HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: zubairas@pollux.usc.edu (Zubair Asad)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Complexity of Humans ....
Date: 27 Jul 1992 03:52:33 -0700
Organization: University of Southern California, Los Angeles, CA
Distribution: world
NNTP-Posting-Host: pollux.usc.edu
Summary: staying sain for the rest of life ? A difficult task!
Keywords: love, hate, indifference

=================================================================
Humans ....
-----------
Human are very complex entities
Both He and She
And this really baffled me
The complexity of Matters lies 
in the Heart of the Humans ....
Yes Heart, very enigmatic, not understandable, Fickle
and Yet ---- Truthful 

Human are very deep 
Deeper than the unchartered territories of Atlantas
And this really annoyed me
This deepness sometime does'nt help much!
As a clear, concise picture of events
in Black & White has to be sketched!
But I won't blame you 
After all Human are very complex entities ....

-Asad

=================================================================
From: alam@ucsu.Colorado.EDU (ALAM AFSHAN)
Subject: a twist on the truly awful type : )
Summary: getting to know someone
Keywords: ice-breakers,fascination
Organization: University of Colorado, Boulder
Date: Sat, 25 Jul 1992 18:42:18 GMT

You fascinate me

Why do people always choose me
For their psychology experiments?
No that's a victim's attitude.
You should instead feel
(can you tell people what to feel)
That they are so fascinated
they will invent anything to know you.
Even that they love.
This is just a getting to know you thing
Breaking the ice you know
(already thinned by all those skating across
or even right through:))
After a while you don't even notice.

Afshan Alam.
From: zola@hardy.u.washington.edu (jestem oczarowana)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: How do I letter my lover.
Summary: how do i layer my lover with letters
Date: 25 Jul 92 03:20:32 GMT
Article-I.D.: u.1992Jul25.032032.29351
Reply-To: zola@u.washington.edu
Organization: Fields of sunflowers.   no spiders today





+How I do letter my lover+      



I pay as much attention to my lovers as I do making a poem.
I look for words to fit in the right places, words that
mesh, mix, and combine for a greater whole.
Where does the breath come in?  Find the right moment 
the exact place for intake.  Stop.  Feel with your whole self
the strongest phrase.  Center completely on that part.
Hold it next to you, take it into the garden.  Feel it run
between your fingers and toes.  Let it run wild, and let
it have life of its own.  Gently hold the pen, let the ink
mark history.  Once that crucial part lives, wrap it gently
with softer words.  Words that enhance and support, softer
words that make the intake of air involutary.  The sudden
oh! of comprehension - of being part of a something that
is beyond control, of something living.  Look at the limbs,
the beginning the end.  Speak them softly, take them into 
your mouth, let them play gently on your tongue. Do not
hurry.  Do not let in anything but right now.  Feel the quiet
melancholy of reading a poem for the first time.  Of that
absolute feel of your life shifting - the first is always 
different.  Find each word in this manner.  Don't miss any,
not any at all, the dark ones, the quiet ones - find those
with your ears, by smell, by the warmth.  When you find the
words, combine them - find the rhythm - dance with them - 
gently sway.  Allegro.  When you have found the rhythm,
the poem will invade you, make you breathe with its timing,
not your own.  You can forget anything but the poem.
Even as the sound of the words fade - the poem is part of you.
Indelibly, the taste is in your mouth.  The words are mixed,
and it is unclear how they ever existed in any other combination.
The poem is yours.  Adagio.

24 July, 1992

                 [Rebecca Lowell   zola@u.washington.edu]
 
Xref: sparky rec.arts.poems:7768 alt.personals:16680 alt.romance:10346
From: CWF102@psuvm.psu.edu (Felter)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,alt.personals,alt.romance
Subject: HELP III: It is finished.
Date: 27 Jul 92 17:13:40 GMT
Organization: Penn State University

... and so he said, "It is finished."
Well, a hearty "thanks" to all of you kind people out there who responded to my
posts, but I'm saddened to say that I have failed at reaching my goal.  I think
things will never been the same, but then again that could be a good thing.
Who knows, maybe things will be better than they used to be.  It's gonna be
uncomfortable for a while though I think.  I talked to Amy yesterday and I
conveyed my feelings.  Hopefully the path to a stronger friendship won't be a
treacherous one.  Thanks again.
-stymie
Xref: sparky rec.arts.poems:7697 alt.romance:10276 alt.personals:16548
From: lou@netlink.cts.com (Louis Puccio)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,alt.romance,alt.personals
Subject: Re: HELP II: update
Date: 24 Jul 92 00:16:17 GMT
Organization: NetLink Online Communications, San Diego CA

CWF102@psuvm.psu.edu (Felter) writes:

> So, here I am.  Many thanks to all who have responded with their 2 cents.  I
> have decided to follow the advice those who said, "lay low".  It's been a wee
> and 2 days since I last spoke to the young female (Amy).  I sure as hell don'
> know what my next step is.  I don't even know the length of time necessary to
> "lay low".  So, I presume I'll just wait it out while I obsorb more informati
> on correct proceedures; thereby creating a frame of thought that will enable 
> to say the right things when I come out of hiding.(What do you say to a girl
> that has rejected you, and you haven't seen for (enter long period of time he
> ) anyway?)
> Additional advice/comments are always welcome.
> -stymie


try sending a rose or two by mail - priority mail. wrap it at the bottom 
with a plastic bag and put in some water, tie it up. will arrive ok!

--                    
INTERNET:  lou@netlink.cts.com (Louis)
UUCP:   ...!nosc!ryptyde!netlink!lou
NetLink Online Communications * Public Access in San Diego, CA (619) 453-1115
From: root@bing.UUCP (Administrator)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Adventure
Date: 28 Jul 92 03:37:51 GMT
Organization: Bing's Rubber Chicken Factory -- "Our clucks are boneless."

michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel) writes:
> --> This is a flame directed at "Cecil Williams". If you have
> --> better things to do than read flames, please skip over it.
> 
whoa!!! hold up there guy, are you really sure you're flaming the right party?
i noticed that everyone on the net tends to be trigger happy with their
ACME "The Toaster" flamethrower.  to borrow a line from another embattled
person

             "CAN WE ALL JUST GET ALONG???"

> In article 2456@tau-ceti.isc-br.com, cecilw@access.isc-br.com (Cecil Williams) writes:
> > root@bing.UUCP (Administrator) writes:
> >> (Barclay Blanchard) writes:
> >>> I like Japanese, French, Italian, Chinese,
> >>> Cuban, Thai, Indian, Greek, and Vietnamese food
> >>> and don't like Korean, Ethiopian, Mexican,
> >>                 ^^^^^^^
> >>As a full blooded Korean, I can tell you that Korean food is an
> >>acquired taste that requires a fair amount of acquiring.  But once
> >>acquired, it is hard to do without.
> >>> 
> >>> Barclay Blanchard
> >>Bing H Bang                              
> 
> >Welll, I don't know;
> >I took to Seoul food right away. 
> >If you like tobasco and sauerkraut
> 
> It's your sort what makes this world a less
> pleasant place to be.
> 
kimchi is exactly like that, it is fermented cabbage in hot pepper sauce.
i don't think he meant any thing derogative by this.
> >you'll probably take to 
> >the kimchee(sp?) like a
> >giant panda to bamboo...  
> >Hey Bing, What's the name 
> >of that silly old song thats 
> >got your name in it? 
hmmmmm.....
there's chittychittybangbang,
bingo was his name-o  <-------my childhood fav
whalla whalla bing bang something i forget... (boom?)

> 
> Oh, please stop. Has that nasty "Arse Whiffed" been giving
> you lessons on how to write offensive postings?
> 
> >You know, the one that goes:
> >[...]
> 
> I was hoping to forget.
> 
> Until now r.a.p was blissfully free of racist
> pains-in-the-bum like your yourself.
> No, it wasn't funny.
> 
> >Thanks to RICHH for his recent inspiration of today's keywords.
> He breathed them?
> 
> >Cecil
> 
> Fuck off.
> 
> -m.
Gee... i make an off-handed remark about korean food and it turns into a
flame war??? get real guys.
--
Bing H Bang                                  +---------------------------+
Senior Systems Analyst                       | This is my home computer. |
National Data Corporation, Atlanta, GA       | I do not speak for NDC.   |
uucp: gatech!warlord!bing!root               +---------------------------+
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: breinhar@access.digex.com (Robert B. Reinhardt)
Subject: The Talons of Time
Organization: Express Access Online Communications, Greenbelt, Maryland USA
Date: Fri, 24 Jul 1992 23:03:28 GMT

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE TALES OF AYELSFARN (An Aethereal Menagerie)
 (Second Edition)
 Copyright 1991 by Robert Bryan Reinhardt
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 Includes all original and revised poetry and prose
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Tales of Ayelsfarn; An Aetherial Managerie I  (1985)
The Tales of Ayelsfarn; An Aetherial Managerie II (1991)
Copyright 1985, 1991 by Robert Bryan Reinhardt
ISBN 0-8059-2988-6
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

.c2.  The Talons of Time

There is a barren place, likened to a void, a room
Where you may sometimes hear the fracturing shards
Of your own approaching doom.
There is a faraway world deep inside your soul,
you must search for if you wish to find.
All of your secrets are within,
Those you must posess if you wish to win.
There is a concealed voice deep inside your sleep,
You must comprehend if you wish to know.
All of your own oracles are here,
Thus, you must know how to get there.

In the shadow, nowhere for you to hide,
You run, but you cannot flee.
A ray of light shows through from the other side
And this is what you see:
An image spawned by your own souls' memory.
You sense that it is not a lie,
But you still wonder why and where you are going
Never really knowing, with fear still growing,
Witnessing the showing, but still you are going . . .
Back to the talons of time!

How deep is the well that dwells within one's soul?
Its very breadth measures
A thousandfold its mass-aethereal.
It is the fabric touching the reality
Of every pool and gas incorporeal.
This query might indeed sound the one chime,
A paradox of parables, a story to remain untold,
Back to the talons of time!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                 Robert B. Reinhardt
  /                 /            -----------------------------------------
 /__,_  _  o ____  /_  __.  __   breinhar@access.digex.com
/_)  (_</_<_/ / <_/ /_(_/|_/ (_  breinhar@srg, breinhar%srg@uunet.uu.net

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: orpheus@leland.Stanford.EDU (Owen Duncan Smith)
Subject: Re: Author of quote needed ..
Organization: DSG, Stanford University, CA 94305, USA
Distribution: na
Date: Tue, 28 Jul 92 23:41:57 GMT

In article <1992Jul28.140043.20084@rtsg.mot.com> gatchall@rtsg.mot.com (Scott W. Gatchall) writes:
>I've got a quote from a poem that's really bugging me
>because I'm not sure of the title or author of the
>poem.  Could someone please e-mail me with this info?
>
>quote (something like this):
>
>"Do not go gently into that good night.
> Rage.
> Rage.
> Against the fading of the light."

Well, of course there's George Bush's well-known
"Go kindly and gently into that good night.
Fade, fade into those thousand points of light.

[etc. with Bush telling off every problem
which gives him headaches at night]"
	-- Shamelessly borrowed from "The Big Book Of Sequels"
           (I think it was called).  Anybody remember the rest??
					orpheus@leland.stanford.edu



From: Ralph.Cherubini@mdf.FidoNet.Org (Ralph Cherubini)
Sender: uucp@mdf.FidoNet.Org
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--Candle
Date: 29 Jul 92 07:58:29 EST

                                  Candle
 
Wherever I am
I have a candle burning in my room
one of those kosher candles in a glass
that burn for 24 hours
and help you remember people
I have it with me
as a reminder that my life
too
is a burning
which will end
that my consciousness
is a flicker like that sweet flame
which reflects against the walls of the world
and casts shadows both dark and bright.
Sometimes in passing
I look at the glass
when it is almost empty
and smile to see
that the flame is not at all attenuated
by this metaphor of mortality
but burns on 'til the end
which is nothing
but a surrender of brightness
with arms outstretched. 

 * Origin: Connect America #5, Austin, Tx, 512-459-3351 (1:382/10.0)

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: forda@gtephx.UUCP (Andrew Ford @ AGCS, Phoenix, Arizona)
Subject: Re: The mystery of human life
Organization: gte
Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1992 00:22:16 GMT

In article <7710515@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM>, daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) writes:
> In rec.arts.poems, alix@indetech.com (Alexandria North) writes:
> 
> > In article <63321@hydra.gatech.EDU> gt9351c@prism.gatech.EDU (David D. Chow) writes:
> > >
> > >        Throughout the history of man, man has sought a solution to the 
> > >    emptiness within him.  He has tried to find something to fill the 
> > >    void that lies within his being.  He has tried to fill that void 
> > >    with money, with education, and even with religion, yet he has still 
> > >    not found the answer.  This is the mystery of human life.  This is 
> > >    the enigma of enigmas, but I know the answer.  It is a simple answer.
> > >    David Chow.
> > >
> > >-- 
> > >David Chow  =)    I don't know half of you half as well as I should like and,
> > 
> > WOMEN, on the other hand, have known it all along.
> 
> For most of history, women have meekly accepted the role given them 
                                         ^^^^^^^^
So they allow us to think...

> by men.  This role includes that of the passive and loving creative
> force.                                  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
  ^^^^^                                   
>         If women have had this answer, they have engaged in a very
> great criminal act in allowing the world to continue as it has.

If men haven't got it, it's because we're blind.  Women have been living
it out in front of us for centuries, but we still don't get it.

> In FACT, women no nothing more than men do on the subject, and if
> I am wrong about that, I call on women to change the world.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make *him* drink.



-- 
"25 States allow anyone to buy a gun, strap it on, and walk down the street with
no permit of any kind: some say it's crazy.  However, 4 out of 5 US murders are 
committed in the other half of the country: so who is crazy?"   -  Andrew Ford
gtephx!forda@enuucp.eas.asu.edu  OR  !uunet!samsung!romed!enuucp!gtephx!forda
From: Ralph.Cherubini@mdf.FidoNet.Org (Ralph Cherubini)
Sender: uucp@mdf.FidoNet.Org
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--Yes
Date: 20 Jul 92 20:21:44 EST

                                Yes
 
Yes
is all I have for you
spills from me
pulled out of me
continuously
by your being
not even giving
(I have nothing to do with it)
I watch as it runs to you
of me
not mine
I
amazed
by both of us.
 


 * Origin: Connect America #5, Austin, Tx, 512-459-3351 (1:382/10.0)
From: zola@hardy.u.washington.edu (queen of the netherlands)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: pretend I'm affecting   +++  Ken and Rebecca
Date: 22 Jul 92 19:39:46 GMT
Reply-To: zola@u.washington.edu
Organization: Spider Tanning, Seattle




				"...Enough to sit here drinking coffee,
 				writing, watching the clear day ripen...
 				I think I'll make more toast."

				-James Schuyler (1923 -   )
        			"June 30, 1974"


 
 	I don't like toast: but if it's burnt
 	I can stand by the sink, brandish a knife,
 	scrape the charred stuff into the drain:
 
 	wash it down, watch it fade,
 	pretend I'm affecting
 	the history of the world.

   Playing god with toast,
   I am carving the grand canyon, remnants -
   pieces falling into Himalayan mounds.

   I don't like toast, or playing god
   I cannot absolve all mankind, 
   or solve all with a knife, cutting
   cancerous
   burnt edges, cancerous hate.
   Wash off, scrape, or affect 
   some small history.

I eat it, then, like Saturn devouring
his young: not from love of nourishment,
not to taste the savor of sacrifice,

but to control, to pretend for a moment 
I am an immortal, and that the sink leads 
not to the sewer but to a place called Out.

                                +++++++
-Ken Wolman  (ktw@hlwpw.att.com)  & Rebecca Lowell (zola@u.washington.edu)
From: bob@netxcom.netx.com (Robert Thralls)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Robert Loves Jenny
Date: 21 Jul 92 16:35:00 GMT
Organization: NetExpress Inc., Vienna, VA, USA


>Heavens. What an odd response.
>Which whole thing did you take offense to?
>Not that kiddie little poem, surely.

Sometimes, its the little things that count, besides I was still bleeding.
The song "Dirty Laundry" comes to mind (Don Henley - Can't Stand Still).
Released shortly after the Eagles broke up for good.
Hey, Did you know that both Don Henly and Don Felder were asked to write
a song for the movie: Heavy Metal, both did and both named the song the 
same (HEAVY METAL with approriate subtitle). 
The really intriging part is that in the movie (animated) the songs
were originally switched and played in the WRONG scenes.
However, the words more appropriatly fit the scenes they were intended for,
the mood of the music certainly is correct as the Editors' had placed them.

Just goes to show ya, I'm not the only to do things on purpose. Or by 
mistake and it still turn out... 
(Note: I didn't say turn out OK, nor unnoticed).

>How is a T.V. going to get me a life? 
>I would have thought it would get a vicarious life.
>Eminently unparticipatory.
>Admittedly, it's a common conversation starter -
>"ooh, did you see X soapie"

Precisely. It was originally intended not to mean "the good life", but
simply one that the masses push as acceptable.

>Make of my doings what you will. It's but a string of words.
>But I'm interested to know what offended you.

Sorry, I was well lit, before the 'n' key had me at your post.
Any other day, I would have chuckled, and replied "thanx for your concern"
and we would have been ok with that.

>Today I slept on a chair. I also smelt a funny biscuity smell
>as I was riding my bicycle. There's a tiny bubble in the glass
>of this monitor and it always looks like a black circle (I'm
>sure some clever physics person can tell me why). Or is it
>a black circle and foolishly I thought it was a bubble?

Do you like what appears to be a black circle?
Did you like the funny biscuity smell better?

Which sensory perception do you favor most?


bob.
From: tpl@eng.cam.ac.uk (Tim Love)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Procession
Date: 31 Jul 92 08:43:31 GMT
Organization: cam.eng


  Procession 

Resting on this sleepy tiger
waiting with cheap flags
for a procession of aged hunchbacks
dragging albinos. And they're not sweet
like saccharine, you say. I don't think
they're even trying, says the
green cockatoo, and the moon's escaped
from brittle branches sad I seldom write
about her. The windbeats of evening clouds
wingbeats leave brushmarks, picked scabs
of pink against blue without a trace of make-up.
On windy nights they're words, raining elsewhere.

When crying in the street isn't enough I go inside
to drink strong cider from a gold-rimmed cup, watching 
lovers of crowds and crowds of lovers holding hands 
like nuns in shopping malls. Colonial bands blare
God Save The Queen as I  shave behind
frosted glass. Untitled desire, the blackened
cobwebs say. When we replaced our bath
with a shower, our rubber duck committed suicide.
The cockatoo just laughed. My love it is a red red nose.
I find bathrooms difficult now. Lifts too. 
There's always someone singing inside as they go by.
She hoarded Marmite jars under the stairs,
the green tomatoes she put on the sill went squidgy
before ripening. My tongue hangs out like a duvet,
my elbows drip as I slurp. Dry, they're a different color
and make sparks when they're rubbed together,
when her green eyes were musical boxes and she breathed
Earth's nights and days. I let go the still warm hand.
Listening from afar I grow old, hearing only drums. 


Tim Love, June 92
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sabbott@nmsu.edu (SDA)
Subject: <.,.,.>
Organization: WHorshipers of Lady LibertY (WHoLLY)
Date: Tue, 28 Jul 1992 17:56:05 GMT



my under-brain speaks
for me in moments like this
		a powerful voice belongs to me 
					no for me

an epitaph is not a lie
just a small disclaimer to footnote a life

let me disclaim that I remain inane

put your hopes and dreams on line for 
a piece of all-american pie

an apple for the teacher who speaks inside your head
listen, it's not a sound but listen anyway

I could choose to pander to expectations I have of you to have for me

or I could try my hand at poetry

and if I choose to make it rhyme
	or not

don't look to hard between the line(s)

--

	\\\\\sean/////
From: ieeug470@Eagle.oscs.montana.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Affair of an Intern
Date: 31 Jul 92 03:49:03 GMT
Reply-To: ieeug470@Eagle.oscs.montana.edu
Distribution: usa
Organization: MSU

In article <1992Jul29.185740.16117@cheshire.oxy.edu>, ac@cheshire.oxy.edu (Aileen Cho) writes:
>
>
>Too Cool for You                  
>*****************
>Remember when I had
>rust on my hands and
>fluid running down my puffy face
>red with allergy and embarassment 
>but thinking you seemed really cool
>Two days later at a tecchie party
>you asked me for a backrub
>and sparks flew,
>rumors flew
>but that was okay, it was cool 
>Then we started the silly games,
>acting so nonchalant 
>behind sunglasses and sweat
>Til finally one night after beer
>you came with me to my room     
>and we fucked
>and it felt really cool.
>And we tried to pretend like what we skipped
>didn't matter, it was okay we never talked
>at least you wouldn't
>and I couldn't
>So I went home with you that weekend  
>washed your dishes,
>helped you find the veggie burgers
>slept in your mama's waterbed
>and said nothing.
>But now you act oh so cool
>and whenever I tried to talk with you
>like we were just two human beings
>shooting the breeze
>all I get is the breeze
>So I figured what the fuck
>All you wanted was a fuck
>So I said, that's okay, that's cool
>Then you got on a high horse of morals
>Leaving me in the dust of your potsmoke
>to wonder what you want
>--or don't want,
>How the hell am I supposed to know?
>So I watched the flower you gave me fade
>And shook my head and walked away
>Because you're just too totally cool
>for me
>
Hmm...
I think it was a good rough draft, now you need to find something that
would describe the frustration and pain (some concrete object, some act
of nature, etc).  Then describe that using rage words and pain words.   
Then go out and kill someone; that is what I would do.  


Michael the Morbid...

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I think I will kill another...
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!