HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: messer@utkvx2.utk.edu (The Jagged of your Dreams!)
Subject: This is a poem, and it's called "Diaspora."
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41    
Organization: University of Tennessee Computing Center
Date: Thu, 12 Nov 1992 20:23:00 GMT



				Diaspora

			   If I say _Diaspora_
			       in my dream
			     then I'll know
				  why.
			      Because when
			     you left I was
				the dust
			        raised by
			        your feet.
			     Being constantly
				possessed
				  I am
				  lost.
			      Being a child
				 of your
				 country
			    you had only tales
			   from your grandfather
				   and
			       his failing
				  vision.
				I shall be
			     given up to you
				with pity
			      and compassion.
			     We once protected
			        one another.
				_Diaspora_
			       is the sound
			      the land makes.



   			     Damian K. Messer
    			     Knoxville 1992



\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
  "The rain increases with the light and the     ~Damian K Messer            
weight increases with the rain.  In all that     ~Internet:messer@utkvx.utk.edu
long column in brand-new overseas boots weeping  ~Bitnet:messer@utkvk         
blisters stick to the hard wool grey of          ~5809 Haynes-Sterchi Rd.    
government socks."                               ~Knoxville, TN 37912         
               --David Jones, _In Parenthesis_   ~(615)689-5722                
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
From: petersm@jacobs.CS.ORST.EDU (Marguerite Petersen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Fog
Date: 13 Nov 92 12:57:39 GMT
Article-I.D.: leela.1992Nov13.125739.24219
Organization: Computer Science Outreach Services - Oregon State University

I wrote this one after taking my dog out at 3:00 a.m. and discovered an
enveloping fog that seemed to mirror my current situation.  


     FOG

What am I to do?
I am more lost than a child
at the fair
At least at the fair
there are wonders to
behold
Excitement abounds
and a child can ignore 
for a time
that she is lost.

I stand in the dark
Creeping fog envelopes the night
Darkness blinds
Coldness numbs
Muteness overwhelms
I am immersed in black
My struggles cease
My cries strangle in my throat
The moon struggles
to cast pale shadows

No sound, no warmth, no light, nothing
The fog has won.

November 10, 1992

Kathleen O'Toole

-- 
*************************************************************************
"Insufficient facts always invites danger, Captain."- Spock in Space Seed
	Marg Petersen	petersm@jacobs.cs.orst.edu
*************************************************************************
From: lichter@oahu.cs.ucla.edu (Michael I. Lichter)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: asdf
Date: 12 Nov 92 02:26:04 GMT
Organization: UCLA, Computer Science Department

Two quick comments:

1.  We just got a couple of poems posted with headers like this:

	Date:    11 Nov 92 15:56:31 CST
	Subject: sex was a dream
	From:    the sad girl
	Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

    Are you really so embarassed by your poems that you don't want
    anyone to have an inkling who you are?  Personally, I'm annoyed
    by people who change their "full name" to something silly, but
    at least you could include your address so people can give you
    comments.

2. I think "d" (not much of a name) otherwise known as zen@death.Corp.Sun.COM 
   made a rather poor choice in titling his poem "if i was a nigger i'd".
   I'm not blind to irony, but "nigger" carries some pretty heavy
   baggage, and as a white person it's one that I steer well clear of
   in my speech or writing.  Otherwise an interesting polemic.

Michael
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: <<<<< by hilan 00003
From: <DMP137@psuvm.psu.edu>
Date: Wed, 11 Nov 1992 12:07:14 EST
Organization: Penn State University

primary function

by the size of his shoes
and the structure
of his soles
you would notice
that walking
was his chief occupation
and just where they sat
beside his bed
at the foot
you could imagine
them waiting
for a chance
to do some sleepwalking

white 2
From: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Date: Wed, 11 Nov 1992 20:16:33 GMT
Subject: Re: Sado-Methodists
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

In rec.arts.poems, nikolay@husc10.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev) writes:


>hymnody. I hope their graphic vividness will please
>the readers of this learned newsgroup.

Ooh.  Phil does irony.


>Well, pretty fab, or what?

If by "fab" you mean the scholarly belaboring of the obvious, I would
have to say, "Yes, it is pretty fab."

doug
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
Subject: To My Readers (c&c welcome)
Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Thu, 12 Nov 1992 23:02:06 GMT

To My Readers

You look at a word.
Dream.
Fuck.
Play.
Rape.
Death.
You absorb its impact.

And think...aha!
I know what she means.
I know her.

And you are so wrong.

You see an image.
A man dancing.
Beating.
Struggling.
Loving.
Screaming.
You dream a dream.

And think...that's me!
She's writing about me in that poem of hers.
She knows me.

And you are still wrong.

I can't read your mind
and you can't read mine.

All we can do
is see each other,
through a glass,
darkly.

So every time you read a poem
and think,
I know what she means.
She understands me.

You are always wrong.
But you are also, sometimes, right.

*****

M.A. Mohanraj
November 12, 1992



(textual note - for non-Bible-readers:  I paraphrased a bible
line...specifically, "For now we see through a glass darkly, but then
face to face:  now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also
I am known." - Corinthians 12:13  - King James.)

-- 
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
From: sheilah@wam.umd.edu (Sheila Herndon)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Sometimes its good to know words
Date: 5 Nov 92 20:47:33 GMT
Organization: University of Maryland, College Park

In article <1992Nov5.183002.4801@midway.uchicago.edu> alk4@midway.uchicago.edu writes:
>
>Obscure
>--------
>
>
>
>is throwing light
>into mouth open words
>
>is licking
>paper thunder dry
>
>is driven with reings relaxed
>on ticklish skin 
>
>
>
>
>Alex L. Karan
>
>(look up the derivation of "imagination" if you want to)
>

Dear Alex,

	You are doing something right insinuating yourself
into my dream and writing a gulping poem.
	
	I'm sorry I can't remember it all.

	It had an egg carton that was empty, because it was licked
dry, but it might have had little plastic figurines in cups,

	There were people.

	It was the happiest poem in the world. Thanks.
-- 
I am always wrong. Don't believe me ever.
stark raving sane  sheilah@wam.umd.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sswieren@nyx.cs.du.edu (stephan swierenga)
Subject: Silver Clouds
Organization: Nyx, Public Access Unix @ U. of Denver Math/CS dept.
Date: Wed, 11 Nov 92 21:09:24 GMT


 posting for a friend, he says c&c is welcome...

=======================================================

                SILVER CLOUDS

     The water rushes the cavern's deep
     underground sounds haunt the walls
     The silver flakes of beauty shine in the air
     reflected beside the blue sun god

    stud leathered spike hero
    cast his unseen eyes down
    meditating on the millions falling to
    the circle tears of the age

   A barbaric moan is uttered to the clouds
   while thunder emits the light
   tasting the minions of God
   The hero wails our plight.

  The love lays there
  and melts into the gutter
  the unknown man washes the darkness into the basin
  his eyes inside the mirror

 the echoing passage with the dull lights
 guides the way beneath the city
 the palpitation rush of fluid
 turns violet through the jagged space.

Hajii

===============================================
sswieren@nyx.cs.du.edu

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--True needs
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Thu, 5 Nov 92 16:53:40 GMT


                                True needs

                Troubled
                knowing now
                his true needs
                only
                paper pencil food shelter loving
                what to do with all the stuff surrounding him
                'midst which he sits like a gorilla
                quiet in a clearing littered by tourists
                not understanding.



-- 
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
From: donz@ui.org (Don Zirilli)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: awful love & poetry
Date: 12 Nov 92 04:09:06 GMT
Organization: UNIX International, Parsippany, NJ

In article <BxKvEK.57r@mach1.wlu.ca> maci9154@mach1.wlu.ca (macivor dawna) writes:
>I may sound like a hopeless romantic by saying this....
>
>Isn't there more to love than just fucking?  I always thought
>that part of love was supposed to be special, not just a cheap
>physical act.....


Just some personal insights that I hope the fledgeling love-poets will take
into consideration before writing another cliche-filled mess of a poem:

Love and fucking are different.  Fucking, if done properly, has nothing to
do with love.  It's a mutual masturbation (if it's done properly.  if it's
not done properly, one spouse--often the wife--will suddenly pack up and
leave after years of "bliss" because she's so goddamn sick of masturbating
by herself).  Love has more to do with eating breakfast together and taking
out each other's garbage.


Yours,

Posthumous O'Toole (who has first-hand experience of love with Kate, my
Dominatrix, and Candlestick, my Dulcinea)

THE DEFENDER OF THE REALM WITH ONLY FOUR LINES IN HIS .SIG
-- 
nobody/not even the rain/              	/	   /      /  /    
 /   /   /     /   /   / /     /       /    /    // /    /  /         /    
/     / / /   /   /     /   / /    / /   / / /  /  /   /      /      /
   / /   /   /	/	 / /      //    /   / /     / /      / / / 
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: kalkin@ccs.northeastern.edu (Daniel J Sullivan)
Subject: Re: A yellow rose
Followup-To: djsullivan@cooper.bbn.com
Organization: College of CS, Northeastern U
Date: Fri, 13 Nov 1992 19:47:12 GMT



  Let's see if I can get this right the second time around

tringg@rs6217.ecs.rpi.edu (George Joseph Tringali) writes 
>
>           she gave me a yellow rose
>           -------------------------
>
>
>           yellowblackgreenwhite
>           the flower melting into the background of its shadow
>           fluid until I focus and now concrete, etched in my eyes
>           a single light source giving a true single shadow
>           like a child traced it from black paper
>           but bigger, as if the shadow knew that the rose
>           represents something bigger
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
-->   I woke up to see my lover's rose in the corner 
-->of my room.  This is that moment's poem.  But
-->something about the poem irks me.  It just doesn't 
-->"do it" for me.  I tried replacing "bigger" and
-->"single" with other words, but still no luck.

> I NEED COMMENTS!  PLEASE help me out.  As a romantic,


  I don't know,  I like the second poem you started here (-->) better
  then the first.

                                                  Dan 
--
djsullivan@cooper.bbn.com
From: jessop@ljohub.enet.dec.com (Class Dinosauria)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Sweet Tea Rose...
Date: 5 Nov 92 22:28:03 GMT
Article-I.D.: rdg.1992Nov5.222803.19832
Reply-To: jessop@ljohub.enet.dec.com (Class Dinosauria)
Organization: Digital Equipment Corporation


	Sweet Tea Rose...

        Spring is the wind which trails you fair,
        Sunlight dancing in golden red hair,
        The life in your eyes betraying the season,
        Warming my soul and giving life reason.

        Fleeting sweet scents from a living red rose,
	A colorful painting, a wonderful prose.
	Whispering songs alight 'pon my soul,
	Sweet smelling airs of my little tea rose.

					msj
From: jtice@ester.UVic.CA (Jason W. Tice)
Subject: JWT: Fishing (C&C?)
Originator: jtice@ester
Organization: University of Victoria, Victoria, BC, Canada
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 92 00:36:24 GMT

Well, after making extensive commentary on other peope's poetry,
I think its only fair to post a couple of my own to satisfy those
who did not take kindly to my comments.

Here's the first of 3 that I will post now...


                             Fishing
			     -------

			 I tossed you out
			     sent you
		        back to the depths.
		     You disappeared from view
		       leaving a faint trail
			   of laughter.
From: cdl0915@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Christian Dylan Losinger)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: wreck.arse.po'MMM
Date: 9 Nov 92 19:20:11 GMT
Reply-To: cdl0915@ritvax.isc.rit.edu
Organization: Rochester Institute of Technology


	Looking at her,
	projecting the curves of her thighs,
	through the loosesoft folds of her jeans
	gave him a boner - 
	a boner which threatened to
	split up the seam
	the way a hot dog does
	if it's been microwaved
	for too long. 
	
        --------------------------------------------------------------
        	c  h  r  i  s   l  o  s  i  n  g  e  r   r  i  t 
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ralph@wixer.cactus.org (Ralph Cherubini)
Subject: Poem--Of a friend
Organization: Real/Time Communications
Date: Sat, 7 Nov 92 12:57:25 GMT


                               Of a friend


                She has strange ideas
                sees things as people
                so much of her mother haunts her
                she is the difference between them
                fears the burden of great excitement
                is driven like a car by a great spirit
                is sometimes afraid
                it is this last which is her salvation.





-- 
ralph@wixer.cactus.org
cactus.org!wixer!ralph
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: lichter@oahu.cs.ucla.edu (Michael I. Lichter)
Subject: places of higher loving
Organization: UCLA, Computer Science Department
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 92 08:53:24 GMT

Um, I don't feel entirely comfortable about this, but what the hell.  I
originally title it "friday 1981, franz hall", which I decided was a
little too dead, although I'm not sure I like the punny replacement
title, since it's not (I hope) a funny poem.   Franz Hall is the Psych
building at UCLA, and for those in the know, this is the old part, not
the tall modern part or the wimpy intermediate part (at UCLA they like
making really ugly and incongruous additions to older buildings).  I was
NOT a student here in 1981, in case anyone was wondering (I was at UCSD).
Ack!  I'm rambling on.  My question is this: what do you think about the
ethics of writing things about past lovers (or whoever) who could
possibly be identified in your writing?  Is it your right to "artify"
them?  Do you tread on their rights if you've not made them
unidentifyable?  Thanks.



		places of higher loving
		---------------------------------------------------------
		
		we, silent in secrecy,
		climbed the brick staircases
		fingers entwined past
		the dark labs threatening
		to ensare us in the late night
		experiments of mad psychologists

		the guard was gone and
		the door free - we 
		burst into the campus night,
		pebbles and used rubbers
		underfoot, stars cosmic
		pebbles in the hazy sky

		she spread her soft
		blanket tenderly over
		the rocks and the relics of 
		past rooftop frenzies, and
		her kisses were strong as her
		roughening skin tight in the cool 
		foggy air as we stripped and,
		senses united, clasped together

		she called someone's name
		and i knew he was there
		in the scattered detritus
		and the bricks and the sky
		watching her breathe as 
		i smoothed her long hair

		but he was a ghost and i
		held her now, in this night
		on the sharpened stones
		in the free vibrating air, quiet
		on her blanket as the possible
		opened above us, 
		until we descended the staircase
		and our echoed footsteps
		slipped with the moment
		into the past

				Michael Lichter
				November 7, 1992
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ali@simdiv1.mentorg.com (Aliasgar Haveliwala)
Subject: Urdu Ignorance Part II
Originator: ali@simdiv1
Date: Wed, 11 Nov 1992 23:55:13 GMT
Organization: Mentor Graphics Corporation; Beaverton, Oregon
Keywords: 
Followup-To: 

>>there is a larger ignorance at work here---the consequences of
>>>>animosities generated by a babble of tongues. i do not mind being
>>taught gently about the culture and language of those outside of my own
>>linguistic family or tribe. but i feel very strongly that it is is
>>highly unethical to cultivate attacks on other people and other
>>languages. i object to such obscenity. you have an opportunity to
>>educate a world of users of electronic media. use your resources to
>>create understanding not hatred. 
>>                               melynda claire reid


I think you are perfectly right. I conducted myself with civility
throughout the discussion or vote call for rec.arts.poetry. I did  
not solicit or campaign for votes in either direction.

However. few netters on this forum stooped so low to send me hate
mail, and attack me personally. It is not my intent to engage with
these lowly folks. It was my intent,howvever, to sarcastically point out that
URDU is not a place or culture but is a language for the arts.

You are more than welcome to enjoy rec.arts.poems.urdu. There are a 
few on the net who have suggested to dump and corrupt rapu, now
that it has gone through. They are the same folks who preached the
idea of Usenet citizenship. What a irony.

Wishing all the best

Ali Haveliwala.

-- 
___________________________________________________________________________
Ali Haveliwala					  ali_haveliwala@mentorg.com	
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: lichter@oahu.cs.ucla.edu (Michael I. Lichter)
Subject: and then man cooked
Organization: UCLA, Computer Science Department
Date: Sun, 8 Nov 92 09:23:28 GMT

	[Despite repeated protests to the contrary, I choose
	 to annoy you with another ... ]


		and then man cooked
		-----------------------------------------------------

		i cook
		therefore i am

		human, for only we
		were pulled steaming 

		from the evolutionary oven
		with the genetic recipe

		for poached eggs, corned beef
		sandwiches, and pad thai.

		a frozen zoo parades through
		my microwave, yet only

		the flame and the smoke and
		the knife piercing charred flesh

		or maybe charred broccoli, oops,
		touches the true yolk,

		represents the yeast by which
		mankind has risen,

		and fills the cup that
		measures our humanity.

		by the way, is anybody interested 
		in doing the dishes?

				-ml 92.11.7
From: melynda@titipu.resun.com (Melynda Reid)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Urdu Ignorance (part II)
Date: Wed, 11 Nov 92 09:52:29 EST(-0500)
Organization: Paleolithic Refugia
Reply-To: melynda@titipu.resun.com (Melynda Reid)
X-Mailer: uAccess - Macintosh Release: 1.6v0


Ali Haveliwala posted the following in rap entitled urdu ignorance:

> Urdu Ignorance (part II)
> 
> 	Those vain speakers of the Queen's toungue
> 	Delight in the cuisine of dung
> 	Eschewing spice
> 	They season with lice
> 	And perhaps a bit of bat's bung

there is a larger ignorance at work here---the consequences of
animosities generated by a babble of tongues. i do not mind being
taught gently about the culture and language of those outside of my own
linguistic family or tribe. but i feel very strongly that it is is
highly unethical to cultivate attacks on other people and other
languages. i object to such obscenity. you have an opportunity to
educate a world of users of electronic media. use your resources to
create understanding not hatred. 
                               melynda claire reid

melynda reid   who wears hats but does not type caps
  eel:   melynda@titipu.resun.com  or  nosc.mil!titipu.resun.com!melynda
  snail: p o box 378 greensboro, florida 32330
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jessop@ljohub.enet.dec.com (Class Dinosauria)
Subject: Two, for the price of one!
Reply-To: jessop@ljohub.enet.dec.com (Class Dinosauria)
Organization: Digital Equipment Corporation
Date: Mon, 9 Nov 1992 17:46:10 GMT




	Disrupted!

	Disruption!
	Noise!
	My thoughts are wrangled.
	But, eventually
	I resuccumb
	To peace.

---------------------------------------

	Life from Death...

	Death.
	A foul stench
		Pours forth
	From silent rotting
		Bodies.

	Life.
	Espers of light
		Climb high,
	The souls of men
		Reaching to God...


			msj
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Subject: Re: Blistering Flame on How Not to Write / Marek (Re: ** How can any man)
Reply-To: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Organization: Iowa State University
Date: Mon, 9 Nov 1992 18:59:39 GMT

In article <BEH.92Nov8084235@kropotkin.gnu.ai.mit.edu>,
beh@kropotkin.gnu.ai.mit.edu (various Howellses) writes:
> In article <1992Nov6.233005.16027@news.acns.nwu.edu> marek@casbah.acns.nwu.edu
(Marek Lugowski) writes:
> 
> 
>    You don't want to share her thoughts when she is defacating and having a
>    hard time of it.  
> 
> 
> FOR MY LOVE ON THE POT
>  [...poem deleted for some reason or other...]
> --Nancy Howells
> *grin* playfully, playfully.....
> 


Thank you, O Various Howellses.  I had thought Marek's point was in
some doubt, but you have demonstrated that he was right.  


Marie Coffin
From: jchien@leland.Stanford.EDU (Jennifer Crystal Fang-Chien)
Subject: the pebbled rooftop / jchien
Organization: The Land of Flowers (Stanford U.)
Date: Fri, 6 Nov 92 21:09:21 GMT



	the pebbled rooftop


	these sharp outlines of the buildings
	beyond the air-clean glass
	incised so fine as to defy nature 
	are like the precise instrument-drawn covers
	of science fiction novels depicting cities

	architecture comprises of not
	only geometry and structural engineering
	but aspens and poplar
	leaning just so
	over the white rubble rooftops

	in midsummer
	these rooftops are cool to lie upon
	(at least compared to the skin-searing black
	asphalt that smells like processed petroleum)
	basking in glory
	proceeds as the air-conditioned students within
	kick restlessly
	their bodies confined by wooden desks

	jeremy (the kid who used to run to my house
	for protection from childhood gangs)
	fantasized about screwing 
	on a white rooftop
	the small rocks would have abraded his buttocks
	but that wouldn't be a distraction
	since the last time he was seen he was
	exhaling smoke into two model blondes' ears
	between bites
	of nachos in taco bell

	i dream about rooftops
	white pebbled
	covering the horizons
	until
	every step lands on
	a small part of that universal architecture



				--jennifer crystal chien
				c/c email appreciated =)
From: wachtel@canon.co.uk (Tom Wachtel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: HELP NEEDED (Is poetry luxury?)
Date: 10 Nov 92 10:51:10 GMT
Reply-To: wachtel@canon.co.uk
Organization: Canon Research Centre Europe Ltd

casteley@phil.ruu.nl (Eric Casteleyn) writes:

>   I recently overheard someone say that poetry is a luxury item. In-
> tuitively I disagreed, but I've had some trouble putting together a 
> definitive article to prove him wrong. Maybe he was right. Maybe I'm
> stupid. I sincerely hope the latter.


	if you need an argument
	the other has won it

-- 

Tom Wachtel (wachtel@canon.co.uk)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems