HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: wow.
From: holyholy@netlink.cts.com (Jeffrey Tang)
Date: Sun, 15 Nov 92 23:27:18 PST
Organization: NetLink Online Communications, San Diego CA

That last post was...um...really LONG.  Isnt that what e-mail's for??

--                    
INTERNET:  holyholy@netlink.cts.com (Jeffrey Tang)
UUCP:   ...!ryptyde!netlink!holyholy
NetLink Online Communications * Public Access in San Diego, CA (619) 453-1115
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: marek@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski)
Subject: "students" / Marek, Re: Phil's apprentice
Organization: Northwestern University, Evanston Illinois.
Date: Mon, 23 Nov 1992 04:33:05 GMT

In article <NIKOLAY.92Nov22214936@husc10.harvard.edu>
nikolay@husc10.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev) appeals to (local) authority:

>For anyone who cares:

We don't.  Get stuffed, turkey.  It's that time of the year.  Get your
friend to help you sew you up.

>far from being my disciple, Michael Zeleny
>is certainly my teacher and friend, and one of the most outstanding
>scholars of our day. The reason that you folks don't know this is
>that you don't read the real intellectual's newsgroups:
>rec.arts.books, sci.philosophy.meta and .tech, sci.logic,
>sci.math and talk.philosophy.misc.
>
>Philip Nikolayev
 Pimply Shy-in-real-life Dogmatist in Residence
 Undisclosed Undergraduate Dorm
 Harvard University
>nikolay@husc.harvard.edu

marek casbah 18: f zeleny@husc10.harvard.edu
[husc10.harvard.edu]
Login name: zeleny                      In real life: Michael Zeleny
Home phone: (617) 661-8151
            ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ -- bad move, teach.
Directory: /sc9a/student/z/zeleny       Shell: /shells/csh.8.9
                 ^^^^^^^
On since Nov 22 23:04:21 on tty08 from SCXYS5
Plan:
marek casbah 19: f nikolay@husc10.harvard.edu
[husc10.harvard.edu]
Login name: nikolay                     In real life: Philip Nikolayev
Directory: /sc10c/student/n/nikolay     Shell: /shells/bash.8.9
                  ^^^^^^^                              ^^^^---apt choice.
On since Nov 22 18:54:41 on *tty04 from SCXYS9
No Plan.

I think you dweebs are not applying yourselves.  You sound like geeks from
hell, with none of the tech expertise.  How sad.  We already have too many
burger flippers with liberal arts degrees.  Hit them books!  Get productive!
Learn awk!  Learn Emacs!

				-- Marek
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: wh@mentor.cc.purdue.edu (Winter Nova)
Subject: Perhaps Youth (C&C welcome)
Organization: Purdue University Computing Center
Date: Mon, 16 Nov 1992 04:07:02 GMT

                         Perhaps Youth

               All is a dream, when wide awake,
               And age--age simply ups the stakes;
               Splashing conflicting colors here and there:
               Red for desire, black for despair;
               Creating and destroying,
               Mending and tormenting;
               Everything or nothing,
               Come dawn or dusk...

--
*************************************************************************
* Wen-Hung Fang                   * To be overtopped in anything else I *
* Autumn Wanderer / Winter Nova   * can bear:  but in the tests of      *
* the lean, mean studying machine * generous love I defy all mankind.   *
* wh@mentor.cc.purdue.edu         *                      --Robert Burns * 
*************************************************************************
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: young critic/Gurgling Bog
From: jabolliger@miavx3.mid.muohio.edu
Date: 23 Nov 92 13:43:37 EST

In article <NIKOLAY.92Nov22212252@husc10.harvard.edu>, nikolay@husc10.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev) writes:
> jabolliger@miavx3.mid.muohio.edu writes:
> 
>> In article <NIKOLAY.92Nov16232036@husc11.harvard.edu>, 
> nikolay@husc11.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev) writes:
> 
> PN
>>> 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.>
> 
> JAB
>> 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!  		Goo dog of gob part of
>> da raceless, faceless pests.
> 
>> 	 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.
> 
> 
> This is funny stuff. But curiously, the source of inspiration
> is dual here, while Jean Ann only cites one half of it at the 
> beginning of her posting. Here is the second, more crucial half.
> (It took me a couple of days to dig up my Norton from under
> piles of other books).
> 	
> 		OUR BOG IS DOOD
> 		by Stevie Smith
> 
> 		Our Bog is dood, our Bog is dood,
> 		They lisped in accents mild,
> 		But when I asked them to explain,
> 		They grew a little wild.
> 		How do you know your Bog is dood,
> 		My darling little child?
> 
> 		We know because we wish it so
> 		That is enough, they cried,
> 		And straight within each infant eye
> 		Stood up the flame of pride,
> 		And if you do not think it so
> 		You shall be crucified.
> 
> 		Then tell me, darling little ones,
> 		What's dood, suppose Bog is?
> 		Just what we think, the answer came,
> 		Just what we think it is.
> 		They bowed their heads. Our Bog is ours
> 		And we are wholly his.
> 
> 		But when they raised him up again
> 		They had forgotten me
> 		Each one upon each other glared
> 		In pride and misery
> 		For what was dood, and what their Bog
> 		They never could agree.
> 
> 		Oh sweet it was to leave them then,
> 		And sweeter not to see,
> 		And sweetest of all to walk alone
> 		Beside the encroaching sea,
> 		The sea that soon should drown them all,
> 		That never yet drowned me.
> 
> (Parenthetically: indeed, drown them all, sea.) Well, is this
> what you had in mind, Jean Ann?
> nikolay@husc.harvard.edu

I am delighted!  Stevie is indeed amazing and I am still laughing.
"I can't believe you said that."  I have another poem along these
lines but I have to go home and get it, so it shall be posted 
tomorrow.  ja
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: zola@hardy.u.washington.edu (zolette)
Subject: Re: Another version of "artifacts" / Natalie
Keywords: KeyVERBS: 
Organization: University of Washington, Seattle
Date: Sun, 22 Nov 1992 19:24:05 GMT

 sheilah@wam.umd.edu (Danny-Boy) writes:
>
>(trying to say, that "fucked girls" is a vocal taking-advantage of.
>as if the girl does not have any verb in her! ha!
>I am no "fucked girl"!)


I got some <verbs> in me, got lots of them
if you try to tell me differently don't doubt that
I will <verb> you.  In fact, I got so many <verbs> 
that I might <verb> a few on you, then I will <verb> 
to you all the things I can do, all the <verbs> I got.
And also all the dreams,  I want to <verbverbverb>, I
practically explode with <verbs>.  But they are ME,
I am no <verbED> girl.  I got 'em all inside. You gotta
know that - don't <verb> me, you know- you don't <verb>
one way or the other, cause I got plenty of <verbs> to
<verb> you.

ahhhhhhh.  thanks sheila<verbverb>, star craver.

-Rebec<verb>ca 

 
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: rininger@gn.ecn.purdue.edu (Christopher A Rininger)
Subject: How?
Organization: Purdue University Engineering Computer Network
Date: Wed, 18 Nov 92 03:40:21 GMT


	This is the first of two fresh ones.  C/C welcome.
	Thanks--   Chris





		HOW

How could you?
How 
COULD
You?

And how can you sleep easy
		      wake me?

How can you be this
Disciple of Convenience and Disregard and...
Providence?

How can you live without trying to free your slave?

How will your existence be if he dies in chains, never
Sleeping easy
Waking
Again?
From: sara@gator.rn.com (Sara Gordon)
Subject: time
Keywords: wallpaper
Organization: The Gator Conferencing System 219-289-3745 
Date: Wed, 18 Nov 1992 19:53:58 GMT





"It arose and struck him that in her own special category, she
was quite beautiful; this was the category of all the women, in his
entire life, who had ever thought he was worth smiling at.  She couldn't
do worse, but then, he couldn't do better. So maybe it balanced out. if
you let her in she could engulf you; the woman was a city. And
eventually, under siege, you did what Ankh-Morpork had always done-unbar
the gates, let the conquerors in, and make them your own."
         (loosely paraphrased from 'guards, guards', a discworld novel
          by terry pratchett)
 
 
:end
if exist sanity then :end, else encrypt
:encrypt
gotoend
 
 
it was, all this, "our time"
my 'amok' time, the mating time, your didn't have the yes (negating) time
the incessant debating time
tick-tick, click clock  tick-tock, lick lock
logical choice, bitten twice once
shy i desiring bond not blonde unlike me, so, so sewing weaving threads
around astounding this resounding no!
 
there remain - chain - some rusted trusted broken yet unspoken rain
about me like some too big words      with
explanations needed not, no none, no fun, no never never land just never
planned.
to put it in your hand, my heart
the shiny spiny porcupiney letters start cascading
no evading
standing not much taller than me free and home colliding
stars and well, deep well deep eyes and tell me what you will do
first then do it tell me then while and again then after yet
you bet.
 
No pairs, au pairs, ahhhhh pears, yes stares, and stairs
we climb entwine if in your shoes and shows i similarly find
im fined, convicted, fined and fine
not straight, not bait, and maybe maybe not too late.
 
but started this
to make, explain that pain for me my dear but slightly
moduled fear, fear full fearful of tears uncried, unspied
un-bedded (lied), that vision in the sundefin-ed chair, no fair.
i'll leave him there and not apologize.
 
its just it was my :time
that time
the mating easily driven mad obsessed and think i saw you cry.
goodbye.
do not astound, i simply fell to earth
see you around.
 
 
-- 
----------------------------------------------------------------------

Talk to me about computer viruses.        sara@gator.rn.com  
                                          SGordon@Dockmaster.ncsc.mil
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--Shine
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Sun, 15 Nov 92 17:07:24 GMT


                              Shine
 
                It is customary
                where I come from
                to shine a light in sleepers' eyes
                so that one can see if anyone is at home.
 













-- 
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
From: beh@kropotkin.gnu.ai.mit.edu (various Howellses)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: on 23 north
Date: 21 Nov 92 22:26:11 GMT
Organization: Internet access via the Free Software Foundation
NNTP-Posting-Host: kropotkin.gnu.ai.mit.edu


On 23 north, or 75, or 27,
all roads lead to home,
none different, all different,
each taken more than remembrance can count.
On 23 north, through Flint and Bay City, and Houghton Lake,
and Gaylord, until finally reaching home,
the bight lights of the cities strewn 
carelessly amidst the darkest darkness of
nothing and farms,
I would day dream.
In autumn, cold, longing with fervor
for the wide spaces of the house,
the arms and kisses, and homemade dry lasagne of home.
In summer, late nights fading into amethyst, darkness 
settling at 10:00, and 
water shining light back up,
ah, north.

On 75, once joined, 
further north, the stops of necessity,
coffee, donuts, the ladies' room in the back.

But on 27 north, I remember the first time,
just two weeks after leaving,
how large the house seemed.

Brown car, white car,
long drive, short,
all roads lead to home,
where the lakes sang their ever song,
calling me home,
back to the mother arms
and places safe from all harm
but my own.

Nancy Howells
21 November, 1992
Somerville, Massachusetts

--
If it's me, it's not the other one.  If it's the other one, it's not me.
But then again, we're basically one and the same... oh bother, we're
--Various Howellses (Bruce and/or Nancy)
beh@gnu.ai.mit.edu
From: steele@aem.umn.edu (Stephanie Steele)
Subject: U.S.S. Sonnet
Summary: U.S.S. Sonnet
Keywords: U.S.S. Sonnet
Organization: University of Minnesota
Date: Mon, 16 Nov 1992 22:44:29 GMT


U.S.S. Sonnet


Dad, a sonnet for you because order
is fitting. That low, brown Admiral voice
would hesitate with free verse, bordering
on that place where action is wreckless choice.
After traveling so close to the moon
it is tiresome for you to be free.
It was easy when one maxim, one spoon
through heaven, one Tanqueray martini  
filled your days. While the sky's shifting tapers
capitulated to your Coral Sea,
glints of stars blurred by the Tom Cat vapors
illuminated cagey liberty.
You never knew you would retire then
to domestic wars you could never win.


sls.
--

=======================================================================
			   Stephanie Steele
			steele@chip.aem.umn.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sharon@netlabs.com (Sharon Hopkins)
Subject: quote question
Reply-To: sharon@netlabs.com
Organization: NetLabs, Inc.
Date: Mon, 23 Nov 1992 20:26:27 GMT

(Apologies if this is a duplicate post:  it looks like our news
 hasn't been getting out, so I am reposting...)

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
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sheilah@wam.umd.edu (Danny-Boy)
Subject: I disagree Re: suggestions for Alex / Marek (Re: Artifacts)
Summary: witless responds. live mummies! 
Organization: University of Maryland, College Park
Date: Fri, 20 Nov 1992 03:12:54 GMT





Marek responds to Alex's questions. 

clueless, I disagree.



In article <1992Nov19.182059.20441@news.acns.nwu.edu> marek@casbah.acns.nwu.edu (Marek Lugowski) writes:
>In article <1992Nov19.170939.24802@midway.uchicago.edu> alk4@midway.uchicago.edu writes:
>>
>>Oh...its soooo easy.
>>
>>
>>
>>
>>Artifacts
>>---------
>> 
>>
>>in a trash can 
>>near her bed
>>
>>a wasted rose 
>>and a condom full of love
>>
>>
>>
>>Alex L. Karan 
>>(does this even hold on its own?)
>>
>
>Um, no.  The sparseness makes it easy to pick apart, though.
>
>1)  why wasted rose?  A dead rose, a wilted rose, a wasted away rose, a
>    dessicated rose, a parched rose, a rose -- yes, but a wasted rose
>    implies that the rose is a tool, an implement, an opportunity that
     ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
>    failed.  But did it?  From the context either the she in the poem (to
     ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Why not a rose as a tool. Why not a failed tool?

...got the
>    rose herself or had it given.  If the former, it is irrelevant to the
>    condom stuff that follows, 


....if she was given the rose, the condom stuff
>    that follows ties the rose to the condom stuff.  Judging from the mere
>    presence of the condom in the poem, the rose was not wasted.  It served
					 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
You do not know this! if you want to follow from these assumptions,
perhaps it was! You do not know! Do not presume to know!

>    its purpose.  But that is a bit too crass for me , and I don't know if
>    it was intended so I will not say more about that.  Either way,
>    a "wasted rose" does not follow.  

It does! Why not!

...anyway

I have no earthly idea why the rose is wasted. I should probably ponder
it for days before I dare show my words on it...but I am shameless.

Could Alex be doing a switchabout with the often used expression of
spent manhood etc etc, and useing the terminology of love = rose 
for love = condom, spent = rose. (excuse my gross surgery)? 
(some adept surgeon step in. I have probably gored everything in sight.
I am so inept. blah! bloody bloody hands!)


and I have not even talked of trash cans! or titles.

You do not consider enough Marek!

(leaving out comma for fun today)

>3)  Full of love, is a cliche and badly placed.  Why not full of life
>    instead, or full of jism, or full of dead life?, or full of dying?,
>    or just, wryly and ironically, "a fullfilled condom"?

joi de whatever.

>moralizing point and I think, if anything, makes unwarranted meal of a

[was going to comment on "moralizing" but ruined the paragraph, and don't
think I should make a comment on it now so much out of context]


no red wheelbarrow though.
-- 
I am always wrong. Don't believe me ever.
stark raving sane  sheilah@wam.umd.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: isc20007@nusunix1.nus.sg (LEE PUI KWAN)
Subject: Hands
Organization: National University of Singapore
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.1 PL6]
Date: Sun, 22 Nov 1992 04:19:28 GMT

			Hands
			-----
			Blood circulation goes
			Sensitivity numbs
			But i dare not let go
			Afraid that i m the only one
			Clinging on to the other hand
			That if i release my grasp
			Your hand will free fall like a pendulum
			Except that it will not swing back
			I know I can't hold on forever
			That i have to pry my fingers away
			And separate our wet kissing palms

			Why oh why do i feel the sudden urge
			to use my other free hand
			to 
			snatch
			your
			other
			free
			hand?

23/3/92 (11.20 pm)
PJ (my first posting, C&C welcome :) )

--------------------------------
isc20007@nusunix2.nus.sg
National University of Singapore
From: wachtel@canon.co.uk (Tom Wachtel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Another version of "artifacts" / Natalie
Date: 22 Nov 92 15:35:51 GMT
Reply-To: wachtel@canon.co.uk
Organization: Canon Research Centre Europe Ltd

PROWSE@Meena.CC.URegina.CA (Natalie) writes:
>  alk4@ellis.uchicago.edu (Alex L. Karan) writes:
> 
> >Artifacts
> >---------
> > 
> >
> >in a trash can 
> >near her bed
> >
> >a wasted rose 
> >and a condom full of love
> >
> 
> 		more artifacts...
> 		-------------------------------------------------------------
> 		
> 		on a table 
> 		near her bed
> 
> 		stands a bud vase
> 		which contains a rose
> 		thirstily drinking itself
> 		into full bloom.
> 
> 		in the trashcan
> 		near her bed
> 
> 		rest six spent, 
> 		contented condoms.


	these blooming rubber roses
	rubber hoses
	standing pipes all gusher gusher
	hide your headless hydra hydrant
	by the trashcan, get a cash tan, don't park here
	
	the stem of the rose was quite thorny
	I got a prick in my hand when I touched it
	and bled in her bed instead
	by the bedstead lay a wet wet rose, in repose
	i like those



-- 

Tom Wachtel (wachtel@canon.co.uk)
From: sstover@sumax.seattleu.edu (   Kate   )
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: question/request, a reply
Date: 19 Nov 92 23:17:48 GMT
Organization: Seattle University

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"?? 

If I may make a generalization based on my immediate frame of reference
(pardon me, Marie :) ) I would be hard-pressed to find a person around here,
particularly a writer, who has not.  Does that help?

>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????            

Augh.  Drawn in to yet another thread I have been avoiding.  I suppose
there are two ways to look at this - my own theory of writing (i.e. 'why
Sheryl bothers to put this stuff down on paper'), or my own theory of
reading (subtitled 'why I have a really large collection of other poets'
works').  For myself, I try to write moments, experiences, the like, not
as sermons or statements of opinion but as things that struck me an ought
to strike other people also. There are those on this newsgroup who have
expressed some considerable dissatisfaction that I do not try to make
grander points with my writing, but for myself I see my responsibility as
the poet being to put the reader in the situation I was in and let him or
her draw conclusions according to the experience they have.  I would not
say that an exceptional number of really revolutionary poets have
influenced my life; the poets who have influenced me, by and large,
have done so in terms of influencing my writing style or moving me to go
back to writing.  Why do I own all this stuff?  To experience other
people's worlds when my own is going slowly.

>
>caper daum - seize the day
er, carpe diem - seize the day (and the phrase finishes, translated, 'for
there is little stock to be put in the future')

-- 
       Sheryl Stover  %  If you ask me what I have come to do in the world,
  & Hemingway & Clio  %  I who am an artist, I will reply: "I am here to
sstover@seattleu.edu  %  live aloud."                    -Emile Zola
From: gt7244c@prism.gatech.EDU (John G'alt)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Phil's apprentice
Date: 22 Nov 92 22:19:09 GMT
Organization: Georgia Tech

In article <1992Nov22.004301.17681@husc3.harvard.edu> zeleny@husc10.harvard.edu (Michael Zeleny) writes:
>You also like wishful thinking and the pathetic fallacy.
   And you like pathetic thinking and fallacy in all cases, including
phallacy.  Stop being a dick and get your own life.
>Hi there, Phil.  Give hell to those douchebags for me!
   I doubt Phil cares for an apprentice, much less your need of any
douchebags he picks up.  Stop being a pussy and get a life of your
very own.

            "Oh, I didn't realize
                that you wrote poetry...
             I didn't realize
                you wrote such bloody awful poetry."
                              -the Smiths, "Frankly, Mr. Shankly"

John G'alt
reason or treason
lash for lash
-- 
John Greenawalt, gt7244c@prism.gatech.edu whooptydoo yes I'm a number
I am the difference between  |  "I didn't realize that you wrote poetry;
      A poet at heart        |   I didn't realize you wrote such
  And a poet at genitals.    |      bloody awful poetry."      -M
From: bn442@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Marc S. Queen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: those were mine (elvy))
Date: 16 Nov 1992 23:06:09 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bn442@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Marc S. Queen)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu


hi martha 
elvy
 
-- 
Marc "elvis" Queen
*4th yr Pharmacy student at Ohio Northern*
*Founder of ONU Ultimate Frisbee*
115 1/2 S Main St, Ada, OH 45810  419-634-8013
From: J_EDEN@unhh.unh.edu (James M Eden)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: POEM (1st One C&C Welcome)
Date: 18 Nov 1992 00:52:53 GMT
Organization: University of New Hampshire
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: unhh.unh.edu
X-News-Reader: VMS NEWS 1.12

Well here it goes.....

        Fool
---------------------
People say that I'm a fool.
A fool, cause my heart won't let go.
To that which is hurting.

Memories of us.
Together, happy.

My heart though, feels differently.
Deep within there is still a glimmer.

.....a hope.

That I'm not a fool.

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems