HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

In rec.arts.poems, 78witherspoo@cuavax.dnet.cua.edu writes:

> In article <7710524@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM>, daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom) writes:
> 
> > No no.  You missed the point entirely.  I was not making an
> > ontological statement about ART in general.  I was merely stating
> > that I do not consider one little section of the poetry world 
> > to be particularly artistic.  My scope was much smaller than
> > your judgement of my scope.
> 
> I know that.  I just get tired of people who can criticize others so callously
> and without anything _constructive_ to say to them.

I don't think you have been reading this group long enough to suggest
that I have nothing constructive to say.  I may not have done so
in this case, but I am frequently constructive, although still
somewhat opinionated and demanding.

>  
> > I wrote an essay long ago that was quite long and was an
> > attempt to allow for the maximum definition of art.  It was
> > quite long.  I will repost it if asked.  If you really
> > want to see it, I will mail it to you if you mail me and ask
> > me to.
> 
> Yes, send me your file.  I am _always_ interested in other opinions.

Always?  Maybe.

> 
> Love and white flags weigh less than flamethrowers,

Flamethrowers are a lot more fun.

doug
From: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: belong
Date: 26 Jul 92 14:46:30 GMT
Reply-To: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au
Organization: Department of Computer Science, The University of Queensland


	Belong		London, Feb 92
	------

Think of the factory that made
this wooden column in the pub -
the spray of chips from the turning machine,
the grey walls and corroded roller doors,
wood piled outside,
the truck that brings a new load of wood,
the road it came along,
logs at the edge of the forest,
you're walking into the forest.
Ask the trees to come and sit with you in the pub.
This iron railing -
back in the warehouse
a brown spider gets by, catching a few mosquitoes
in a web strung between two of these castings.
The truck that brings more castings
warm from the foundry,
the Italian bloke who drives the truck.
You're sitting at his kitchen table
eating his wife's excellent lasagne.

			--Michael N.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: orpheus@leland.Stanford.EDU (Owen Duncan Smith)
Subject: Gig
Organization: DSG, Stanford University, CA 94305, USA
Distribution: na
Date: Wed, 22 Jul 92 00:19:35 GMT

avant-garde dissonance
	almost.  fumbling pudgy fingers
	struggle, wrenching music from
	kaleidoscopes of dark and light and
	weaving it with beams for needles
	sheets of paper spread before me
	scream impassionate sympathy and

the sounds tumble out of the speakers in roadhouse brawls
	but it's not quite genius.

and only two more hours to go in this tale from the crypt.

nobody is listening, of course.  they're too busy
	with their noses and "how are you"-candied tongues
oh, except maybe for the few that approach my cross
	and say "The music is beautiful."

(stupid-sadomasochistic-society-sea-lions.  oirk oirk.)

without the flow there is no river,
just a pond of mosquitos
who squeeze their juicy venom
	into my eyeballs.  i can no longer read the music.

sometimes you can wake yourself from bad dreams
i try in vain to pinch myself out of this suffocating incubus
maybe if they said something I'd drown and not dream again
but apathy, not hatred, is the true enemy of art
and the sea lions just look on with black bombs on their noses

		and clap.


-----
Ah, I feel much better now.
one more thing:  about the discussions of feminine/masculine writing and
which is better:  Virginia Woolfe comes to mind.
'tis all.  humbly.  -- orpheus@leland.stanford.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: 78witherspoo@cuavax.dnet.cua.edu
Subject: ATTN: BING BANG!
Organization: The Catholic University of America
Date: Tue, 28 Jul 1992 13:50:21 GMT

This is to Bing, and has very little to do with poetry, imagine that...

Bing, this is Tom Witherspoon.  I finally noticed in your sig.file that you
reside in Atlanta.  I will be there August 13- August3-17, and would love some
things to do on my own.  I will be staying with friends for most of the time,
but will turn myself loose from them on Monday before my flight leaves in the
evening.

Any suggestions would be very nice!  Perhaps we could do lunch....

Love and Atlanta,

Tom W.(itherspoon)]
From: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Rolls Royce
Date: 28 Jul 92 14:18:46 GMT
Reply-To: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au
Organization: Department of Computer Science, The University of Queensland

I was staggering home one bitter London midnight
when I beheld the following little scene and 
felt so strongly compelled to write these
words that I took an ice-cream wrapper from a nearby
rubbish bin and scratched them into its sticky
surface with a piece of broken glass, afraid that
the inspiration might be lost as easily as my stomach
contents. I found the wrapper stuck to my elbow the
next morning, legible but somewhat bloodied from
some unrelated event in that delinquent evening.
Dare one correct its numerous inadequacies? Would
it not obscure some essential insight that is
only otherwise revealed unto a mind initiated to
these perspectives by some sombre intoxicant?


	Rolls Royce (completely pissed)		London, Feb 92
	-----------

This car is so great
This car is so fucked up
And you rich cunts
Think it's so fucking wonderful.
Three lager louts
Chuck an old bike tyre
At a passing taxi.
I wish it had been
That bastard fuckin' ugly
Roller.

		-- Michael Norris


---------------------  /\/\/\/- --------------------------------------
Only once you have found a cliff can you curl your toes over the edge.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
From: bob@netxcom.netx.com (Robert Thralls)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Help w/... (This one is [almost] final (from me))
Date: 24 Jul 92 05:12:52 GMT
Organization: NetExpress Inc., Vienna, VA, USA


>bob@netxcom.netx.com (Robert Thralls) writes:
>> 
>> >
>> 	I don't really mean that, I'm just blowing smoke.
>You, sir, do this quite well.

You see, It wasn't a BAD day at the office, I was in from HOME...
But you are right, I don't respond well to life in general,
this is truely one of my downfalls, but I'm working on it.
[deletion of explaination, long, boring, and I'm sure somebody's life
 is more screwed up than mine and could easily top anything i had to say]
(pobody's nerfect).

>> 
>> 
>I just do not see your problem.

Its just that I didn't see a response to the young lass who so
recently commented upon your .signature... I just couldn't resist
chiming in on the subject. Particularly since NDC is a part of 
my past...

>
>I did not provoke anybody, you provoked yourself.

not necessarily true, I had some help. Not that I condone the use
of pressure from pears, or pairs of piers for that matter.

>Now that you got that crap out of your system, I hope we can be
>friends.  :-)

sure, Bing. Say, next time I'm in Atlanta, lets do desert and coffee at 
Cafe Intermezzo, that used to be my favorite spot after driving
from Stone Mountain to AT&T up by Peachtree Mall late at night- 
Intermezzo is across the street in the tiny mall where Elan's used to be 
(of course, Elan may still be there for all I know). We were doing 
Reach out America's in those days... I think you guys were selling
Ginsu Knives (or at least taking orders for them, amoung other things). 
Hey, I'll e-mail you, I believe I still have some freinds at NDC, 
that way you can, at least, get a character reference!

>
>--
>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               +---------------------------+

I'm glad you took that well, I'm afraid one other won't take his so well...
and you are right, it was quite redeculous. but white zenfendel goes so
well with redeculous! especially, when there are more than one people
typing on the keyboard, not that we normally do a "trash and bash," but
it seems as though when certain people get together, things generally
degenerate into a small ?unforseen? chaos that should never be allowed
out in public.  (btw: how do you spell redeculous?)


bob.
From: pmapleson@peg.pegasus.oz.au
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Blue
Date: 29 Jul 92 05:19:00 GMT
Nf-ID: #N:peg:212700027:000:882
Nf-From: peg.UUCP!pmapleson    Jul 29 00:19:00 1992


_________________________________________________________________
                             Blue
_________________________________________________________________

     Blue

     The colour of the sea
     Quiet and serene

     The colour of blood that hasn't taken a breath
     Gasping
     Near death

     The blood of Kings and Queens
     Alive or dead

     A note not quite in tune
     Yet most beautiful for the life it breaths into music

     The colour of your eyes
     Your lips on a winter's day
     
     The toilet - so you know it's clean

     The forth crayon from the right, next to the purple
     The carpet at the domestic air terminal....
     Three shades, too

     How can you say "I'm blue?"

_________________________________________________________________
     Peter Mapleson.
_________________________________________________________________
From: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Date: Tue, 21 Jul 1992 14:33:47 GMT
Subject: Re: The mystery of human life
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems

In rec.arts.poems, alix@indetech.com (Alexandria North) writes:

> 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:
> >
> >For most of history, women have meekly accepted the role given them 
> >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.
> >
> >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.
> >
> >Oh Jean de Montfort where is your feminine savagery when we need it?
> >
> >doug
> 
> EXCUSE ME, Doug. Apparently, my forgetting the ASCII equivalent of 
> a snicker is a criminal offense, as well. I was just noting that 
> David Chow was only speaking for men -- or so it seemed.

Let me try to extract myself as peacefully and reasonably as
possible.  First I will apologise for the confrontational tone.

> 
> To say that women have meekly accepted the role of men is a sweeping 
> statement. Perhaps you mean, oh, I don't know, MOST women? Surely not 
> ALL women. Andy do you think women have just bowed their heads dutifully 
> until, suddenly, they sprang full force into the fullness of their 
> beings in the twentieth century? Hmph. What an amazing thought.

I detected in your tone what I felt was the rather typical attitude
that women represent creation and peace and nurturing.  My statement
was MEANT to suggest that these attitudes are exactly the attitudes
that serve the interests of the system that has oppressed women
for so long.  It is good to have you think of yourself as passive
and peaceful.  It prevents you from rising up and kicking some
ass (excuse the neanderthal phrasing) to get what you want.


Throughout history there have always been women of boldness and courage.
I did not mean to suggest there had not.

> 
> I never realized that all these women had to do throughout history 
> was stand up for themselves. Why, what lazy bums...

This was what I mean by asking where was Jeanne (sic) De Montfort.

doug
From: ieeug470@Eagle.oscs.montana.edu
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: UNTITLED...
Date: 29 Jul 92 17:57:51 GMT
Reply-To: ieeug470@Eagle.oscs.montana.edu
Organization: MSU

In article <1992Jul27.231657.3121@desire.wright.edu>, bgrueber@desire.wright.edu writes:
>In article <0095E0C5.520C3A80@Eagle.oscs.montana.edu>, ieeug470@Eagle.oscs.montana.edu writes:
>>  
> Let me know if I have helped.  If you
>want more specifics in the form of C&C send me a note and I'll get back to you.
>
>Enjoy life
>Bob


Bob, 
You have really helped, I have had trouble trying to get that specific one
to make sence.  Any more C&C would be greatly appreciated.


Michael the Morbid...

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Cut off my head, eat my brains:  know my pains.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
From: Joe.Barr@mdf.FidoNet.Org (Joe Barr)
Sender: uucp@mdf.FidoNet.Org
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Author of quote needed ..
Date: 29 Jul 92  06:06:58 EST


Tuesday July 28 1992, Scott W. Gatchall writes to All:


 SWG> I've got a quote from a poem that's really bugging me
 SWG> because I'm not sure of the title or author of the
 SWG> poem.  Could someone please e-mail me with this info?


 SWG> "Do not go gently into that good night.

        That's the title of a poem Dylan Thomas wrote for
        his dying father.

                                      Joe

 * Origin:  The Red Wheelbarrow BBS (512) 443-5441  (1:382/46)
From: tpl@eng.cam.ac.uk (Tim Love)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Europa
Date: 31 Jul 92 08:45:32 GMT
Organization: cam.eng


  Europa 

  In Berlin, Schopenhauer made his lectures clash
  with Hegel's to demonstrate his opposition
  in empty theatres of antithesis. Fearing sharp edges
  he singed his beard and slept with a loaded pistol.
  His reputation for hating women is undeserved, he was just shy.

  In 1911 Apollonaire was arrested on suspicion of stealing
  the Mona Lisa. Picasso's show in Tzarist Russia
  was only allowed open once a week. With
  loaded brushes he painted you in landscapes
  of bottles, newspapers and guitars while futurist guns
  fluffed their lines to captive audiences.

  All over europe fields woke from their dreams 
  of empty coffins. Poppies. Herpes. Freud was right --
  nothing's forgotten although now only Art Critics 
  revere him. You were molested in childhood. Rich,
  you could pay him to believe in fantasies.
  Your smallest gesture thrilled him. He made theories 
  about you, built his world around you.

  Schoenberg was mad about Gershwin and pingpong.
  When you dropped in for lunch he'd challenge you to a best 
  of 3. You thought that music couldn't be funny anymore, 
  that all expectations had been upset. Young girls can smile 
  and blush but men can't hum along; they must offer proofs, 
  try out a joke or two. Sometimes you were all he had.

  And you wondered why your sadness came before the reasons, 
  whether your method was the meaning you were searching for,
  laundering your love through one-night stands. Somewhere 
  down a sidestreet in Vienna you met your unrecorded fate.


Tim Love,  June 92
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: forda@gtephx.UUCP (Andrew Ford @ AGCS, Phoenix, Arizona)
Subject: Re: correction: var. on a theme of love
Organization: gte
Date: Thu, 23 Jul 1992 02:44:57 GMT

In article <QeP4uNC00WBKI2sKp8@andrew.cmu.edu>, "Kathleen A. Rafferty" <kr22+@andrew.cmu.edu> writes:
[...]
> the last time we fucked,
> your rancid 
> words
> spoiled my soul:
> 
> forever 
> 
> i wear the stench.
> 

Why?

Is it not his stench?

Why not give it back?

('Tis no easy task you say, but hey, 
I learned to give them back their shames, 
it took time and work
but I do feel better ...

Well, I do feel,
       And that is better )


-- 
"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: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: Adventure
Date: 26 Jul 92 14:19:43 GMT
Reply-To: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au
Organization: Department of Computer Science, The University of Queensland


>To Michael "bunweasel":
>I expect a public retraction of your flame.
>And an apology would be nice...

I was actually trying to do an electronic retraction.
You're right, it was rather severe and out of line.
I'd been reading some dreadful sarcastic postings
in various other groups and picked up on the sarcasm
in yours. I apologise sincerely for the whole thing.

-m.

p.s. (I could also blame a case of food poisoning i got
       from the excellent yum cha i'd had that morning.)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Storm Watch
From: jabolliger@miavx3.mid.muohio.edu
Date: 22 Jul 92 13:04:51 EST

			Storm Watch

		I am afraid of your love.
		In it, I find no comfort.
		Your declaration, confirms
		what I knew when we met.

		Yes,  I heard some one screaming
		down the grey corridor.

		Your love declared, ruptures
		the edge of this freindship
		It becomes a front which
		  batters the captive.

		Could be
		it wasn't you love I saw coming.
		It was boiling dark clouds
		who dump lightning
		who charge across Illinois prairie

		they come every summer
		those cyclonic clouds
		dipping their fingers down
		carving the skin of the land.

		Storms are part of life
		    on the plains
		Here, everyone
			has a cellar.
		

Jean Ann Bolliger
Middletown OH
21 July 1992
Xref: sparky rec.arts.poems:7702 alt.romance:10277 alt.personals:16557
From: haight@sun.ipl.rpi.edu (Liz Haight)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,alt.romance,alt.personals
Subject: love poetry
Keywords: love/heart/soul (...sorry guys)
Date: 24 Jul 92 02:40:59 GMT
Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, NY


   just for you, a.s.

he's lovely, this man
who brings smiles to my eyes
his reach is kind and gentle
making me want to hold his heart
comfort and protect his love 
yet to be felt
my instincts so maternal
so nurturing
toward him
that even i begin to feel
something else
unknown
but oh so genuine
i wish to take hold
of his soul
like the potter
works her clay
and feel him become
something he wishes
to be















-- 
------------------
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]
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: and god said
From: jabolliger@miavx3.mid.muohio.edu
Date: 28 Jul 92 13:16:36 EST

			another beginning

		and god said
		I am tired of the dark and empty
		I shall make my self
		a thing worthy of God.

		so god threw stars upon night
		walked the universe; found earth.
		And god said;  this is my jewel
		 	still god was alone.

		So god said
		I shall put creatures upon earth
		command them to multiply after their kind.

			and it was so

		Thus heavens turned
		   still was god lonely.
		and god said
		I shall plant a garden
		and in its midst put a tree
		there creatures shall eat of its fruit
				and know me.

		Upon saying this
		god's one body split in two.
		It was then god spake with two voices
		though god did not percieve this.

		and so it was that god's left hand
		came to the tree that grew in the garden
		and to that tree came a creature
		which ate of its fruit.

			and so it came to pass
			that god spake in three voices
			and thus it has been
			throughout generations.

		To this day the tree still grows
		and any one that finds the tree
			and eats of its fruit
			    becomes god;

		Leaving the one in heaven
			still lonely.

Jean Ann Bolliger
January 1992
		

		
Xref: sparky rec.arts.poems:7757 alt.evil:2162
From: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au (Bunweasel)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems,alt.evil
Subject: snip
Date: 27 Jul 92 05:02:28 GMT
Reply-To: michaeln@cs.uq.oz.au
Followup-To: rec.arts.poems
Organization: Department of Computer Science, The University of Queensland

(response to the opposing Michael's recent morbid streak)


	Snip
	----

a curl of wiry hair at the back of your neck
you could just about fit a pencil in there
exposed, short, ugly
you'd snip it straight off if you knew it was there.
head turns looking from screen to manual
and now the curl is salient
some strands blending into background
but most are out, proud, loud.
a swiss army knife calling from the desk
offering its tiny scissors
a faint click its kitten jaws spring open
your head turns back to read the screen
fine hairs catching afternoon sun
along a sharp silver outline
examine the scissors, the mechanism
fold them back into the casing.
the corkscrew. close. the saw. close.
the long blade
cuts a sheer sliver of forefinger print
how easily, how swiftly, how gracefully
could i reach across and
slice off your left ear.

			-- Michael Norris
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
From: 32downey@cuavax.dnet.cua.edu
Subject: Poem:  Dramatization #2
Organization: The Catholic University of America
Date: Tue, 21 Jul 1992 21:51:35 GMT

This is the second of the set, *Dramatizations*.  All comments welcome.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

                   Snow fell


it is a flat, white miracle, this morning discovery
with children's excited smiles in it,
sweeping to the horizon, dulling like a billowing
gown the contours of the land, unsharping the
pointed places, melting valley into hill,
weighing the tallest of trees into the earth like
a struck nail, stealing its height magically,
burdening their boughs with the lightest of loads
that bends them low where before they could not be reached

all this in a glance, it is true, to know that this
is not the place in which we fell asleep,
somehow our house and all others were transported
here to this most beautiful of lands,
this ivoried countryside, where we have come awake
to see our new location and,
through our window, wonder.

        (c) Charles T. Downey  1991

----------------------------------------------------------------
Many thanks for taking the time to read!

Charles T. Downey, Benjamin T. Rome School of Music
Catholic University, Washington, D.C.  [M.A. student, Music History]
From: vhspet01@uctvax.uct.ac.za (Peter van Heusden)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Two poems
Date: 30 Jul 92 10:26:38 GMT
Article-I.D.: uctvax.1992Jul30.082638.202155
Organization: University of Cape Town

A couple of poems in Afrikaans. So what if you can't read Afrikaans,
the poems don't care!

     Credo
     -----

     As ek deur die mure van jou verstand
     kan breek
     en jou met vuur ontbloot
     tot die koelheid
     van die niks/alles
     leegte/heelal
     as ek, met jou, kan voel
     VOEL
     voel
     wegvlieg soos 'n arend

     As my woorde soos 'n vlam is in jou bewussyn
     Alreeds klaar
     voor dit begin
     sonder dat ek dit moet voltooi
     (vol tooisels maak)
     is
     ('n gedig moet is
     sonder bestaan
     is)

     die waarheid is 'n basisform
     die waarheid is
     'n gedig op papier
     laat dit vol sproete
     skimmel

     niks is so gedwee
     soos 'n skreeu
     niks is so sterk
     soos die stilte

     as ek met my stiltes
     tussen woorde
     jou met stilte laat beweeg
     in die lig
     (wat net afwesigheid van duisternis is)
     met stilte
     het ek geslaag

     
     Vlindervanger
     -------------
     
     Maskers, soos vlinders,
     flits voor my geheue rond.
     Kom en gaan, soos hulle wil
     (Of hoop of moet of kan of )

     Man in donker stegie
     kyk op na geboue
     vensters met ruit van lig
     en stralekrans van geluid, 
     (eat drink be merry, for tommorow we die)
     sluk van sy vles swaar rooi wyn
     sluk Socratessluk
     vlinder val van sy jong gesig
 
*******************************************************************************
Peter van Heusden              "She was screaming as she fell
UCTVAX, Cape Town                But I never heard her hit"
vhspet01@uctvax.uct.ac.za                                  Violent Femmes
*******************************************************************************
From: daq@hpfcso.FC.HP.COM (Doug Quarnstrom)
Date: Wed, 22 Jul 1992 04:53:34 GMT
Subject: (quest)ions
Organization: Hewlett-Packard, Fort Collins, CO, USA