HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Subject: Breaking the Cycle (c&c welcome)
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Fri, 20 Nov 1992 00:25:32 GMT

Breaking the Cycle

...snow...drifts...
	...numbling...
clouds misty on my shoulders...
	bearing down with gentle weight...
...a tolerable burden...
	preferable no doubt to the

Sharp.
Red.
Flame.
Hope.

...surrender to despair...
	...peace at last.

*****

M.A. Mohanraj
November 19, 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
Organization: University of Illinois at Chicago
Date: Monday, 16 Nov 1992 16:14:27 CST
From: <U19807@uicvm.uic.edu>
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: URBAN BUGBEAR

URBAN BUGBEAR

I sit on the stool at the local place,
drinking my life away since it seems to be
A far better solution than
thinking of my neighbor's troubles.
I sit-trying hard not to think-of
crime death murder hate hate hate overload
overload overload overload...
And the realization is still with me
That no matter how hard I drink
The realization is still with me.

The bugbear is sitting on the stool next to me.
He's eating fingers and toes and other organs
Far too vile to contemplate.
He seems to be enjoying himself.
The bastard's surely insane,as I am
For allowing myself to remain sitting next
To the likes of him.

The bugbear has a lot of money.
He seems to be enjoying the cash he makes
Off of my neighbor's misery.
He's a greedy little bastard,as well as an
Insane one,as well as a morally corrupt one.

Unfortunately,he's now spouting bible verse in
Pig latin, to prove how pious and honest a
Workingman he is despite the fact that he's a
Cannibalistic sonofabitch as well as a graft-peddler
And a thief. So much for organized religion.

If I had a softball bat big enough,I'd smash him.

Trouble is,he's immaterial.

And everywhere,including the blandly suffocating refuge
Some dope once proclaimed "The Suburbs".

People laugh as the Bugbear takes another chunk of flesh
Out of what used to be someone's arm.
If he keeps this up,he'll get his own sitcom,
Or better yet,his own TV talk show.

It figures.

And people have the gall to ask me why I drink?

      ** Chris Krolczyk,esq.  * DISCLAIMER: My opinions are in **
      ** Maniac-at-Large      * no way endorsed by the Univer- **
      ** U19807@UICVM.BITNET  * sity of Illinois at Chicago.   **
      ** u19807@uicvm.uic.edu * So there. Nyaah.               **
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: steele@aem.umn.edu (Stephanie Steele)
Subject: Re: Anglocentricism in rec.arts.poems Re: Urdu Knowledge. Re: Urdu Ignorance (part II)
Organization: University of Minnesota
Date: Fri, 20 Nov 1992 17:48:03 GMT

mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin) writes:

>In article <1992Nov19.175925.14938@zip.eecs.umich.edu>,
>bhattach@quip.eecs.umich.edu (sayan bhattacharyya) writes:
>> 
>> On a related note, I am disappointed to find that rec.arts.poems
>> is so Anglocentric and so Eurocentric. Poetry of non-Western
>> cultures, particularly those of the Third world, is rarely 
>> discussed here. (I may be wrong, because I have time to read this
>> group rarely, but this has been my impression so far).
>> 
>> Enjoy!  
>> 
>> -Sayan Bhattacharyya

>Sayan:  (a) Last time I looked, Sheila was a girl.

yes, sheila is a woman, and uh, not a Hardon either....
>	(b) You are correct that there is not much discussion on r.a.p. about
>	    poetry of Third World cultures.  That is not because we don't like 
>	    it, it's because we don't know anything about it.  Please feel free
>	    to post more information, and especially more poetry, from the
>	    Third World culture of your choice.   Of course, this has nothing
>	    to do with Urdu, which, as we have all been told, is not a culture.
>	    
>It all comes down to this:  we can only talk about what we know about.  If you
>have specialized knowledge of poetry, please share it.


>Marie Coffin

marie, i don't think it is sayan's or any of the other 'urduers'
responsibility to come to us and enlighten us regarding their language,
poetry and or culture. although i only caught the tail end of the urdu
debate, and did not vote on the issue, i understand and respect the need
of groups 'outside' of the dominant culture to form organizations solely
dedicated to discussing and preserving and strengthening their own
culture, language. arts, etc. i understand that most of the rappers
that voted against the urdu group did so in the hopes of broadening
the diversity of rap, but in the end it seems obvious the the 'urduers'
needed their own 'place' to work (i don't ever recall any big debates
when i was in school on whether or not there should be a Black Student
Alliance or the Hillel Club or the Latin Club or MEChA- monimiento
estudiantil chicano de aztlan.) Now that the urdu group is available
it seems that everybody should benefit. the urduers are in a space in
which they feel empowered to argue and discuss urdu ideas/poetry, and
all of us lucky rappers have a great place to go now in order to learn
from them. i mean, if we have the choice, and we want to really get
to *know* a dish of palak paneer, do we go over to Diwana Indian
restaraunt in Temple City, Ca (right next to the McDonald's on Las
Tunas Blvd, across the street from the Kentucky Fried Chicken) or
do we go to some nice little dive in Kadiri, Andhra Pradesh?

steph..
>   
--

=======================================================================
			   Stephanie Steele
			steele@chip.aem.umn.edu
From: dany@irvine.com (rorschach)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: first posting poem
Date: 17 Nov 92 03:04:35 GMT
Organization: Irvine Compiler Corp., Irvine, California, USA


               l o v e p o e m
               --------------------------------

               there's more to me
               than you'll ever see
               in the black shroud blindness
               of our own deceit
               in the tissue of lies
               of love denied
               cut to the bone
               to the life inside
               and if i crawl
               and if i beg
               slide splintered glass
               through my hollow head
               for your velvet kiss
               your emptiness
               you can staple my eyes shut
               staple my eyes shut    


dany@irvine.com                  C&C welcome: be gentle but firm.
From: jjwebb@cruzio.santa-cruz.ca.us
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Mr. Nikolayev
Keywords: Critic or lazy?
Date: Sun, 15 Nov 92 16:40:04 PST
Reply-To: jjwebb@cruzio.santa-cruz.ca.us



Mr. Nikolayev,

So your participation here is motivated by an interest in good poetry.
Your means of discerning good poetry, the application of reason.

Reason. That sounds right.
 
Why don't you choose one of your favorite poems (not one of your own,
please) and show us all how you descry its greatness. I assume that one 
of your favorites would fall into the 'great poetry' category? 

Or are you just another proponent of the 'poetry slam' school of
superficial criticism? Can you accomplish more than merely making a
name for yourself as this week's rabid dog?


                 JJWebb-- 

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: alk4@ellis.uchicago.edu (Alex L. Karan)
Subject: Re: suggestions for Alex / Marek (Re: Artifacts)
Reply-To: alk4@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 1992 23:40:44 GMT

 Just a few points, friend:

1) there is another way in which the rose can be wasted
   that you may be missing
2) I do not want to simply make a neat fitting metaphor,
   such as love = jizm.  The metaphor isn't supposed to be
   a cozy fit.
3) I think I'm quite aware that "full of love" is a cliche.

I was sarcastic when I said so easy.  Relatively easy, maybe.

For that matter...the rose is cliche, the girl is...the context of the poem is.
I'm not writing about "fucked girls " here.

Let me extend a hint:  the title.  IT isn't "fucked girls"
or "relationships" or "love".

Its "artifacts".

Yet again, i'm writing about looking, and how it is also living.
But I may have quite not done well enough.  You are right,
it does not stand.  That's why I need invisible thread
in focus.

Thank you.

Alex
From: bunny@bsu-cs.bsu.edu (Marsh)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem - Where the Ravens Feast
Date: 20 Nov 92 01:37:59 GMT
Organization: CS Dept, Ball St U, Muncie, Indiana


WHERE THE RAVENS FEAST

Late autumn brings a chill to nest here,
snarling, as the feet of winter;
apathy steals over all the fields and
makes them listless, sleepy, dreamy
for the sun of summer not long past.

Squashes dot the countryside with orange,
yellow, brown and green - like flowers
in the dead and tarnished grasses,
a funeral corsage still fresh among
the crushed, forgotten, crumbling leaves.

Cool winds remind us, catch a sweater
as we come outside to walk in early dark;
and as the daylight ebbs away and birds
flock low in fading trees the shadows
cover the cornfield where the ravens feast.

-Tracy Flynn-Marsh
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: bunny@bsu-cs.bsu.edu (Marsh)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem - Beauty
Date: 19 Nov 92 00:55:27 GMT
Organization: CS Dept, Ball St U, Muncie, Indiana


BEAUTY

When I was a child I filled myself with lovely words...
I knew then, though I didn't understand it,
that I was otherwise devoid of beauty.
I understand it now although I don't believe that
I can ever know it full again.

Odd reversal...

My vanity is nothing but an empty shell
wrapped around the carcass of something that
devoured dictionaries for diversion on a long
and boring Saturday when everyone else
was playing softball in the park.

Now, here I am: adult, and pseudo-intellect
instructs my taste to choose a banquet...
thesaurus, peppered Webster and a bracer
of the richest of encyclopaedia my tongue
in solemn resignation can endure.

-Tracy Flynn-Marsh
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sp15@quads.uchicago.edu (steven  paul)
Subject: "The Falling Season"
Reply-To: sp15@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Sun, 22 Nov 1992 03:18:59 GMT

In article <1992Nov22.031753.3973@midway.uchicago.edu> sp15@midway.uchicago.edu writes:
>     THE TEMPEST
>     By Steven E. Paul
>
>  The storm builds
>  On her calm waters...
>
>  Deep waves crash
>  Her inticing shore...
>
>  Forlorn gusts wander
>  Her thirsty sands...
>
>  A stray gull coos
>  For his love...
>
>  The night blankets
>  The embracing lovers...
>
>  The tempest sounds
>  His carnal blast...
>
>-- 
>"HOMO SUM; HUMANI NIHIL A ME ALIENUM PUTO..."  Steven E. Paul <sp15@midway.uchicago.edu>  Send lots of E-mail!

    FALLING SEASON
    By Steven E. Paul

  Leaf falls
  Under gray skies--
  Another dies...

  The tree is revealed,
  The wind blows,
  The plague of death grows...

  A child plays,
  In the leaves,
  Losing track of the days...

  Water falls,
  Tears flow--
  The ground shakes down
  Below...

  The cry is heard
  Within the flight of a bird--
  The falling season is here,
-- 
"HOMO SUM; HUMANI NIHIL A ME ALIENUM PUTO..."  Steven E. Paul <sp15@midway.uchicago.edu>  Send lots of E-mail!
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: lichter@oahu.cs.ucla.edu (Michael I. Lichter)
Subject: the day the music died
Organization: UCLA, Computer Science Department
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 92 18:01:03 GMT

	[A true story, sort of.  You may need to be a Certain Age
	 for this to mean anything.]


		the day the music died
		-------------------------------------------------

		buddy holly met elvis on aisle 5
		over by the condiments
		where john lennon was juggling
		mustard and pickles 

		something ...
		something was in the air

		the spirit of bob dylan
		sat in shades strumming a broom
		on the edge of a clacking freezer 
		advertising fresh fish stix

		vibrating ...
		the air was vibrating

		turning and turning, the
		byrds ransacked the produce
		tossing tomatoes ahead of 
		their fast advance

		music ...
		it was supposed to be music

		i noticed i was humming along
		the ghosts disappeared
		"oh my god!" i said, 
		then, amazed, "bye, bye"

				Michael Lichter
				November 18, 1992
From: cdl0915@ultb.isc.rit.edu (Chris Losinger)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: My Pee Pee
Date: 18 Nov 92 18:43:05 GMT
Organization: Rochester Institute of Technology
Originator: cdl0915@ultb


    
    	when i was a little boy 
    	my mommy always said to me
    	"chris, be careful with your pee-pee 
    	and you'll always be happy."

    	she was right, she always was, 
    	as i found out one grey morn'
    	i caught my pee-pee in my zipper
    	as i zipped up, its head was torn
    
    {chorus}
    		oh be careful with your pee pee
    		my mommy always said to me
    		treat it right, and be gentle
    		and you'll always be happy
    
    	i looked down, and it was bleeding
    	skin was squeezing between the teeth
    	i fell down and screamed like satan
    	i wished my mom was there with me

    	my mom was right, i'd hurt my pee pee
    	and i thought that i might die
    	and my girlfriend sat there laughing
    	she'd never seen a grown man cry
    
    {chorus, boys!}
-- 
        --------------------------------------------------------------
        	c  h  r  i  s   l  o  s  i  n  g  e  r   r  i  t
From: alk4@ellis.uchicago.edu (Alex L. Karan)
Subject: To Vehement Critics out there...
Reply-To: alk4@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Sun, 22 Nov 1992 07:07:05 GMT

Exuent the Critic, Please
-------------------------

 
Enter the critic,
a leering crowd of one;
   the theater carelessly
   balanced on the tip 
   of its tongue.

Enter the critic,
from stage left and right;
the high nod signifying mood,
   pushing its way towards center stage,
   eyes of spotlights casually glancing.

See the critic,
The high drama of the day
up its ass,
   all tongue and searching
   for a semblance of wit.

And what of thought?
  There's nothing either good or bad,
  but thinking makes it so, 
so in the critic's crafty eye
a "dream" becomes a "nightmare",
  crucified upon a midsummer's night.

Come to the theater after a play.
I swear we'll find a critic dancing
all alone in a borrowed costume.

Whose robe was that tonight?
   See how it spins and leaps?
   See how well it does a split?
   What grace! What style!
Who played that role?
   Hail the critic!
   Let us take our seats,
   we are expected.

Exuent the critic,
so soon spent and sweaty 
It has stolen the show 
after the show.
   Someone walks across the stage,
   taking out garbage.




Alex L. Karan

and you, all thumbs and unopposable, please please get pissed.

Alex
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Eternity in His Eyes (c&c welcome)
Date: 23 Nov 92 17:34:27 GMT
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations

Eternity in His Eyes

The gods, they say, are eternal.

I was three when you taught me to read,
fascinated by the dragons in the picture books,
as you slowly sounded out the words in this second language.

Four years later, you ran behind me,
strong brown hand braced on the back of the bike.
Then, heart in your throat, letting me go.

At fourteen you sent me to private school,
bolstering, unknowingly, a seedling independence.
Then you watched, silently proud, as I boarded a plane for college.

And, missing you, I remember a moment.
A full decade past, the blue airmail letter arrived to tell you
your father, half a world away, had died.

Your tears then foretold my own,
anticipating a moment still far away, inevitably close.
When I, half a country away, will receive that call.

The gods live forever.
Why should heroes have to die?

*****

M.A. Mohanraj
November 23, 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
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sp15@quads.uchicago.edu (steven  paul)
Subject: Re: Perfection
Reply-To: sp15@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Sun, 22 Nov 1992 20:17:55 GMT

In article <z#31v6b@rpi.edu> newbeb@rpi.edu writes:
>  Well here's my first posting. I hope many more will follow.
>
>
>	Perfection
>
>My work is never perfect,
>And nor I'd wish it'd be.
>For when a piece is heavenly wrought,
>In heaven must you be.
>
>		-Brian Newberry


Brian... Quaint, very, quaint in a TART sort of way...

Steven...
-- 
"HOMO SUM; HUMANI NIHIL A ME ALIENUM PUTO..."  Steven E. Paul <sp15@midway.uchicago.edu>  Send lots of E-mail!
From: bunny@bsu-cs.bsu.edu (Marsh)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem - When the Walls Fell
Keywords: When murder is a way of life...
Date: 20 Nov 92 02:05:16 GMT
Organization: CS Dept, Ball St U, Muncie, Indiana


WHEN THE WALL FELL

Bella was a pretty girl...
and with a name like Bella she had better be,
identity a fixture in the eyes of those
who saw her in her black boots and babushka
with her quilted green fufaika a blanket
shielding her from harsh and bitter breezes;
identity a fixed spot in the eyes of dead men
not quite wise enough to leave her be.

And Bella rose to glory in a tired way,
her hopes the misbegotten vanity of youth
and scorn became, for Bella/Beauty, just
a kind of cheap cosmetic to adorn herself.

Her sigh was like the dancing wind.

Sleeping Beauty often woke to feel a chill
fast-tripping up and down her spine, the residue
of all the Christian dogma that had stripped her
of the kind of self-respect that only toting
rifles and quick-loading all that German steel
could bring a girl like her like Bella,
and only once did she lose track of her Great Cause,
her indecision costing her a clean kill and,
off all this sport, she loathed the blood
that all men wept the same from opened skin...

Bella belle, the bells have stumbled, broken
in their final choir...
and the wall has tumbled in a fit of stone defeat
its crumbling not unlike that of the wretched
social structure that defined, perfected such a
cold and calculating creature such as she... 
but the western men have rosy and romantic notion:
they've all seen "Ninotchka", won't this beauty be
the grand surprise...

And Bella in confusion bought a new coat.


-Tracy Flynn-Marsh
From: sharon@netlabs.com (Sharon Hopkins)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: quote question
Date: 20 Nov 92 23:08:56 GMT
Organization: NetLabs, Inc.
Originator: sharon@doctor.netlabs.com

Can anyone point me to the source for the "better to have loved and lost
than never to have loved at all" quote?  I'm sure it's in Bartlett's or
equivalent, but I haven't any references handy.  Any help would be
appreciated.

(It's easier to come up with a counter-argument to something if you know
the context of the original quote. :-)

--Sharon Hopkins
  sharon@netlabs.com
From: sp15@quads.uchicago.edu (steven  paul)
Subject: "He Came to Me" <Steven E. Paul>
Reply-To: sp15@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Fri, 20 Nov 1992 09:42:07 GMT

HE CAME TO ME
by Steven E. Paul


Drowsy sleep invades,
Bringing cognitive intoxication,
A comforting solace
From the ravages of day,
I welcome it eagerly...

Evening's Virgin skies
Flow freely with the breeze
Of his sweet breath,
Released with sublte concern--
Enraptured with dreams...

I dance in the shadows
Of his dreams...
Alien...
Unnoticed...
Ashamed yet shameless...
The only Love I've vowed--

...Faithfully...

She comes...
Blackest Night
Lonely mistress of the unknown,
Denied her passions,
Her burning hunger...
--I pray to thee,
Quell your ebon loins
With my essence--
Take my life,
Grant me refuge deep within
Your anguish... Let me dance again...

She consumes with no mercy,
I am enthralled--
Empty, but free,
And I dance...

I lay by his side
Contemplating exposed flesh...
Pondering his masculinity...
Savagely exploring the once thought
Secret-- held Sacred from my corruption:
My self-consuming curiousity...

I travel the realms of his sex,
I seek refuge in his haunting libido,
I find solace in his violent compassion,
I call for his inviting corruption...
     --I am left unanswered...

From the distant horizon,
I selfishly gaze upon his blazon beauty
One last time,
His divine imperfections,
His purity...
And, yet, I am rebuked:

An unforgiving World
Coldly charges me to be with sin,
Yet no trial am I offered:

  To what offense, then, shall I not confess if only such a love were possible?

  What jury now will not find fault in my heart even if I possess none?

  Tell me this, what god would dare not condemn me for creating that which he 
  could not?

  --I am left unanswered, once again...

Out of imaginative mists,
Out of darkest Night...
I once thought he came to me...
Only to bear witness to sorrows
All too well-known--
The hour tolls my fate...

I fade back into the shadows
From wherein I came...
With my evils and my sins
With silent resignation and negated pardon...
Indeed, never to dance again--
I perrish in my own damnation...
    He never came to me...












-- 
"HOMO SUM; HUMANI NIHIL A ME ALIENUM PUTO..."  Steven E. Paul <sp15@midway.uchicago.edu>  Send lots of E-mail!
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Subject: Re: MICHAEL KANDEL! / Marek (Re: request, Stansilaw Lem poem ..for fun)
Reply-To: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Organization: Iowa State University
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 1992 20:29:48 GMT

In article <JMC.92Nov17182948@SAIL.Stanford.EDU>, jmc@SAIL.Stanford.EDU (John
McCarthy) writes:
> This does not seem to be as difficult as some of the other translations
> that Kandel did in the Cyberiad.  The mathematics doesn't have to make
> sense, and it doesn't except here and there.  The puns in the body of
> the Cyberiad strike me as fantastic.
> 
> Too bad Lem and Kandel had a falling out.


John -- I love the Cyberiad.  (And I think "every frustrum longs to be a cone"
is one of the great lines in literature.)  Could you be more specific about
which puns you like the best?  And how about some details about the falling-
out between Lem and Kandel?


Marie Coffin
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: marek@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski)
Subject: Re: suggestions for Alex / Marek (Re: Artifacts)
Organization: Northwestern University, Evanston Illinois.
Date: Fri, 20 Nov 1992 00:45:26 GMT

In article <1992Nov19.234044.9823@midway.uchicago.edu> alk4@midway.uchicago.edu writes:
> Just a few points, friend:
>
>1) there is another way in which the rose can be wasted
>   that you may be missing
>2) I do not want to simply make a neat fitting metaphor,
>   such as love = jizm.  The metaphor isn't supposed to be
>   a cozy fit.
>3) I think I'm quite aware that "full of love" is a cliche.
>
>I was sarcastic when I said so easy.  Relatively easy, maybe.
>
>For that matter...the rose is cliche, the girl is...the context of the poem is.
>I'm not writing about "fucked girls " here.
>
>Let me extend a hint:  the title.  IT isn't "fucked girls"
>or "relationships" or "love".
>
>Its "artifacts".
>
>Yet again, i'm writing about looking, and how it is also living.
>But I may have quite not done well enough.  You are right,
>it does not stand.  That's why I need invisible thread
>in focus.
>
>Thank you.
>
>Alex
>


Underconstrained.  That's why.


				-- Marek

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: steele@aem.umn.edu (Stephanie Steele)
Subject: steph's mail fixed
Summary: steph's mail fixed!
Keywords: steph's mail fixed!
Organization: University of Minnesota
Date: Mon, 16 Nov 1992 22:40:02 GMT



mailmemailmemail me mail me mail me, please, mail me!
and three cheers for mr. muno!
--

=======================================================================
			   Stephanie Steele
			steele@chip.aem.umn.edu