HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: bunny@bsu-cs.bsu.edu (Marsh)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Letter to Ralph Cherubini
Keywords: Sorry, can't get e-mail to you!
Date: 12 Sep 92 22:18:57 GMT
Organization: CS Dept, Ball St U, Muncie, Indiana



Dear Ralph,

*Thank you*!  I enjoy others' comments but can't bring myself to
criticize others' work because poetry is, to me, a sacred trust.
I will say, however, that your poetry is something I look forward
to each day.  I admire your ability to put into words things that
I can, at this point, only feel...as such words of praise from
you are unexpected delights.

I'm 26 years old and still have a lot of emotional and creative
growing to do.  Encouragement like yours is something that helps to
keep me going in that respect; thank you, thank you for writing.

I'll continue to post...only time will tell.

Sincerely,

Tracy Flynn-Marsh
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jaguar@netcom.com (Ophelia)
Subject: Re: Poem--Sometimes
Date: Thu, 10 Sep 92 07:31:24 GMT
Organization: Netcom - Online Communication Services  (408 241-9760 guest) 
X-Newsreader: Tin 1.1 PL5

for Ralph Cherubini

Ralph has a bag under his arm
big words, little words
all neatly sewn up
at leisure he
sprinkles them
all over the page

Cherubini
a baby angel
rolled up in a ravioli
plumped up
cooked
and ready for a bite

--
[chomp!]  hee hee!
-- 

*jaguar woman*				near wild heaven,
[jaguar@netcom.com]			not near enough
[jaguar@ardath.slisp.cs.cmu.edu]	
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: bnelson@csulx.weber.edu (Bert Nelson)
Subject: Public domain poetry wanted
Organization: Weber State University, Ogden Utah
Date: Mon, 14 Sep 92 01:13:56 GMT

Does anyone know of some good FTP sites that would have public domain
poetry??


Thanks in advance

Bert Nelson
bnelson@csulx.weber.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ureebob@mcl.ucsb.edu (Reeeeeenah-bob!)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Watching the clock...
Date: 11 Sep 92 07:37:38 GMT


	a year, a month, and a day
	since you went away.
	oh, how the very seconds
	feel like forever
	the precise, clean nowness of the present
	obscenely stretched into a voiceless eternity,
	all past and all future
	smudged as a grape-jelly thumbprint
	on a vast, boundless canvas
	that does not go away when i close my eyes,
	that i must, that i need to stare at
	to hold in my sanity, my civility
	my reason and my wrath
	in the face of a day, a month
	a year, and more.
				8-26-92

	*Was that okay?                
	Submitted by Rena Tom, who is a Cchampion of dandilions.
	ureebob@mcl.ucsb.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: tordm@vana (Tord G.M. Malmgren)
Subject: birthday
Reply-To: TordM@VanA.PhySto.SE
Organization: Department of Physics, University of Stockholm -- Sweden
Date: Thu, 10 Sep 1992 20:35:38 GMT


 it's my birthday today
 it's a full moon today
 howl and bark
 I'm nude in the woods in the dark
 the moss feels good in my groin


---------------+--------------------------------
 Tord Malmgren | InterNet: TordM@VanA.PhySto.SE | These opinions are my own,
               | BITNet  : TordM@SESUF51        | and NOT of this department!
---------------+--------------------------------
 Department of Physics, University of Stockholm
From: jcbarnes@rigel.acs.oakland.edu (Terson - Sod Lord)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Cat Poem 26 (last)
Date: 8 Sep 92 19:28:37 GMT
Organization: FryTools International

In article <1992Sep4.081804.25453@gdr.bath.ac.uk> ccsdgdc@gdr.bath.ac.uk (Douglas Clark) writes:
:)
:) There is only one Fritz.
:) 

  That's for sure...  :)

J. Fritz Barnes
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: bross@spartan.ac.BrockU.CA (Brian J Ross)
Subject: Poem
Organization: Dept of Computer Science, Brock University
X-Newsreader: Tin 1.1 PL4
Date: Wed, 9 Sep 1992 13:04:12 GMT


An entire city... nay, civilization... dedicated to worshipping and
massaging Sherilyn Fenn
-------------------------------------------------------------------
I've applied for a visa. 



-- 
Brian Ross                         "At the end of the day, all money gets you
bross@sandcastle.cosc.brocku.ca     is a better place to watch television."
                                    -- Dana Carvey
From: cecilw@access.isc-br.com (Cecil Williams)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: This Old Man...
Date: 14 Sep 92 16:16:35 GMT
Organization: ISC-Bunker Ramo, Spokane, WA






Wrinkled old body, so weary tonight,
I lie down in bed, feeling no fright.
My time has come, bright shines the guide light...
While the world sleeps, I'm ready for flight.

Now I lay me down to die,
off drifts my soul into the sky.
My vesperous being, ebbing oddly
from my sallow, cooling body.

This date with destiny I'll keep,
and soon shall know a lasting sleep.
But first a journey I must make, 
a voyage on to deeper space.

So outward bound into the void
of starlight, dust and cosmic glow
Left earth behind, I'm on the fly
I know not where I go, nor why.

A darker place I come to now,
of floating circumfluent warmth.
I think I'll stop and rest a bit
This space is nice I must admit.

Perhaps I've slept for just a while,
but now I'm wakened with a start,
A strange sensation all around,
I feel constriction pushing down,
a crushing wave upon my crown.

It's time to journey onward, so 
my being, what now is of me,
into a darkened tunnel flows.
headfirst in that direction goes.

Ahead a muted light appears
I hear strange muffled sounds so near 
but I am being pushed and smooshed 
and feel some trepidatious fears.

The portal's small, 
but I'm pulled through, 
I feel so small and helpless now 
emerging in a bright lit room 
of giants dressed in green and white. 

One giant holds me near to him
he has at once a tear and grin,
Then carries round and lays me down
upon a brand-new mother's breast
she coo's to me and says to rest...

I sleep.







Cecil Williams  9/14/92
***********************
From: iplt_ltd@uhura.cc.rochester.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: untitled
Date: 13 Sep 92 14:41:54 GMT
Organization: University of Rochester - Rochester, New York


	Ok, this is my second posting in a year and a half. 
I'd like to say that I love all the poems I read in this group. There are some
very talented people out there. 
	This poem is really a song I wrote. Questions and criticism is much
wanted and appreciated. Also, if anyone can give me suggestions for a title
that would be cool too.





It's aIt's almost a sixth sense
The way I think of you
I can see you standing
In the corners of my room
The way you laugh
The songs you sing
Your gentle touch
The smiles you bring
Even when you're far from me
I can see you, I can hear you
Even when you're far away
You are here.
A Tiger in search of 
a new llife alone
Wonders through the Desert
Can she call it her home
Years pass on
and memories fade
Her cubs nestle close
For a nap in the shade.
And as she wakes in her deepening sleep
The Tiger hears an angel's sweep
Around the bend a world with fasion
Rushing tears, a pool of passion
And underneath the tears you stand
With an open heart, and an open hand.
You hold her close 
Deminish her fears
You whisper those words
She's longed to hear.
Even when you're far from me
I can hear you, I can feel you
Even when you're far away 
You are here.


Copyright1992 
Written Sept.12
PostePosted Sept.13
iplt_ltd
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jchien@leland.Stanford.EDU (Jennifer Crystal Fang-Chien)
Subject: Re: Something For Love and Susan
Organization: The Land of Earthquakes (Southern Cal)
Date: Sat, 12 Sep 92 05:25:43 GMT

In article <jeffb.1ggw@terapin.com> jeffb@terapin.com (Jeffrey Bean) writes:

>    That was a typical teen-angst crush poem.  I think it was one of my best. 

	Ok, there is your typical mid-20's-angst love poem.

>Susan					Susan
>Stars in charcoal sky above		Black hole in obsidian soil underfoot
>Eternal brightness			Eternal darkness
>Delights and charms			Insipid and inane
>Evenings worth living for		Evenings worth dying of
>Creating warmth from cold		Destroying warmth with cold
>Bringing color from none		Bringing color to none
>Building smiles with pouts		Replacing smiles with pouts
>Pulling amazement from the mind	Pulling amazement from the mind
>The heart of my earthbound soul	The heart of my soil-bound soul
>Gazing skyward every nightfall		Gazing earthward every nightfall
>To send dreams on journeys to every	To send dreams on journeys to every
>Distant				Black
>Star.					Hole.
>
>                          (C) 1992, J. Bean
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: cdl0915@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Christian Dylan Losinger)
Subject: just kickin around, singing
Reply-To: cdl0915@ritvax.isc.rit.edu
Organization: Rochester Institute of Technology
Date: Fri, 11 Sep 1992 12:29:46 GMT

it's nothing...
-
        
    	i was sitting at a table snackin
    	on some fries and staring
    	at my plate and napkin
    	
    	when a girl in black with hips 
    	to make an ad man pant
    	sat across from me . unpainted lips
        
    	her smile was glowing
    	her eyes blue happy
    	my confusion and suprise showing
    
    	shortly i remembered who this girl was.
    	but still confused . shy
	she was the girl i adored, waiting for the bus
    
    	all of our past conversations short 
    	all of them winter/spring
    	were at the busstop . hard work
    
    	but here she was now. volunteering
    	quite happily chatting and laughing
    	i couldnt believe i was hearing
    
    	the busstop girl offering to chat
    	i finally concluded
    	she was merely glad/delirious to be back
        --------------------------------------------------------------
        	c  h  r  i  s   l  o  s  i  n  g  e  r   r  i  t
From: zhu@athena.mit.edu (Erin Zhu)
Subject: dream time
Organization: Massachusetts Institute of Technology
Date: Tue, 15 Sep 1992 18:34:31 GMT


black phone
bloody lines
bleak desire

did i ever tell you
that i dream in black blank bleak
landscapes of inevitable fate
reaching out its claws
toward the ever impotent
slow-footed fool that had to be me
awaiting the sleek blades
of arching descending mesmerizing
perfection

did you watch 
as i sought to quell lust
and riotous raging desire
in bare-handed scenes of slaughter
reaching for a man's heart
and taking it for my very own
so simply
literal

ould you care
that too often i taste
the stickily bitter salt of blood
dripping from my fingertips
feeding the frenzied empty hunger
in the hollow aching cavities 
of my mind
reaching for the abrupt calming revelation
that accompanies sudden death
shining in unseeing eyes

you who could
sometimes
reach out and unravel
my unquiet body
in the midst of bloodsport:
have you ever known
the purifying taste of fear 
so sweet
like clean cold steel?

  --Erin


   /-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
      Erin Zhu    (617) 661-8151  /   Out of the ashes
      872 Mass. Ave, #707         /   I rise with my red hair
      Cambridge, MA 02139         /   And I eat men like air.
      zhu@gevalt.mit.edu          /                     --Sylvia Plath
From: rbear@inferno.uoregon.edu (Richard Bear)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Thomas Wyatt
Date: 15 Sep 92 03:04:44 GMT
Organization: University of Oregon Network Services
X-Newsreader: Tin 1.1 PL5


What words she spake...[1]


What words she spake, have dinnd in myne eare
al these yeres since and nowe my lord would know
Jesu Wyat what are you doing heare

What I thus tell she sayd then softeley enow 
and what she seemed to keep, glady geve
but tell I my lordes owne minde as he allow

or with the courtieres fallen to myne owne grave
go whistle on the block and play a part
not to my lyking whiles I my lyfe yett have

by these cold walls hemmed is a souldier hart
tell all but tell not all and show not feare
geve wordes to the lorde that geve not thee to cart

thean tell not of thys shynyng eye his dier
lift to here yonge man than and eke to saye
Jesu Wyat what are you doing heare

Her armes were longe and lyght, and they didd say
what never wordes she spake sayed all that night
now in the towres arms I lye on hay

thinkce on mortalitie and tremble in my sprite
or make to the hevvy table and mean chere
for paper and candle to my lorde to write

menely of her his deere that was my deare
and to my selfe in selfe distain accuse
Jesu Wyat what are you doing here

-------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1]
The author of this charming forgery has a certain lyric plausibility but 
fails on three counts: Wyatt is not known to have used terza rima in short 
lyrics; members of the nobility were better appointed in the Tower than to 
have had to sleep on hay; and the incident dwelt upon in the poet's memory 
is to be found in a dubious anecdote related by a Spanish ambassador, one
of Wyatt's enemies, many years after Wyatt's death...

richard bear

rbear@oregon.uoregon.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jcbarnes@vela.acs.oakland.edu (Terson - Sod Lord)
Subject: Re: Latex
Organization: FryTools International
Date: Thu, 10 Sep 1992 17:35:39 GMT

Edward Hutchins writes:

:) Not to be a complete nerd about things (too late) but:
:)   |
:)   v  never too late... :)
:) 
:) \documentstyle{article}
:) \newenvironment{poem}[1]{\begin{verse}{\sf #1}\\*\medskip}{\end{verse}\bigskip} 
:) \begin{document}
:) \begin{poem}{LaTeX}
:) LaTeX was written \\*
:) to capture students like prisoners \\*
:) and trap them in obscure commands \\*
:) which they must utter to escape
:) \end{poem}
:) \end{document}
:) 

:) Edward Hutchins, eah1@cec1.wustl.edu

one minor modification should be made... :)

\documentstyle{article}
\newenvironment{poem}[1]{\begin{verse}{\sf #1}\\*\medskip}{\end{verse}\bigskip} 
\begin{document}
\begin{poem}{\LaTeX}               <-------\
\LaTeX\ was written \\*			<--- Small modification made :)
to capture students like prisoners \\*
and trap them in obscure commands \\*
which they must utter to escape
\end{poem}
\end{document}

--
Terson -- Sod Lord
  ========================================================================
  || In the message you have just read: all characters, events, views,  ||
  || and beliefs are a figment of my imagination... any likeness to     ||
  || reality is purely coincidental.                                    ||
  ==================================email: jcbarnes@vela.acs.oakland.edu==



  ========================================================================
  || In the message you have just read: all characters, events, views,  ||
  || and beliefs are a figment of my imagination... any likeness to     ||
  || reality is purely coincidental.                                    ||
  ==================================email: jcbarnes@vela.acs.oakland.edu==
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sharon@netlabs.com
Subject: Re: 2Untitled
Organization: Occidental College, Los Angeles, CA.  USA
Date: Fri, 4 Sep 1992 21:56:12 GMT

In article <1992Sep4.193850.11693@ncsu.edu> wcmartin@eos.ncsu.edu (WILLIAM CRAIG MARTIN) writes:
>
>----------
>
>My heart speaks of love,
>My thoughts of sorrow,
>Love is so very doubtful,
>The sea tide rolls out
>	waves crash in.
>A single star is spied overhead,
>I wish a single wish,
>One that no one person has and answer to,
>When to hold on and when to let go 
>	of love.

Let love go:

Let the tide roll in, washing
castles
from the sand, washing
stars
from the shore, washing
wishes
out of tears.

Shake out the beach and go home.


--Sharon Hopkins
  sharon@netlabs.com
  Sept. 3, 1992
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Subject: skinning the metaphors / Marie Coffin
Reply-To: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Organization: Iowa State University
Date: Tue, 8 Sep 1992 02:30:57 GMT


	skinning the metaphors
	------------------------------------------------------------
	
	my itching is not
	a metaphor 
	for anything.
	it's an allergy
	on my skin.
	
	itching all day long
	makes me grouchy.
	scratching all day long
	makes my skin burn.
	warm water scalds me,
	cool water blesses.
	
	itching makes my doctors shrug,
	scratching makes them shake their heads.
	if i had a broken arm,
	they'd fix it --
	since they don't know what to do,
	they blame my lifestyle
	or my clothes,
	as if i'd chosen this.
	they give me little pills
	to make me sleep.
	
	so i've taken charge.
	i'm going to get
	a total skin transplant.
	i'll accept all donations:
	if you have a little extra,
	why not slide it my way?


Marie Coffin
September 3, 1992
From: donz@ui.org (Posthumous O'Toole)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: void space
Date: 15 Sep 92 16:46:50 GMT
Organization: UNIX International, Parsippany, NJ

In article <7710565@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM> daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) writes:
)In rec.arts.poems, donz@ui.org (Don Zirilli) writes:
)
)> )I wish the sun would touch my eyes.
)> )I wish the moon would would tint my tears
)> )I wish the stars would make it clear
)> )how many years.
)> )
)> )
)> )How many years? 
)> 
)> 
)> 33, I would think.
)
)Jesus.  Why don't you just nail me up right now?  Incidentally,
)I will be 33 on July 18 of next year, so get those nails ready.
)
)doug


For those of you who do not believe in the divine order of things, I just
want you to know that Doug's birthday is only two days away from mine (and
5 years).  Not only that, My birthday is only two days away from Bastille
Day.  But more will be revealed of Doug later...

One need only continue scanning rap...

-Post
-- 
nobody/not even the rain/              	/	   /      /  /    
 /   /   /     /   /   / /     /       /    /    // /    /  /         /    
/     / / /   /   /     /   / /    / /   / / /  /  /   /      /      /
   / /   /   /	/	 / /      //    /   / /     / /      / / / 
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: eah1@gauguin.wustl.edu (Edward Anthony Hutchins)
Subject: Some Days...
Organization: Washington University, School of Engineering, St. Louis MO
Date: Thu, 10 Sep 1992 02:55:16 GMT


    Some Days...

 I press closer
 the sweet chalice of you
 a worshipful offering
 but smiles evade control
 soft laughter at the rail
 the two of us just
 children in church

_____________________________________________________________________________
:-)  ('')  (-:  (,,)  :-)  ('')  (-:  (,,)  :-) | see lidflip instructions on
Edward Hutchins, eah1@cec1.wustl.edu            | other side of card
From: zen@death.Corp.Sun.COM (d)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: on the back of a yellow menu at an indigo girls and joan baez concert
Date: 11 Sep 92 19:35:00 GMT
Organization: Sun Microsystems Inc., Mountain View, CA
NNTP-Posting-Host: death.corp.sun.com


am i man
enough to give you want you want?
even when that something
isnt me

i said that id give you anything
what if that anything
wasnt me?
i said id do everything
for you
am i man enough
to give you what you need
to give you the part
thats not me
of the everything in the world

can i put you over me
or me over you
when all is said and done
what is left of me
if you were gone
would anything remain?
From: donz@ui.org (Don Zirilli)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: firing is all the rage, a new fad
Date: 8 Sep 92 13:39:51 GMT
Organization: UNIX International, Parsippany, NJ

In article <10169@uqcspe.cs.uq.oz.au> michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au writes:
>In article clb93f@yumyum.meta.com, melynda@titipu.meta.com (Melynda Reid) writes:
>>i too am experiencing the o'toole ritual trial by firing. my husband, the
>>wage earner was fired today. hurray we are free to plumb the depths, to drink
>>the dregs of outrageous fortune although i prefer the modesty of generic chablis.
>>cocktails?
>>                     monica o'toole
>
>so, it's an o'toole ritual, is it? i too was recently subjected to firing
>when someone tried to burn my house down. has anyone seen smokey o'toole
>lurking about of late with a jerry can and a box of matches?
>
>-/\/\/\/-


This really torques me off!!  They also tried to blame an O'Toole for that
fire in London...  Rome, too... and that government building in Berlin in
the thirties.   All lies I tell you!


The Posthumous O'Toole Archivist

-- 
nobody/not even the rain/              	/	   /      /  /    
 /   /   /     /   /   / /     /       /    /    // /    /  /         /    
/     / / /   /   /     /   / /    / /   / / /  /  /   /      /      /
   / /   /   /	/	 / /      //    /   / /     / /      / / / 
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mzaransk@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu (Marcin Zaranski)
Subject:  untitled
Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana
Date: Mon, 7 Sep 1992 15:54:06 GMT

  untitled

  she slips like
  a queen
  an empress of this wild
  & vast domain
  like a soft & sleek serpent
  she slides
  with a cool reptile smile
  she enters the grass
  & leads her children
  who gladly follow
  her gentle motion
  to rest by the fire
  the ground is fragrant & yielding
  & warm

	    -by Marcin Zaranski <mzaransk>
Organization: Arizona State University
Date: Tuesday, 15 Sep 1992 15:48:23 MST
From: <IDJMW@ASUACAD.BITNET>Jo Namio
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: love and other lost causes

The Age of Aquarius has warped my mind, I fear,
permanent optimism and rosy visions of world peace and true love
coloring an otherwise dismal and dark world view of reality;

forever a champion of lost causes, I remain a victim, it seems,
of that time warp mentality of an earlier generation,
flower children set on saving the world and themselves along with it;

still believing that might is not right nor is proper correct,
that the Golden Rule is still enforced in some sectors of the Universe,
and that true love does, after all, triumph in the end.


Jo Namio
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: ekankaan@kaira.hut.fi (Eero Kankaanp{{)
Subject: credits
Followup-To: up to nothing
Summary: A Good Tan
Keywords: Steaming Forehead
Organization: Credit Makers
Date: Mon, 14 Sep 1992 21:25:24 GMT



  Ahhh..at last. Summer is past and the season has begun
  with dimming sun and The Hunt For Credits. 
  Devoted my life to credits, for a while and a mile more.
  Exellent. Yes it is.
From: jeffb@terapin.com (Jeffrey Bean)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Eclipse at Ocean Beach
Date: 11 Sep 92 14:30:42 PST
Organization: BBS

    Eclipse at Ocean Beach, for Jules

        We're pushed back into our seats
        As the concrete speeds under the wheels
        Of my slick red car
        And my foot slides with the pedals
        As the car runs free through hills
        The curves of the road in the headlights
        The spark in her dim-lit smile
        The upbeat music washing our ears
        With the magic of the night
        The thrill of romance
        The intense passion of the
        Stars and streetlights
        Under which we go from
        A shaky past to firm future
        Lights blink out
        Engine rests by the dark din
        Of the waves, the mist
        We kiss and talk for hours
        Like children

        The shadow of the earth
        Lays itself down on the full moon
        On a perfect night.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jondarr@macadam.ocs.mq.edu.au (jondarr c g h 2 gibb)
Subject: Sweet Promises
Organization: Macquarie University, Australia.
Date: Tue, 8 Sep 1992 23:38:22 GMT


        Sweet Promises

I'd promised so much more than empty dreams,
But promises are easier to make
Than break, and any truth that lingers seems
To verify you're better off awake.

Whilst sleeping withe the premise that a lie
Will darken in the soul, upon the heart,
I may discover all the reasons why
I shied from truth and feared it at the start.

While broken dreams lay scattered on the floor,
Discarded relics of the truth I knew,
I'll pick my way more carefully before
I step into the light and change my hue.

But who fulfills the truth of dreams: the fear
I cannot face, the heart that always lies
Within the shadows never sheds a tear
At sunset when the failing glory dies.

Sweet promises - so freely bought and sold
Like dreams and truth: to touch, but never hold.

			8th September, 1992



                    
              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