for i and she
	must leave; the leaves crunch sharp beneath my toe
	and turns. each shard like flesh in hand yet fake.
 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
C&C appreciated
--
   The opinions expressed are not necessarily those of the University of
     North Carolina at Chapel Hill, the Campus Office for Information
        Technology, or the Experimental Bulletin Board Service.
           internet:  laUNChpad.unc.edu or 152.2.22.80
From: dz22+@andrew.cmu.edu (Daniel L. Zabell)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Flaming sucks (Re: Blistering Flame on How Not to Write / Marek (Re: ** How can any man))
Date: 7 Nov 92 19:19:26 GMT
	<1992Nov6.233005.16027@news.acns.nwu.edu>
Organization: Freshman, H&SS general, Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, PA


                    Blistering Flame on Flaming...


    I believe in the right of anyone to flame another person, and I
believe in the right of anyone to say whatever they want to say, but I
frankly disagree with the commentary that you posted relating to this
poem.  I understand the fact that he asked for C & C, but I want to ask
you the question--why are you obnoxious in your commentary.  In my
experience, constructive criticism on one's work should be an edifying
experience.  Sometimes of course, it hurts, but only when this is
necessary for positive growth as a poet/writer.
    I once had a teacher who used to insult you in her commentary, if
she didn't like what you had written.  I remember this hurting me as a
person, and as a writer as well.  Although I respect her commentary of
my work, and Ido believe that the person and the poet are one in the
same, 

    a) Words do not necessarily represent everything that a person is, 

    b) Poems are posted on this bboard, not personalities.  I know that
when I read this bboard, I'm interested in what has to be said, not what
is wrong with who the person is and what makes them up:

"I think this is the worst lie of all, probably another thoughtlessness."


    My original intention was to make the flamer the flamee, to make
them experience what harsh words feel like.  I find that I am unable to
blisteringly flame you.  If I have, I apologize.  I just want to say
that flaming does not make a point.  If you have to flame someone, it
sometimes seems to me that you are trying to prove that you are their
better, not prove your point.  I will ask for a reply from the author
(please post to this bboard if possible - something has been wrong with
my receiving of mail for the past week - or no one has been sending me
mail - sniff sniff), but no C & C, because I am scared that you may send
me insulting commentary.  Lastly:

        "I do not believe in a word you say, but I will 
           defend to the death your right to say it."

                                        -Voltaire
    sincerely (hoping not to sound too wishy-washy),
      Dan Zabell
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: wizard@wixer.cactus.org (John P Onorato)
Subject: for anne  sexton
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Wed, 4 Nov 92 03:53:52 GMT







	For Anne Sexton, Posthumously
	--- ---- ------  ------------


a thousand fragile poems
a hundred thousand poems
batter at the insides of my head
surging
from one side to the other

screaming for release
but there is no release
these poems nee concepts
won't fit
through my arm
through my fingers
into my pencil
and onto the page;

thus the demented poet am I,
the mad poet
whose brain cries
 -- I've gotten used to it --
with a thousand poems
a hundred thousand fragile poems
all screaming for release

the poet whose poems can fit through
his arms
& fingers
& pencil
only one
at
a time.


		10.50p  5 June 1991


(c) 1991 John Onorato.  All Rights Reserved.


C&C welcome....



-- 
John P Onorato             |   "Softness without strength is weakness.
wizard@wixer.cactus.org    |    Strength without softness is meanness."
cactus.org!wixer!wizard    |             -- Mahatma Gandhi
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jessop@ljohub.enet.dec.com (Class Dinosauria)
Subject: Thanksgiving dinner...
Reply-To: jessop@ljohub.enet.dec.com (Class Dinosauria)
Organization: Digital Equipment Corporation
Date: Thu, 5 Nov 1992 22:56:34 GMT



	'Saurian flesh 'tween greasy lips,
	Tasty meat both dark and light,
	Brut champagne in tiny sips
	Washing down each juicy bite;

	Cranberry sauce, butternut squash,
	Potatoes (mashed) with gravy splash,
	Lack of beets (no great loss),
	Dance to mouth in forky flash.

	Belly full of turkey sleep,
	Pillow dreams on sofa soft,
	I rest my head for silent sheep...

	...Belly full of turkey sleep...


				msj
Organization: Penn State University
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 1992 10:55:22 EST
From: Chris M. Kaminsky <CXK147@psuvm.psu.edu>
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: for the girl I adore, she knows who she is...


I'd love to cuddle with you
under a warm quilted blanket
reclined on a porch swing
cups of hot cocoa in our hands
steam rising from the mugs
vapor from my lips as I tell you I love you.
cozy are we side-by-side on the bench,
slowly swaying to and fro
looking over the frozen wilderness.
what a spectacular whiteness that sparkles -
as the sun shown down from the heavens.
the snow,  what a complex thing of nature.
no two are identical
yet each is as glorious as the next which falls
Oh, why can't relationships be the same?
I love you and you alone,
do you feel the same for me?
I know you've never lied
curled up to me -
you know I'd never leave your side
I've made my devotion clear,
but maybe you just didn't hear.
tell me please
I must know dear.
Could it be this good?
May life be as grand?
to sit quietly on our porch
hand within hand
overlooking - God's land.
There's no better art than life itself!
so quick, drink up
before your cup gets cold
taste of life while you're young
for too soon we'll grow old.

@}--'--,---  Chris
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Subject: Denim and Silk (c&c welcome)
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Sun, 8 Nov 1992 07:49:28 GMT

Denim and Silk

beauty lay in
the depression of the unmade bed
curving fit her body

all soft subtle shadows
white silk against brown skin
and darkness follows her spine

no straight lines
straight thoughts
complexity incomprehensible

shirt tugged down to cover her
before falling asleep
modesty now...

and soon the straight lines of
denim clinging to my leg
will lie in a crumpled, complex pool

discarded for her

*****

M.A. Mohanraj
November 8, 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
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--Apology
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 92 12:40:24 GMT


                                Apology


                He brings her an apology wrapped in grape leaves
                back from the old times on the shores of the Aegean
                a wish in the form of vegetation embracing cooked flesh
                a gift from the real world of a long morning past
                when the people lived as if they would never die--
                knowing death as a member of the family
                they did not hate him and send him away--
                his simple giving of cooked animal asleep in hot greenery
                everything a metaphor unspoken.


-- 
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
From: marek@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: asdf
Date: 13 Nov 92 17:30:12 GMT
Article-I.D.: news.1992Nov13.173012.28492
Organization: Northwestern University, Evanston Illinois.

messer@utkvx2.utk.edu (The Jagged of your Dreams!) writes:

>>Several issues come to mind:  1) context-sensitivity^*, 2) relativity of
>>meaning^#, 3) taboo^!, 4) absence of truth as such^@, 5) cultural awareness^$,
>>6) cultural permissions^&, 7) shared experience within a totem^+.
>> 
>>Some of these overlap.  There's enough here for a dissertation but I have
>>to go to work later today.  I think you owe yourself to think this through,
>>though.
>> 
>>				-- Marek
>> 
>*- White noise.
>#- MORE white noise.
>!- White noise, but pretty and not so New-Age-y(tm).
>@- As such white noise.
>$- Awareness of white noise.
>&- Not even white noise.  Bull ka-ka, I think.
>+- I shared an experience within a totem once.  Well, there was a POLE, anyway.
>
>Marek, in my short time here you are one of the precious few for whom I have
>developed respect, or even reverence.
>
>But give me just a SMALL break, will ya'?
>
>No matter how many psuedo-scholarly, non-identifying labels you put on it...
>Just listen, man.
>
>I own EVERY word I have ever heard.  _Nigger_ is definately one of the better
>words that I own, and every once in a while it gets pulled out.
>
>Now, in my art, HOWEVER I use it is great.
>
>I'm just that kinda' guy, baby.   :)
>
>Personal symbolic gender totem context-sensetive truth serum thingies be
>damned.
>
>\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
>  "The rain increases with the light and the     ~Damian K Messer            
>weight increases with the rain.  In all that     ~Internet:messer@utkvx.utk.edu
>long column in brand-new overseas boots weeping  ~Bitnet:messer@utkvk         
>blisters stick to the hard wool grey of          ~5809 Haynes-Sterchi Rd.    
>government socks."                               ~Knoxville, TN 37912         
>               --David Jones, _In Parenthesis_   ~(615)689-5722                
>////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
>

Damian, I might derive more warm fuzzies  and motivaton out of your respect
and reverence if a) your .sig was less than or equal to for lines and not
so butt-ugly, and b) if you said well-thought out things, listening for
content while at it.  Nothing that I said here is particularly
pseudo-scholarly.  Context-sensitivity is a useful notion; it comes up in
natural language understanding, architecture, communication, as well as
formal grammars, to name a few.  Similarly for the other six.

If anthropological considerations are white noise to you, you've chosen to
live in a blue funk of disconnectedness from your fellow human critters.

Owning a bunch of words.

				-- Marek
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: chenjo@ava.bcc.orst.edu (Johnny Chen)
Subject: Poem
Organization: Biological Computing Consortium, OSU
Date: Sun, 8 Nov 1992 05:58:21 GMT

----------

Paper Screens

the crude physical summons illusions
     blinds the eyes w/ falsified beauty
     binds the mind into traps & webs
but deeper dormant a spinning hour-glass
     striving a balance
a scale
     of masculinity/femininity
a pure perfect chemical burning
     hot in nightmarish fever 
the soul cage beckons with vampiric thirst
     it is torrential & almost never
to fly and satiate
seek the crested bird of the third
     sextet
     and sing harmony at the core
it is nectar tasted never shared
that is love 

			--jc
			  chenjo@ava.bcc.orst.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems