There is After All a Poetry Forum ......

greenspun.com : LUSENET : TimeBomb 2000 (Y2000) : One Thread

I suppose I could appreciate the sentiments of our benefactor who is posting long strings of lyrics and poetry -- whether apropos to the subject of the thread or not I have idea. There is of course a poetry forum, and I'll go there when I wants poetry. Meanwhile I scroll thorugh without reading a line, and curse under my breath everytime I have to print out a newsy thread for a DGI or a friend -- becuase too many of them now have somebody's disjointed idea of spontaneously relevant beauty crammed between otherwise pointed discussions. Tkaes extra paper and deletes the impact of many otherwise fascinating threads.

Cool it a little, maybe?

-- SH (sqirrel@hunter.com), November 16, 1999

Answers

At least from what I have seen, poetry and song is posted ONLY on those threads that have already become a waste of electrons -- specifically, the ones started by piss-ant trolls like You Knowwho, that have no other purpose than to disrupt. Poetry and song is a way of salvaging an otherwise useless thread, making light of the idiotic ramblings by You Knowwho et al.

Just my $0.02....

-- King of Spain (madrid@aol.cum), November 16, 1999.

Oxford Book of English Verse

-- Lane Core Jr. (elcore@sgi.net), November 16, 1999.

Mmmmm. Lane!!! LINKS to poetry. Now that's more like it. When I want to go off topic, I want OFF.

-- SH (squirrel@hunter.com), November 16, 1999.

I see now that Bartleby also has Palgrave's classic Golden Treasury.

Here's the index to the Bartleby Verse collection.

-- Lane Core Jr. (elcore@sgi.net), November 16, 1999.


What's a sqirrel?

There is a way to edit unwanted material out of these threads prior to printing. Poke around on the upper margins of your navigator.

-- JIT (justintime@rightnow.net), November 16, 1999.



Lane

Thank you so much for this wonderful link. It's been too long since I've read poetry at length!

-- citygirl (citygirl@idirect.com), November 16, 1999.


Please, MORE poetry! How refreshing to see evidence of man's finest efforts, commingled with government mind control efforts. More poetry forever!

-- A Little Culture (Better@language.thanthou), November 16, 1999.

'Scuse me, but poetry, art and song are mirrors held up to the world...if you are unable to wrap your mind around metaphor skip the reading of that which confounds you.

-- Donna (moment@pacbell.net), November 16, 1999.

Hate, something, sometime, someway, something kick on the floor for me
Something inside will never ever follow
So give me something that is for real, I'll never ever follow (get 
your boogie on x2)
Hey, something, somewhere each day, dealing without forgiveness
Why this [bleep] inside now everyone will follow, so give me nothing 
just feel
And all the [bleep] will follow

God begs me, I'll never see the light he wants to see God told me, (I've already) got the life, oh I see God begs me, Ill never see the light he wants to see God told me, (I've already) got the life, oh I see

Each day i can feel it swallow, inside something took from me I don't feel your deathly ways Each day i feel so hollow, inside i was beating me, you will never see So come dance with me, dance with me x 6

God begs me, I'll never see the light he wants to see God told me, (I've already) got the life, oh I see God begs me, I'll never see the light he wants to see God told me, already got the life, got the life x 10



-- rock'n (roll@ok.with_you?), November 16, 1999.

The Gray Squirrel--Humbert Wolfe

Like a small gray

coffee-pot,

sits the squirrel

He is not

all he should be,

kills by dozens

trees, and eats

his red-brown cousins.

The keeper, on the

other hand,

who shot him, is

a Christian, and

loves his enemies,

which shows

the squirrel was not

one of those.

loves his enemies, which shows the squirrel was not one of those.

Humbert Wolfe

Hunter jolly eager -- Sight of jolly prey. Forgot gun pointing Wrong jolly way.

Jolly hunter jolly head Over heals gone. Jolly old safety-catch Not jolly on.

Bang went the jolly gun Hunter jolly dead. Jolly hare got clean away Jolly good, I said.

Charles Causle

-- Specific (act@of.poetry), November 16, 1999.



Old Git,

While I do not mind reading Poetry, I do find it a little off the topic of Y2K. If you would like to continue posting your poetry, why not just start threads with an OT - Poetry title?

Some might say that whispering poetry into one's ear is a form of making love. Are you indeed making love to the posters in which you put your poetry into?

-- (cannot-say@this.time), November 16, 1999.


All day the mirrors kindle their brilliance

Never are they empty

And even under the eyelid of darkness

Their smooth pupil blinks and stares

like a cat's

In the half shadow of the late hour

When stillness installs itself in the centre of silence

Only then

Does the mirror's own inhabiting light

Surface and quench us:

Light torn from

Within a glassy fire.



-- Female Poets for 500 (random@poetry.act), November 16, 1999.


cannot-say:

I have not posted all this poetry.

-- Old Git (anon@spamproblems.com), November 16, 1999.


Cannot-say:

While I do not mind reading whining babies, I do find it a little off the topic of Y2K. If you would like to continue posting your whining, why not just start threads with an OT - whining title?

Some might say that juvenile whining is a form of irritation. Are you indeed whining at the posters who admire poetry?

-- cheese (here's@some.kid), November 16, 1999.


Squirrel,
Different strokes, I guess. IMHO the poetry replies have been very relevant and on topic in each of the threads where I've seen them. I find them a very elegant response to a very ugly situation, and so much better than the usual F- you posts and pointless defenses these particular threads evoke. If, as you say, the particular threads that "The Unknown Poet" is frequenting are ones you would otherwise find worthy of printing out to share with DGI friends, I can only assume your barometer of importance is very different than mine. I can live with that.

The Unknown Poet is my new favorite regular.

-- (RUOK@yesiam.com), November 16, 1999.



Old Git,

I never said that you posted ALL of the poetry, however you have indeed bragged that you have posted your share.

Cheese,

While I indeed love poetry, it does not have its place on a y2k discussion board. I have many poetry books to prove my love of poetry. Now as for cheese, it belongs on a nice champagne cracker so that I might bite into it, taste it, then swallow it. A fine glass of wine may or may not go with the occasion. Next...

-- (cannot-say@this.time), November 16, 1999.


Whoever we are
Wherever we're from
We shoulda noticed by now
Our behavior is dumb
And if our chances
Expect to improve
It's gonna take a lot more
Than tryin' to remove
The other race
Or the other whatever
From the face
Of the planet altogether

They call it THE EARTH
Which is a dumb kinda name
But they named it right
'Cause we behave the same...
*We are dumb all over*
Dumb all over,
Yes we are
Dumb all over,
Near 'n far
Dumb all over,
Black 'n white
People, we is not wrapped tight

Nurds on the left
Nurds on the right
Religous fanatics
On the air every night
Sayin' the Bible
Tells the story
Makes the details
Sound real gory
'Bout what to do
If the geeks over there
Don't believe in the book
We got over here

You can't run a race
Without no feet
'N pretty soon
There won't be no street
For dummies to jog on
Or doggies to dog on
Religous fanatics
Can make it be all gone
(I mean it won't blow up
'N disappear
It'll just look ugly
For a thousand years...)

You can't run a country
By a book of religion
Not by a heap
Or a lump or a smidgeon
Of foolish rules
Of ancient date
Designed to make
You all feel great
While you fold, spindle
And mutilate
Those unbelievers
From a neighboring state

TO ARMS! TO ARMS!
Hooray! That's great
Two legs ain't bad
Unless there's a crate
They ship the parts
To mama in
For souvenirs: two ears *(Get Down!)*
Not his, not hers, *(but what the hey?)*
The Good Book says:
*("It gotta be that way!")*
But their book says:
*"REVENGE THE CRUSADES...
With whips 'n chains
'N hand grenades..."*
TWO ARMS? TWO ARMS?
Have another and another
Our God says:
*"There ain't no other!"*
Our God says
*"It's all okay!"*
Our God says
*"This is the way!"*

It says in the book:
*"Burn 'n destroy...*
*'N repent, 'n redeem*
*'N revenge, 'n deploy*
*'N rumble thee forth*
*To the land of the unbelieving scum on
the other side*
*'Cause they don't go for what's in the
book*
*'N that makes 'em BAD*
*So verily we must choppeth them up*
*And stompeth them down*
*Or rent a nice French bomb*
*To poof them out of existance
*While leaving their real estate just where
we need it*
*To use again*
*For temples in which to praise
OUR GOD*
*("Cause he can really take care of
business!")*

And when his humble TV servant
With humble white hair
And humble glasses
And a nice brown suit
And maybe a blond wife who takes
phone calls
Tells us our God says
It's okay to do this stuff
Then we gotta do it,
'Cause if we don't do it,
We ain't gwine up to *hebbin!*
(Depending on which book you're using
at the time...Can't use theirs... it don't work
...it's all lies...Gotta use mine...)
Ain't that right?
That's what they say
Every night...
Every day...
Hey, we can't really be dumb
If we're just following *God's Orders*
Hey, let's get serious...
God knows what he's doin'
He wrote this book here
An' the book says:
*He made us all to be just like Him,"
so...
If we're dumb...
Then God is dumb...
(An' maybe even a little ugly on the side)

-- Frank Zappa (dead@the.moment), November 16, 1999.


"While I indeed love poetry, it does not have its place on a y2k discussion board."

Perhaps you think that threads like, "Let's talk about the Christian definition of charity" or "Okay, a**holes, censor this!" belong on a y2k discussion board? If so, I can live with that, too, and we can agree to disagree. I happen to think the poetry posts belong right where they are. Ain't free speech a wonderful thing?

-- (RUOK@yesiam.com), November 16, 1999.


Female Poets for 500: Do any of you like to mudwrestle?

-- King of Spain (madrid@aol.cum), November 16, 1999.

If you are going to read poetry, try this one: ("The 'eathen" is pretty good, too)

IF

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated don't give way to hating, and yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream- and not make dreams your master; If you can think-and not make thoughts your aim If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings-nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling

-- MinnesotaSmith (y2ksafeminnesota@hotmail.com), November 16, 1999.


Hmmm, I don't supposed you could use a real email address so all this stuff stops coming to my errored mail here at Hunter.COM could you?

I'm getting a little sick of it.

-- Da' Postmaster (Postmaster@Hunter.COM), November 16, 1999.


I am feeling very inspired now. I thought I was done with all my preps but now I see that I am not. Tomorrow I'm headed to the used book store to purchase some more books of poetry. If it weren't pouring rain outside right now, I'd make the 30-mile trip. Cold and lonely days are ahead and I can't think of a better way to pass the time than to read poetry. I'll be thinking about many of you Yourdonites during Y2K and will wonder if your passing the time the same way. Thanks again.

-- bardou (bardou@baloney.com), November 16, 1999.

I have, on occasion, been accused of poetical assults upon the forum. And although I try to keep my wanderings to OT labled threads, I sometimes forget the seriousness of our stated intent here.

I was suprised and pleased to see the poetry show up lately on normal (combative) threads. Kinda like the flower in the rifle barrel of the 60's.

However, for my part, should I have offended any reader - My sincere appologies. Poetry is a personal thing, and like love, cannot be chosen.

-- Lon Frank (lgal@exp.net), November 16, 1999.


I think it's only in the current age that poets have gone amnesiac for the rack, and the stake, and the firing squad. In any other time there was never a question that poet/philosophers were dangerous revolutionaries. At the close of the day I'd rather read appropos poetry online anywhere than the stifling name-calling that tries to pass itself off as discussion here. How interesting that a goofy line in the sand gets drawn over the words of poets now. No wonder we're a cranky sort.

-- Donna (moment@pacbell.net), November 16, 1999.

SH:

Coming down from poetic heights, something more prosaic: what I do when I want to print out a thread that contains garbage sandwiched in is:

1) Do a 'cut' of the entire thread.

2) Open Wordpad.

3) Paste to Wordpad.

4) Delete out the garbage.

5) Print out the remaining thread material.

Bill

-- William J. Schenker, MD (wjs@linkfast.net), November 16, 1999.


Thanks, Doc! >"<

-- SH (squirrl@huntr.com), November 17, 1999.

Magna est Veritas Here, in this little Bay,
Full of tumultous life and great repose,
Where, twice a day,
The purposeless, glad ocean comes and goes,
Under high cliffs, and far from the huge town,
I sit me down.
For want of me the world's course will not fail;
When all its work is done, the lie shall rot;
The truth is great, and shall prevail,
When none cares whether it prevail or not. Coventry Patmore (1823-1896)

-- Lane Core Jr. (elcore@sgi.net), November 17, 1999.

I hate it when it does that. :-(

-- Lane Core Jr. (elcore@sgi.net), November 17, 1999.

Your Royal Majesty King of Spain,

Naughty, naughty, Zoot! My Lord, I'm afraid she has been posting poetry again! Sometimes my beautiful twin (a virgin) gets so bored here at the castle Anthrax. Why, with nothing to do, but bathing, and dressing, and undressing. Sigh, she is a very naughty girl & if she mudwrestled with you she would make a very big mess , and she would need to be punished, severely. With a spanking, yes a spanking!

So you see it would be quite impossible to mudwrestle with you tonight at the Castle Anthrax at sunset (just south of Camelot in the countryside with the Grail shaped beacon lighting the way) or you will need to punish her with many spankings. Sigh, such a naughty, naughty girl.

A Concerned Virgin

P.S. If you should happen to journey this way and accidentally stumble upon the Castle Anthrax, please do not bring Sir Galahad (The Pure).

-- No One Ever Expects (TheSpanish@Inquisition.org), November 17, 1999.


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