HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: cdl0915@ultb.isc.rit.edu (Chris Losinger)
Subject: idle hands...
Originator: cdl0915@ultb
Organization: Rochester Institute of Technology
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 1992 20:54:58 GMT

	i'm going to ride the

	 _-~   _-~
	choo-choo-train...with-puffy-white-smoke 

	and central New York will slide by 

	if you look, there will be hawks
	who sit in the trees on the edge of fields
		green with little clouds 
		under blue with little clouds
	i consider them good luck
	never been past Herkimer without seeing one

	we'll take a right at Albany
	and shortly (romanticaly shortly)
	i will be in a place called Penn Station

	there are terrible stories about Penn Station
	and what a busy place it is
	city sidewalks busy sidewalks
	
	but I know it will be fine
	and shortly thereafter, on another, local train
	i'll be bustled to New Brunswick
	all the while 
	planning the perfect thing to say, gid-dy, sh-sh-aky 

--
 
	we are walking in a foreign city 
	the mimes are playing out of doors
	and the pigeons are shitting stupidly
	the benches are littered with wet leaves
	and we have nothing to say.

	it isn't odd that you look at the cement
	and i don't worry that sometimes 
	people walk between us.
	it is good actually 
	now that i think, come out of myself.
	isn't love where i am me and you are you
	and we don't get in each other's way
	and you don't ask "what are you thinking?"
	and i return the favor ?

	that is at least part of it .
-- 
        --------------------------------------------------------------
        	c  h  r  i  s   l  o  s  i  n  g  e  r   r  i  t 

  America : where the people who stifle others are merely the loudest minority.
From: nikolay@husc10.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Another version of "artifacts" / Natalie
Date: 23 Nov 92 02:30:09 GMT
Organization: The Kremlin Wall of Harvard
In-reply-to: conrad@kryton.UUCP's message of 22 Nov 92 23:15:46 GMT

conrad@kryton.UUCP (Konstatin Kalikanzaros) writes:

> 	More (human) artifacts ----------------------

> 	On a bed, 
> 	near a table
>         
> 	which contains the fadded essence 	of a reddish single
> rose, 	(in a vase half full of water)

> 	lay two contented humans snoring softly, I suppose.

> 	in the trashcan near the table 	(near the bed in which they
> lay)

>         all that now remains to see of 	their recent heated
> passion,
> 	
>         a fancy pair of
> 	condoms in repose

> conrad

Hey, someone was afraid that the delicate-hearted graphomanes 
would split because of my insensitive attacks. Rejoice everyone: 
they're here to stay!

Philip Nikolayev
nikolay@husc.harvard.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jlitchfi@cayley.uwaterloo.ca (Jon Litchfield)
Subject: sleep
Organization: University of Waterloo
Date: Fri, 20 Nov 1992 23:19:41 GMT


when all the feeling subsides into the ether
there's nothing left but the empty shell
of a tired man alone in the world

for all his life
he felt alive and vibrant
now as the milk of existence
flows freely from his pores
he sees nothing
but the miserable 

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jondarr@macadam.mpce.mq.edu.au (jondarr c g h 2 gibb)
Subject: The Ones Who Changed
Organization: Macquarie University, Australia.
Date: Sun, 22 Nov 1992 22:27:07 GMT



        The Ones Who Changed

We are the ones who had to change our ways
    to suit the past,
Not form our own ideas and forge anew:
    our die was cast
By grey men, not by poets, cloaks we wore
    fit so poorly -
Had the tailor made mistakes? The seems were
    tearing, surely,
And the souls of living energy leaked out
    against the flow,
The deepest essence from each heart, a seed
    that could not grow
Until the ground was moistened by our tears
    and we were free
To tend to our own gardens in our minds -
    cultivate me!

We are the only farmers who could plough
    in their own fields
The lines we chose and plant the seeds to give
    the highest yields,
And some reaped - not of the land, but of
    ourselves, it seems -
The flowering of our youth was harvested:
    a field of dreams.
And many things were changed that spring when we
    were strong enough
To take on Nature and we found we're made
    of sterner stuff.

                       John Keating: Poets alive and well.
                       22nd November, 1992

This was written immediately after watching "Dead Poets Society"
on the idiot box.


                    
              Anyway the wind blows ...
                                                //\         /\\
                             /                 || * \ . . / * ||
               .  _   _   _/  _   _  _          \\____\X/____//
              / /_/ / / /_/ /-/ /  /             / *  /O\  * \
          ._/                                    \__/  "  \__/

jondarr@macadam.mpce.mq.edu.au  (137.111.216.12)
jondarr@mpce.mq.edu.au
jondarr@macgraw.mpce.mq.edu.au
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: young critic/Gurgling Bog
From: jabolliger@miavx3.mid.muohio.edu
Date: 18 Nov 92 14:46:17 EST

In article <NIKOLAY.92Nov16232036@husc11.harvard.edu>, nikolay@husc11.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev) writes:
> Article-I.D.: husc11.NIKOLAY.92Nov16232036
> References: <7710634@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM> <NIKOLAY.92Nov14002309@husc10.harvard.edu><5775@sumax.seattleu.edu>
> Organization: The Kremlin Wall of Harvard
> Lines: 175
> Nntp-Posting-Host: husc11.harvard.edu
> In-reply-to: abenoit@sumax.seattleu.edu's message of 15 Nov 92 23:55:38 GMT

etcetera etcetera.. 

> the poet meets no one of any worth, loses his notion of good taste,
> irreparably loosens the formerly desired standards, and blends
> naturally into the gurgling bog of the faceless rest.> 
. . more etcetera..
> Philip Nikolayev
> nikolay@husc.harvard.edu

The gurgling bog of the facless rest?

		The Gurgling Bog of the Facless Rest

	I know this place, it is
		the gurgling bog of the facless rest
		the gurgling bog
		the gurgling, gurgling bog
		of the faceless, faceless rest.

	The rest!
		Rue lest of the gurgling dog.
		Do god!  Do God!  Amongst do frogs!
		The dog of gob part of 
		the raceless, faceless pests.

	I am in god
		the gurgling god, the burgling gurgling god.
		faceless among the rest
		the faceless pests, the raceless fest
		the faceless, raceless guests.

	Surely you jest
		Shirley you rest upon the bog
		of gurgling, gurgling dogs
		among the reckless, feckless best
		Who rise above the rest.

	A mob
		steep, in the murgling glob
		deep, in the burgling throb
		the hurtling, gurbling grob.

Jean Ann Bolliger
November 18, 1992
From: rege@bongo.Berkeley.EDU (Ashutosh G. Rege)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Anglocentricism in rec.arts.poems /Marek (Re: Urdu Knowledge...)
Date: 21 Nov 1992 22:52:43 GMT
Organization: University of California, Berkeley
NNTP-Posting-Host: bongo.berkeley.edu

In article <steele.722369305@chip.aem.umn.edu> steele@aem.umn.edu (Stephanie Steele) writes:
 >marek@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski) writes:
 
 >>Many people on the net voted against rapu because they are against its
 >>placement in the net.hierarchy.  (This includes several experienced net
 >>administrators who do not appear to post here.)  It sets a bad precedent,
 >>as it surely will become a general forum for talking in Urdu about all
 >>things Urdu, and the charter makes little attempt to hide that.  It's so
 >>like you, Stephanie, to have a definite opinion on something, state it,
 >>and add that, of course, you couldn't have been bothered to follow the
 >>process/disussion/vote.  I believe this smashes your credibility to bits.
 >
 >marek, i wish i had my logic book handy so i could give the proper
 >name for this gross leap of logic. yes, i definitely have definite

 The term, if I am not mistaken, is 'saltus'. As in "take whatever
 Marek Lugowski says with a grain of saltus".
  
 >>ignored my offer.  Furthermore, I have no plans to help Urdu poetry become
 >>segregated into a rapu ghetto.  I too will get into it if only to learn
 >>more.
 >
 >glad to hear it.
  
   Well, as a starter I posted some work by Ghalib. If I receive an
   overwhelming response (as I am even as I type) I'll post more.

 >>				-- Marek
 >
 >>P.s.  Indian food in India isn't always as good as Indian food in the U.S.
 >>Not having eaten at Diwana, I can only recommend Chicago's, Dallas'
 >>Boston's and New Hampshire's (even!) Indian and Pakistani restaurants.
 >>I am sure that you would find a palak panir to your liking in many a place.

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

 Obviously Marek hasn't been India, or if he did he got suckered into
 tourist traps. You've got to be kidding. Indian restaurants in the U.S
 are by and large boring and uncreative with their identical little menus. 

 Ashu
From: alk4@ellis.uchicago.edu (Alex L. Karan)
Subject: Self Portrait
Reply-To: alk4@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 1992 23:33:22 GMT


This poem lost a lot of weight in the making.


Self Portrait
-------------



The shadow 
in the lower left corner
is the photographer;

first a flash,
then the camera fell
from no hands.



Alex L. Karan
(its a shame that we are exposed to so many poems that we can't
keep in mind a separate "author function" of each other.
For example, I think there's an outer thread (not in the poem)
that ties a lot of mine together (sometiems around your neck)
and it gets lost on rap.  Oh well.......
)
Aelx
and Alex

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mtaranto@shearson.com (Mark Taranto)
Subject: Re: general; use of anger in shakespearean sonnets? was Re: nothing
Organization: Yale CS Mail/News Gateway
Date: Tue, 17 Nov 1992 21:18:41 GMT


sheilah@wam.umd.edu (sheila disguising herself as Danny-Boy) writes:
 
> gschlesi@scott.skidmore.edu (Christopher Robin) writes:
 
>> A poem about anger should not be stuck into
>> Shakespearean Sonnet form etc.
 
> This one I am not sure If I will agree with you and have to ask you why.
 
 
 
        It frustrates me that a fool should dictate
        To me how I may, my anger, express.
        Can any emotion: love, lust or hate,
        Fit into this format?  I answer "Yes!"
 
        Christopher Robin, in truth cannot see,
        that the clashing of content and format
        will enhance the point -- it becomes a bee
        that stings you and dumps you on the doormat.
 
        Take Housman, with his silly sing-song rhymes
        Talking of death and folly and sadness,
        Can you not see it's a sign of the times?
        To tie form and content is just madness
 
        Anger in this format?  You have to love it!
        If you don't agree, then you can shove it.
 
 
Well, this isn't very serious (and I wouldn't tell C R to shove it,
except as a joke), but there is a point in there.  Housman is a good
example of someone who took a simple form, and used it to his advantage.
Look at A SHROPSHIRE LAD.  There are some pretty serious things that
he says -- but most of it is done with a nursery-rhyme type of scheme.
I think that the simple format can work together with a complex idea,
making it much more effective.
 
Richard Thompson has a song about anger and hate.  The melody is that of
a love ballad.  The effect is incredible.  Why not a Sonnet about anger?
I'm not talking about the trash I just wrote -- but something where love
and anger are tied together.  The form would enhance the love aspect, and
make the anger more startling -- more real.
 
Mark
 

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: steele@aem.umn.edu (Stephanie Steele)
Subject: Re: Dormant
Organization: University of Minnesota
Date: Wed, 18 Nov 1992 20:52:36 GMT

swhiting@nyx.cs.du.edu (Simon Whiting) writes:


>                 Dormant
>                =========

>     My body is extensive
>     Of size near yours,
>     Yet I am Individual,
>     'Girt by sea'.

>     Forever will I be
>     Halfway to tomorrow,
>     Yet what ever you do
>     I feel weeks later.

>     Your great village,
>     A buzz of human interaction,
>     Yet within my whole self
>     There is less life.

>     You live life fast
>     With many oppotunities,
>     Yet all the while I walk
>     Within your shadow.

>     For you are the great
>     United States of America,
>     Yet I always remain lowly
>     'just Australia'.

>     or so you like to think....

>          -SW Fish 92.

>Hmmm, this should get some varied feedback.  All C & C is welcomed
>(not that I could stop it if I wanted too anyway).  I have not
>really ment it to be offensive, but to place a different 
>perspective on things.
>----------------------------------------------------------------------
>Simon John Whiting            %     "Poetry is like a fart.  If it is
>                              %   strong & overbearing, it should be
>UG Bach. Eng. in Comp. Eng.   %   flamed no matter how proud the owner
>University of Canberra,       %   is"            -SW Fish 92.
>Australia.                    %
>                              % Demitri  "Its the cave of no return !"
>tp914780@fir.canberra.edu.au  % Demestos "Yes, I've been here before."
>swhiting@nyx.cs.du.edu        %                  -the D-Generation 88.
>----------------------------------------------------------------------

simon- the poem is not 'offensive' enough (IMHO) and it is your sig
that needs to be, uh, 'flamed.'

sls
--

=======================================================================
			   Stephanie Steele
			steele@chip.aem.umn.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: bhattach@quip.eecs.umich.edu (sayan bhattacharyya)
Subject: Subhash Mukhopadhyay wins Gnanpeeth Award
Keywords: Bengali poetry 
Organization: University of Michigan EECS Dept., Ann Arbor, MI
Date: Sat, 21 Nov 1992 16:55:48 GMT


I came to know recently that Subhash Mukhopadhyay has received the
Gnanpeeth award this year. Does any rapper happen to know whether 
Subhash got the award for a particular book or whether it was kind
of like a recognition for lifetime achievement ? The source I heard
the news from was silent about the details , and living in diaspora
as I do I was unable to get any first-hand information.

The timing of this award seems very significant to me. As most
rappers doubtless know, Subhash one of the leading figures of
the leftist literary circles in Calcutta and was closely associated
with the CPIM, i.e. Communist Party of India (Marxist) . About 
six years ago he did a sudden volte-face, dissociated himself
from the CPIM (was it a coincidence that communism-bashing
was getting to be popular around the world at this time ?) and
became a sudden admirer of centrist politics . Now that the 
Narasimha Rao government is hell-bent on making India a capitalist
economy, the grant of the country's highest literary award to
an ex-communist turned advocate of capitalism like Subhash
seems very suggestive.... Of course I may be reading more into
this than warranted, and the award might have been quite innocent
of political implications.

-Sayan Bhattacharyya.




-- 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sayan Bhattacharyya          |   Colourless green ideas sleep furiously.
Artificial Intelligence Lab  |
The University of Michigan   |
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: akt9a@kelvin.seas.Virginia.EDU (Aye-Theinga Kyaw Thu)
Subject: trying of words
Organization: University of Virginia
Date: Tue, 17 Nov 1992 21:18:14 GMT

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: dmcheste@quads.uchicago.edu (dennis michael chester)
Subject: 2 more poems
Summary: c and c please
Reply-To: dmcheste@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Distribution: usa
Date: Tue, 17 Nov 1992 05:59:57 GMT

Two more poems.  One old and one new.


	_Mannish_

	Young boys run faster
	with stolen candy
	in pockets
	Past vacant lots
	and broken glass
	to play
	Strike-out
	against the middle-
	school fence.
	They curse
	at a dropped fly ball
	tongues
	all sticky and red




	_Beneath the Lake_
	
	Lake Thomas Edison has
	          ,for the most part,
	been drained.
	The water
	has been diverted
	to a lower lake,
	a reservoir system.
	We walk across the dry
	forgotten bottom.
	Stones and tree stumps.


	On the flat surface of
	one of the dead trees,
	we pile the stones
	Building a fortress.
	It is 500 feet tall.
	Immense.
	Then we destroy it
	pelting it with
	more of the
	dry, smooth
	stones.
	The fortress cracks
	like bone.

	
	Beneath the lower lake
	the stones and trees
	are restless


Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Subject: Re: re:question/request, a reply
Reply-To: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Organization: Iowa State University
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 1992 02:54:20 GMT

In article <1992Nov19.123131.12311@waikato.ac.nz>, et1@waikato.ac.nz writes:
> I wonder if you've ever seen the film "Dead Poet's Society"?? Its a definite
> must for anyone looking at "what poetry is", as much as that can actually be
> described. Yes folks, a real LIVE arty-farty, Romantic, poetry-inspired,
> ex-social science student beaming in from Hamilton. Anyway, to quote from the
> film mentioned above, poetry is something that has to be tasted, something
that
> drips from your tounge like honey, something thats EXPERIENCED. A bit like
this
> new fad of "method acting", where actors portray the feelings that they
> themselves have at any given time. Poetry is not something thats necessarily
> MEASURED, although I s'pose looking at the poet's life, rhyme\metre/choice of
> words\other "structural" things adds to our appreciation-but we have had to
> EXPERIENCE poetry before these "structural" things start making sense. I
reckon 
> poetry is one great way communicating experiences, moods, perceptions of the
> world, any number of things. I'm not sure how you go about defining what
poetry
> " is ", do you start by somehow distinguishing it from other genres? (a
> somewhat negative way?), or go for the "its a sonnet, with two quatrains and
a
> rhyming couplet set in iambic pentametre" (somewhat clinical?), could we
write
> in exams purely about how particular poets/poetry has effected us/changed us
in
> some way/ influenced the way we view our immediate world/our ordinary lives?
a
> bit of all the above??? WHAT THINKS THE WORLD OF POETRY APPRECIATORS????      
> 
> 
> caper daum - seize the day
> 

(Hell, I can't remember Sheila's little code.  Suffice it to say I'm in one
of *those* moods.)

To:  whoever wrote this.  Would you, oh could you possibly, express in one
or two sentences (punctuated, if possible, and leave out the "/" and "\")
just what it is you're asking?   Damned if I can figure it out.  Are you 
asking if we can define poetry?  If so, why talk about "Dead Poet's Society"
and method acting?   Just in case you wanted to know what poetry is, here's 
my answer. 


	a title is important
	--------------------------------------------------------------

	a poem is 
	indented two tab
	stops
	(unless you're me --
	then you can get away
	with one)
	and has a title.

	a title is important.
	so is the line under it.

	a poem communicates something
	or some
	things
	that the poet
	could only communicate
	in a poem.

	you know it's a poem
	because when you're done
	reading it you say
	"now THAT'S a poem."

	so a poem is like a disease.
	sometimes you only recognize it
	by its symptoms.


Marie Coffin
November 18, 1992
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: constructive criticism for Doug and Dinosauria
From: nikolay@husc8.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev)
Date: 15 Nov 92 14:52:11
Organization: The Kremlin Wall of Harvard
In-reply-to: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM's message of Sun, 15 Nov 1992 04:06:30 GMT

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

> I certainly think that if improving beginning poets is the goal, Niko's
                                                                   ^^^^^^
> critiques are worthless.

Hah, you are a flippant minor flibbertigibbet, aren't you, Doug?

Philip Nikolayev
nikolay@husc.harvard.edu
From: gt7244c@prism.gatech.EDU (John G'alt)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Errand of Mercy
Keywords: mo' bs'ter
Date: 23 Nov 92 08:46:28 GMT
Organization: Georgia Tech

oneofthefaggotsat@husc10.harvard.edu writes:
>
>> "At Harvard, the boy nikolay had a great deal of drivel to say.  A
>> twit and a fool, he wrote his first rule, 'Stick my foot in my mouth
>> everyday!'"
>	From the saga of clueless ole Webb's
>	Joyless fights for the rights of the plebs:
>	   As his favourite stunt
>	   He would stuff his raw cunt
>	With cobwebs and cabobs and cubebs.
   Ah, and what a scanner yours was, Nikulturny.
   I scanned it with a Quayle-ometer.  It read: Chump, eligible to run
for VP.

   Mo' fun:

Over legions of rhyme Niko's stench towers
Even after the thousand times Harvie showers;
Mikhail thinks he's brave,
But he's only hypocrisy's slave,
And both these guys constitute a coward.

   *it doesn't scan but it plans*

   Mikhail and Nikolayev should hold hands and call themselves a wit.
           
John G'alt (next: THE SHAVEN!)
-- 
John Greenawalt, gt7244c@prism.gatech.edu whooptydoo yes I'm a number
I am the difference between  |  "All the poetry in the trunk you kept your
      A poet at heart        |   life in/ I knew that it would come to 
  And a poet at genitals.    |   light one day."             -CB
From: sstover@sumax.seattleu.edu (   Kate   )
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Travels with Patchen
Keywords: desperate
Date: 16 Nov 92 04:42:47 GMT
Organization: Seattle University


Apologies, all, but my mail to mr. webb bounced and I had to say this. 
First: this is lovely, I enjoyed it tremendously.  Second: many thanks for
your reply to the lullabye.  It was a most sincere piece of writing.  Even
more sincere than most. ;)

ciao,
Sheryl
From: bsg3@po.CWRU.Edu (Barbara S. Goldstein)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: When Will (by Barbara)
Date: 15 Nov 1992 16:13:16 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bsg3@po.CWRU.Edu (Barbara S. Goldstein)
NNTP-Posting-Host: thor.ins.cwru.edu



When will colors appear bright
Now the tones are faded, dull
Muted and dim
Smokey and hazed
When seen through tear-stained eyes.

When will the sounds be clear
Now the songs are muffled, hushed
Echoes and silence
Memories of tunes
When listened with pain-struck ears.

When will the tastes be delicious
Now the flavors are bitter, tart
Sour and spoiled
No sweetness perceived
When eaten with a hollow mouth.

When will the touch be soothing
Now the sensation is burning, rough
Itchy and raw
Aching and sore
When felt through the skin I am in.
From: block@iccgcc.decnet.ab.com (Rolling Thunder)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: More Pain
Date: 19 Nov 92 07:00:29 EST



Alone and feeling displaced
Where should I go?
Trapped in a fog of confusion
Where am I headed?
The dark side surfaces and takes control
Who will stop it?
Arm extended, reaching toward a distant glow
Is anybody out there?
Darkness has me, I can not escape
Where is the light?
Stret 
ched out on the floor, face down, motionless
Who will help me?
Who will heal my wounds?

       B. B.




Was it worth the pain? 
Would you go back again?
Treated like dirt
Was it worth the hurt?
About to expire
Would you jump back in the fire?

      B.B.
=============================================================================
Note to "gabby@b3.be.ingr.com"
        I don't know how to send you email
        other than replying to a post.
=============================================================================
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Passive, Tense (c&c welcome)
Date: 18 Nov 92 15:45:45 GMT
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations

Passive, Tense

You can be the lovely maiden, languishing, bound to a rock.
You can be the lady on a pedestal, yearning for a lord.
You can be the sleeping princess, waiting for a kiss.

He can fight off a dragon (be admiring).
He can swoop down and carry you off (be grateful).
He can kiss you (be receptive).

And always remember,
Be happy.

*****

M.A. Mohanraj
November 18, 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