HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: S3679988@deimos.ucc.umass.edu (S3679988)
Subject: FAQ?
Organization: University of Massachusetts at Amherst
Date: Mon, 27 Jul 1992 05:24:02 GMT
X-News-Reader: VMS NEWS 1.20

the location of knowledge, i seek
containing the answers of questions not unique
a small amount, perchance
yet enough to better use
this group on usenet news

sorry about this little quip
but my terminal is on a trip
if you have the answer to my query
please send your mail in a hurry

if you don't please don't fret,
mayhap i'll post a summation, yet



-- craig hagan

s3679988@deimos.ucc.umass.edu
hagan@titan.ucc.umass.edu
From: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Date: Tue, 21 Jul 1992 14:27:40 GMT
Subject: Re: Re: RE: RE: Help with seduction....
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

In rec.arts.poems, root@bing.UUCP (Administrator) writes:

> daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) writes:
> > In rec.arts.poems, root@bing.UUCP (Administrator) writes:
> > > 
> > > Brabo!!!  I am so glad somebody else exploded before I did!
> > > 
> > 
> > Boy do you need to catch a clue.  Posthumous and I merely
> > spar this way occasionally, and his _explosion_ was more
> > a thing of literature than passion.
> 
> This may be.  I am rather new to this group and am not familiar with
> the behavior patterns of characters found therein.

Actually, I was probably a bit unfair to Don.  It may have been
a thing of passion as well.
> 
> > 
> > > And to the fellow who posted the original article I say
> > > The regret of not having tried usually hurts more and lasts longer
> > > than the pain of failure.
> > 
> > Piffle.
> 
> Well said.  I suppose this is a fine example the "thing of literature"
> that you do?

Indeed.

doug
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Bits an' Pieces
From: bgrueber@desire.wright.edu
Date: 26 Jul 92 19:30:19 EST
Organization: Wright State University 

Here are a few poems which have yet to be published on which I would like some
comment.  I am trying to find the appropriate places to a few published.  I
hope you enjoy what you read and appreciate the effort.
If you have one or two you would like read and commented on I would be willing
to return the favor.  Enjoy life and watch the parade go by.

"Tenderness" 

In the tenderness
In the passionate
Blind wide-eyed
Submission
From the past
Without the present
Onto the future
Quiet peaceful rest
Uninspired motion


"Somewhere" 

Somewhere I have lost
This and that
Just like an old hat
Gone are the illusions
Of the grand profusion
Which gave life its glow.

But all things must
Come and go
And pass through the palsied hands
All people pass through waves and bands
Unheralded we lose and forget time
I can hardly remember bread at a dime
But somewhere is waiting for me this and that



"Socrates Remembered "   

Lovers of knowledge
Men are the teachers
Lead me
As a hungry cow
To graze on nature.

Call on Pan
Give me beauty
Inward soul
While pursuing
Sylvan truth.

Fulfill the mission
Of searching myself
And other men.
I shall obey God
Rather than man.

Are you not ashamed
For not seeking
Wisdom and truth.
Be of good
Cheer of death
For a good man
Has no fear 
Of things to come.

I am a victim
Not of laws
But of men.

The hour of departure
Has arrived

I to die and
You to live.

Only God knows 
Which is better.





From: Ralph.Cherubini@mdf.FidoNet.Org (Ralph Cherubini)
Sender: uucp@mdf.FidoNet.Org
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--Make-believe
Date: 29 Jul 92 13:32:39 EST

                        Make-believe
 
We talk on the phone
often
she works in a large school
in an office
with others
I don't like her sitting there
naked for me
with all the others around
but she says it's alright
I wonder sometime
that no one exclaims
when I crawl between her legs
and kiss her wetness
yes
right in the middle of the day
but she says it's alright
all the people there are
near-sighted
I worried the other day
kissing her breasts
that her boss might object
but she says it's alright
and all he did was smile.
Sometimes I think the people
at her office
are just
make-believe.


 * Origin: Connect America #5, Austin, Tx, 512-459-3351 (1:382/10.0)
From: hank@shuksan.boeing.com (Hank Manning)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: poetry
Date: 30 Jul 92 17:49:08 GMT
Organization: The Boeing Co., MMST, Seattle, Wa.


                                Poolside


I feel a warm wind blowing, like your breath on the nape of my neck
So tempted to lean back on my elbows, raise my closed eyes to the above
And dream those self-service dreams, nearly exploding with desire
To find release in reckless leaps into nearby soothing liquid cool
I emerge dripping, insatiably repeating this lazyday, looping fantasy
From: root@bing.UUCP (Administrator)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Adventure
Date: 22 Jul 92 16:10:46 GMT
Organization: Bing's Rubber Chicken Factory -- "Our clucks are boneless."

barclay@RAIL9000.gatech.edu (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                                  +---------------------------+
Senior Systems Analyst                       | This is my home computer. |
National Data Corporation, Atlanta, GA       | I do not speak for NDC.   |
uucp: gatech!warlord!bing!root               +---------------------------+
From: an26@sol.acs.unt.edu (Dave Roberts)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: POEM: Mr. M.D.
Date: 28 Jul 92 17:26:52 GMT
Article-I.D.: mercury.1992Jul28.172652.18188
Organization: University of North Texas


Mr. M.D.
		by Dave Roberts

Standing atop the highest peak
to peer into the heavens --
Ecstasy is just within reach.
I practically touch the face of God,
but I don't quite hold on, and
I'm falling now, but that's okay;
I've done this before.  And I'll
do it again, over and over
until I am dead at the bottom of
the bathtub, or my wrists have
drained my life into the sink.
All it takes is a little courage,
a little determination, but that's
too easy.  My friend rage keeps
the blade still in my hand, and
fuck them all, I'll not kill myself
over them;  I'm going to live,
succeed and grow beyond humanity.
I'm going to live, to fly beyond
the destiny of mortality --
to touch the face of God, but
my grip has slipped again...

--
+----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Dave Roberts         | Disclaimer:  I've already wiped the keyboard  |
| an26@sol.acs.unt.edu | down, and no one saw me type this, so don't   |
+----------------------+ even try to implicate me.                     | 
| Entropy Happesn      +-----------------------------------------------+
+----------------------+ Hey, cool!  My fingers are growing!           |
| cogito, ergo doom    | No, wait... it's just my fingernails.  Again. |
+----------------------+-----------------------------------------------+
-- 
+----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Dave Roberts         | Disclaimer:  I've already wiped the keyboard  |
| an26@sol.acs.unt.edu | down, and no one saw me type this, so don't   |
+----------------------+ even try to implicate me.                     | 
| Entropy Happesn      +-----------------------------------------------+
+----------------------+ Hey, cool!  My fingers are growing!           |
| cogito, ergo doom    | No, wait... it's just my fingernails.  Again. |
+----------------------+-----------------------------------------------+
From: ieeug470@Eagle.oscs.montana.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Human Slaughter House
Date: 29 Jul 92 17:52:39 GMT
Reply-To: ieeug470@Eagle.oscs.montana.edu
Organization: MSU

Back to the morbid  (he he he)...



		Human Slaughter House
Blood-stained walls crying my name,
The pieces scattered beyond 
My farthest sight.
Severed, flayed fingers becon to me,
Toungues drip a river of red lust,
Exclaiming their hideous tales.
Incredulous eyeballs roll to look at me,
Torn ears beg me to listen,
Listen:  horror.
Quivering hearts staked to the wall
As the blood, 
The blood continues crying.
A foot curling twisted toes,
Brain-smeared windows baking,
Heating my despair.
The amber tinge of lamp shade lungs,
The eyeless, lipless heads leer,
Daring me to object.
Tripping over handless arms,
The sharpened vertebra lay waiting,
Waiting to impale the whole.
As my blood,
My blood continues crying.









Yo, other Michael, whadda ya think??


C&C ALWAYS appreciated...

Michael the Morbid...



PS.  A special thanks to all who emailed me suggestions/places to get
		works published.



!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Cut off my head, eat my brains:  know my pains.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
From: petersm@jacobs.CS.ORST.EDU (Marguerite Petersen)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Truly a Rebel
Date: 21 Jul 92 07:29:14 GMT
Organization: Computer Science Outreach Services - Oregon State University



   Truly a Rebel

When I was only 10 or so
My mother said to me
I'v got a job and things will change
And this is what will be.

You will clean the house and cook
You will wash and iron now
These jobs are yours and you should learn
It might as well be now.

I did as I was told although
I often did much more
Took charge of little brother
Who wasn't pleased at all.

Would rather have been out with Dad
Fixing cars or cutting grass
But he said girls weren't good at that
And so was not to be.

When I was 12 they talked about
Putting men in outer space
I wanted then to go as well
But girls were not allowed.

Instead of taking things apart
To find what made them work
I learned to sew my dresses so
I would attract a spouse.

When just 14 I signed up for
Chemistry and Math
And joined Projection club at school
The first girl to do that.

The math was great and I excelled
In chemistry as well
Until the teacher said in class
Girls don't belong in Science.

Projection club was fun at first
Until the teacher said to me
My presence made the boys uneasy
I would have to leave.

My counselor was kind although
She couldn't do a thing for me
Except advise I take more music
That was best for girls.

And so it goes, and so it went
Frustration met at every turn
I fought it then, I fight it now
A long, slow burn.

Marg
aka Elvira
July 18, 1992
Organization: University of Illinois at Chicago
Date: Thursday, 23 Jul 1992 08:17:18 CDT
From: <U58505@uicvm.uic.edu>
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: My summer fling

Hey all.  A cousin of one of my close friends came up to Illinois for summer
vacation.  She's from Florida and will be heading back in about three weeks.
Man, I'm sure gonna fucking miss the hell out of her.  Sniffle.  Sigh.
Anyways we hit it off really well from the start and so far it's been great;
just goofing around a lot and taking her places.  Well I wrote this poem for
her, but I haven't given it to her yet.  I plan to on the day she leaves.  Oh,
I know it's not love; but it sure feels like it.  If any of you guys wanna use
this poem on some girl and say you wrote it; by all means, go right ahead.
But bear in mind some girls may not go for it (the prude types); if the girl
likes to flirt a lot, then chances are she'll like it.  I'm exceptionally
proud of this poem because I feel it really reflects my relationship with her;
plus I managed to get the damn thing to rhyme.  I have decided to not give it
a title; that way it's versatile enough to be used on my next scam.  This also
means any of you enterprising young guys out there can just insert the name of
your favorite girly as the title.  Enjoy.

Get up little sleepy head;
Time for you to make your bed.
Your smart remarks for awhile;
Stop to look and find a smile.
Turn around and close your eyes;
Listen as I tell you lies.
Scheme and say you look a mess;
Trick you to take off your dress.
Then into the sea,
Just you and me.
Ever wonder what to do?
Should we play a game of you?

Later all,
The X-Man
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Subject: fuel shortage / snapped strings / Marie+Marek
Reply-To: mcoffin@IASTATE.EDU (Marie Coffin)
Organization: Iowa State University
Date: Tue, 28 Jul 1992 02:29:45 GMT



		fuel shortage / snapped strings
		-------------------------------------------------------------
 
		cars run on gasoline
		drivers on faith
		a willing suspension of disbelief
		in the laws of physics
		and an obliviousness to metal, encasing
		knights on their errands.
		 
		car dealers run on charm, sublimating rust.
		this does no harm unless you actually trust
		them.  we, consumers, run on greed.
		
		the olympics run on the official
		olympic shoe, and drink
		the official olympic soda pop,
		fly the official olympic airline.
		in the end, olymics go to an official olympic heaven
		(where they don't take american express).
		 
		the earth runs on gravity, throws it around the sun
		a yo-yo on a string that never breaks.
		 
		i run on cups of coffee
		and my ability to take one step
		and then the next.  one step at a time.
		 
		each step seems logical
		but if i turn to look at the integral path
		the string might snap
		 
		and i could stop running altogether.
		
		
			Marie Coffin / Marek Lugowski
			27 July 1992
			Ames, Iowa / Cincinnati, Ohio
From: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: walk with jesus and other desiderata / Mar
Date: 23 Jul 92 15:47:33 GMT
Reply-To: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au
Organization: Department of Computer Science, The University of Queensland

Encore.

This reminds me of some silly recordings I made a few years back.
I selected a pile of books and dumped them on my desk beside a
cassette recorder, an old radio and a cheap Tandy sampling keyboard.
I detuned the radio from a raucous opera broadcast then repeated
the following procedure as fast as I could until end-of-tape -

Grab a book
Open at a page
Find the most interesting sentence/fragment
Sample a keyword from the fragment
Have the sample looping
Unpause the tape
Read the fragment
Pause the tape

It's surprising what juxtaposition can do for
broken bits of meaning.

-m.


Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: sara@trauma.rn.com (Sara Gordon)
Subject: same face
Keywords: hamburg
Organization: Gator Conferencing Systems - 219-289-0777 - 6 lines
Date: Mon, 20 Jul 1992 08:09:43 GMT


used to be, i did see that face
everywhere
for i had with me all this love
and it breathed 
just to be

i notice now i see that same face
in everything
but it is different.

just like when they read the words but read them wrong

i used to see him everywhere, in everything
because i loved him.

now i see him everyhwere, in everything
because he does not love me.

it seemed so serious until i saw that sign on the side of the road
"Hamburg  98 cents"  it said, in black and white (what else?)
it was impossible not to laugh, for of course, it would be impolite
to cry.




-- 

_________________________________________________________________________
 "Blessed is she who expects nothing, for she shall not be disappointed"
____________________________sara@gator.rn.com____________________________
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: alam@ucsu.Colorado.EDU (ALAM AFSHAN)
Subject: Codependency?
Summary: mountains can be treacherous
Keywords: hiking,hand-in-hand
Organization: University of Colorado, Boulder
Date: Sun, 26 Jul 1992 00:38:45 GMT

As they struggled on up their first mountain
She took his hand   
As they reached the top of that their first mountain
He kept her hand 
Many hours past as they stumbled back down they thought
It had brought them closer together.
Many mountains past as they hiked their separate ways they
Wished it hadn't.


Afshan Alam.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: 78witherspoo@cuavax.dnet.cua.edu
Subject: Ridiculous Money
Organization: The Catholic University of America
Date: Fri, 24 Jul 1992 13:52:48 GMT

	Ridiculous Money

All this green stuff makes me laugh!

I never see the folks who want it,
I never see the folks who make it,
I never see the folks who take it.

All this green stuff makes me laugh!

I'll never have enough of it,
I'll never have control of it,
I'll never have a care for it.

All this green stuff makes me laugh.

Ha ha.

All this green stuff makes me laugh,

but my banker tells the joke...

7/24/92

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: alam@ucsu.Colorado.EDU (ALAM AFSHAN)
Subject: rambles in the rain, & wind
Summary: what do *u* like?
Keywords: walk,draw,fly
Organization: University of Colorado, Boulder
Date: Sun, 26 Jul 1992 16:41:04 GMT

i like to walk in the rain
when it's not raining,
but pouring u know.
i like to draw
lovers. they r easy
to please. everything is beautiful
to them. perhaps beauty is in the state
of the beholder's mind?
i wonder what color the sky is on their heads
when it rains. not grey surely?
on windy days i like to fly
kites. they don't seem to mind
microbursts, u know as planes do.

Afshan Alam.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jondarr@macadam.mqcs.mq.oz.au (jondarr c g h 2 gibb)
Subject: Easy Losses
Organization: Macquarie University, School of Mathematics, Physics, Computing and Electronics
Date: Wed, 22 Jul 1992 22:43:06 GMT


        Easy Losses

In hours of darkness, night-time fears
Will often surface where they have no place,
And nightmares form their essence into tears
In morning's eyes that no-one wants to face.

Where dreams have been corrupted, giving pain,
I've felt their touch much less than borne the loss
Of something precious, what dreams still remain
Are held more greedily, and grow like moss

About a heart of stone. Though nightmares' taint
Removes the sheen from what I have by day,
The echoes of those images grow faint
With expectation as they fade away.

Hold back the tears, tomorrow may yet hold
Some hope for dreams that haven't lost their shine,
And waking to the breaking of the cold
Grey light of dawn still makes these feelings mine,

To contemplate, to strive to change, to cast
Away as easy losses in my past.

			22nd July, 1992



                    
              Anyway the wind blows ...
                                                //\         /\\
                             /                 || * \ . . / * ||
               .  _   _   _/  _   _  _          \\____\X/____//
              / /_/ / / /_/ /-/ /  /             / *  /O\  * \
          ._/                                    \__/  "  \__/

jondarr@macadam.mpce.mq.edu.au  (137.111.216.12)
jondarr@mpce.mq.edu.au
jondarr@mackay.mpce.mq.edu.au

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: haight@sun.ipl.rpi.edu (Liz Haight)
Subject: how does the garden grow
Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, NY
Date: Sat, 25 Jul 1992 12:38:58 GMT

	how does the garden grow
        ------------------------

who will tend the garden
he made grow
as our love diminished
slow by slow

who will tend the children
made with love
as our hate unraveled
shove by shove

	he will tend the garden
	as that is all he knows
	         and
	i will tend the children
	where my love goes to grow


-- 
------------------
Elizabeth           /	Don't pass me by like a stranger ...
haight@ipl.rpi.edu  \	    Don't leave me here all alone, so alone, 
		    /		I'm alone ... Talk to me.  [Chris Isaac]
From: Ralph.Cherubini@mdf.FidoNet.Org (Ralph Cherubini)
Sender: uucp@mdf.FidoNet.Org
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--Contact
Date: 20 Jul 92 15:12:03 EST

                                Contact
 
The contact between them
simply her hand on his arm
like an old daguerrotype
of a couple in the parasoled park
light
unassuming
the energy from those fingers
blue
right through his being.


 * Origin: Connect America #9, Austin, Tx, 512-459-3351 (1:382/10.0)
From: jtrue@acpub.duke.edu (john)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: on feeling nothing at all / jtrue
Date: 24 Jul 92 21:02:31 GMT
Organization: Diffidence Conclave

Radar: "I thought drinking this stuff was supposed to make you feel good."
BJ: "It's supposed to make you feel nothing."

(A)
Where there should be 
a child's kaleidoscope of catalysis
in all the colors known to Chance,
filling fourspace with life,
there is only an opaque water-surface,
unperturbed by reflections
and unrevealing of its depth,
the surface tension of its
blackness perfect,
here where the rain became a deadly solvent
and the culverts of memory
dumped malice and regret
at ppm magnitudes above the legal limits
and geologic time caused everything
to fall flat and dark.
Autonomy may arise here,
but it will be sacrilege
to call it life.
Long ago, the downpour
was always a spectacle,
no matter what its pH.

(B)
It is living like sleeping
and sleeping as melting
into the numb gray background,
contour lines collapsing
and meters flatlining one by one,
entropy collecting
on a generous loan
made a quarter century ago.
It is an unlit candle
on a hot steel hood
in the blasting sunlight
gradually becoming a pink wax circle
on the blue metalflake.

There should be a symphony
on hand for this downfall,
mapping the emotion
that theory says should be generated.
But there is only a maze
of nested silences
conspiring with the light
to seal him away.

-john 7/24/92

c/c/f welcome
It is night and it is night.
jtrue@acpub.duke.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jchien@leland.Stanford.EDU (Jennifer Crystal Fang-Chien)
Subject: Re: bLUDGEON (revised)
Organization: The Land of Earthquakes (Southern Cal)
Date: Thu, 23 Jul 92 15:55:35 GMT


	Honestly?  Well, a few too many adjectives and a few too little
connections between the words.

	But don't get me wrong, this is not a put-down or flame...

Take care,
Jennifer
From: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: my left hand
Date: 26 Jul 92 18:47:06 GMT
Reply-To: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au
Organization: Department of Computer Science, The University of Queensland


	my left hand
	------------

i couldn't have mixed a more lurid pink
from beginner's tubes of oil paint
sickly against the beige anonymity
of keyboard, desk and textbook
blotches of far too white and too red
where it must have seemed well mixed
on the palette, but on the brush
blobbing and streaking all wrong
in fact i would have started again.

-m.
From: ariel_s@west.darkside.com (Ariel S)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: silence
Date: 23 Jul 92 14:29:29 GMT
Organization: The Dark Side of the Moon +1 408 245 SPAM



In The Silence

When the ugliest words
will not suffice,
the ugliest thoughts 
not serve 
to slice the entrails from my
guts
then a knife's the trick --
the steel phallus 
that cleaves my flesh
that starts the warm release
to trickling...
to spurting...

i open myself -- 
you will not speak --
i open myself, myself I kill 
what your thoughts 
have damned.
why -- the question 
to late to ask

why...

because,
i 
am
nothing...


(c) 6/17/92
From: Ralph.Cherubini@mdf.FidoNet.Org (Ralph Cherubini)
Sender: uucp@mdf.FidoNet.Org
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--Essay on Poetry II
Date: 20 Jul 92 15:01:50 EST

                                Essay on Poetry(II)
                              (for Sheila the Wise)
 
 
Since the first
was so very
popular
and unpopular
I found I have
a second
(perhaps also
third fourth fifth sixth
indeed
I find I have
an Essay
on around under
Poetry
every second (thanks Sheila, for the time)
it changes
each is equally valid
for me alone
has that unique
feeling of innate truth
here comes one now drifting past:
 
Sweetness (as I call anyone who listens to me, and is thus dear)
poetry is when
words float into your consciousness
and the color spreads
filamentous wanderings
colors of dye in a quiet stream
and you take on
someone else's hue
perhaps only for a moment
like the timid octopus
which changes shades
continuously all his
life
is over
finished
when we stop
rainbowing through time
it is our nature,
Sweetness,
to accept the
caresses and
blows
which the world sends our way
poets are people
who seduce us
into keeping the window open
past the first line
who charm us into changing
if only for a moment
to their colors
so we become
what they have been
before
moving on
always
that is poetry
this moment
this life.
Sweetness.


 * Origin: Connect America #9, Austin, Tx, 512-459-3351 (1:382/10.0)

Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems