HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: rhh@alice.att.com (r hardin)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: The Business of Poetry
Date: 10 Apr 92 12:32:43 GMT
Organization: AT&T Bell Laboratories, Murray Hill NJ



>Vile because it helps reproduce the banality of a culture that wastes lives
>to reproduce itself.  Vile becasue it is of a piece with the metaphors that
>sustain that culture.  Vile because it is itself an act that smugly sublates
>real bodies in the service of that which caused these real bodies to
>be slaughtered.

Well if it's the vileness of banality, why isn't just that the stereotypical
adolescent invented by Romanticism, wanting to be an adult, choosing to
be an adult, but too pure, too beautiful, too sensitive, and too lovely
to do so?  As I am arguing somewhere else with little success.

You can argue that the American adult puts away the wrong childish things,
and I'd agree.


If it's the vileness of a semiotic chain ending in Vietnam, why is it
different from the guy who wouldn't get on an airplane because Newark NJ
airport dropped three airliners on him in 3 months? 

And ``real bodies to be slaughtered'' was put to a use here, did you notice?

Stanley Cavell:  ``In the midst of my pain maybe my metaphysical
   scruples are dampened sufficiently to allow me to accept
   another's sympathy even when, later,  I seriously doubt that
   he really knew how much my shoulder hurt.  The very analogy
   he used for it - comparing my pain with the time that he was
   hit with a baseball - shows he cannot have really appreciated
   the piercing quality of mine.''

He is showing something about the grammar of pain and the grammar
of sympathy.

Or if I take my pain to a doctor and get no sympathy at all, if he takes
a professonal interest, perhaps I learn a new attitude towards my
pain from that, I find I can bear it.

It it the old philosophical problem of knowing other minds, the fantasy
of inexpressiveness, that you're fighting?  Are those _quite_ the right
screams?

A doubt that usually doesn't come up.

You can't take the words from the criteria that make them function,
you can't save the world.

The world, unsaved, will make claims on me, including claims that
I am not up to, that I cannot bear.  Then I cast the other out.
I am no longer willing to restate what has been ill expressed, I
harden my position.  That's as far as I can go.  And then I know.
Then I have something I am not willing to acknowledge.  I may darken
myself, become unknowable.

You can of course try to put terms out of commission, as I thought I
had done with ``gesture.''
From: jqtaylor@hpdmd48.boi.hp.com (John Quill Taylor)
Date: Fri, 10 Apr 1992 20:54:46 GMT
Subject: it was exciting!
Organization: Hewlett Packard - Boise, ID
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems




	  it was exciting!

		 exciting her
		 exciting her
		  exiting her
		  exiting her
		  exit.

	               - jqtaylor -
From: rhh@alice.att.com (r hardin)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: The Business of Poetry
Date: 11 Apr 92 14:31:45 GMT
Organization: AT&T Bell Laboratories, Murray Hill NJ







A half million religious pilgrims were crushed today
in a bus plunge, including seven Americans.

or if it's in the US, including seven children.
They used to count women too.

A half million religious pilgrims were crushed today
in a bus plunge, including seven men.

You will never hear that.

Men like to be crushed.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: alk4@ellis.uchicago.edu (Alex L. Karan)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Two more short poems
Date: 6 Apr 92 03:22:41 GMT
Reply-To: alk4@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations


Kaleidoscope
------



A mirror
is a kaleidoscope;
each nuance an image, 
each image a face,
each face an expression;
each expression a question;
   what next?

Each nuance
a residual reflection,
a spin on a web 
of trustworthy tangents,
   an answer turning 
   slowly full circle.


Alex L. Karan

And,

Across the road
a black raven
descends through
the roof of a house;
   the occupants 
   might not notice.




Alex L. Karan
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: GC.SUL@forsythe.stanford.edu (Sullivan)
Subject: Ides of April
Organization: Stanford University, California, USA
Date: Wed, 15 Apr 1992 21:59:51 GMT

Ides of April

I made the same in '92
says so in my W2.
So why the hell did you take more?
dear uncle that I adore.

Did you serve me better this past year?
or are the S&Ls in arrears?
Did Congress get that little raise?
or did we buy a lot more maize?

That welfare's grown, I can make sense of
and bombing Moslems is expensive.

I don't remember taxes raised
the papers said so, I am amazed
that if I copied last year's line for line
you get more of what was mine.

I pray you will not make a scene
when I up deductions, line 17.
My receipt box will fill to cover the lie
with the help of some surplus office supply.

I'd rather compromise my largesse
than bleeding bleating: et tu, IRS?

Mike Sullivan
From: Ralph.Cherubini@f10.n382.z1.FidoNet.Org (Ralph Cherubini)
Sender: uucp@p0.f39.n382.z1.FidoNet.Org
From: klaw@ecst.csuchico.edu (Almighty Nodens the Master of the Elder Sign)
Subject: Re: Two Lonely Planets
Organization: California State University, Chico
Date: Wed, 15 Apr 1992 07:15:12 GMT

I have to applaud this poem publicly. I think that it is so very rare that
such a type of poem is done as successfully as this one. Maybe its the 
way it attributes human qualities to the main subjects of the poem (sun 
and moon) (I know there's a word for that but don't remember), and that lends
to a metaphor of human lonliness and like emotions much of which I find
in the bulk of my poetry (dark emotions) and also in the bulk of poetry 
that I find appealing. I personnaly find it difficult to write nature type
poetry and what I do write or would write would probably come off in a like 
manner, or at least I hope it would come off as good as this poem.

			-Jason

P.S. If someone reads this who knows what the word is that means to give 
     human attributes to inanimate objects is please tell me, its really 
     bugging me that I can't remember the word.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 klaw@ecst.cscihp.csuchico.edu is Jason Livingston
				  305 Ash #1				
			 	  Chico, Ca 95928                            
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                               	 .PEACE.
                                *   *   *
			      *     *     *
			     *      *      *
			     *      *      *
                             *    * * *    *
			      *  *  *  *  *
				*   *   *
				   ***
From: gilligan6855@iscsvax.uni.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: 90s rhubarb
Date: 17 Apr 92 15:26:31 -0500
Organization: University of Northern Iowa

In article <1992Apr16.211249.3922@iscsvax.uni.edu>, wheeler8161@iscsvax.uni.edu writes:
>                        poor, poor  sally moore
>                  (she had but a penny in her pocket)
>                sitting sexily      staring seductively
>                              rubbish
>                          we'd pass her by
> 
>                    putting positively padding on
>                           (she's a woman of the 90s)
>                    putting positively pudding on
>                              rhubarb
>                         we'd spit it out



*****it is easy to see that, from the other poem that wheeler8161 has posted,
that he is quite obsessed with the idea of sex (as well as fish and jesus). 
This poem only serves to perpetuate that idea, especially since it seems to
address women simply as objects "rubbish/we'd pass her by" and "we'd spit it
out" to be toyed with and discarded at will.  Wheeler does, however, create an
interesting paradox by his use of "she's a woman of the 90s."  This makes an
interesting social statement.  All in all, I think I like the one about fish,
sex, and jesus better. 

****"i'd rather learn from one bird how to sing than teach ten thousand stars
how not to dance"  --e.e. cummings

better
From: lwall@netlabs.com (Larry Wall)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: the business of poetry
Keywords: pimples, commodities
Date: 14 Apr 92 18:39:55 GMT
Organization: NetLabs, Inc.

I wrote this a while ago, but somehow it seemed appropriate.


	Joe's New Corner Shop

	It's a food store!  It's a feed store!
	It's an anti cold and weed store!
	It's the Everything You Need store!
	It's Joe's New Corner Shop!

	It's a beer store!  It's a steer store!
	It's a grimy goop and gear store!
	It's a foam-pad-for-your-rear store!
	It's Joe's New Corner Shop!

	It's a pig store!  It's a wig store!
	It's an eighteen wheeler rig store!
	It's an F-16 and Mig store!
	It's Joe's New Corner Shop!

	Since Joe's new shop has everything from candlesticks to bakers,
	It's just as well Joe's corner lot is eighty thousand acres.


				Larry Wall
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: n2412@cray.com (Joe Green)
Subject: at the ball
Keywords: a little song
Date: 14 Apr 92 13:02:06 CDT




	Tell me a story sighed my dear wife.
	Oh, tell me a story, oh love of my life.
	Well, I'll tell you a story about nothing at all.
	And how we dance in the lamplight
	At the Waterloo Ball.


	Little Zip was the mistress of Colonel Tom Hunt
	Who said she's a good gook with a tight little cunt.
	And she was in love with Lieutenant John Lime
	And to them she was faithful.
	At least part of the time.

	Then the sun rose up wearisome
	Woke up the drearisome
	Brave rocket man
	With his row de dow dows

	Lovers, what can you do?
	Dancing at Waterloo?
	And when it is over 
	You are shot in the

	Howl.

	The night is so tender, romantic, and calm.
	Every night I go back to sweet South Vietnam
	And the things that were done there
	Your heart would appall.
	So please always remember
	Just nothing at all.

	"The orchestra played on Bingo Bango
	Waiting for us to dance the tango.
	The audience clapped as we arose
	For her sweet face.  For my new clothes."


--
From: rizzojp@craft.camp.clarkson.edu (Jon Rizzo)
Subject: To Dance in the Moonlight
Organization: Clarkson University
Date: Tue, 14 Apr 1992 03:05:14 GMT

			To Dance in the Moonlight

And I have but started
my voyage within myself.
the breeze blows slowly bye and bye
as the trees whistle
and the forest echoes the cries
of the forgotten
the meek
the cold
the hungry
just listen!
Things we'd rather not hear about
paint the sunset
as it's beauty is stabbed
by dusk's darkest friend and I
And I watched as the world slept
perhaps dreaming a world without disease
where eveybody hears their pleas
or singing along with the song of the trees
or singing along with the song of the trees


Jon Rizzo   4/92

Comments, suggestions, or flames REQUESTED!
rizzojp@logic.camp.clarkson.edu

--

		                     __________________________________	
Jon Rizzo  			    |  rizzojp@logic.camp.clarkson.edu |
Clarkson University		    |             OR		       |
From: d5qvln5@baarsa.bell-atl.com (Mark Miller, IS/SPL-SYS, 908-577-3206)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: WE
Date: 17 Apr 92 18:24:39 GMT
Distribution: rec.arts.poems
Organization: Bell Atlantic

In article <1992Apr17.174806.16204@baarsa.bell-atl.com> ddk0bf1@baarsa.bell-atl.com (Raghavan R. (Ravi) #908-577-3458) writes:

>        I've  recently overcome my inihibitions and 
>	decided to post some of the pieces I have written
>	Any comments 


>		WE

>       When the ball of fire
>           goes down into the deep,
>        thru the corner of my heart
>           my feelings begin to peep

>        I get intoxicated by the
>           rustle of the breeze,
>        the brain, reasoning, the logic
>           gets down into a freeze

>        In the quitness of the hours
>           my thoughts go for a long walk
>        and I am left  with nothing
>           but a mental block

>        At times I the feel the warmth
>           of the presence thats not there,
>        then the agony of the realisation
>           I am made to bear

>        Those moments of togetherness
>           when I am not I but WE,
>        a world more beautiful and wonderful
>           I begin to see...


>Ravi R. ddk0bf1@baarsa.bell-atl.com

Ravi - A VERY NICE POEM
-- 
Mark Miller                                     |  d5qvln5@baarsa.BELL-ATL.COM
Bell Atlantic/NIS                               |  ...bagate!baarsa!d5qvln5
Unix Administration and Support                 |  mmiller@hub.cs.jmu.edu
From: wachtel@canon.co.uk (Tom Wachtel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Everything is out of order
Date: 14 Apr 92 16:33:31 GMT
Reply-To: wachtel@canon.co.uk
Organization: Canon Research Centre Europe Ltd

crystal writes:

> I posted 8 things...
> My first post showed up as my second...
> My last post showed up as my 4th (it should have been 9th)
> My poetry is all out of order...
> I wonder where this one will show up in the scheme of things?
> 
> I'm cornfuselfied!!!
> 
> Why aren't the posts in the order I typed them????
> 
> *pout*

The insights of this piece (is it the 10th or the 8th?), a sort of
introspective self-evaluation against the steadily changing backdrop of
the hands and fingers of time, is delightful.

Reminds me of the farmer (or the neighbour) mending fences: "Why aren't
the posts in the order I planted them????" The truth is that they are.
It is only the ground that has changed location.

:)

tom

-- 

Tom Wachtel (wachtel@canon.co.uk)
From: rizzojp@craft.camp.clarkson.edu (Jon Rizzo)
Subject: Is Anyone There?   
Organization: Clarkson University
Date: Tue, 14 Apr 1992 02:39:58 GMT

	
			Is Anyone There?



Who was there
when my daylight life turned
to night
I gazed into the murky water
and saw myself
stranded

Who is there
to carry the sun on their shoulders
for me
I looked into the starry sky
and saw myself
hoping

Who will be there
at night fall next time
I looked into your perfect eyes
and saw myself
escaping

So just sit there
if you ARE there
and let the sun
beat down on your face
as your shadow is all I can see.


Jon Rizzo 4/92

Comments suggestions and flames ENCOURAGED!

rizzojp@logic.camp.clarkson.edu

--

		                     __________________________________	
Jon Rizzo  			    |  rizzojp@logic.camp.clarkson.edu |
Clarkson University		    |             OR		       |
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: comptec91072@camins.camosun.bc.ca
Subject: Canadian_poetry
Organization: Camosun College
Date: Tue, 14 Apr 1992 21:17:20 GMT

.pg
.nf
.c
^&Hush Little Baby\& (Mike Laur)
.s1
Little child, in a lonely room
Listening to the tread of doom
The child's dreams
Is full of screams
He knows the end is coming soon.
.s1
Children know that things aren't right
When parents yell and scream all night
Chidren know
Their the cause of woe
And their doors sometimes rattles at night
.s1
He thinks he brings his mother down
She never laughs anymore
Walking around
With a perpetual frown
And she cries behind locked doors
.s1
The child doesn't know why some parents wed
Can't understand about mistakes in bed
He only thinks that he's to blame
And the father gave the child a name.
.s1
But daddy's hardly there no more
Sometimes mommy locks the door
Screams and yells 
Gives him hell
Bitching that she's always poor
.s1
Mommy says "Make things alright
So I can go out again at night"
Dad didn't speak
For about a week
This was scarier than the fights.
.s1
Then one night the child smelt death
On hot and poisoned bourbon breath
Hands choke
Neck broke
A soul's released from a little chest.
.s2
Mommy...Don't cry mommy...See the bruises on my neck?...See them?...
They're marks of love...Smile for your little boy mommy...Smile...
Am I a good boy mommy?...Am I?...
From: Ralph.Cherubini@f10.n382.z1.FidoNet.Org (Ralph Cherubini)
Sender: uucp@p0.f39.n382.z1.FidoNet.Org
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--Joseph Einstein Fourier and the God of Time and Love
Date:  9 Apr 92 09:01:36 EST

I have to go now,

am leaving on an unmarked craft

for a journey as long and broad as you make it,

it is the saying that makes the trip,

it is your energy which shapes its breadth

in a universe in which time

inversely functioning love,

contracts even to full stop

as the heart grows bright,

and the blaze thus born embraces

all "me and you" in a

single

spectral

point

of infinite height,

which we call God.


 * Origin: Connect America #1, multiline, 512-459-3351 (1:382/10.0)
From: MAILER-DAEMON@UCBVAX.BERKELEY.EDU (Mail Delivery Subsystem)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Returned mail: Data format error
Date: 14 Apr 92 16:10:00 GMT


>             I am the planet, and you are the
>             star, I can't be where you are.
>             But, I have the wish to come
>             close to you and be with the
>             star that you are.
>
>             Wishes, wishes, wishes and many
>             kisses from me the planet over
>             to you star! I hope your gravity
>             will pool me whwre you are.
>
>  Mike M. Bracanovic 4-9-92

I like it.  It's honest, expresses your feelings, it's unassuming and
not pretentious.  Little problem with a typo, though, and I'd say a little
"twinkle-twinkley", but if that's what you wanted, that's fine.

>PS. I am new at writing poems, about three weeks. Any comments, suggestions
>    or flames accepted.

Comments: Don't let anyone tell you what you should write or how you should
write it.  True poetry is you spilling your guts.  Poetry is emotion-driven.
It's you, telling everyone - especially yourself - what you're feeling, and
how you're feeling it.  You don't have to conform to the non-conformist
elite's idea of what's good and what's not good.  Just keep writing from
your soul, and you'll find your voice.  You'll never write good poetry
trying to use somebody else's voice.  It'll come to you.  Don't look at
somebody else's poetry and say "I want to write like that".  You don't.  You
want to write like you write, and if some people don't like it, that's not
your problem.  I've written lots of poetry. Some of it's goofy.  Some of
it's gooey.  Some of it's great.  A lot of it's not.  That's life.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I can't write a song to please everybody.          Phil Leith
I can't write a song, just to please you.          ccphil@umcvmb.missouri.edu
I'll just write a song to say what I'm feeling
And hope someone else is feeling it too
                              - Hidden Variables
From: bob@netxcom.netx.com (Robert Thralls)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: The Kumar Ratings
Date: 7 Apr 92 18:48:44 GMT
Organization: NetExpress Inc., Vienna, VA, USA


MOVE OVER NEILSON

Hey a Kumar Ratings Ritual (The KRR index) would help put
things into perspective and let people like me know just
how far off the mark we are. Who knows maybe it will become
a famous weekly publication and attract more readers (and 
hopefully posters) to the group. Hell, before last week,
I never even heard of Kumar.       ;')

Count me in, Kumar you will be receiving mail from me,
if I can figure out how to send it successfully, that is.
Why does it come back 50% of the time with 'unknown host'?
about half of my mail responses are returned, I think it is 
awful, what the hell am I doing wrong (or where does one complain as the
case may be)??

no signature required
From: Ralph.Cherubini@f10.n382.z1.FidoNet.Org (Ralph Cherubini)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Poem--Pilgrims' Pride
Date: 7 Apr 92 14:42:42 GMT
Article-I.D.: mdf.702666278.1


                            Pilgrims' Pride

 

And what of the Founding Mothers,

who reached the shores and died,

too,

after hard winters and unaccustomed food,

new diseases and wild?

What of them,

writhing in miscarried childbirth,

what celebration now trumpets forth:

WE, WHO ALL CAME FROM MOTHERS!


 * Origin: Connect America #5, Austin, Tx, 512-459-3351 (1:382/10.0)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: jabolliger@miavx3.mid.muohio.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: melancholy
Date: 10 Apr 92 18:51:17 GMT

Eagle:

	lovely imagry in that melancholy poem.  I like it.
	I would like to reply with a poem, but I am too 
	flat.  Oh hell! Here goes.  ja

		The sun rises
		wave crash upon shore

		Storm of night
			has passed
		I stand and watch
			forgetful sky

		Ocean has not forgotten
		Her memory goes 
			down
			   and
			     down
		A man on other shore
		Shouts across the water
		I watch with foreign eyes

		His voice is faint
		I try to catch his words

		They pass in one ear
				 slip out the other.
From: fscll@acad3.alaska.edu (Chris Lott)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Other Things EPHANTOM?!?
Date: 6 Apr 92 22:15:32 GMT
Article-I.D.: acad3.1992Apr6.131532.1
Organization: University of Alaska Fairbanks

In article <1992Apr3.205043.26254@raven.alaska.edu>, EPhantom@darknova.acf-lab.alaska.edu (A figment of your imagination) writes:
> Other Things
> 
>  Creative people 
>       take two steps
>         into the dark,

rest deleted for space
> 
> Copyright (c) 1992 %P%H%A%N%T%O%M%
>                     %P%H%A%N%T%O%M%  Publications
>                      %P%H%A%N%T%O%M%
> 
>      All RIGHTS RESERVED EPhantom@darknova.acf-lab.alaska.edu
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> ~  ...........  .......          .           .       .            ~
> ~  .            .      .        Nasha tai no kasei!         .   . ~
> ~  ...          .......           .            .                  ~
> ~  .            .               Prosperity and Long Life, To You. ~
> ~  .... xisting . hantom              .             .             ~
> ~                             .                            .      ~
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So Mr. EPhantom....  I see you have yourself down as Phantom publications? And
since I know I will have no luck sending a mail-message, what kind of
publications are these you put out? I am in the process of creating a
nationally distributed literary journal from here at UAF, and am always
looking to meet people who are interested-- and other writers! There are not
many up here.... 

I also have criticism to spare, but I do not post criticism to the net if I
can help myself, so if you are interested (and I have some on your posts),
send me a valid mail address... 

chris
-- 
 __________________________________________________________
|  Christopher L. Lott  --- Poet and Pauper                |
|__________________________________________________________|___
|  fscll@alaska                | "And now what shall become of |
|  fscll@acad3.alaska.edu      |  us without any barbarians?   |
 ------------------------------|  Those people were a kind of  |
                               |          solution."           |
                                -------------------------------
From: dfs30@duts.ccc.amdahl.com (Denise Solis)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Lot's Wife
Keywords: Lot's Wife
Date: 13 Apr 92 15:06:16 GMT
Reply-To: dfs30@DUTS.ccc.amdahl.com (Denise)
Organization: Amdahl Corporation, Sunnyvale CA


      Lot's Wife
      ----------------------------------------------

      In faith you left
      your home
      to follow him as a wife should
      to burn in the desert.

      Was it duty
      that drove you
      homeless into the night?
      Or honor
      for the man you loved?
      "Don't look back" he said.
      as your salt tears fell.

      What made you turn?
      regret,
      loss,
      or did the falling of the city
      crash too loudly
      in your ears?

      What was it
      that God did not want any one to see?
      Were you alone
      a witness
      to his shame?

      Why was it you
      who turned to salt
      when the father killed his children?

      Was it the salt tears that fell
      as your heart looked back
      and God saw his cruelty
      in your soft sad eyes?


--
=========================================================================
  All poetry posted is Copyright protected, anything else is just talk.
  "Tis true; theres magic in the web of it." dfs30@DUTS.ccc.amdahl.com
=========================================================================