HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: ross@traceback.gatech.edu (Rosario DSouza, J)
Subject: During a Boring Lecture - A Poem
Organization: College of Computing, Georgia Tech
Date: Wed, 26 Aug 1992 19:15:11 GMT

	During a Boring Lecture
	-----------------------


	Behold this summer morn,
	I sit here by the window,
	Bored with what I'm doing;
	Should I sit here, or go?

	I look beyond the window,
	To see what lies out there;
	Just sunshine filled morning,
	And morning-fresh air.

	With fond memories, I think of home -
	Home, so far away,
	Where someone's waiting just for me -
	Me, and the month of May.

	I ponder on my reason here:
	A place of work, not play;
	And like a child, I pray with hope,
	For time to pass away.



..Ross D'Souza
ross@cc.gatech.edu

(C) Copyright, Rosario D'Souza, August 1992.
All rights reserved.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: bkeener@cs.ulowell.edu (Brian E. Keener)
Subject: Hello...
Keywords: Pain!  Suffering!  Agony!  (with a side of wax beans...)
Organization: University of Massachusetts at Lowell Computer Science
Date: Thu, 3 Sep 1992 14:13:54 GMT

Hello, every-one/body!  I have been "out of the loupe/loop" for a while, but
	have decided to come back to rec.arts.poems and bask in the warm glow
	of silently readiant verses of shimmering literature. (poetic, isn't
	it?)
Most of the stuff I post will be just spontaneous bolshevik that I come up
	with on the spur o' "d" moment, so be warned : extremely lousy stuff
	may ensue.
I am rather sensitive to needless flames so, if you desire to comment on any
	of my poems, please do it in a nice, harmless, constructively critical
	way, hmmm?
Also, if I seem a bit obnoxious... it's probably because I am.  ;)

							Love and Cheez Whiz,
							   -MetalMaster



Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: terri@cwis.unomaha.edu (Teresa L. Jelinek)
Subject: Shameless
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 19:51:50 GMT


	Shameless

She roams the city streets at night,
Always having to put up a fight,
But it's the only way she knows,
It's the last road she chose,
Besides, it pays the bills,
Along with giving thrills,
It gives her everything she wants,
And yet her dreams it haunts,
She still wishes to go back,
But not to the same ol' shack,
She's been degraded,
So many dreams have faded,
Never to come true,
She doesn't know what else to do,
Like a rag doll she's been tossed around,
Just another night out on the town.
From: jeannie@fsu1.cc.fsu.edu (Wicked Witch Of The West)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Another sappy poem about love
Date: 27 Aug 92 17:09:25 GMT


I know, I know the subjects been done to death, but when that's what's 
pushing you from inside what's a poet suppose to do?


Search
----------
only
wanted 
love 
like 
that
given
understand
perhaps 
they
couldnUt 
wouldnUt 
hurts 
gave 
heart
soul 
love
unreturned 
pain
dying 
more
each
day 
lonely
search 
for 
El Dorado

jeannie 8/27/92

                      




            All opinions expressed here are half price 
                                  

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: terri@cwis.unomaha.edu (Teresa L. Jelinek)
Subject: A.A. ('cause you never know who it is!)
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 04:10:26 GMT


A.A. ('cause you never know who it is!)

In a drunken stupor,
There's nothing to adore,
Stumbling around,
And suddenly hitting the ground,
It's no fun,
Especially when you're the only one,
You feel like a real fool,
Can't even sit on a stool,
Always falling down,
"What a clown!"
A far off voice replies,
Someone you can't see with your own two eyes,
You don't know where you're at,
And people use you as a door-mat,
Soon you're squashed into the ground,
Just waiting to be found...
From: root@bing.UUCP (Administrator)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: mr. buchanan, you should have been born black
Date: 25 Aug 92 15:39:40 GMT
Organization: Bing's Rubber Chicken Factory -- "Our clucks are boneless."

barclay@RAIL9000.gatech.edu (Barclay Blanchard) writes:
> Bing, 
> 
> For some reason I can't send you email.
> 
> I like the thoughts in this poem.
> 
> Barclay
> 
> -- 
> Barclay Elizabeth Blanchard    barclay@rail9000@gatech.edu
> "I've been laughed at by some of the funniest people."
> --Lissie, Alice Walker's _The Temple of My Familiar_

Thanks, Barclay!  Listening to him speak makes me physically sick sometimes.

And sorry about themail problem, I think it's on my end.
What I get for being a dangling leaf on a far corner of a massive network.

Bing

--
Bing H Bang                                  +---------------------------+
Senior Systems Analyst                       | This is my home computer. |
National Data Corporation, Atlanta, GA       | I do not speak for NDC.   |
uucp: gatech!warlord!bing!root               +---------------------------+
From: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Why?
Date: 27 Aug 92 16:12:16 GMT
Reply-To: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au
Organization: Department of Computer Science, The University of Queensland

In article 1754@leela.cs.orst.edu, petersm@jacobs.CS.ORST.EDU (Marguerite Petersen) writes:
>
>WHY
>
>I've always told my children
>Never ask why.
>That is a question
>that is not
>allowed.

I don't understand. How can children be considered as
anything but precisely and rightly why-asking machines?
(maybe i should have some and find out)

>Yet now I find myself
>asking why.

I should jolly well think so (exclaims the idealist within).

> [...]
>You comdemn me 
>without a trial.

>I extend my hand in
>friendship.
>Please 
>take it.

Aah, says the idealist within, worthy sentiments to soothe
the initial cringe. Maybe i should slit his throat.

-m.
From: merciermd@EA.USL.EDU (Lusty Yeller Wench)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: mickey d's friday morning
Date: 4 Sep 92 13:01:35 GMT
Reply-To: merciermd@EA.USL.EDU (Lusty Yeller Wench)
Organization: The Rubber Band Planet of Supple Passion Droids


god it's early

sitting down trying to read a newspaper
while men with lust-red eyes stare at me
just because i happen to have pudenda
meanwhile a lame girl named becky
gives hesitant smiles and folger's
to open the crust-filled eyes
of early morning idiots like me

god damn it's early

if this coffee is decaf
why is this fetus kicking me so hard
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: rebecca@carson.u.washington.edu (Rebecca Lowell)
Subject: Re: a touch of green
Organization: University of Washington, Seattle
Date: Fri, 28 Aug 1992 01:03:11 GMT

   donz@ui.org (Don Zirilli) writes:
>  daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) writes:
>> zola@hardy.u.washington.edu (Queen of the Netherlands) writes:
>>> >Has Josef resurrected himself in me?
>>> 

[...]
>  This Messiah stuff is going to his head.  
                                  ^^^

Don! Isn't this the pot calling the kettle black?  Who is dancing
around wanting to knight everyone (with the exception of Mr. Tarantiti)
an O'Toole, the same person who's existence (!) seems to be inseparable
from his persona of dead fake person.  And who, incidentally is seen 
as the most flagrant Josef-wanna-be of the bunch by many others.

Sorry, I just had to say this.  Doug seems like a decent sort of fellow-
and I haven't noticed him writing odes about "it's not easy being Green".

dammit man.  cocktail?


----yes. this is a different account, the usual system is unusually doggy.

-Rebecca           zola@u.washington.edu
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
love is a perky elf dancing a merry little jig and then suddenly he turns
on you with a minature machine-gun.       **kierkegaard via matt groening
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Date: Sat, 29 Aug 1992 05:30:13 GMT
Subject: Re: Scream quietly, please
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

In rec.arts.poems, cahduns@atlas.cs.upei.ca (Henry Dunsmore) writes:

> 
> 
> The most difficult thing to do in this world is to be an individual.

No, the most difficult thing is to eat glass withoug cutting
your toungue.

> 
> I feel that in this poem you have expressed some very basic and universal
> ideas for all of us.  The next step is to see if you can get beyond the self
> pity and give us something that will help in our collective crying out for
> help in being individual.

Yes, yes.  By all means, submerge your individuality in our group 
yearning.

> 
> I like your poem, but I think many of us have gone through this stage in our
> growth and would like some answers not further questions, complaints, or
> negativism.

Hmm, this is a self-indictint sentence if ever I saw one.

El Capitan.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--Questions she asks
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Wed, 26 Aug 92 10:17:08 GMT


                        Questions she asks

What do you want of me?
What demand does your love conceal?
How will your care bind me to you?
What chains lie hidden
beneath those satin declamations
which draw me nearer?
When will the sweet shivers
now shuddering my frame
reveal themselves as the caresses
of silken rope
tying my spirit to the bed
of your need?
Why do all such gifts have for me
a Trojan hue?
Will you
please
stop your generous heart
and help me off
the blindfold colored all with suspicion
which has stained my soul?
From: ktw@polaris.att.com (79243-wolman)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: The Pennsylvania Station Men's Room....
Date: 26 Aug 92 17:14:07 GMT
Article-I.D.: cbfsb.1992Aug26.171407.2785
Organization: AT&T
Originator: news@cbnewsb.cb.att.com


 
      THE PENNSYLVANIA STATION MEN'S ROOM, 1988:
      A DAUMIER CARTOON

      The children stand, gaping, staring
      upward at the faces around us:
      filth smeared, sunken-cheeked,
      the moment drawn in India ink shadows.
      One child reaches for the other,
      the older for the younger,
      to pull him toward an empty stall,
      responding to the urging
      of the father who lunges,
      bent forward, arched
      for protection and flight,
      his body half-sheltering the sons.

      At a sink a man, lower body bared,
      washes himself, oblivious.
      The floors are smeared with the vanity
      of maleness itself:
      spilt seed to engender only chaos.
      Leaning toward the children,
      a filthy man in a besmirched coat
      holds his hand out, begging:
      his voice is the voice of a mendicant,
      invoking the name of Jesus
      in blessing: yet his eyes are the color
      of a gas flame, and burn hot,
      focused on the quivering children
      who flicker in the light like candleflames.

Kenneth Wolman, August 26, 1992
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--She WAS kind of nosy
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Fri, 28 Aug 92 22:41:43 GMT


                        She WAS kind of nosy

She WAS
kind of nosy
but that's alright
how does one
or two
learn
otherwise?
she wanted to know
if poems I wrote about women
were
really
true or false
and if so
how many
(women
not poems)
she WAS
nosy
wasn't she?
but that's still alright
I answered
by telling her
I wouldn't
because the poem should be enough
if it isn't it should die a natural death
and
finally
if I told about my private life
no one would buy my biography
which I plan to publish posthumously
(when HE is gone)
proceeds to go
to the woman I will have been with
when I die.


Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mzaransk@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu (U KNOW WHO (Marc'))
Subject: untituled
Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana
Date: Fri, 4 Sep 1992 14:29:41 GMT

resigned to the pain'd discretion
of our heart/souls
we drown in the mystery of romance

the air kisses softly
From: v131p9t3@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (Ninstar Cybermage - Back Again from the Mists!)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: +==[====----Headaches----====]==+
Date: 1 Sep 92 14:22:00 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41

I'm feeling a little irritated about the cure or kill methodology behind most
cancer treatments.


Headaches

I'd like to have a headache
Simple pain
Sinuses, and tension
Pressure from the Rain.

Instead I take a pill
So good for my disease
Too bad it slits my head apart
In pain I cannot ease.

Dizzyness, and drowsiness
Headaches and pain
Nausea and vomitting
What does this living gain?

But still, I guess I'm breathing
And these days it's not that bad
The pain my Meds can cause me
They bug me just a tad.

So I'll just keep on going
Until my treatment's through
And then I'll feel the joy
To know my meds are through.


James Shank           	#		v131p9t3@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu
AKA: Ninstar Cybermage  #	or	shank@acsu.buffalo.edu
###############################################################################
"Ten thousand years old...He could be trouble." -Vampire Hunter D
"Every night I say a prayer, in the hope that there's a heaven..."-Styx
"How do you make ammends for a god's sins?"-Forgotten Realms
##############################################################################
Sneaky Types,Inc.:Clandestine operations for the common man.
	"Don't call us.  We'll just bill you when it's done."
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: terri@cwis.unomaha.edu (Teresa L. Jelinek)
Subject: Burger King
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Mon, 31 Aug 1992 04:16:09 GMT


	Burger King

Looking out the car window,
The traffic's moving real slow,
What a bind!
I turn and what do I find?
It's one of them alright,
I saw one just the other night,
They sit there deciding what to do,
They are one of the chosen few,
Their finger moves toward their face,
These people don't belong in the human race,
Then up the nose it disappears,
These people bring out my greatest fears,
For I feel that I will soon be ill,
I say these people just can't be real,
But they're really out there,
And you just can't help but stare,
Next there's something they fling,
Welcome to Burger King!
Xref: sparky rec.arts.poems:8611 rec.arts.books:15549
From: manes@bass.bu.edu (Michelle Manes)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,rec.arts.books
Subject: Re: I give up...
Date: 3 Sep 92 16:26:45 GMT
Article-I.D.: bu.95294
Reply-To: manes@bass.bu.edu (Michelle Manes)
Followup-To: rec.arts.poems
Distribution: usa
Organization: Boston University

In article <1992Sep2.204622.19919@news.acns.nwu.edu> tilden@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Robert Tilden) writes:
>I'm embarassed to have to turn to the experts, but here it is: who wrote it
>and what's it from?
>		
>	Ah, love, let us be true
>	To one another! for the world, which seems
>	To lie before us like a land of dreams,
>	So various, so beautiful, so new,
>	Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
>	Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
>	And we are here as on a darkling plain
>	Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
>	Where ignorant armies clash by night.
>

It's from "Dover Beach" by Matthew Arnold.




michelle


--
Michelle Manes		|	"What should I be when I grow up?"
manes@bass.bu.edu	|	"Honest."
			|	-Robert M. Pirsig
From: sstover@sumax.seattleu.edu (Maven o'Mirth)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: poem: INSCRIPTION
Date: 2 Sep 92 03:18:55 GMT
Organization: Seattle University, Seattle WA

The title actually is nonexistent, and when the poem was in a much
different form I called it "inscription on a sacred gift" but now the
title is perhaps ironically absent.

I see you, love
a little at a time--your fingers
on the neck of a guitar, your lips
moving into a smile.
I close my eyes and feel you
within me and without me;
I close my eyes and feel you
with me.
This is the curse of the poet:
to speak love, to write love.
Kiss my hand.  Let us be done with words.

c/c/f welcome
--
Sheryl Stover				|  How passing fair is youth,
*>sstover@sumax.seattleu.edu<*		|  Forever fleeting away;
and Hemingway, feline philosopher	|  Who happy would be, let him be;
Watch this .sig for news of the		|  Of tomorrow, who can say?
upcoming album from Seattle's 		|	-Lorenzo de'Medici
premier band, the Medici!		|


Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: wizard@wixer.cactus.org (John P Onorato)
Subject: poem about ping -- inspired
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Wed, 26 Aug 92 04:27:46 GMT




This just sprouted after reading the poem 'L' by Bunweasel.




PING
----

god of ping
sounds like my god
god of nothing, really
god of my own little hole
where I can do anything
where I am my own god
my place that I reatreat to
from time to time

god of ping
god of what?
some ancient deity, 
begging to be born again;
I shall give you life
from my own breast --
here, take some life,
sit by me,
rule with me
watch with me

but don't make a false move
for this is my domain, ultimately
you're just a convienience,
something to pass the time
and if you screw up

Zap!

to oblivion with you.


11.33p    25.Aug.92


(c) 1991 John Onorato.  All Rights Reserved.

comments welcome.



-- 
John P Onorato             |   "Softness without strength is weakness.
wizard@wixer.cactus.org    |    Strength without softness is meanness."
cactus.org!wixer!wizard    |             -- Mahatma Ghandi
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: GC.SUL@forsythe.stanford.edu (Sullivan)
Subject: ode from a boomer
Organization: Stanford University, California, USA
Date: Wed, 2 Sep 1992 09:43:00 GMT

We did not fight the war in Vietnam
except for a precious few
We did not protest the war in Vietnam
except for a precious few

Thus shall our parents and progeny
be doomed to lead us

The precious dead, or dismissed, or unprecious
accept us.

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: rbo@canopus.biochem.ualberta.ca (Robert Boyko)
Subject: the straight and narrow? 
Organization: University of Alberta, Edmonton, Canada
Date: Fri, 28 Aug 1992 19:48:16 GMT


    the straight and narrow?

walking a tightrope
when the ground gives way
the change in perspection
brings heightened apprehension.

so i focus more tightly
on the steps i am taking
my body shivers and hesitates
i nurture this rigormortis
by reaching down for the rope
and just hanging on...

lest i should fall freely
into my Lord's net.
 
              rbo
From: donz@ui.org (Don Zirilli)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: A Sudden Insertion Into Life
Date: 26 Aug 92 16:35:28 GMT
Organization: UNIX International, Parsippany, NJ

In article <212@uiunix.ui.org> donz@ui.org (Don Zirilli) writes:
>
>A Sudden Insertion Into Life
>
>
>Her breezy little curves
>and the flutter of her eyes,
>her hips that rattle and wag,
>the squeezy juices of her hips--

LIPS LIPS LIPS.  It's supposed to be lips!  Sorry for the slip up.


Posthumous
-- 
nobody/not even the rain/              	/	   /      /  /    
 /   /   /     /   /   / /     /       /    /    // /    /  /         /    
/     / / /   /   /     /   / /    / /   / / /  /  /   /      /      /
   / /   /   /	/	 / /      //    /   / /     / /      / / /
From:  (Michael Snider)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Villanelles?
Date: 25 Aug 92 19:11:11 GMT
Followup-To: rec.arts.poems
Organization: BNR

In article <1992Aug24.183304.12032@leland.Stanford.EDU>,
jchien@leland.Stanford.EDU (Jennifer Crystal Fang-Chien) wrote:
> 
> 
> 	Rapsters,
> 		What say we start a villanelle series?

[definition and good example deleted for bandwidth]

Sounds like fun--here's one of mine--

Villanelle for November


The dishes are dirty and winter's come--
I'll face them both and I'll live, but I swear
I'd rather be at the beach drinking rum.

There the sun is warm; here my nose is numb
And I'm at the sink suffering mal de mer--
The dishes are dirty and winter's come.

In the heatless kitchen I pick at crumbs
In my Playtex gloves and long underwear,
Longing to be at the beach drinking rum--

Oh, then I'd be lost in Elysium
And could defy that moldy Camembert--
The dishes are dirty and winter's come.

The suds, like the snow, seem pure; I know some
Are fooled by that, but I've more savoir faire
And I'd rather be at the beach drinking rum,

For snow becomes slush and suds turn to scum
And I'd rather be anywhere than where
The dishes are dirty and winter's come--
God! I'd rather be at the beach drinking rum.


-------

By the way, the most famous example in English is probably Dylan Thomas's
"Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night."
  

****   Michael Snider   **********  alas, no email, so reply by post  
*******
*Talk of fame, honor, pleasure, wealth, all are dirt compared with
affection.*
*                                                   Charles Darwin         
 *
*Critics quarrel with other critics. With an artist, no sane man quarrels. 
 *
*                                                   George Santayana       
 *
*           BNR can't have any opinion, not even mine.                     
 *
From: cecilw@access.isc-br.com (Cecil Williams)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Nomen Dubium
Keywords: NnNnNnNnNn
Date: 3 Sep 92 21:21:29 GMT
Organization: ISC-Bunker Ramo, Spokane, WA


"On the road again, 
I just can't wait to get on the road again..."


I'll be staying at the Le Meredien in Piccadilly 
from Sept. 13th-17th, if any UK Rappers want to stop by
for a brew or just to say hi.

I'll also be in Atlanta, Ga. on Saturday the 11th.
If anyone cares to join me for lunch, let me know...



Cecil
From: denelsbe@washington.cs.unc.edu (Kevbo)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Villanelles?
Date: 26 Aug 92 16:19:23 GMT
Organization: The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

In article <1992Aug24.183304.12032@leland.Stanford.EDU> jchien@leland.Stanford.EDU (Jennifer Crystal Fang-Chien) writes:
)
)	Rapsters,
)		What say we start a villanelle series?
)	Anyone interested in writing one, or not, give
)	it a try and post it here.  The rhyme and line
)	scheme is as follows:
)	
)	A-c-B/ab-c-A/ab-c-B/ab-c-A/ab-c-B/ab-c-A-B
)	
)	Some also have a fixed number of syllables
)	in each line.
)
)	If this looks confusing, then I've got the first
)	submission below:
	^^^^^^^^^^

Note the pun here, folks...

)	Puncture Me With Your Effervescent Phallus
)
)
)	Puncture me with your effervescent phallus;
)	Distinctive thrusting does not hurt, although
)	Some know penetration as an act of malice.
)
)	Our mothers imagined sex as callous --
)	Liberating, instead, it should be hallow.
)	Puncture me with your effervescent phallus.
)
)	Men lust for our benefit, filling our chalice.
)	Can you not see, they are adorned with God's halo?
)	Some know penetration as an act of malice.
)
)	Their daughters became as wise as Pallas,
)	We learned: Bend, when forced, like a willow.
)	Puncture me with your effervescent phallus.
)
)	Women will not be enchanted like Alice
)	In wonderland, Knowing nothing but to cry, Oh!
)	Some know penetration as an act of malice.
)
)	Men fantasize sovereignity in our palace,
)	The vagina, imagining permission to sow.
)	Puncture me with your effervescent phallus.
)	Some know penetration as an act of malice.

Ah, the fair lady has thrown down the gauntlet.  Very well.  A reply via
villanelle:


		Good Knight, Do Not Go Gentle Into Her

	Good knight, do not go gentle into her;
	The princess is begging to be aroused.
	Rage, rage, until she sighs, and doesn't stir.

	Invading forces she will not deter,
	Nor fight occupation, nor try to oust;
	Good knight, do not go gentle into her.

	Perhaps she's mewling and starting to purr,
	Like a cat in heat that needs to be doused.
	Rage, rage, until she cries, and doesn't stir.

	Or maybe to find the worthiest sir,
	She tilts her rounds and says "Surely you joust?"
	Good knight, do not go gentle into her.

	Or her cup is wet with her own liqueur,
	And you two mix it up, getting her soused;
	Rage, rage, until she dries -- and doesn't stir.

	And all that chivalry may seem a blur
	When you're man and wife, many years espoused.
	Good knight, do not go gentle into her --
	Rage, rage, until she dies (and doesn't stir).

---------
Kev @ UNC
8/26/92

-- 
|| +------------------+  You Yankees are so silly 
||-| Kev @ UNC        |  About matters of the heart;
||-| Master Poetaster |  Don't you know that women are the only works of art?
|| +------------------+        -- Don Henley, "Drivin' With Your Eyes Closed"