HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: tconnors@morgan.ucs.mun.ca (Tim Connors )
Subject: The art of Halibut
Organization: Memorial University of Newfoundland
Date: Sun, 11 Oct 1992 07:24:40 GMT

            "To Err Is Grueman"

            Lenny Grueman spills the beans.
            "I have no microfilm, Gendar 6 holds the secret!" he weeps
            Now it is known to all.
            To Err is Grueman.

            
            "Revenge is a Best Served With Extra Cabbage"

            Humphrey is disgusted. Black and Decker thoughts cloud his
            mind. If only he could drill his wifes head, she would
            regret her taunts. For now, he smiles at her, a knowing
            smile. The scent of wet fibreglass on pineapple fills the
            room. In the distance, a child is wondering of apes.
            Where are my paisley sandals?


            "Spoons on a Rack" 

             "CLANG!"

    tconnors@morgan.ucs.mun.ca
         Tim Connors

     Poetic Wheelbarrow: Comments welcomed with relish, ketchup and lots
                         o' mustard.

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: dkmishra@caen.engin.umich.edu (Dhanada K Mishra)
Subject: Fall..
Organization: University of Michigan Engineering, Ann Arbor
Distribution: usa
Date: Tue, 13 Oct 1992 17:17:42 GMT


                         

Fall..

A riot of colors takes shape
as the carpet of crazy patterns form
with their slow descend 
leaving a trail of green behind
that turns yellow and red
with patches of blue in the gaps
and something in between.

No end can be sweeter
than this every year
that comes in cycles
and let one smile at the sight
and shine so bright           
before the burial in a sea of white.

I hate to set my dirty foot
on this glorious display
as I go about the mundane ways of my life
whilst the bride walks by
but I am in a bind
to welcome the snow birds
of grey not too far behind..


Dhanada K. Mishra
dkmishra@caen.engin.umich.edu
From: tconnors@morgan.ucs.mun.ca (Tim Connors )
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Ozone Shoes
Date: 16 Oct 92 15:20:56 GMT
Organization: Memorial University of Newfoundland


          "Groceries of  University Boy"
  
           ___________________________
           __________________________
           __________________________
  
  
          "Digital Hierarchy"

          VCR clocks are the supremists.
          Dictators flashing their prophecies. 
          At their right hand lay the microwave.
          They uprise. Waves of (micro?) hell permeate the VCR. 
          The remainder? 
          Nuclear movies.
 
          "When Paco sings"

         When he sings of love, I weep.
         When he sings of beauty, I smile.
         When he sings of Lalinda, I cringe.
         Perhaps I shouldn't have killed him with scissors?
 
 
         "Applesauce the clown"
 
       Applesauce, Applesauce, he makes us laugh.
       Applesauce, Applesauce, he makes us dance.
       Applesauce, Applesauce, he makes us dream.
       But only when he hangs, mute,
       will there be peace in Droverville.


            tconnors@morgan.ucs.mun.ca
                 Tim Connors
              Poetic Wheelbarrow: Questioning salad; everyday.
From: steele@aem.umn.edu (Stephanie Steele)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: master piece
Summary: master piece
Keywords: master piece
Date: 8 Oct 92 21:54:01 GMT
Organization: University of Minnesota


for the reverend
calvin butts
who painted
over an offensive
billboard in harlem
-your services
are needed everywhere
alchohol and tobacco
are nailed to the backs
of every ghetto
and what about all the free
hidden advertising
blossoming needles
and poverty
from our tender
under bellies
how to apply
an angry stroke
to radio free statistics
chattering
white noise
singing your people
lazy
flattening
my body into glossy
receptacles
that drown
in the reeking
semen
of cocktail hour

sls
--

=======================================================================
			   Stephanie Steele
			steele@chip.aem.umn.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sheilah@wam.umd.edu (Sheila Herndon)
Subject: another poem
Organization: University of Maryland, College Park
Date: Tue, 13 Oct 1992 22:03:28 GMT


depression

everything is the same style I am bored.  I can predict the style of my physics class and the style of my boredom.  I am bored.  I am bored.  It is so repititious.  I repeat myself.  my mind is sterile.  the boredom is like farming without crop rotation.  I am bored.  The wind will come and blow away the dust.  The ground underneath will be dry.  The ground underneath will crack and turn to more dust.  This a barren sterile poem.  I am so sad and cannot say it.  I don't have delicious words that are fruit 




to eat.

reduced to hidden tears. 
breathing through my silent mouth.
an old hat covers this face.
-- 
I am always wrong. Don't believe me ever.
stark raving sane  sheilah@wam.umd.edu
From: tconnors@morgan.ucs.mun.ca (Tim Connors )
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Planes
Date: 13 Oct 92 17:40:41 GMT
Article-I.D.: morgan.1992Oct13.174041.17564
Organization: Memorial University of Newfoundland


         Fat Stewardess wedged in isle 6

     "Excuse me sir, more cream?"
     "Please, ma'am, no smoking."
     "Oh dear, I'm wedged in the isle 6."
     "Get the I CAN'T BELIEVE ITS NOT BUTTER."
     Her nightmare is only beginning. 
     A pregnant lady wishes to pee.
     Only parkay on this flight.



tconnors@morgan.ucs.mun.ca
     Tim Connors
From: pirillo2044@iscsvax.uni.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Forever Untitled (Rolana's Song) *feedback please*
Date: 14 Oct 92 13:06:23 GMT
Article-I.D.: iscsvax.1992Oct14.180624.7658
Organization: University of Northern Iowa


                            FOREVER UNTITLED
                            (Rolana's Song)

        When the curtains of night are pinned back by the stars
    As the beautiful moon leaps the skies;
        And the dewdrops of heaven are kissin' the rose,
    It is then that my memory flies.
        As if on the wings of some beautiful dove
    (In haste with the message it bears)
        To bring you a kiss of affection and say--
    "I'll remember you love in my prayers."

        Go where you will on land or on sea,
    I'll share all your sorrows and cares.
        And at night when I kneel by my bedside to pray,
    I'll remember you love in my prayers

        I've loved you too fondly to ever forget
    The love you have spoken to me.
        And the kiss of affection still warm on my lips
    When you told me how true you would be.
        I know not if fortune be fickle or friend,
    Or if time on your memory wears.
        I know that I'll love you wherever you roam,
    And remember you love in my prayers.

        Go where you will on land or on sea,
    I'll share all your sorrows and cares.
        And at night when I kneel by my bedside to pray,
    I'll remember you love in my prayers

        When the angels in heaven are guarding the good,
    As God has ordained them to do.
        In answer to prayers I've offered to him,
    I know there is one watching you.
        And may it's brilliant spirit be with you through life,
    To guide you up heaven's bright stairs...
        And meet with the one who has loved you so true;
    Who remembered you love in his prayers.
                                            
                                        -- Chris Pirillo

        "So what did you think of it.  This poem was written two years ago, and
    since then has been converted into a sweet-sounding song.  I would like
    some feedback from all of you readers out there, this is just the first of
    many poems which I will be sharing with you all.  Feel free to drop me an
    e-mail message (though I don't really know how to return or even send one
    to you yet) or just post your comments in this newsgroup.
        "I'm one of the last romantics, and if there's a girl out there looking
    for love... I've got plenty of it to give."

                                   Until next time,

                                   Christopher J. Pirillo
                                   THE LOCKER GNOME
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: webdw@cbnews.cb.att.com (bruce.d.woods)
Subject: Re: Shades of Green
Organization: AT&T
Distribution: na
Date: Thu, 8 Oct 1992 13:40:02 GMT

In article <262@uiunix.ui.org> donz@ui.org (Don Zirilli) writes:
>
>Dear Rap,
>
>As some of you know, I have of late been attempting to transcribe some of
>my adventures during my visit to Joe Green.  There has been quite a delay
>since my last entry and I do apologize, but I would get the most ornery
>headaches whenever I put quill to parchment and I would have to stop
>immediately.  Only recently, have I realized that these headaches are
>caused by the Knight of Toronto rapping on the inside of my skull with his
>lance.
>
>For those of you who don't know, the Knight of Toronto is an aethereal
>Agent of Satan who saunters forth from his home in Canada in order to
>torment the spiritually weak.  When he feels more ambitious, he likes to
>torment O'Tooles.
>
>To continue, Sir Knight presumably became bored with this lance-thumping
>and began whispering to me inside my head.  Besides the annoyance of trying
>to listen to something that was echoing in my skull, I was also forced to
>incorporate the content of his whispers, which were thus:
>
>"Josef O'Toole is returning..."
>
>You might instantly dismiss such rantings from a self-proclaimed enemy of
>the O'Tooles, but I know something that complicates the situation further:
>the Knight of Toronto, boring chap that he is, never tells a lie.  It's some
>silly rule that Satan et al like to follow.
>
>
>So, faced with this distressing half-news and not sure of the implications,
>I must hurry and give a brief synopsis of the remaining events in my search
>for Josef:
>
>As I've said, I met the fellow once and he awoke us to involve us in
>further adventures.  He dragged Kate and me around the world, going to such
>exotic places as Thailand and one locale that may very well have been
>Cambodia, not to mention Ireland--motherland to all O'Tooles.  Anyway, I
>was terribly impressed at his exceeding capacity for travel and saw other
>amazing feats, like 9 mo. of boot camp and the death of the Soul, etc etc
>etc.  the irony being that when Kate and I did find ourselves with a portal
>to the mortal (cf. peddle to the metal) and through which returned back
>home, we learned that only two weeks later the hugest Mall in the world was
>built on the very spot in which we had our adventures.
>
><whew> there's the adventure in a nutshell.
>
>
>Oh, one more thing.  Josef suggested that Doug make out a will a.s.a.p.
>So, Doug, I would like pockets 31, 30, 28, 21, 17(of course), 3 and pocket
>#1 (but make it a moth).  Please consider this while writing up your last
>W&T.
>
>
>Yours,
>
>Posthumous O'Toole, Official O'Toole Archivist
>-- 
>nobody/not even the rain/              	/	   /      /  /    
> /   /   /     /   /   / /     /       /    /    // /    /  /         /    
>/     / / /   /   /     /   / /    / /   / / /  /  /   /      /      /
>   / /   /   /	/	 / /      //    /   / /     / /      / / / 


BIGGEST WASTE OF BANDWIDTH I'VE EVER SEEN!
From: bunny@bsu-cs.bsu.edu (Marsh)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem - Pillow Fight
Date: 9 Oct 92 03:05:02 GMT
Organization: CS Dept, Ball St U, Muncie, Indiana


PILLOW FIGHT

Nonsense torn in triplicate
is nonsense still
with padding fluff and feathers,
down and puffs
of tufted satin, silk 
a bit of cotton, ripped
into a hundred thousand pieces
strewn about
as flurries from a hoary beard 
and bluster in the form of shrieks 
which giggle from the little lips
whose owners hide in cloud and fury, 
scattered feet
as stairs betray approaching more, 
their patter
louder than these loudest whoops abound 
and children shatter silence once, 
then thrice again
with laughter shouts and other sundry
Kinder din.


-Tracy Flynn-Marsh
From: cdl0915@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Christian Dylan Losinger)
Subject: just like heaving
Reply-To: cdl0915@ritvax.isc.rit.edu
Organization: Rochester Institute of Technology
Date: Mon, 12 Oct 1992 19:25:44 GMT


	Show me show me show me where the bathroom is 
	I think I'm gonna puke She said
	I think I'm getting sick She said
	And threw her hands up to her head

	Tell me, where's the toilet ?
	I'm gonna puke, I swear it, man 
	I'm gonna puke on you 	
	I'm gonna puke on you 

	Spinning like a top my head
	Is throbbing. The room is turning red
	Quick, please get a bucket
	Here it comes, I can't hold out

	Why did I drink so much She coughed
	Oh I'll never drink again 
	This time I'm really though
	Her face was turning blue

	Uggg hunks of baloney
	Uggg rice-a-roni
	Ewww deviled eggs and
	chunks of my mom's pickled cabbage
	splashing on my roommate
	drunken heaving
	drunken heaving

	Daylight found her passed out cold
	gooey vomit in the folds
	of her elbows knees and toes
	she barely looked alive
	why did you drink so much I asked
	Oh won't you ever learn
	Look what it does to you 
	That stuff is hell on you

	Uggg hunks of baloney
	Uggg rice-a-roni
	Ewww deviled eggs and
	chunks of my mom's pickled cabbage
	splashing on my roommate
	drunken heaving
	drunken heaving

					-art, the highest attainable
					second on to the great James Joyce
					in originality and focus.
        --------------------------------------------------------------
        	c  h  r  i  s   l  o  s  i  n  g  e  r   r  i  t 
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: steele@aem.umn.edu (Stephanie Steele)
Subject: Re: Lib. Theol. -- work in progress
Organization: University of Minnesota
Distribution: usa
Date: Wed, 14 Oct 1992 04:34:47 GMT

mstringh@ent1.ent.ncsu.edu (Mike Stringham) writes:

>My reply keeps getting bounced, so guess I'll go public.

>Thanks for the comments.  I agree (mostly) with what you say.
>The poem is something of a struggle.  I have had a hard time staying
>focused with it and will probably just let it sit for a while.  Every
>daughter or son probably knows at least one thing profound about one or
>both parents...its just not always obvious until later.  I'm trying to
>figure out if I know what it is with this poem.  It may be that I don't,
>but thought I'd talk to myself about it.  The effort may invariably
>"fail"... but there's always the journey.
>Bottoms is just vernacular for bottom lands or a valley.

>--Mike

mike, i was wondering whether you received my comments or not...sometimes
i forget to tell people that my address on the net is broke and that i
must be reached at steele@chip.aem.umn.edu....

anyway, i think your idea of letting it 'sit' for a while is a good one.
i read somewhere once that ray bradbury always put his first draft stories
in a folder and didn't look at them until a year had gone by, when he
believed he could approach the piece with the right amount of objectivity.
i guess i have mixed feelings about this...i sort of feel like it's a
luxury that the published can afford, and at the same time i do get so
sick of working on the same piece sometimes that i never want to see it
again...a terrible place to be when all you want to do is fill something
with just the right amount of life.

anyway, you write beautifully and i'm sure you have lots of other poems
in the works while lib-theo takes a nap, please feel free to send me
any more of your stuff whenever you need some feedback, it's a pleasure
to read...

sls

--

=======================================================================
			   Stephanie Steele
			steele@chip.aem.umn.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: akao@.com (Adam Kao)
Subject: life in the modern world
Organization: Oracle Corporation, Redwood Shores, CA
Date: Fri, 9 Oct 1992 22:34:05 GMT
X-Disclaimer: This message was written by an unauthenticated user
              at Oracle Corporation.  The opinions expressed are those
              of the user and not necessarily those of Oracle.


hey jeth

sorry haven't written
life is crazy still
i'm moving to a place where i'll have a phone
in a couple of weeks
i'll send you my new address and number then
(oh to answer your question
 the place i was living was only wired for 2 lines
 already taken
 to get more
 we'd have to dig a trench from the box to the house
 so the phone co could lay more cable
 decided wasn't worth it
 rather move out
 since other problems
 like ants in my bed)

tons of work to do
never enough time (or motivation)
finally got inspired today
which is why i'm writing to you in between compiling
i suppose it sounds kind of choppy

maybe someday i'll get control of my life

adam
From: hadfield@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Marc Christopher Hadfield)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: test post
Summary: poem i wrote a while ago hope you enjoy
Date: 17 Oct 92 03:10:11 GMT
Distribution: na
Organization: Princeton University
Originator: news@nimaster

The quieting wind brings
the distant, rhythmic sound
of water, crashing
on summer rocks,
like a mother's waning heartbeat.

The fluid air draws close.
Every breath gathers in light
and burns red,
resisting the oncoming dusk,
starving my vision.

I cannot see the ground,
nor feel it with feet
lost to senses.
I float,
and everything is still.

My gaze turns upward
to the fading redness.
The sun has set,
the old world gone,
and everything is still.

The stars are not visible.
I try to imagine them,
but my mind falls short
with so much unknown, unsensed,
and everything is still.

My deadened hands pound
on the shell, my womb, my cage,
bleeding in new life,
through the cracks,
and the stillness...

I hear the roar
of a thousand Oceans.
My strange eyes open
to the light of Galaxies.
...the stillness shatters.  I am born.

mch
hadfield@phoenix.princeton.edu
"I am the Captain of my soul." w.e. henley
From: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: MILK haiku
Date: 12 Oct 92 14:25:03 GMT
Reply-To: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au
Organization: Department of Computer Science, The University of Queensland


             coy dairy cow moo
      mock cream squeezed between two buns
            sun sets like junket


-/\/\/\/-

(sleepy sleepy sleepy)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,talk.bizarre
From: boutell@cshl.org (Tom Boutell)
Subject: TB: Poem: Shlock the Vote
Organization: Cold Spring Harbor Labs
Date: Mon, 12 Oct 1992 17:39:10 GMT

Shlock the Vote
---------------

Saw Hillary Clinton in Washing Square park today
She was pregnant she was jogging nobody noticed
I have to press this meeting close to me
Till it bleeds till I believe it till it appears in print
I read the newspaper on the throne this morning the polls
Say 60 want Bill 30 want George the Tird
10 want body transplants attached at the face
The brain can go substance substance substance
Icky sticks to the furniture icky
Sticks to the roof of your mouth icky I want

Caffeine-free polyunsaturated one-calorie President
Beautiful bountiful beautiful one-color resident
Of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue President with good teeth
Please tell me you have good teeth pull the lever
Whichever way really turns you on
This is my plastic President song
I got my preference if I can remember it that long


-- 
Tom Boutell, boutell@cshl.org

Clausthaler is the best non - alcoholic beer in the known universe.
From: zen@death.Corp.Sun.COM (d)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: poem fragment of you
Date: 13 Oct 92 17:40:27 GMT
Organization: Sun Microsystems Inc., Mountain View, CA
NNTP-Posting-Host: death.corp.sun.com


i realized today
youre four parts beautiful
one part your mind
one part your body
one part your heart
the fourth
 to my surprise
was myself in your eyes
From: bunny@bsu-cs.bsu.edu (Marsh)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem - Bismarckallee neun-und-vierzig
Date: 11 Oct 92 20:20:29 GMT
Organization: CS Dept, Ball St U, Muncie, Indiana


BISMARCKALLEE NEUN-UND-VIERZIG

I lived there for too brief awhile
the blues and blacks of habits flying
by my lake and round again in twos
and threes and other numbers.

On my floor "no pets" abounded;
turtles rats and guinea pigs within
small rooms made life more real than
that without in cold and wind and rain.

The never-sun blinked briefly at me
forced my eyes to wince in protest,
muffled clouds gave birth to colors
struck a flint and lit the Asee.

There (the Dome the melting point the
people gathered silence gone with
reverence and cameras flashing) -
there I knelt upon an ancient mossy stone.

My God affirmed my grim decision, gave
a swift and subtle nudge when I awoke
besmirched with cancer guided me to
see my priest whose language I forgot.

Varrer saved me speaking English "Krebs"
forgotten in the wake of potent sherry
herbs and incense dance and glitter
radiance borne swift as judgement - home.

And so I flew away from Heaven drifting
in a carmel haze of mental fog and
no convictions save that all the nuns
were perfect and that I would miss my lake.

The children grew beneath my window and
are gone as my assurance that I may return
to life the wings once more at St-Sebastian,
past in Bismarckallee neun-und-vierzig.


-Tracy Flynn-Marsh
From: megazone@obsidian.WPI.EDU (MegaZone23)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: how do you create a .sig?
Date: 11 Oct 1992 02:14:31 GMT
Organization: WPI USAF -- United Society of Animation Fans
NNTP-Posting-Host: obsidian.wpi.edu

In article <1992Oct11.014841.4544@news.Hawaii.Edu> deb@wiliki.eng.hawaii.edu (David Barrett) writes:
>In article <1992Oct5.133817.7320@iscsvax.uni.edu> gilligan6855@iscsvax.uni.edu writes:
>I need to know how to make a .sig for myself, and i can't find any information
>>in my help commands.   anyone?
>Use an editor and make whatever address and anything else into a file and
>name it .sig.  You may have to fiddle with the settings in the elmrc file to

Or make a 4 line or less file and call it .signature, then it will also be 
automatically attached to your posts by most newsposters/readers...

You can name it something else and include it manually with your editor, or in
you .elmrc the line is...

# For yes/no settings with ?, ON means yes, OFF means no
# local ".signature" file to append to appropriate messages...
localsignature = 
# remote ".signature" file to append to appropriate messages...
remotesignature = 
# do we want dashes above signatures? (News 2.11 compatibility and convention)
sigdashes = ON

I'd use local .signature and you can put in ~/.sig or ~/.signature or
whatever path and name you chose...

I would leave sigdashes on just to be nice....

elmrc's are so useful, I've tweaked mine... but I do the sig with my editor...
###############################################################################
# I have one prejudice, and that is against stupidity.  Use your mind, think! #
#Email megazone@wpi.wpi.edu  Moderator, WPI anime FTP site 130.215.24.1 /anime#
###############################################################################
From: bunny@bsu-cs.bsu.edu (Marsh)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem - Dream
Date: 11 Oct 92 18:58:07 GMT
Organization: CS Dept, Ball St U, Muncie, Indiana


DREAM

Dusky night, like sweet, swollen, peppered lips
kisses my shoulder with dew.

You play with me, your image teases sighs from my sleep
and I feel the weight of your hair cross my nose.

Conqueror, I beg you! let me slumber...
false reflections of you standing, nude and golden, haunt my dreams.

My waking is filled with you, gravid as my evens,
and I yearn for your embrace in the clouds of morning.

Grave smile, sensuous smirk enveloped my eyes even now as I write
and I see you, past the miles, beckoning to me like waves.

-Tracy Flynn-Marsh