Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: COMPUTER GAMES
From: nikolay@husc10.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev)
Date: 18 Dec 92 06:50:22
Distribution: rec
Organization: The Kremlin Wall of Harvard
In-reply-to: gorokho1@husc10.harvard.edu's message of 15 Dec 92 17:20:43

gorokho1@husc10.harvard.edu (Zhenya Gorokhovsky) writes:

> I would like to thank everyone who responded to my first post 
> here. Philip was harsh as usual, but quite amusing and marginally
> instructive, I found. 

That's nice! I have learnt somehow that when douchebags say I'm amusing
and marginally instructive, it rather means that my venom acts quite
effectively on the gentle fibres of their hearts. From you ingratiating
tone, I presumptuously conclude that your smarmy self smarts all over. 
But of course, the daring douchebag refuses to die on the spot. Not 
without a fight, at any rate. Instead, he tries to post his stuff at 
a time when a spate of final papers must be turned it, so as to delay 
the terrorist's next sortie. A good tactic, but it doesn't always work, 
kamikaze.

> I wonder why he claims to have a monopoly
> on correct value judgements, in his capacity of r.a.p.'s resident
> terrorist. 

Indeed, don't bother yourself with with the notion that I have never
claimed any such monopoly; instead, prepare to die a second time.

> Well, here is another poem, and again all manner of
> criticism, constructive, deconstructive and positively destructive,
> is welcome and desired. Pray flame away, Philip, if you wish;

By all means, my mellow masochist.

> everyone else feel free to as well.

They aren't too obliging, are they? Never mind, it will pass, this 
loneliness. Here is your eloquent ineluctable electrocution. Not
quite free of charge, but I don't expect you to pay or even say
thank you. Just settle down comfortably and relax.

> 		COMPUTER GAMES
> 
> 
> 		We shall parley all night.
> 		I'll smoke, you'll smile. Serene,
> 		your eyes drink in the bright
> 		water of Macintosh screen,
> 
> 		where images emerge
> 		like salmon toward the strand,
> 		split, plash and reconverge,
> 		maneuvered by your hand.
> 
> 		A plastic pendulum,
> 		my coffee-spoon stirs up
> 		eddies of mock-sweet gloom
> 		in a used paper-cup.
> 
> 		Five forty-three. I shan't
> 		wear on my reverent sleeve
> 		items in which you can't
> 		say yet if you believe.
> 
> 		At six a.m. a glitch
> 		will land me on some maimed
> 		dust-covered disc from which
> 		I'll never be reclaimed.

Duh, do you *always* rhyme your rosy ramblings, or what? If you go on in
this vein, some of the O'Toodles will soon recognize you as their own.
I especially glut on 'glitch'/'which', Ivan Ilyich; your rhymes make me 
feel like a tired old Tolstoy who must kill a figment of his imagination.
But if you're really into jingles, why don't you post some solid limericks? 
Or have you sworn allegiance to Tom Watchel's wacky school of whachumacallit, 
semi-scintillant dribblescent doggerel? O delicate dust in the wind!

So, you love It, but Its eyes are glued wantonly to the screen, while
yours are riveted on It so irreparably that you must tell the world
about It in dense iambic hiccups? Surely, you must be a hypocrite, for 
you promise not to wear your heart upon your snotty sleeve. That would be
all right if you acknowledged that you were posting a conceit, but nutty
netters don't believe in conceits any more. They spew life and spin 
non-gender-specific ludicrous lullabies for the spectral beloved 
person-friends who spurn their versificatory attentions. O tempora,
or mores - the well-tempered moronic clavier!

Do you really smoke? Do we really have something in common?
Is there really hope for you, my dull lonesome dinosaur?

> zhenya

Philip Nikolayev
nikolay@husc.harvard.edu







Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems