HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: 78witherspoo@cua.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Holidayautomatic#1
Date: 22 Dec 92 15:29:19 GMT
Organization: The Catholic University of America

Just toying around with automatic writing!  (Sources include: conversations at
L&N Seafood Grill (Arlington, VA), the new R.E.M. album, and "Quartet" by
Heiner Muller.)

Happy solstice, folks!


Holidayautomatic#1
------------------

The milk of human kindness flows freely,
Instant coffee,
Nescafe' and ice.

You go through all that training,
(Alleluia, for the Lord God omnipotent reineth)
What should I get?

Doo bee doo bee doo,
I was Hamlet:
Clean the mud off your writing boots, Tom.

This isn't differential calculus,
I'm so excited!

Oh Tannenbaum,
Let's mingle into the horde,
Gloria, in excelsis deo.

"A candybar, a falling star...",
Who writes this stuff?
I hope my performance didn't bore you.

"Don't spend it all in one place."


"I am doing everything wroing."

Hey, kids, shake a leg, maybe you're crazy in the head.
Shake it baby!

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.

12/21/92
From: jww@evolving.com (John W. Woolley)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Need a poem
Date: 21 Dec 92 21:28:21 GMT
Organization: Evolving Systems, Inc.
X-Newsreader: Tin 1.1 PL4

kellis@Nimitz.mcs.kent.edu (Kimberly A. Ellis) writes:
:  Hey all you poets out there I am considering entering a pagent, but instead of
: doing a lame talent that everyone does I intend to read a poet. I need a very
: deep poem about believing in yourself and the potential of belief, or about the
: environment and how we are killing it.  This poem needs to be about 2 minutes in
: length when read expressively.....

        The Formula
        -----------

        Great dentist,
        good grades,
        great tits,
        deplore AIDS.


-- 
Fr. John Woolley (jww@evolving.com); vastly enthusiastic about Augustine,
Austen, babies, Bach, backgammon, baseball, beer, the Bible, Botticelli, Burke,
Chesterton, Dante, Dixieland, hardboiled, Hitchcock, Dr Johnson, Latin, Mozart,
Shakespeare/de Vere, St Teresa, Tolkien, Trollope, Fats Waller, and Washington
From: NAT@drao.nrc.ca (Natalie Prowse)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: temporary loss of harmony / Natalie
Date: 23 Dec 92 19:02:36 GMT
Organization: Dominion Radio Astrophysical Observatory
X-News-Reader: VMS NEWS 1.11


	
		temporary loss of harmony
		--------------------------------------------------------------
	
	
		i can read your body enough to know 
		that you are resenting me 
		for not being able
		to read your mind...
	
		needs conflict and conflict arises.
		pillow soft words envelop
		anger and hurt.  hush.
		a smothering silence
	
		broken by the clash 
		of taut, discordant rhythms. 
	
		quantifying kills the essence.
		love cannot be measured 
		but the meter is running 
		four beats to the bar.
		my voice is trebling
		your accusations, base.
	
	        the pendulum swishes 
		on premeditated path.
		it cannot change the swath it cuts. 
		only slow or speed up, or stop.
	
		all things being equal
		one cannot equate love.
	
		a security blanket, a comfort object
		has warmth and constancy, 
		but no life.  
		i'll opt for music in my bed,
		even when it is off key.
		i'll take the occasional lonely night,
		out of sync, but quiescent, 
		and softly sing myself to sleep.


				-Natalie / Dec 23, 1992


------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(nat@drao.nrc.ca) |"It's good to have a healthy sense of sin.  It adds  
		  |  *spice* to one's transgressions..."  - J.H.
From: larryw@hplsla.hp.com (Larry Whatley)
Date: Fri, 11 Dec 1992 16:51:41 GMT
Subject: Re: cardinal (free exercise inside!)
Organization: HP Lake Stevens, WA
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems



                    endless
                    one-lane bridges
                    Satan in paradise
                    collecting toll on the road to
                    Hana


- Larry Whatley
  
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: fmayhar@altair.mpd.tandem.com (Frank Mayhar)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Here's one for you guys.
Date: 22 Dec 92 20:24:39 GMT
Reply-To: fmayhar@mpd.tandem.com
Organization: Tandem Computers (MPD) Austin, TX

Christmas being my least favorite time of year, I knocked this off to express
my sentiment.  Comments/criticism OK.


				Christmas

			Frantic parents
			Screaming children
			A hundred hundred greedy, spendthrift
				Fools.

			Buying this toy
			Shunning that store
			"You can't have this one, I saw it there
				First!"

			Spending money
			Piling presents
			The one who piles the highest wins a
				Prize?

			Exhortations
			Expectations
			Your patriotic duty is to
				Spend!

			And in the corner
			Under cardboard
			A homeless, hopeless orphan waits and
				Starves.

-- 
Frank Mayhar  fmayhar@mpd.tandem.com
              Tandem Computers, Inc.  Micro Products Division
              14231 Tandem Blvd., Austin, TX  78728    Phone:  (512) 244-8969
Xref: sparky rec.arts.poems:13200 rec.arts.books:23244
From: vollrath@vax.oxford.ac.uk (Alun ap Rhisiart)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Urp! Excuse me!
Date: 2 Jan 93 23:23:32 GMT
Organization: Oxford University VAX 6620

Hi everyone,

This is _just for fun_. I know it's corny, but if it raises a chuckle..

Alun.


               Yellowstone Park

	This deep-hearted vision, 
	So silent and dark
	Of fission and fusion 
	And photon and quark,
	There's life to be found, 
	A meaning that's stark
	Far under the ground 
	In Yellowstone park.

	Those long-ago days, 
	When Earth was still young
	When Man lived in caves, 
	Was carefree, had fun
	What ever the season, 
	Come rain or come sun
	They each had a reason 
	For loving someone.

	You see my dilemma, 
	My hard-to-make choice
	To stay in Vienna, 
	Speak out with one voice
	Our retreat into dreamland, 
	Like Carrol, like Joyce
	Where everyone's jocund, 
	Light-hearted, and nice.



(Okay, I promise to go on a diet of bread and water for a week ;) )

-- 
***********************************
* Alun ap Rhisiart                *    | When I wrote this, only God | 
* Animal Behaviour Research Group *    |  and I knew what it meant.  |
* Oxford University               *    | Now, only God knows.        |
* vollrath@vax.ox.ac.uk           * 
***********************************
From: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: palabras ... [poem]
Date: 24 Dec 1992 20:05:37 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu




               PALABRAS

     palabras ordinarias
     desde mi diccionario barato:

     amor ... amistad ...
     paz!

     oraciones preciosas ...
     corazones amables
     y pensamientos alegres.

     regalos ricos ..
     palabras que cuesta
     menos de un centavo
     desde mi diccionario barato.

     
            ***

zita maria evensen
christmas eve eve
c1992             

Feliz Navidad!


-- 
.. i am a romantic .... no apologies ......
From: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: flashburn ...[poem]
Date: 21 Dec 1992 15:41:50 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu




                     flashburn

          it is so strange ... this friendship
          
          it is a magnesium flame

          intense ...

          white hot ... white light

          racing towards white ashes !


                   ***


zita evensen
c1992


-- 
----------------------------
.. i am a romantic .... no apologies ......
From: NAT@drao.nrc.ca (Natalie Prowse)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: one too many / Natalie
Date: 21 Dec 92 22:21:33 GMT
Organization: Dominion Radio Astrophysical Observatory
X-News-Reader: VMS NEWS 1.11



		one too many
		------------------------------------------------------------

		cool white tiles 
		on my cheek. my cheek 
		pressed on cool white tiles.
		light streaming under the door.
		the gap like a lens. i swear 
		the light bends 
		from here on 
		the floor.
		it seems cooler 
		too.  in the dark.
		the lightswitch is just
		out of reach of my ability
		to make it look normal in here.
		the world looks so different
		from this lowly perspective.
		and it feels so much nicer
		to feel cool white tiles
		on my cheek.  and to 
		watch the feet.
		playing games at guessing 
		which toes belong to voices
		disembodied.  my body long 
		gone and numb.  all i 
		feel now is cool 
		white tiles on 
		my cheek.
		
			-Natalie / Dec 21, 1992

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(nat@drao.nrc.ca) |"It's good to have a healthy sense of sin.  It adds  
		  |  *spice* to one's transgressions..."  - J.H.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: alien@yoyo.cc.monash.edu.au (Diego Barros)
Subject: Mansions of Fear (c&c welcome)
Organization: Monash University General Access Unix
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.1 PL8]
Date: Tue, 22 Dec 1992 01:09:37 GMT

Mansions of Fear.
-----------------

He rides is a state of confusion
All alone, through a lightning storm
A two wheel ride to the heavens
Visions of what once had been
Lonelyness and pain rides by my side tonight
The gates of fear keep you in your world of lies
As I take to the path of the loner's flight 

---

	August, 1992
	Diego Barros

-- 
			-------------------------
	      -----------------
   _____     : Mmmmm Donuts... :	 Diego Barros - Alien
  /     \    o ----------------   Mail : alien@yoyo.cc.monash.edu.au
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: bhattach@quip.eecs.umich.edu (sayan bhattacharyya)
Subject: Re: Poem : Calcutta and I by Sunil Gangopadhyay
Organization: University of Michigan EECS Dept., Ann Arbor, MI
Date: Fri, 1 Jan 1993 07:55:35 GMT

In article <1993Jan1.074808.22848@zip.eecs.umich.edu> bhattach@quip.eecs.umich.edu (sayan bhattacharyya) writes:
>
>
>I am forwarding this article to rec.arts.poems. 
>
>It was posted in the soc.culture.indian newsgroup.
>
>
>In article <199212310356.AA22921@mp.cs.niu.edu> t60bss9@mp.cs.niu.edu (Bijoy Sagar) writes:
>>
>>
>>	This is the translation of a poem by Sunil Gangopadhyay, who
>>needs no introduction. All the typos and other errors are mine. It
>>is reproduced here without permission. Have fun,
>>
>>Bijoy Sagar
>>************************************************************************
>>
>>Calcutta and I
>>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
>>
>>
>>Calcutta is a terrible stone in my heart.
>>I'll destroy her-



I would like to add a personal note : I think this poem
captures marvellously the love-hate relationship with 
Calcutta which every Bengali who has been raised in that
fantastic, alluring and remarkable city always feels in his             
bones. 


-- 
Sayan Bhattacharyya          |   Colourless green ideas sleep furiously.
Graduate student             |
Artificial Intelligence Lab  |
The University of Michigan   |
From: ekankaan@kaira.hut.fi (Eero Kankaanp{{)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: good ole
Date: 4 Jan 93 03:38:32 GMT
Organization: heavenly verses, no curses


    good ole 

   mail box shoes 
   coats the same

   bread dog
   tomatoes tame

   up the stairs
   I walks twice over a squeaky board
  
    good ole 2   
     
  no 'bluff your way with baking bread' 
  here near the green green grass
  of no place like sweet sweet
From: vollrath@vax.oxford.ac.uk (Alun ap Rhisiart)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Jesus on a Stick Burning with Pastrami -- jchien
Date: 2 Jan 93 23:28:40 GMT
Organization: Oxford University VAX 6620

In article <1992Dec31.203215.25089@leland.Stanford.EDU>, jchien@leland.Stanford.EDU (Jennifer Crystal Fang-Chien) writes:
> 
Jennifer,

No criticism, I loved this! It goes into my personal anthology. Thanks

Alun.

> 
> 	[Thanks to Michael Lichter for the inspiring the title
> 	and imagery.]
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 	Jesus on a Stick Burning with Pastrami
> 
> 
> 	The second coming
> 	came from the hands of cuisine innovators 
> 	on Christmas night.  The streets were dark,
> 	the stores closed for the holidays,
> 	and only the Jewish restaurants
> 	welcomed the earth with open doors.
> 
> 	Three white-robed men
> 	carrying foil-wrapped presents and acrid incense
> 	entered the restaurant.  They sat apart
> 	from the rest, and even their menu was of another sort
> 	(I could tell from the straw manger and horses on the cover
> 	instead of rye).  They discussed what to order,
> 	throwing out choices such as "Lamb with Onions and Cream",
> 	"Pasta made with Extra Virgin Olive Oil", "Cheese
> 	Wafers and Wine", "Fish Loaves and Breadsticks",
> 	and even "Bloody Mary".  Apparently these offerings
> 	weren't miraculous enough for such a holy feast.
> 
> 	They quietly called over the Jewish manager,
> 	gesticulating in a manner that demanded
> 	improved service or public embarrassment.  He nodded,
> 	then hurriedly talked to the chief cook.  They argued
> 	and nearly came to fists, but with a fluorish
> 	they finally presented a silver-lined, cloudy white menu --
> 	the plastic cover shining as if newly ordained.
> 	Opening the menu with their fingertips,
> 	the three men examined the fresh offering carefully.
> 	As if on a cue, they said, "Yes, one, please:
> 	'Jesus on a Stick Burning with Pastrami.'"
> 
> 	The chef began to stir, mix, and fry,
> 	flipping a small piece of flesh on a pan.
> 	In a few minutes, he dressed it on a stick,
> 	and slipped pastrami on the other end.
> 	He brought it to the three men, then with a lighter,
> 	he set the stick on fire.  One white-robed man
> 	took the flaming stick, shaped in a cross,
> 	and held it above his head as he stood on the table.
> 	     "The time has come!" he declared.
> 	"Behold, the second coming of Christ!"
> 
> 	The patrons turned to look, and the figure
> 	on the cross, dressed in white,
> 	came to life and screamed in agony.
> 	The voice was soft but we could all hear, 
> 	"The fire! Put out the fire!"
> 
> 
> 
> 		-- jennifer crystal chien
> 
> c/c welcome, as always.
-- 
***********************************
* Alun ap Rhisiart                *    | When I wrote this, only God | 
* Animal Behaviour Research Group *    |  and I knew what it meant.  |
* Oxford University               *    | Now, only God knows.        |
* vollrath@vax.ox.ac.uk           * 
***********************************
From: sstover@sumax.seattleu.edu (   Wilde Dame)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Sisyphus
Date: 1 Jan 1993 15:27:30 -0800
Organization: Seattle University
NNTP-Posting-Host: sumax.seattleu.edu

In article <lk7feiINN4e3@appserv.Eng.Sun.COM> alpope@acacia.Eng.Sun.COM (Alan L. Pope) writes:
>
>                            Sisyphus
>
>                  For the hudereth time this trip
>                  tie me again to the masthead
>                  that I might hear the sweet song
>                  and know the anguish of longing.

I'm a little confused.  Sisyphus was condemned to push a rock up a hill,
only to have it roll back down again, for all eternity.  Odysseus had
himself tied to the masthead of his ship when they passed through the land
of the Sirens so that he could hear and escape the sound no man was
supposed to be able to hear and escape.  Assuming you know both these
things, I have to assume you are attempting to draw a parallel ("for the
hundredth time this trip"), but I don't see it.

-- 
       Sheryl Stover  %  If you ask me what I have come to do in the world,
  & Hemingway & Clio  %  I who am an artist, I will reply: "I am here to
sstover@seattleu.edu  %  live aloud."                    -Emile Zola
From: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: seventeen syllables .. (i)  /  Z.
Date: 31 Dec 1992 03:01:02 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu


           
                 Seasons  I


     in his first minutes
     of fresh air ... a child proclaims
     here i am ... love me!

     young love grows intense 
     earth warms with urgency ...
     mating waltz in spring.

     hands clasped with gold bands
     coupled, intertwined ... planting
     a tomorrow-seed.

     how easy it is
     to drift into dreamless sleep ...
     is this paradise?

           ***

zita maria evensen
c1992, oct 25th

(please e-mail c/c.)
-- 
 ...  increase the number of variables,
      but the axioms, themselves, never change ... algebra 2
From: wjames@cse.ucsc.edu (John Amenta)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Compromise
Date: 4 Jan 1993 03:47:45 GMT
Organization: University of California, Santa Cruz (CE/CIS Boards)
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: pal.ucsc.edu


   Compromise gives you Time,
   Until before the Big Bang.
   Then Reason goes awry,
   Your Universe lies a dream,
   And Science becomes the sty.

                        -wj

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: bhattach@quip.eecs.umich.edu (sayan bhattacharyya)
Subject: Re: Poem : Calcutta and I by Sunil Gangopadhyay
Organization: University of Michigan EECS Dept., Ann Arbor, MI
Date: Fri, 1 Jan 1993 07:48:08 GMT



I am forwarding this article to rec.arts.poems. 

It was posted in the soc.culture.indian newsgroup.


In article <199212310356.AA22921@mp.cs.niu.edu> t60bss9@mp.cs.niu.edu (Bijoy Sagar) writes:
>
>
>	This is the translation of a poem by Sunil Gangopadhyay, who
>needs no introduction. All the typos and other errors are mine. It
>is reproduced here without permission. Have fun,
>
>Bijoy Sagar
>************************************************************************
>
>Calcutta and I
>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
>
>
>Calcutta is a terrible stone in my heart.
>I'll destroy her-
>I'll rape her and take her to Haldia port,
>Give her poison mixed with coconut sweets.
>She is a terrible stone in my heart.
>Calcutta fakes moonlight,
>Nowadays she has learned to mix
>Thorns or pebbles with kisses.
>You forget to add sugar
>To the tear-like tea, distracted by so many lovers...
>Even in daylight, your thighs are open.
>
>Can I let you go so easily
>To the supreme Court of Delhi, my beauty?
>Instead in the evening, with scented heart,
>In crisp white clothes,
>I will hold your arms and take you for a taxi ride-
>Dance, twist in hotels, the rhythm flurrying your sari's border,
>Expositing in your breasts the twin cameras,
>The Jadus, Madhus, Shyams will whistle-
>Such music in the body, you are like an august offering of light
>Reflected in the mirror.
>
>I can bring praises, from the south of the city,
>You want lotuses in your hands?
>You will be murdered at midnight,
>Where will you escape from my hand? You cannot
>Hide in Canning street. If you run along Chinese road
>I'll follow you, tiger-like,
>Leaping over traffic lights, crossing the Burrabazar of sorrows.
>Through Chowringhee, the sick man's tonic,
>My chase will continue,
>As a disembodied, air-borne soul,
>Avenging my pitiful love,
>Where will you escape? On the Ganga, I'll turn the faces
>Of all the ships
>Piercing with my strong torchlight the Maidan darkness.
>
>I'll strangle you
>Fling gunpowder in the drains of your body,
>My secret passages: one day in the centre
>I'll light a match-
>The palaces will fall, the bricks and woods will crackle,
>All the graces, jewels, the immortal Chitpur world
>Will dissolve.
>Since you have pushed me towards death,
>What can prevent you from sharing my fate?
>
>******** Translated by Subhoranjan Dasgupta and Sudeshna Chakravarty********** 


-- 
Sayan Bhattacharyya          |   Colourless green ideas sleep furiously.
Graduate student             |
Artificial Intelligence Lab  |
The University of Michigan   |
From: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: currency...[poem]
Date: 24 Dec 1992 14:50:28 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bu016@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Zita Marie Evensen)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu




              Ah, the New Year comes!
              God mints for each life account
              Fresh currency of time.

                     ***

zita evensen
c1992 dec 24

-- 
.. i am a romantic .... no apologies ......
From: donz@uiunix.ui.org (Don Zirilli)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Christmas gifts - for Sheryl
Date: 22 Dec 92 14:58:34 GMT
Organization: UNIX International, Parsippany, NJ  07054


Some of you may have noticed the christmas card poems that sheryl 
stover has been writing (I was particularly pleased by mine).  I had
much the same idea, but I think of them in terms of christmas gifts.
Tired of things as gifts, I thought that it is better to have
something happen as a gift.  And since I can't actually arrange to
have anything happen to anyone, I figured I would do the next best
thing and write a poem to describe a happening.  Appropriately enough,
I'll start with Sheryl:

	SHE SPENT HOURS FALLING


	She teeters above the reflection
	in the window of a second-hand shop
	where she had written with her finger
	"Fifty foot drop
	to an orchestra of rocks
	and water assembled, mostly white,
	with strings toward the back
	to weave new ligaments
	and, featured, the flesh and trombones
	section with a horn solo
	a lot like sobbing."
	She imagines the acoustics
	are better down there
	especially with shattered ears
	and the tinkling of her teeth--
	dice that roll only zero--
	Yahtzee!  but who can keep score
	when the score is deafening
	and leaps through cracks in the shore?


	Posthumous O'Toole
	Merry Christmas
	and Happy Solstice
-- 
Chucklehead awaits the return of his .sig
From: gt7244c@prism.gatech.EDU (John G'alt)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: fallen star
Summary: obituary
Keywords: boston area, massachusetts, and a town in venezuela
Date: 22 Dec 92 07:15:43 GMT
Organization: Georgia Institute of Technology


   Contents: no poems



   I have learned recently that a student went on a rampage at Simon's Rock
of Bard College, in the Great Barrington area of Massachusetts.  He killed two
and wounded at least four others before calling the police.  The first to die
from the cold end of this young man's gun was Nacunan Saez.  I was at Simon's
just over a year ago.  I was a student of Nacunan's.  I knew him and my eight
classmates for only three weeks.  Still I am in a medium shock, especially    
after seeing Nacunan's face this last time... in the corner of the newspaper
article above one of those "shot and killed" captions.
   The first thing that sprang to mind was a little rhyme in Spanish I'd made
during those three weeks.  He was a zany but incredibly brilliant teacher, no
bullshit, no phoniness about him, lotsa life.  He had introduced us to the
"peregil" riddle in Spanish.  I made a spoof, purely out of jest.
  
   Nacu toma
   Nan trata
   Tonto sera
   El que no lo mata.

   Nacu [tries]
   Nan [tries]
   Silly will be
   He who doesn't kill him.

   This automatic recall of these few lines hit me, acutely.  Another one of my
clasmates remembers them too.  I am the closest I've ever been to sorry for
writing something.
   Another few lines of my own came to mind.  That's been happening a lot, of
late, but I don't mind.  I feel better that by dedicating these formerly-    
purposeless lines to his memory, I can atone for any mis--- I've assigned to
myself.

   "?Que estrella ha caido
     Sin ruido sino
     El amor que soporta [a] mi alma?"

   At the time of writing these lines (middle of a short poem) I had no idea
what the star (estrella) was.  I knew only that it rhymed with the previous
phrase.  Now I guess I know which star has fallen.
   Thank you for your pixels.
   (yes i can punctuate when i care to)

John G'alt
-- 
John Greenawalt, gt7244c@prism.gatech.edu (whooptydoo yes I'm a number)
  "...but to put these thoughts in songs like this,
      for the honest truth there'd be no dress... just lying aloud."
                                    - Trashcan Sinatras