HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: cjdb@ellis.uchicago.edu (Charles Blair)
Subject: More left/right (Was: Re: info please)
Reply-To: cjdb@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: The University of Chicago
Date: Wed, 8 Apr 1992 15:46:36 GMT

In article <1992Apr07.234549.26630@demon.co.uk> Codesmiths <dingbat@cix.compulink.co.uk> writes:

>As far as "codes" go, if you travel at all you'll find that the
>"rules" aren't regionally consistent anyway.

I'd be curious to know more about these variations. What are the
"rules" in England, for example?

In one of the Pippi Longstocking movies the pirate father has a big
gold hoop in his right ear. I can't remember where the movie was made,
however.  Maybe it was Sweden.


-- 
People who are easily shocked ... should be shocked more often. -- Mae West

Internet: chas@uchicago.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.bodyart
From: tjreynol@zephyr.cair.du.edu (The Jumpin Dude)
Subject: Re: A question of aesthetics
Keywords: left/right symmetry/whatever
Organization: University of Denver
Date: Fri, 10 Apr 92 15:48:48 GMT

my PA was going to be centered till someone said his piercer insisted
it be to one side, for no apparent reason;

mine is too the left, and i like it that way, alot. i'm going to get a new
ring tonight, maybe, 12 ga. with the biggest ball i can get, and 3/4"
diameter, the 5/8" is a wee bit small, as i put the hole further from
the urethra opening than i intended; i've been thinking tho, of putting
another hole to the right :-) now that would be symmetrical, but i think
that 2 rings might make it intolerably inconvenient to pee, i don't know.

also, my left ear is pierced, as i would have been ridiculed by my peers
at the age of 12, had i pierced the right; funny how i almost pierced the
right, but then i found out that i had been jokingly told that gay men pierced
on the left;

now i don't why this is, but i like nostril pierces on the left,
and if i were to pierce a nipple, which i almost thought about considering
to maybe do last night or sometime soon perhaps (;-)it would be he left
maybe cause i'm right brained, right handed ,right footed, right eyed,
right eared,  but i like to kiss to the left hehe

anyway i'm just rambling 
tim

Newsgroups: rec.arts.bodyart
From: tjreynol@zephyr.cair.du.edu (The Jumpin Dude)
Subject: Re: ANASTHETICS AND PIERC
Organization: University of Denver
Date: Fri, 10 Apr 92 22:21:51 GMT

don't generalize piercing enthusiasts on account of one rude post.

and it might help you, Ben, if your sarcasm came off a bit less belligerently
(SP?)

your sarcasm isn't amusing, it reminds me of when i was an asshole drunk,
alienating everyone that didn't know me well enough to knoww i was simply
in need of sleep and a dry spell. your sarcasm had a bit of an effect on me -
i quit drinking 12 days ago. (don't take credit, there were another score
of reasons, but you contributed a bit ;-)

	                              ^^^  this is a smilie face; it's used
to communicate what text alone cannot, commonly used to indicate humor, 
especially effective when used to complement sarcasm. rather ineffective
if used to complement vicious, stinging sarcasm, such as much of yours;
HOWEVER - I have a list of dozens of variations on the smilie face, i bet
you could find several to scatter about your articles to lighten them up
a bit. if you're interested, the list is yours.

tim
From: ndliles@miavx3.mid.muohio.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: For it is written
Date: 9 Apr 92 14:30:53 GMT


		For It Is Written

		And it has come to pass 
		when light from sun
		falls upon mountain.
		and sets in the distance
		a man on a white horse
		stands alone and waits
		for darkness
		as sleep of night
		returns to the surprise
		of no one.

		Through trees in road
		is seen an army of 1
		who fights the great fight
		breaks forth the final battle.
		The horse and rider draw closer
		with firey red eyes
		that reflect days long past,
		events long forgotten.

		A silhouette moon
		casts his shadow
		moving slowly in darkness.
		As trees lay before him
		he dismounts horse.
		Silent and reverent
		he lays sword on ground
		and bows head
		before army of 1.

		Eyes are now closed,
		they fire no more.
		A heart that weeps
		for children who grow old
		but are yet unborn.
		His surrender is complete.
		His submission is final.
		He is a fallen warrior.
		For it is written
		and it has come to pass.
From: sheila@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu (sheila)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: poem line numbers
Date: 6 Apr 92 15:27:51 GMT
Organization: The University of Texas at Austin, Austin TX

i really liked the idea of the line numbers in a poem.
it was interesting.
it reminds me of about three things,
first, programing in basic in the fifth grade and
numbering all of the lines in fives and tens.
and also, reading the bible when i was young, (i guess this will count
as two and three) because of the verse numbers
in it. and thinking in fragments, because after
reading it so many times it made fragmentory
impressions on me, like dream glimpses....
and they all had numbers on them,
i can't remember all of the numbers but...
"oh my dove, thou art in the clefts of the rock"
and
"as the deer hart panteth for the water brooks
so my soul longeth after thee"
and
"o that i was a dove so that i could fly away and be free"

"when i consider the heavens the work of your fingers"
in psalms and proverbs and song of solomon and ecclesiates...
there is nothing new under the sun...
and they all came in pictures vague, leaving.
and numbering the verses, what a modern idea!
before whoever his name was that numbered them, there
were no numbers and it was more continuious and i wonder
if i would have all of these disjointed memories
and more of a river instead if he hadn't numbered them.

so, when the author of the poem numbered his lines,
i thought of all this. and programming and the desire
to list and organize and also the tree like memories
with clusters of leaves at random verses.
-- 
stark raving sane -- sheila@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: WE DANCE TO REMEMBER
From: sturner@vax1.umkc.edu
Date: 4 Apr 92 14:05:50 CST
Reply-To: sturner@vax1.umkc.edu
Organization: University of Missouri-Kansas City

WE DANCE TO REMEMBER
to Kyle:  the wigwam dancer

I stand outside in the clear
	night air
A shooting star runs through
	my hair,
And still you are dancing.

The dance of a people that
	came before you,
That lived when the sky
	was a deeper blue,
The dipper pours out it's
	Astral tears for them.

Arms spinning like a dandelion
	poof,
Feathers behind you like
	wispy clouds,
And still you are dancing.

Will it ever end--this dance
	of retribution?
I will not forget:
The dipper pours out it's
	Astral tears for them.

I close my eyes--
Running through night skies--
And still you are dancing.

Eons gone by--
The world in ashes--
And still you are dancing

The world will eschew
All that is come true--
The dipper pours out it's
	Astral tears for them.
And still you are dancing.
From: sheila@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu (sheila)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: definition of haiku
Keywords: haiku
Date: 12 Apr 92 12:21:49 GMT
Organization: The University of Texas at Austin, Austin TX

In article <1992Apr9.203325.1684@polari.com> jtul@polari.com writes: >
>...if she knew the actual form of haiku. 
>The only thing I noticed in common among the pieces submitted under the
>name was that there were just three lines.

>Jack Tull, Associate Professor Emeritus, Mathematics
>The Ohio State University.  Seattle transplant.
>uunet!polari!jtul (polari = Seattle Online)

I like condensing to three lines. so far, i've only liked
about two poems i've made this way, but they were all
enjoyable to write. i like the simplicity. sometimes
i get carried away and too dense and too far separated
from writing what happens -- when i write the three lines,
it all seems very clear.
i looked for a book at a bookstore with poetry of basho
in it, translated. i only found one book, very small.
it is very interesting. and the translator had words
to say about what haiku was and they were interesting i will
type them:
oh, nevermind.
well, he just talks about a bunch of words, karumi, sabi,
and wabi -- i remember that someone else posting here
appeared to be familiar with these, so i will not try
to explain, since i am not. maybe the learned person will.

the first haiku appearing in the book of haiku of basho:

	In my new robe
	this morning --
	someone else.

i like this. too bad i can't read japanese. i think i will
try to learn.
what a nice poem to place at the beginning!

well, in a conversation about haiku, it was pointed out
that many times there are two parts, the first two lines,
then a leap two the third. this seems to be the case in
many that i have read.
-- 
stark raving sane -- sheila@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ahawks@isis.cs.du.edu (andy)
Subject: spontaneous experiment in virtual creativity
Keywords: making a fool of myself and wasting bandwidth
Organization: Nyx, Public Access Unix at U. of Denver Math/CS dept.
Distribution: usa
Date: Wed, 8 Apr 92 05:35:21 GMT

comments and criticsm welcome but will be ignored if posted and i don't think
i'm in the state of mind to accept any now anyway.  this is spontaneous as i'm
"on-line" (in more ways than one? hehe)

i am perpetually high
virtually....
man-  man-  mandala-mind world
finger pixel imagination
ancient shamen on acid cosmicly
conscious....
of the un-  un-  un-infinite
sound distant future reality
beat now
pump pump cowboy on

		ice

the man
the man in your sensual mind
the god of pixels
sim
simul
simulation
realization
intoxication
mystification
sensation
destination
hallucination
integration

cymfoni
controls me
--


ahawks@isis.cs.du.edu						andy

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mfactor@taronga.com (Marco Landin)
Subject: LIVING ON THE MATERIAL PLANE REQUIRES FAITH IN ITS EXISTENCE
Reply-To: mfactor@taronga.com (Marco Landin)
Organization: Taronga Park BBS
Date: Wed, 15 Apr 1992 06:26:11 GMT

	Okay, okay, okay.  I know it has a few jagged edges -I'm not through
polishing it- So please be careful.  I'm not responsible for any injuries.

LIVING ON THE MATERIAL PLANE REQUIRES FAITH IN ITS EXISTENCE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
   Is it true
   You can really
   See the stars
   From here?
   Is it true
   The sun shines through
   The hole
   In the planet's roof?

A sad and tired man
Sits under a shady tree:
The leaves shake and shift
As golden afternoon breezes
Sway the ancient trunk
To dance a waltz with coriolis currents;
On his face the silhouettes of leaves,
Projected landscapes,
Patchwork quilts of light and dark
Swing back and forth the scale
Of his apparent age.
   Cast off memories-
   Former lives-
   Forgotten aspirations-
   Crashing into icy
   Distant shores.
Cracks and chasms each,
Wrinkled lines upon his face
Murmur tales of regret
And desperation;
The lost and sallow look
Of a man who once enjoyed
The brief taste of the numinous.
Aftertaste of paradise
Does not sit well with
His daily life:
A bland comparison
The world becomes thereafter.

   Is it true
   You can really
   Hear the songs of birds
   From here?
   Is it true
   Sun-toasted leaves
   Spiral down from trees
   And in landing
   Softly kiss your skin?

Pulsating warm sensations
Permeate her flesh
As in her orgasm
She deifies herself,
Becomes one with
The rolling tides that cover them.
She's glad she wasn't hesitant;
The sand is not unpleasant
As she feared, and
As she joins her
Unnamed lover
In the spiral dance,
She flashes guilty thoughts
Of he who loves her,
Waiting there at home.
   Cast off memories-
   Former lives-
   Forgotten plans
   Crashing into icy
   Distant shores.
She is lying,
She is cheating;
This is the way of the world,
She justifies as
Once again the bobbing
Waves submerge their entwined frames,
Mutually clasped
In the sins of the world
And in the ecstasies of heaven.

   Is it true
   You can really
   Feel your heart
   Beating here?
   Is it true
   The heat of living blood
   Serpents through
   Your limbs
   And shakes chaos into
   Everything you touch?

Why did the priest
Cross the road?
The world may never know;
But as he enters
Leafy paradise of city park
And lays his tired body
On the manicured wild,
His fingers slide
Across the grass
And instantly notice
A family resemblance;
   Cast off memories-
   Former lives-
   Forgotten dreams-
   Crashing into icy
   Distant shores.
Every grass snake,
Every grub,
Whispers joyous
Halleluia,
Blessed Be,
Amen.
Or maybe it's his crazed imagination,
As he lays and stares
At the sun
Through the hole
In the planet's roof.
.

				Copyright-to-be 1992, Marcodudeman
				The Reluctant Philosopher.
-- 
      |                   |
       \0__,___   ___,__@/
        +  '         `  =
       / )             ( \
From: henning@acsu.buffalo.edu (Karl pillow Henning)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Welcome Back, Wlodek!  part iii (& finale)
Date: 17 Apr 92 01:59:44 GMT
Distribution: rec
Organization: UB


	each instrument has its range
	the clarinet so many breaths
	the violin so many strings
	the pencil so many semicolons
	& this lie so many ears

		(... orchestration)
		 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
From: jqtaylor@hpdmd48.boi.hp.com (John Quill Taylor)
Date: Mon, 13 Apr 1992 19:39:05 GMT
Subject: Re: Screw This
Organization: Hewlett Packard - Boise, ID
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems


daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) wrote:


>  Oh god, will it never end?
>  ...

That's the problem with 'for' loops, Doug. One must needs deal with
the Infinite lest we teach those Mortals not to divide by zero, nevermore.

         With deepest resignation, - jqtaylor -

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sheila@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu (sheila)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Another Deep Haiku by Whak Handee
Date: 13 Apr 92 18:15:18 GMT
Organization: The University of Texas at Austin, Austin TX

In article <1992Apr8.190128.2904@vax.muskingum.edu> ke_kimmell@vax.muskingum.edu (KRIA THE DARK) writes:
>-----
>
>	So, does imagery have its place in Haikus?

:) not at all! you should only write haiku with closed eyes
in a dark humid night set in a garden.
no, wait! just he opposite! you should go to a close desert
and wait for noon and sit in shade and stare at the glare
off a rock and heat waves if there are any until your eyes
feel hot and sticky.

:) you should be silly for listening to me, actually you should
do whatever you want to.

well, is the desert the opposite to the coast? would the
dessert be adult appreciation and coast, children?
hmm, it is probably not as separated as that, and even
the idea of age and youth is not as sepearted as that
as what? as that? what is that?
oops, i'm writing unclear.

probably the dry and the wet are the same beauty.
or maybe not. shoot, i cannot make up my mind. i will
have to think about this more.
lizards and fish.



-- 
stark raving sane -- sheila@ccwf.cc.utexas.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: eagle@binkley.cs.mcgill.ca
Subject: melancholy
Originator: eagle@binkley.cs.mcgill.ca
Organization: SOCS, McGill University, Montreal, Canada
Date: Tue, 7 Apr 1992 17:08:03 GMT

Melancholy
----------
 
A teaspoon lies on the road
smashed flat by a cement truck.
A window is open
but nobody looks out.
Perhaps that is why no one
puts up a ladder and elopes with
the one who isn't looking out -
or has it already happened?
In a fit of ladderlessness
I pick up the teaspoon.
Oh how flat it has become!
From: klaw@ecst.csuchico.edu (Almighty Nodens the Master of the Elder Sign)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: the gods of k mart and the shiny neon lights / Marek
Date: 15 Apr 92 23:11:29 GMT
Article-I.D.: ecst.1992Apr15.231129.15337
Organization: California State University, Chico

I almost passed this poem up but now I am glad I didn't!

There seems to be a high frequency of good posts this week, I guess
we've been living right.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 klaw@ecst.cscihp.csuchico.edu is Jason Livingston
				  305 Ash #1				
			 	  Chico, Ca 95928                            
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                               	 .PEACE.
                                *   *   *
			      *     *     *
			     *      *      *
			     *      *      *
                             *    * * *    *
			      *  *  *  *  *
				*   *   *
				   ***
From: casteley@phil.ruu.nl (Eric Casteleyn)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: the use of goldfish
Date: 15 Apr 92 12:45:04 GMT
Organization: Department of Philosophy, University of Utrecht, The Netherlands



  the use of goldfish

 you gave me a banana
 bent in a perfect way
 I pushed it around a bit
 intrigued, fascinated

   then you told me
   it opened too
   and had a use
   a sense even

 consequently you gave me
 a cupboard, several books
 and a walkman (guess what it played)
 all very nice I'm sure

 and finally a goldfish
 more colorful than the banana
 and apparently self-propelling
 until I tried to open it





              ...I hear the singing of the things
                 and I sing back in words. - EJC

send your answers to casteley@phil.ruu.nl and win a Nobel peace prize..
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: n2412@cray.com (Joe Green)
Subject: union dead
Keywords: for the
Date: 14 Apr 92 14:00:26 CDT


	Union station dawn train track 19_ I'm back 
	one day after Christmas washed in the waters of Victory
	my brother said come see us in

		Oregon

	We wrapped them each in the slaughtered sheets
	turn me they call o turn me

		Brother

	railyard and wasteland Oxnard Ventura Vandenberg Salinas
	Oakland dark is with them nearly their
	clothes bubble on them and firefleshed the children
	form a thought of spring of trees in

		Wildfire

	refinery flames marshes and ricefields power station
	the sign says

		Dunsmuir

	Shasta white winter high light indian salmon ridge
	spine snow bridge and over the cascades blizzard silence
	blown out then down the hill and o many rivers coast cascade
	Williamette fern and fir I'm told and there Salem station
	there is my brother his dog new wife pickup truck geese
	and goats rain on a tin roof turn me brother the children
	fuck this I'm going back to New York.

--
From: mannek@rs6214.ecs.rpi.edu (Keith Manne)
Subject: Re: recArtspoems (what Joe said goes too)
Reply-To: mannek@rpi.edu
Organization: Rennselaer Polytechnic Institute.
Date: Thu, 9 Apr 1992 15:02:33 GMT

BULLSHIT!!!!

This is an open forum, and I welcome Kumar's comments as moch as anyones... in fact, often more...  no, do not strike down the fledgling poets, but at the same time, do not lie in saying it is all great stuff, it is not.   So I encourage you, Kumar, to comment as often as you wish...  we can use a kick in the ass occasionally to get us off our high horses and egos...

	Thanks Kumar!!!

				-Keith
From: EPhantom@darknova.acf-lab.alaska.edu (A figment of your imagination)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: In A Single Movement
Date: 10 Apr 92 17:54:10 GMT
Organization: University of Alaska Computer Network


Board Of Life:
  In A Single Movement 

                                  On a cool summers night,
                            when the moon was full,
                   and the wind  rushed through the night,
     a stiff static fog blew in from the west,
                 and all the clouds glowed a placid white.

                        Upon the curved ground, 
                                a crack did unfold, 
                  light flowed from the ground, 
       a red light without source,
                      from which came no sound.

            It showed no signs of leaving,
                  through the dusk of times untold,
            the crack of light un-leaving,
stayed solidly steadfast in force,
            all through that cold evening.

                      When the new morning came,
                        in a flash of red the fold,
                         left as freely it came.
                          The god of the west,
                    moved a peace from the game.



Copyright (c) 1992 %P%H%A%N%T%O%M%
                    %P%H%A%N%T%O%M%  Poems
                     %P%H%A%N%T%O%M%

                          EPhantom@darknova.acf-lab.alaska.edu
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~  ...........  .......          .           .       .            ~
~  .            .      .        Nasha tai no kasei!         .   . ~
~  ...          .......           .            .                  ~
~  .            .               Prosperity and Long Life, To You. ~
~  .... xisting . hantom              .             .             ~
~                             .                            .      ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: lyndon@ee.uts.edu.au (Lyndon Brown)
Subject: The Cage
Organization: University of Technology, Sydney, Australia
Date: Wed, 15 Apr 1992 22:20:18 GMT
Summary: just a poem wot I wote
Keywords: poem


			The Cage

When we were concieved
  we were just spirals of energy
formed from thought, word and deed

We were carried into this world
  from that humble beginning by our mother
who protected us while we grew 

At birth we left evolutions shield
  and accumilated experiences
at that time we were rarely alone

As children we learnt to grow
  and live and love and fear
emotions we eventually learnt to conceal

We formed our own shields 
  of rationalism and will
creating a barrier of ego for protection

However we never forgot our emotions
  which yearned for release 
for its truely lonely when you feel hollow inside 

Then came our friends
  they helped us lower our defenses
but only to glimpse our spirits

We always new that was not enough
  and yearned for a time
when we could release our inner child

Then came our first love
  barriers dropped and the inner child
experienced a long needed release

Eventually however we had to replace
  the barriers to reduce the pain
of life and love and fears

But still we remember
  the need of the child
to experience life without the bars of ego

We thought for a while
  that the spirituall life
would allow the barriers to stay down

But then we found 
  the dogma attached
contradicted our experiences

And the barriers raised again
  for some it finishes here
and the child within dies

For others they find the inner child
  released by having 
their own children which their barriers protect

And when their children grow up
  the parents inner child cries out
Until it finds another release

Some find the need to control teir lives
  But the inner child grows stronger
Increasingly desiring release

Some find the need to control their lives
  but the childs needs grow stronger
And the barriers fear the inner childs strength

Till we find that others start
  to release our inner child 
and then we need to control their barriers

Eventually our child cries out
  and cannot be denied
And the process of reconcilliation begins

We all need to learn to feel
  our emotions and yet
maintain our barriers with the outside world

The will that contains our
  inner child needs
to risk so we can all feel love

We need to learn
  how to maintain our will
that forms the barrier called ego

And yet to create
  in that cage of the ego
a door to release our soul

for always remember
  if you have the key to your cage
you can exit whenever you wish

And that cages were built
  not just to hold the soul
but to protect us in times of need

for the cage is not just a cage
  but the bones on which
our body has been built

A soul without will
  is like a body without bones
unable to move or breath it disperses

And yet a will without spirit
  is like a dusty skeleton
made from bones but dead

for the bones are the laws
  the marrow the spirit
and the flesh the stuff of life.

Lyndon.
14/4/92

lyndon@ee.uts.edu.au			"In your dreams the gods are real"

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems