Yourdon's Asylum for the Y2K Afflicted

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

We had a meeting here, with lots of Deedah's beer, we decided it right, you all to invite, to join us for some cheer.

If you know me you know Nurse, she's the one with the great big purse, she is in charge, so you cannot barge, in here without a verse.

"Big Mike" is crazy too, just like me and you, he's been in here, for many a year, he's actually our Guru.

Our rules were made by Mike, "Say anything you like, it must be verse, you can not curse, and you cannot bring your bike."

This is indeed an odd place, for no one can see your face, if in here, you shed a tear, it only gives you grace.

We're all crazy and lame, but stupid's not the same, you're welcome here, so bring your fear, and play the rhyming game.

Richard, Bill and Bobbi, rhyme as a professed hobby, they visit us here, during the year, when they come, we meet in the lobby.

There's "NO SMOKING" here, but there's plenty of Deedah's beer, in rhyme we rant, because we can't, give in to our darkest fear.

As a companion for human existence, Sanity's inconsistence, worldly woe, just goes to show. Life's fraught with daily resistance.

Yes, Sanity's a pain, an affliction of the brain, yet I like the rot, that I have got, I got it over in Spain.

Sanity's quite a chore, I really want no more, of reason sound, my head I'll pound, upon this locked Ward door.

Sanity's not for me, the halves of my brain are three, when I think, I dare not blink, or my thoughts'll all go free.

Nurse is really cute, but she'd give me the boot, if my nonsense, went over the fence, and I started to wear a suit.

Old Jarheads take some time, to forget about all the grime, that in their mind, has started to bind, the garbage and all the slime.

Now, Nurse, she helps a lot, she's always on the spot, my fears to clear, of that damn year, and tie me to my cot.

2000's on the way, I think we're all gonna pay, some with life, and some with strife, each in their own way.

I had a dream last night, it really was a fright, alone, forlorn, I tried to warn, of software not quite right.

Many just laughed at me, but others, harder, said, "See!, He's just a fool, merely a tool", they believed in the Powers That Be.

At the end of the horrible night, morning's gentle light, the dream did take, and kindly wake, with assurance that all was right.

Sanity has a stink, to stay Sane you have to think, that Y2k, will be okay, and really we're on the brink.

So when it gets too much, Y2K, preps and such, visit us here, and lose your fear, the joy of "Crazy" you'll touch.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 13, 1998

Answers

Poor Hardliner's in a bad way, :-)

Writing limericks every day.

To ease the strain

Of stress on the brain,

And to keep the "fear" at bay.

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), November 13, 1998.


Buy an item a day To store for Y2k. Too expensive you say? Some advice if I may... If you say not today, In future you'll pay. Please don't say "nay, We'll find a way To keep problems at bay." Just don't you delay - Get rice, beans & hay. Don't be led astray By those who would say...

"They" won't let it happen.

I can appreciate poetry - unfortunately I can't write it as you can tell by the last line...ran out of "rhyming words".

-- Laurane (familyties@rttinc.com), November 13, 1998.


Gayla's got it too, and it just ain't the flu, the real bug here, the one to fear, is the one that's infected this zoo.

Dear lady who's name's Laurane, you're still just a bit too sane, if you'll only stare, and the word's that're there, you'll find that you've lost your pain.

Some advice about rice if I may, Buy an item of food each day, you'll never regret it, but those who don't "get it", in future will pay and pay.

You say not today, "Too expensive!", you bray, "The beans and rice, will surely get lice! You're trying to lead me astray!"

Please don't say that you can't, if you do, Nurse simply shan't, let you in, this horrible din, and we'll all miss out on your rant.

So tell us you'll find a way, Laurane, we want you to stay! sing your song, you can't go wrong, and lady, that ain't hay!

Laurane, please don't delay, don't let yourself go astray, we need you here, to help us steer, from problems just months away.

Simply junp right in, mistakes are lost in the din, if it comes out weak, give it a tweak, and before you know it, You're in!

So give it your all, my dear, and certainly all of us here, will solemnly promise, yes, even Thomas, to help you get over your fear.

You mustn't say to us, "Nay!" we too must keep at bay, our darkest fears, sometimes with tears, please join us for keeps today.

Laurane, when you started to rhyme, and you did it just in time, you opened a door, that'll do far more, than let you escape from the slime.

So strike out at Y2K, and also at those who say, "Bump in the road, you silly old toad." if you do it'll turn out Okay.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 13, 1998.


Hardliner, I must leave you to play,

I'm going out of town today.

Fun is not out of reach,

I'm going to the beach.

I'll be back again Tues-day.

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), November 13, 1998.


Woke up greeting the sun on my face, Wondering about fate and the human race. Watched squirrels playing and storing, All the various nuts and goodies theyre shoring, For colder and darker times, Even in the sunniest of climes. Thought about how each year, Those cute critters know not the meaning of fear, They just take life with a grin, ear-to-ear, Expecting all trees to provide daily needs, Ignoring humans planting either chaos or seeds.

Diane

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), November 13, 1998.



A burned-out Y-2K preparer
found laughter the stuff that was sparer.
She tried wine and song
to help her along,
and ranting when calmness was rarer.

But none of the pallatives worked
as more and more she went berserk.
Her sane mind almost gone,
came in sheets,(woebegone)
to rhymes. Now she'll not act the jerk.



Gayla, can you fit me in your suitcase?

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 13, 1998.

Just Between Friends:

I'm going to try once more, To explain what I know is in store. The computers are crazy, Our future is hazy, Yes, I know we've been through this before.

It's time to get off your butts, And join the rest of us nuts. Y2K's almost here, We have only a year, Till we all get a kick in the guts!

Did I hear a whispered reply, Of a very wild look in my eye? Well, it's just my distress, At this horrible mess, 'Cause I know we're all gonna DIE!

C'mon now you guys, You know these aren't lies. There's this big interconnect, They can't fix this defect. We're all gonna drop like flies!!

This is the latest projection, Martial law for protection, You must get prepared, 'Cause I'm really scred, And I don't need your rejection.

Get off of the fence, Don't you have any sense? Don't keep saying 'be still.' I don't WANT that damned pill. Just get me a gun, for defense!

PREPARE! PREPARE! PREPARE! There's trouble brewing out there. I am NOT off the deep end! Thought you were my friend. Trust me, the skies are not fair!

Banks and stores will be run, This will not be fun. Time is slipping away, Please get started TODAY! HURRY! HURRY! Get done!

Buy food, and learn how to pack it, HEY! Who's they guy with the jacket?...................

-- Alive in 2001 (sarmstro@seidata.com), November 13, 1998.


you guys are getting quite good. richard must indeed be contagious. some of you might consider submitting your favorite limericks to deJager's y2k humor contest at year2000.com. unfortunately, some of the jokes won't make sense to non-participants in this forum, but others will--especially the "Paul" series.

-- Jocelyne Slough (jonslough@tln.net), November 13, 1998.

mutter, mutter, mutter, you're gonna make me stutter! I'm the Nurse, I tell you verse, is what you gotta utter!

Gayla, you have fun, while lolling in the sun, come back soon, 'twill be a boon, when your vacation's done.

Diane, we're glad you're here, have some of Deedah's beer! We need your sight, our minds to light, with visions far and near.

Donna you're getting better, those tears just made things wetter, but here in verse, always converse, else Nurse your lips will fetter.

Alive-in-2000-and-one, that was an excellent run, but that line of prose, we'll throw at those, who haven't yet begun.

Jocelyne, Nurse made it clear, your intentions although dear, were not in verse, more's the curse, we almost couldn't hear!

Well I guess that Nurse told you, she's told us all here too, the rule is firm, you may not squirm, to be heard you must follow it through.

Hey! The party's getting nice, and we've got plenty of rice, Deedah's here, and he brought the beer, now lets get out the dice!

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 13, 1998.


The merlot lubrication's in force
I'm now thinking of plow and a horse.
Yond "2K" and the rest
of humankind's mess
I have plans that you may/not indorse.

But, maybe, I'm wacked and need rest
"Tis me who decides, not the rest;
at least just for me.
You wait and you'll see.
Your experience-your true acid test.

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 13, 1998.


In jest, I rest, to pest. But best? Not yest ....

-- Robert A. Cook, P.E. (Kennesaw, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), November 14, 1998.

Brother, dear, I am NOT crazy / Sure, the future's hazy / Still Y2K / WON'T be okay / So stock up, now, don't be lazy.

No, NO, I'm not insane / So why do you complain / Yes, my moods swing / And yes I sing / The Y2K refrain.

Blame Hardliner for this verse / I had kept my message terse / 'Til I caught this 'flu / Makes me speak thus, too / And now I'm getting worse....Nurse, Nurse!

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), November 14, 1998.


"Gather 'round people gonna tell you a tale 'bout the time that the clocks all quit and the government failed" -from Tonio K's `Life in the food chain' album which was released back in 78'. Closest thing to Y2K I have found in popular music. Rush out and buy it! This CD is a gem!

-- Connie L. (Cofkee@aol.com), November 14, 1998.

"Big Mike" would speak with you, you'll remember he's our Guru, so listen well, and he will tell, the aspects of his view.

"There's been talk of the nuclear bomb, it's not spoken to in a Psalm, but we in here, were lucky to hear, some words that've given us calm."

"An Aggie engineer, has made it perfectly clear, we in here, should drink our beer, and mushrooms we needn't fear."

"It really is a load!" we heard in our abode, "Just don't fret, they're all wet, zero-zero is not the code."

"Nukes need a lot more stuff, to become a problem tough, than for the year, to be unclear; that's simply not enough."

"So as we travel the road, that leads to rollover mode, let's all remember, it's only November, and the warheads can't explode."

"For sure we all should heed, these words we all did need, to hear today, on Y2K, our fears they do not feed."

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 14, 1998.


To Connie from the Nurse, "It simply wasn't verse! In this insane din, it is a Mortal Sin, to speak in prose or curse!"

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 14, 1998.


I visit your forum a lot. A computer wizard, I'm not. But to just be a lurker Makes me a shirker So here's the best that I've got:

Alas, I work for a bank An officer of junior rank. My pleas for liquidity Are judged as stupidity So we're toast when the bond market tanks.

-- Dave (dwood@southwind.net), November 14, 1998.


I twice tried to speak in verse, but to me it's a curse. I'm not a 
quitter, you hear that Hardliner? Even though my prose are terse.

I have nothing of wisdom to say, nothing about y2k, just wanted to be near, you, Donna, Deedah and his beer, and to join the parrrr-tay! :)



-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), November 14, 1998.

In 1960, John F. Kennedy and Robert F. Kennedy were impersonated in my home or apartment at 315 W St., N.E., Washington, D.C. and I was threatened also. I lived at 315 W St., N.E., Washington, D.C., in 1959, 1960, 1961, etc. A person is not to be set up for bait. The latter is the law. I am very poor and I have no income. These people steal my U.S. mail, money, personal letters, and so on, and these people interfere when I try to write also. These people are to refer all of their plans for sabotage to the New World Order. The latter is the U.S. Government law. I want a court order to the effect that these people are never to interfere with my life thereof and the court order will include the New World Order, the CIA, FBI, Treasury Department, and the white female U.S. Government agent referred to as Peacock. Forced germ warfare on female and male is against the law and the latter is the law. Slavery, segregation, and kidnapping is against the law and the latter is the law. Over 102 females have put me through germ warfare and this involved the New World Order that used drugs, LSD, paint, dope, lice, rat poison, lye, oils, chemicals, human waste, oils, LSD, cadaver tissue, formaldehyde, hog waste, dog waste, and so on. My family have all been assaulted by the New World Order. The New World Order is involved with nifeheim or nipheim. These people interfere with my telephone number also.

-- Mister Softey (PASSWARD@STE.HOSP.MED.EDU), November 15, 1998.

Wow, LSD can be bad / It sounds like that's what you've had. (I really can't wait / To hear Diane's take) But the previous post made me sad.

-- anonymous (none@nowhere.com), November 15, 1998.

Here from "Crazy Thomas", a tale that's got some promise, we're shown a way, that saves the day, as Y2K's upon us.

"Now if Enterprise the first, emitted a tachyon burst, and through a rift, in time did drift, to the time 'fore the 21st,

And we could listen in, to the subspace chatter and din, we'd likely hear, with our Starfleet ear, and "On screen" with a cryptic grin,

We'd see the redoubtable Kirk, and with his commanding smirk, He'd say, "All hands, the shifting Sands, of Time, have shown us a quirk."

Spock would surely say, "Fascinating!" My Vulcan brain is calculating, the effect the year, will have on our gear, and the results are not at all captivating!"

Then from Mr. Scott, "Captain, the chronos are shot! We'll be stuck here, until the year, 10,000 and surely we'll rot!"

Then Kirk says, "Mr. Scott!" 14 months is all you've got! I want the time, right on the dime, so you and your crew get hot!"

Then Uhura says, "Captain, com's dead, I'm afraid through Time we've fled, Starfleet I can't get, they don't exist just yet, and the garbage I'm hearing, you'll dread!"

"The AM bands are telling, of people that are selling, gloom and fear, and--dehydrated beer??!!? Captain, something's smelling!"

McCoy on the bridge does arrive, "Jim, you should try '95, that'll give Mr. Scott, more than a lot, of time and we'll all survive!"

Kirk replies, "Bones, Not now! I'm trying to figure out how, a Romulan crew, would handle the two, zeros that crippled this scow!"

Then McCoy says, "Jim, we're all dead! Life Support has already turned red, but I'll confess, despite the mess, I'm counting on what's in Spock's head!"

Now Chekov chimes in, "Keptin, I've heard that the enzyme Peptin, will give you relief, and soothe your grief, and your brain make more perceptin'!"

McCoy hollers, "Hey! You, boy! Stick to your blinking toy! I'm the doc, just fix the clock, and bring us all some joy!"

Sulu's words are clipped, "The moon we almost nipped, with the chronos in shock, navigation's a crock! Fix it!", he says, tight lipped.

The crew for once are stumped, their problems have all been lumped, into a bag, where only a gag, will help as the warp core's dumped.

So in the spirit of Roddenberry, a nova in the system's primary, and the transwarp whip, hurls the ship, back home like a temporal ferry.

Once again, we see Captain Kirk, with still the commanding smirk, "We've done it again, we always win! How else would Starfleet work?"

Now "Crazy Thomas" I am, I'm not as astute as "No Spam", but it looks quite grim, 'cause you can't swim, in sewage or a BIG traffic jam."

Thank you "Thomas the Loon", we'll have you back again soon, your wit to share, as we all prepare, while wishing we'd settled the moon.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 15, 1998.


I too have experienced a phone,

Making strange bleeps all on its own,

My internet browser,

Since pulling down trousers,

Does wonderous strange things,

While inner alarm bells do ring.

My mails been held up,

Two weeks was enough,

To determine I wasnt a threat,

At least, I assume, just yet.

Am I as afraid as theyd like?

When private e-mails do spit tripe?

No, no, and so what I say,

We must do all to win that future Y2K day,

For when community rules the land,

And calmer Y2K scenarios are at hand,

It will have all been worth the annoyance,

To see future generations gratefully sing n dance.

Diane (I tried anonymous)

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), November 15, 1998.


Oh, my gosh, Hardliner
you've not done one that's finer
than Kirk and the crew
in a Y2K stew.
It's bolder still and wilder.

And now a joke that doesn't rhyme:
Doctor McCoy introduces Cadet Flintstone to Captain Kirk: "He's Fred, Jim!"

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 15, 1998.

Donna, Donna, Donna, what in the world're we gonna, do 'til you always rhyme, each and every the time, and not just in the sauna?

In Sickbay McCoy said to Kirk, "That new guy's name's not Dirk, his names's Cadet Flintstone, and he's got a broken bone, and by all accounts he's a jerk."

Kirk a questioning look gave him, and perched upon the rim, of the closest bed, and asked, "Is he dead?", and Bones said, "No, Jim, he's Fred!"

See, it's really easy, but you simply can't be queasy, just keep your verse, tight and terse, and stay away from the sleazy.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 15, 1998.


In 1967, the New World Order mailed me a letter stating that the agency or group would protect my rights; however, I have never signed any contract agreeing thereof to cooperate with any agencies and so on. At 3662 Balfour Street, Detroit, Michigan, I was forced to consume drugs, waste, needles were injected into my sex glands and so on in 1977 and 1978. When parties receive moneys, funds, salaries, through fraud after people have expired in airplane crashes and train wrecks and so on, then parties have broken the law. The latter is the law. One should consider the safety of people because people are buyers and consumers. The New World Order has interfered on every job, in every school that I went to and in every home that I occupied. I am under electronic surveillance being done day and night on my human brain and I want the electronic surveillance stopped. I underwent an operation for cancer and my stomache was also operated on. I was also cut on the ribs and so on in Arkansas. In 1974, I went to the Hot Springs, Arkansas Legal Aid Society for legal help, case or telephone # 3211282501.

-- Mister Softey (PASSWARD@STE.HOSP.MED.EDU), November 15, 1998.

Now here's the Nurse again, "That guy's posts are a sin, they don't rhyme, most of the time, and God, what a mess he's in!"

"Mister Softey's broken inside, he's obviously been on a ride, that truth to tell, didn't go well, for most of his brain has died."

"Mister Softey, you're welcome here, come on in and have some beer, but try to converse, in tense and verse, as you throw away your fear."

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 15, 1998.


Sorry, my friend, Hardliner
for being such a big whiner,...
I'll post Verse now, here on
'til the nightmares are gone
a true limerick-al Encounter

of the Third and outrage-eous Kind,
tater mountainous po-ems in mind.
Should it give you a fright,
Civ'lization's goodnight,
Just pay me not much Never-mind.

**************

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 15, 1998.

Way to go Ms. Donna! For sure you're really gonna, find your ease, with rhyming tease, and verbal flora and fauna!

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 15, 1998.

"It's really easy" Hardliner said, 'cause the words magically pop in his head! I try and try as best I can, I just want to be like this man, but what I feel is brain dead :`(

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), November 15, 1998.

Softey found an asylum, saw the fun and saw the glum, "the rules I don't have to abide, behind some other name I'll hide", so what's with you, chum?

This is an asylum for rhymers, afflicted with the bug of Hardliner's, you have a different affliction, so don't stir up commotion, move on, have some manners! ;)

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), November 15, 1998.


Robert the engineer, your knowledge of Physics is clear, but surely you jest, you can't rest, we need an Aggie to steer!

Tricia the Canuck's here too! That calls for another brew! but watch her geese, they'll steal a piece, of our crazy little zoo!

Dave the Banker, Hi! We're glad you took off your tie! Have some brew, and join the zoo, where one of the limit's the sky!

Anonymous' perceptive rhyme, followed closely in time, a ghastly post, that was at most, a recitation of slime.

Diane's rhymes are soft, and they have a gentle loft, they lift the soul, as out they dole, understanding that's not seen oft.

And would you look at Chris! What a performance, this! she hid her skill, just until, she knew she wouldn't miss.

There's really no magic involved, the trick, Chris, I see you've solved. so keep on rhymin', and forget two timin', else your marriage'll be dissolved!

Now I've been sent to bed, by Nurse, who's face is red, about rules, she's zealous, but still not quite jealous, enough to bust my head.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 16, 1998.


I am very poor and have no income I wish I had some. In 1966 a U.S. Justice Department agent referred me to the FCC or the Federal Communications Commission after I referred the agent to the New World Order but he did not have a recorder. However, the agent said very good etc. In the Veterans Administration Center Hospital in Washington, D.C., a Veterans Administration doctor informed me that I was not service connected to receive medical treatment to enable me to see or hear these field spies or people. My Veterans Administration Claim # is 16841056 and under all laws and PL laws the Veterans Administration is supposed to pay me 100 per cent compensation a month. The New World Order will have to be reported and sorted. One will need firearms and flame throwers. The New World Order owes me monetary compensation for interfering with my life and the resultant strife. The latter is the law and this is what I saw.

-- Mister Softey (PASSWARD@STE.HOSP.MED.EDU), November 16, 1998.

Mister Softey's back, but his mind's in the same old track. And now he's starting to rhyme, at least, for some of the time, so let's not belittle his lack.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 16, 1998.

I see an ironic kind of poetry, in Softey's schitzophreny. If you read between the lines, you might find sometimes, that he has a bone to pick with the army.

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), November 16, 1998.

In reference to the Millennium or Y2000 problem, I was stationed aboard the APA 31 in the U.S. Navy and people informed in countries overseas said that I would be God in my country. The New World Order has kidnapped me any number of times. People are not to invade one's privacy unless the people have a search warrant. The latter is the law. The law states that patrons are not to be interfered with in the U.S. Post Office Department when patrons mail mail. The New World Order interferes when I mail mail in the U.S. Post Office Department. These people or agencies interfere with me in the State of Washington, D.C. I am very poor and I have no income. In Detroit, Michigan, I complained in person to the FBI and by U.S. mail registered letter #262988. I am being assaulted in public also.

-- Mister Softey (PASSWARD@STE.HOSP.MED.EDU), November 16, 1998.

Mister Softey's sort of ravey, but he was in the 'Gator Navy, aboard USS Monrovia, he's visited Lower Slobovia, and mind-melded a Schmoo named Davey!

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 16, 1998.

In reference to Timebomb 2000 what the year 2000 computer crisis means to you, by Yourdon or Yourdon, ISBN #0-13-0-095284-2, I was forced to consume waste and so on at 1701 16th St., N.W., Washington, D.C., in 1973, 1974; 1845 Summit Place, N.W., Washington, D.C. in 1975; 1708 5th St., N.W., Washington, D.C. in 1975; 1458 Columbia Road, N.W., Washington, D.C. in 1975, 1976; YMCA on G Street, N.W., Washington, D.C. in Rooms 867, 1069, 568 and the lobby also in 1974, 1975; at 1661 Park Road, N.W., Washington, D.C. in 1968, 1969; at 4077 Minnesota Ave., N.E., Washington, D.C. in 1966; at 511 6th St., N.W., #22, Washington, D.C. in 1976, 1977; and also at 1417 N St., N.W., #704, Washington, D.C. in 1977, and the Washington, D.C. Police refused to enforce the law. One should impound these properties. One could save life and taxes if the New World Order were corrected. People living pay taxes, etc. I mailed a great deal of mail regarding the New World Order in the substation at 7th and F Sts., N.W., Washington, D.C. and the Main Post Office Department and the mail was stolen. I complained to the U.S. Post Office Inspectors about the stolen mail in 1976 and 1977. The New World Order is against the law and the latter is the law. One should consider these people's political, commercial schemes, and their salaries, assets, colleges, universities, schools, that these people are trained in and their supervisors.

-- Mister Softey (PASSWARD@STE.HOSP.MED.EDU), November 16, 1998.

The "Asylum" is needed,

For this poor soul has not heeded,

The rules of the game are clear,

And include re-dehydrated beer,

But not long text from a pst of dubious seeded.

-- Robert A. Cook, P.E. (Kennesaw, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), November 16, 1998.


The New World Order doesn't seem to be too keen on interfering with his ability to post on this forum. Too sad. Delete.....

-- Damian Solorzano (oggy1@webtv.net), November 17, 1998.

Perhaps that Mr. Softey, the way his brain is connected, can't understand the meanings, of our versed warnings, so I'll tell him this way:

Mr. Softey, I am the law and order you to start your own thread and not post here anymore, ect. I am the law and the latter is the law. If you continue posting in this thread, the New World Order will come and get you. The New World Order will take away your computer etc. and send you back to live at the substation at 7th and F Sts., N.W., Washington, D.C. I've looked into these people's political, commercial schemes, and their salaries, assets, colleges, universities, schools, that these people are trained in and their supervisors etc., and their papers are all in order.

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), November 17, 1998.


Yes we already have the New World Order over here its called the European Economic (and political) Union or Community, they drop the "political" tag so most people think its just a way of getting cheap wine in France. Really its heading towards law making in Brussels for the whole of Europe. It'll start with monetary union, then extend to taxation etc. I don't even know who my Euro MP is, still less idea what policies he may have. I suppose you have that already in the USA with State and Federal Government.

-- Richard Dale (rdale@figroup.co.uk), November 17, 1998.

That would be, it seems to me, New Old World Order, until no border, United States of Europe (U.S.E.)

-- Jon (jonmiles@pacbell.net), November 17, 1998.

Damian, you're supposed to rhyme, absolutely, all of the time, although you're right, that his screw's aren't tight, your comments must rhyme like a dime.

The New World Order's not keen, on being as thus shown seen, but stopping the Alzheimer post, would surely turn into toast, our perception that their power's are lean.

Chris, who is ever the nurse, temporarily abandoned verse, her cause was just, but now we trust, she'll return to rhyme fine and terse.

Richard, it's trouble you're in, for you've neglected again, to rhyme your rant. You simply can't, subject us to prose; it's sin!

Now, Jon his views did tell, and surely they're clear as a bell, he made it rhyme, every time, surely, you see he's done well!

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 17, 1998.


ATTENTION: Mister Softey:

Your writings are brilliant, your writings are true,
the latter is the law, and so are you.

You tell the truth, that we can plainly see,
but here on the Yourdon forum, we just can't appreciate thee.

Leave this place, fly off to where your brilliance will shine,
post instead at

y2k and ???? - The Alternative Y2K Discussion Forum

where there are those of like mind.

-- Jack (jsprat@eld.net), November 17, 1998.

From The Therapist's Notes:

I'm surprised there's not more "clangin'**"
instead of his proseful bangin',
Hallmark of the disturbed
when they're very perturbed.
Not Rick,...Mister Softey, The Wand'rin'.

He presents no such rhyming hype.
May be more of the paranoid type,
referential, absorbed,
with suspicions galore.
He'll not go soon, this archetype.

There's something though that might prevail.
To join in delusion's tale.
It spoils the fun.
He'll be outdone,
and then leave without a wail.

**Clanging, to clang: The compulsive rhyming speech patterns of some schizophrenia subtypes.

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 17, 1998.

And while I am on this subject,
Melancholia notes I inject:
Y2K-weary folks,
some write rhyming jokes,
their hope in good life resurrect.

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 17, 1998.

Our trip to the beach was grand!

My body is perfectly tanned.

But, don't tell the Canucks,

They'll rush down in their trucks,

And try to take over our land!

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), November 17, 1998.


Welcome back Gayla! Houzah houzah houzah! I hope that the beach, replenished your peach, 'cuz we missed ya! :)

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), November 17, 1998.

Gayla you spoke too loudly / You should've said, "It's cloudy" / But now we know / We'll leave the snow / To come there and be rowdy! // We truly do have snow / I'd really like to go / To somewhere warm / And safe from harm / But Y2k claims all my dough 8-(

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), November 18, 1998.

Gayla's all tanned, she ought to be banned, lying in the sand, while we're all freezing', some coughin' and sneezin', up in snow land.

-- Laurane (familyties@rttinc.com), November 18, 1998.

Donna's our nurse/She tells us in verse/That rhymin's a sign/Of a mind out of line./Does this mean Hardliner/Is at Crazy Man's Diner?/Or is it just catching/Like programming and batching?/Is there a connection/Between Y2k and this section?/Those who clued it to the first/Are also well versed?/Or has the fear of the End/Caused all our minds to bend?

-- Lois Knorr (knorr@attcanada.net), November 18, 1998.

Hip, hip, happy day and hooray, Leonid meteor showers are off and away, Satellites, bits and bytes still left standing, While children out gazing were handing, TV audiences awed views, Of lookin at lifes blues, In a child-like supercallefragilistic way.

Yet when everything is said and done, Bigger forces are at work we call ONE, To have carried the day, In such an awesome way, Is really quite grand, see, it can be okay.

Looking up causes some folks in the know To re-evaluate choices and that which seems so, We hope they get it in A-OK time, That its all-ways in the hands of Divine, Whose in control of their Y2K show. (Doant cha know?)

Diane

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), November 18, 1998.


In the reading of Donna's post, I started as if at a ghost. Could it be, that she meant me? If so, am I now toast?

Donna, if I didn't know better, I'd swear (Damn donner wetter!), that you think I'm a schizo, who's brain's on the fritz-o, but I'm only a Jarhead Jetter.

Donna, am I crazy? Or maybe just quite hazy, as I struggle to see, through poetry, a world that's become quite daze-y?

Please tell me I'm not a loon, 'twould be a very great boon, if you would say, before Y2K, "You're not crazy Hardliner, it's too soon!"

Gayla, don't you worry, I've consulted with the jury, and your greatly feared invasion, (the one Canadi-adian), is a bunch of sound and fury!

The sound is mostly geese, each one dressed in fleece, as south they fly, to American sky, Oh! Will they never cease?

The fury's extra-terrestial, from Craig's friends celestial, from alien skies, they come in disguise, as ministers plenipotential.

But Texas is a place, where they'll be in a race, with Aggies and Rangers, with Cowboys and Strangers, no way will they make their case.

Then in Cajun Country they'll try, to cope with the things that fly, but the State Bird, Beaudreaux, will simply make them go, to Georgia, if they don't wanna die!

In Georgia they'll find another Aggie, he'll put 'em all, with a skunk, in a baggie, and send 'em home, forever to roam, 'mongst the stars, with an odor most gaggy.

Now Canucks are simply alright, they're our best friends in a fight, they're welcome so, they can avoid the snow, but No Aliens! It just ain't right!

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 18, 1998.


Donna Barthuley, has failed to convey, something about clang, so listen gang, we're still sane in that way.

"Clang association", is a sort of locution, done in a rhymin' way, "dissociation of ideas" is the key. Hardliner doesn't match this definition.

Laughin' and rhymin' indeed, is a basic need, to relieve stress, and even duress, at times when our souls bleed.

Wow! I've broken my record, in so many a word, of more than two verses, aren't you proud of us nurses? Shoot! what rhymes with "record"?!

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), November 18, 1998.


Will there ever be an end, truly

To all of this fine poetry

Is it destined to go on for years

Or just until the new century nears

-- Richard Dale (rdale@figroup.co.uk), November 18, 1998.


Checkered.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), November 18, 1998.

After a wonderful summer of shirking, I've returned to the world of the working, Amidst piles of PCs, And tuned-out Ph.Ds, Whose chains I am thinking of jerking.

Our clients, like Softie, are mad. Others are just truly sad. What becomes of their heads, When they run out of meds? Y2K days will be really bad.

I slipped a piece into the mail, About just how our systems would fail, How my boss--not alert, Could be really hurt, How in fact she could end up in jail.

Now watch, she'll come saying "Oh, Faith, dear, Won't you just please fix things up here?" And meeting her gaze, I'll ask for a raise, Then come join Yourdon's gang for a cold beer.

At work, I get paid for my time. Here, I get laughter and rhyme. Who's still sane, and who's not? In this Y2K plot, the division's so thin it's sublime.

-- Faith Weaver (faith-weaver@usa.net), November 18, 1998.


Home from the bank again Dave / Retreats to his Y2K Cave / I live with the fear / using Xanax and beer / Thanks all, for this safe place to rave.

-- Dave (dwood@southwind.net), November 19, 1998.

No fair! I said Softey, not "yous"
but now giving the devil his dues,
I've questioned mysanity,
Y2K-made, not vanity.
Many call the world "sane", what's to lose?

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 19, 1998.

Oh Dave, ah, the Xanax and beer.
My vote for the upcoming year:
"Better Living Through Chemistry,"
the shunning of sophistry.
Raising my glass here; Three cheers!

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 19, 1998.

I'm weary of the fear-filled gang,
their rant near schizophrenic clang.
I'll defend my own
and what Neighbor's sown.
No more the Mad Max insane twang,

of "All of you wimps better brace!
I'll 'learn' you, get into your face!"
The same sad old chant
Violence Covenant
My future's most uncommonplace,

where humans learn cooperation,
and not division, but connection.
It's "they" that don't get it;
Five thousand year habit.
Instead of aggression,... creation.

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 19, 1998.

Hardliner, you're quiet today.

You must be out "making hay."

Or gathering supplies,

Are those TEARS in your eyes?

Everything's going to be OK!

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), November 20, 1998.


To this group I've been a lurker But to survival I'm not a shirker My family is safe Cause I'm not a naif My perspective is that of a murker

-- WAAHOO (bobb@mtjeff.com), November 20, 1998.

Hardliner, we really miss you.

You entertained us in this zoo.

You left us high and dry,

Didn't even say goodbye,

No one left to play "alphabet stew?"

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), November 22, 1998.


Hardliner, we greatly fear / Has run off with his nurse so dear / We'll wait and see / What will be, will be / When they get back, we'll cheer!

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), November 22, 1998.

Roses are red,
and I am blue.
Hardliner's missing,
and Richard Dale too. Ack! I can't write limericks anymore :( Come back guys :(

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), November 22, 1998.

I think they are on a mini-vacation,

But it is a time for negative jubilation....

-- Robert A. Cook, P.E. (Kennesaw, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), November 22, 1998.


Now I'm back from a short break Ready to converse for everyone's sake I'm glad my decorum Is appreciated by the forum Just hope you don't think I'm a fake

(Well its the best i could do Monday!)

-- Richard Dale (rdale@figroup.co.uk), November 23, 1998.


Richard Dale, welcome back! :)
You haven't lost your knack! A bit rusty? Okay.
I forgive you, it's Monday ;)
One more and you'll be back on track :)

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), November 23, 1998.

"One more, just one more" they cried to the bard

But now he's finding it increasingly hard

To invent a new insight

In verse for their delight

But hopes they'll still hold him in estimable regard

-- Richard Dale (rdale@figroup.co.uk), November 24, 1998.


Sir Rick, our premier, and notable bard,
I'm so glad your return has not been hard.
Our courage depends
on the voices we lend.
Be brave, or we'll send Scotland Yard!

:)

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 24, 1998.

Now I am threatened with "the long arm of the law" A situation I'm really getting to deplore I must quick find a hideaway Even before the dread Y2 Kay But now I think I hear someone knocking at my door

-- Richard Dale (rdale@figroup.co.uk), November 25, 1998.

Hardliner, Santa Claus is on his way,

Maybe there's a new computer in his sleigh.

It's been SO long since you've spoken,

Nurse's computer MUST be broken!

We still watch for you every day.

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), November 27, 1998.


Okay. I can do this if I try

Please dont laugh or I will cry.

I try so hard to just fit in

So if I dont, I'll try again.

Hey, how'd I do?

-- consumer (no@aol.com), November 27, 1998.


A poet I'm not, But this you have got To open and see Perhaps with some glee: Five kittens

'Twill calm the fevered brain. Beats standing in the rain! or waiting for a train!

-- Tom Carey (tomcarey@mindspring.com), November 27, 1998.


Put the kitty's in the boxes,

Then ship 'em via Fedex's,

But wouldn't the boxes become messes?

-- Robert A. Cook, P.E. (Kennesaw, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), November 27, 1998.


Those kittens are great

And well worth the wait

They're cute,

Hirsute,

I wish there were eight!

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), November 27, 1998.


Eight kitties are great, but not real fair, It would create to much pooie in there.

-- consumer (private@aol.com), November 27, 1998.

Pinky, Are You Pondering What I'm Pondering?

Eureka! I've come upon it.
Have you of poetical wit?
A magikal measure,
the insult, the slur,
...name-calling. I think I'll vomit

if I read one more Yourdon post
calling someone a moron or worst.
It's time to grow-up now,
to quit childish stuff now.
End of insults:Y2K wish utmost.

It's mindset that comes before darkened deeds.
Attitudes and words, like stinking weeds,
spread and take over,
ubiquitous clover.
Use reason and kindness instead, friends,... please!
*******

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 28, 1998.

okay, I give, who offended Donna?

-- consumer (private@aol.com), November 28, 1998.

I exclaim: No insults to me of late,
but general obnoxiousness I hate.
Not here from our Asylum bunch,
(rare from them, I have a hunch),
'Tis the bully nonsense that must abate.

The name-calling garbage is everywhere,
so Post-Y2K we've not a prayer,
'ceptin' just the same old thing:
Humans' Follied Final Fling.
Think before speaking, you all. Persevere!
**********

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 28, 1998.

Wonder and Weariness

She brushes the dust from her tattered sandals.
Tired of caveman rants, aggressive villanelles.
She walks from the homestead
praying hope is not all dead.
She's chilled, and hears calls of two whippoorwills.

She watches from the woods for just now.
Will humankind learn? Just what and just how?
It's time soon to stoke the fire,
to eat some soup and then retire.
The night has come, time to sleep, somehow.

The loved ones don't stir as she enters the house.
She moves about quietly, to rival a mouse.
This life, would she pick it?
Or grumble and kick it?
'Tis her life now; She will not long grouse.

It's working and breathing and all accepting.
It is what it is, despite all kvetching.
DaVinci was quirky,
embraced uncertainty.
'Tis enough,' she says, then,...softly whistling,
she turns toward the fire, and stirs up the embers;
head and heart very full, she knows and remembers
being a child
in other woods-wild,...
goes to her bed then, and dreams with the sleepers.

**********

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), November 30, 1998.

I'll buy your first edition of poems if you sign a copy for me.

-- Richard Dale (rdale@figroup.co.uk), December 01, 1998.

My heart is rent and I weep, for my visit to the land of the sheep, has sent me back, beneath a wrack, of pain both enormous and deep.

The sheeple are doomed but don't know it, Slick Willie's aware but won't show it, and all the while, he says with a smile, "It'll be alright, we won't blow it."

The government's lying again, the media's about to begin, a deception so foul, that History will howl, "They were given no chance to win."

Nurse! Nurse! Please come to my cot! I beg you to give me a shot, that'll ease my awareness, of all this unfairness, and erase from my mind this blot!

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 01, 1998.


WELCOME BACK, HARDLINER!

It's about time! This place just isn't the same without you!

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), December 01, 1998.


Hardliner my heart is sad too,

Thats why we get better at a zoo,

Contrary to popular illusion,

The medias still deciding and choosin

Which way to play that Y2K day, confused just like me an you.

(Welcome back, Diane)

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), December 01, 1998.


I am printing out this Asylum,
to read again when the day has come,
the wisdom, the laughs and predictions,
the sorrows, pain and consternations,
it contains friends who total more than its sum.

:-)

<---the happy smile I have on my face since Hardliner's return.

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), December 01, 1998.

Aye the liner returns, now all can sleep,

To count as the barber shears the sheep....

-- Robert A. Cook, P.E. (Kennesaw, GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), December 01, 1998.


A holiday, is what I'll take,

From this forum; make no mistake,

I'll miss you all!

And wish you well,

'Til I return with boned fruitcake.

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), December 02, 1998.


Tricia, do you really have to go?

You'll be missed more than you know.

I'm going away, too.

I'll miss the zoo,

But I want to play in the snow.

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), December 02, 1998.


Arrghh! Tricia and Gayla don't leave me!
The whole forum is going crazy!
Asylum dwelers are just a bit insane,
but these new people are not the same!
what am I to do? Like you pack up and flee?!



-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), December 02, 1998.

RE: Donna's "post Y2K" thread / I fear most of our people are dead / But the surviving few / Will start life anew / Oh! Infomagic messed with my head....

Communities that form or remain / Will adapt to the anarchy game / New "laws" will emerge / As our cultures diverge / No two pockets will grow up the same.

I guess I've decided to strive / For a place where Diane could survive / But no it won't kill me / To make room for Paul Milne / Each of us soon must decide.

-- Dave (dwood@southwind.net), December 02, 1998.


Chris, don't give it a thought, because sanity can't be bought, if it could, I surely would, not waste my money for aught.

New blood is the nature of things, and different perspectives it brings, give 'em a chance, to do their dance, they might all have horns and wings!

They are really no one to fear, even if they got in here, Big Mike's awake, and Nurse will take, good care of us all, my dear.

Tricia and Gayla will find, some relief from the daily grind, but they've both got, their name on a cot, in this ward of the pain in the mind.

Trish probably to the sun will go, while Gayla simply wants some snow, but hot or cold, they'll both be told, "We're leaving behind the woe!"

We all missed you when you went, now others must be sent, away from here, to find some cheer, so please don't get so bent!

Have a loony meal in here, wash it down with Deedah's beer, alphabet stew, and re-dehydrated brew, will make it all so clear.

Reality's all subjective, toss out the harsh invective, get fuzzy and warm, in our lunatic swarm, and you'll find a new perspective.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 03, 1998.


Its good to see Hardliner return to the fold

He's spent too much time out in the cold

Now he's back by the fireside

With the rest of us to confide

His tales have the magic of glistening gold

-- Richard Dale (rdale@figroup.co.uk), December 03, 1998.


Ahhh...thanks Hardliner!
You're quite a soother.
I'm glad you're still here, I have nothing to fear.
Thanks for the beer, I feel much better.
:) Lunatics who think like me,
are much less scary,
so I'll cozy up in here,
with alphabet stew 'n beer,
anything else seems just phony.


-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), December 03, 1998.

Where's everybody tonight! Has everyone givin' up the fight? Where's all the rhymers gone to? Deedah, Richard, Donna, Hardliner, where are you? hmmm...somethin' isn't right.

I know what y'all need! Somethin' different..a new seed, somethin' to change the pace, to liven up this place, here's a lit'le ditty to pick up the speed!

Two Digits for a Date

(to the tune of "Gilligan's Island," more or less)

Author Unknown

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale
Of the doom that is our fate.
That started when programmers used
Two digits for a date.
Two digits for a date.

Main memory was smaller then;
Hard disks were smaller, too.
"Four digits are extravagant,
So let's get by with two.
So let's get by with two."

"This works through 1999,"
The programmers did say.
"Unless we rewrite before that
It all will go away.
It all will go away."

But Management had not a clue:
"It works fine now, you bet!
A rewrite is a straight expense;
We won't do it just yet.
We won't do it just yet."

Now when 2000 rolls around
It all goes straight to hell,
For zero's less than ninety-nine,
As anyone can tell.
As anyone can tell.

The mail won't bring your pension check
It won't be sent to you
When you're no longer sixty-eight,
But minus thirty-two.
But minus thirty-two.

The problems we're about to face
Are frightening, for sure.
And reading every line of code's
The only certain cure.
The only certain cure.

(key change, big finish)

There's not much time,
There's too much code.
(And Cobol-coders, few)
When the century is finished with,
We may be finished, too.
We may be finished, too.

Eight thousand years from now I hope
That things weren't left too late,
And people aren't then lamenting
Four digits for a date.
Four digits for a date.


-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), December 05, 1998.

I am reading more dark thoughts at this site now.
Silly Me was not expecting it somehow,
with our Ed Yourdon Wakers,
wise emotional quakers.
Shall I cackle or cry? OH,...Holy cow!

My son's said:"We'll stock, Mom, but we'll not go."
My daughter? Jesus,... I still do not know.
My sister now asks me,
"How bad will it all be?"
As we watch the world through my small window.

Eye on the horizon, ear to the ground,
Sepulcral thoughts fly all around.
A crystal ball as blue as ice
is needful now, would be so nice.
"Don't know," I reply, "but could be profound."

So we pour ourselves another glass
of something soothing from the cask;
watch the world and the sky
as Two Thousand comes nigh,
weep and laugh, shake our fists bold as brass.

*******

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), December 05, 1998.

I thank my Loon Friends for their poet thoughts
that make all other badness amount to naught;
all the childish threats
won't bring on the sweats.
Got my pen and a gun, and life-skills well-fought.

I'll not use your names lest I leave one out,
and slight someone special who's hereabout.
Suffice it to say
we'll not soon go away.
Prepare, write verse, and we'll survive. No doubt!

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), December 05, 1998.

From The Woman Raised on Dr. Seuss

We need more limericks. Yes, we do.
Lots more from me, and way more from you.
Sharp minds make tight rhymes
non-Thorazine kinds.
Test your accuity. You're overdue!!

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), December 05, 1998.

Donna you are right and I feel ashamed,
I've left out everyone not named,
but all rest assured you crazy loons,
you mean as much to me as the mentioned buffoons,
T'was done to keep the length of my verse tamed.

Don't know what to think of "sharp minds make tight rhymes",
do you classify mine as the "Therozine kinds"?
A poet I certainly am not,
but I give it all I've got,
for me simply writing in English is hard, sometimes.


-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), December 05, 1998.

Of course, you're a poet, Chris, our friend,
qualifications are nonsense without end,...
Don't worry 'bout that brain.
We're all insane or sane-
Perspective! Your rhyme's great, now 'til the end.

***************

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), December 05, 1998.

I've got company in from out of town.
We have our up times, we have some down.
Y2Kay we give talk,
family banter, no balk.
In life's cakewalk we're upsidedown.

But we're sure upon one simple thing.
The world's going down, we'll not cling
to denial notions
of Y2K potions.
We're set for ourselves and offspring.

'Cos we think humankind will adhere
to life well worth living down here.
We'll work, dance, and play
chronicle all the way;
and of our human spirit we'll cheer!

***********

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), December 05, 1998.

Odd, its that time of year,

To raise a glass in cheer,

I keep tryin n tryin,

But just feel like cryn,

Deedah wheres that dehydrated beer?

And ...

Gotta trust that we are all One,

Y2K soul prep has barely begun,

We can impact dont get its,

Waterfalls are just droplets,

Cascading together, as rivers, to be run.

(Won?)

Diane

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), December 06, 1998.


Some more Haiku 4 U-

The gentle spring rain

Fosters growth more than hard sun

Tears of joy, crying

The increase of noise

Nervous sheeple are mewling

A wolf in the woods

Tell me what to do

Survival instinct waking

Are we at risk here?

Single cell life forms

Wake and start to multiply

Put stress on forum

Old threaders hang tough

But can see the change daily

Time to move on now?

The community

Of the old time lurkers now

Hear the young pups howl

The change was subtle

Language in the gutter now

Has our time past by?

-- Uncle Deedah (oncebitten@twiceshy.com), December 06, 1998.


No Uncle, it's just the floodwaters opening. Ooops, not rhyming or haiku-ing.

With rain, new growth

Old thoughts soothe youth

Creation changes with flow

Flowing implies destination

Where do you want Y2K to go?

Diane

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), December 06, 1998.


Refined subtility
picks up momentum
chaos - Y2K

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), December 06, 1998.

I've started posting 3 a day
now I'm reading 100 a day
I've lost what I've posted

-- Haiku-challenged Chris (catsy@pond.com), December 06, 1998.

I'm back don't you worry

You're getting into such a flurry

This is just off the top of my head

Maybe its similar to something you read

The newbies seem like a flock of fowls

Unlike us astute and sagacious owls

They will disappear soon from view

Leaving behind their white residue

After a time it will all abate

The forum will return to its usual state

-- Richard Dale (rdale@figroup.co.uk), December 07, 1998.


See what I mean The forum is now clean.

(NB this is just to resurrect the thread)

-- Richard Dale (rdale@figroup.co.uk), December 08, 1998.


It's time for a seasonal party, with lots of laughs that're hearty, Deedah's beer, tons of good cheer, and NO MENTION of Y2K, Smarty!

If it's all gonna go down the drain, in a few months and cause lots of pain, Eat, Drink and be Merry! Go kiss someone hairy! as a way to reduce the strain.

The price of admission'll be steep; a rhyme that makes no one weep, but causes instead, a joy in the head, and makes a memory we'll all want to keep.

I have a modest example, a screwy little sample, of a verse, tight and terse, on fear it tries to trample.

Look at your belly button, imagine it's full of mutton, try to keep, from making a peep, and try not to be a glutton.

Let go of your darkest thought, think of nothing at all--just naught, try not to laugh, it'll be harder by half, than paying for what you just bought.

Imagine how odd you'll look, with your face screwed up like you took, a pledge not to grin, as if it were sin, would others think you a Schnook?

The Holidays make some folks sad, but in this Ward there is to be had, Re-dehydrated beer, which contains good cheer, and makes it OK to be glad.

Try blowing some milk through your nose, you can do it without any hose, it'll burn for a while, but it makes others smile, and does away with the chance to pose.

Let's laugh until it hurts, everyone wear old shirts, let milk and beer, spew in here, as we ape Lucy and Ethyl Murtz.

A pie-fight would be cool, in cyberspace not cruel, let cyber-pie, through phone lines fly, (Gayla's probably seen it in school).

Well, whaddayou guys all think? Does Hardliner's idea stink? How 'bout a fiesta? and then a siesta, to sleep off the effects of the drink!

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 08, 1998.


She's Ba-ack

Well here I am again,

I hope you're still (in)sane

Gayla's away

But we'll still play

And avoid fruitcake strain. (happens when you buy too many fruitcakes at Costco)

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), December 09, 1998.


Yes, I'm a Newbie its true

But I so much enjoy time

spent with you

I ask silly questions

'Cuz my mind is dishtreshion

Its only fatiqued

and somewhat intrigued

with all this 2000 preppin.

I love the words from the wise

inspite of the trolls and their guise

I'd miss the forum, 'tis true,

If it weren't for the gang;

'old-timers' and crew

-- Christine A. Newbie (vaganti01@aol.com), December 09, 1998.


Yay! Hardliner's back!
with the same awesome knack!
"whaddayou guys all think?" you ask?
my answer is simple and fast:
great idea, pass the beer STAT!

(Hardliner, you MUST write a limerick book! For Christmas, for your kids, or grand-kids, and send me a copy! :) )

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), December 10, 1998.

I just can't let this thread die.

If you ask, I'll tell you why,

It's Gayla we miss,

I'll boo and hiss,

Until she finally stops by.

-- Tricia tHe Cnauck (jayles@telusplanet.net), December 11, 1998.


Tricia the Canuck, you're very sweet!

I'm back from Colorado & it was SO neat!

I'm glad we got to go,

We got a FOOT of snow!

My WHOLE body froze- especially my feet!

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), December 12, 1998.


Welcome back Gayla! Things are falling apart around here, grab a hammer and some spackle. You are in charge until I return.

Merry Christmas all!!! See ya on the flipside.

-- Uncle Deedah (oncebitten@twiceshy.com), December 12, 1998.


Us newbies aren't near the cycle stale;
For us, anything non-Y2K is utterly pale.
The need to talk about the coming gale --
In all its forms, possibilities, and travail
Is met with disdain, hightails and rail.

When any of the stable anchors leave
in haste + mistrust, we are bereaved.
Hardliner, Uncle, asylum oldies believed:
Please don't be peeved. We'll do our best
To learn and receive, contributing zest;
Relieve our perceptions, even with jest!

To PNG, our gratitude is true
The day you've left is one we rue.
Consolation comes in the ability to do
A backward reading, with the sober view
Of hoary old threads before the zoo.

But what is this, we see at the start?
A similarity of posting, not so apart
With multiple answers from same ppl smart
And long articles posted from the news mart
Enough truth to succor peace to our heart.

Leska

xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx

-- Leska (allaha@earthlink.net), December 12, 1998.


It's time, I think, it's long past time
to toss two cents, pitch in a dime
of suggestion 'bout life
for posters in strife
instead of kvetching, make rhymes

about how folks get it and don't,
or simply ignore it and won't
just flat understand
when we kiddies hold hands
as we ponder our sinking Earthboat.

There's something once learned long ago
'fore the start of the Wide Web Window.
Don't waste your time,
hers, his or mine.
"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em," it goes.

If you must leave for elsewhere, that's fine.
Just go, and stop bitching each time.
We'd rather you stay,
but if you go away,
Hush up, or just tell us in rhyme.

'Cos ya know, there's a quirky thing,
your waving your arms like wings,
and screamin' 'bout leavin'
is JUST like our meetin',
and chatting at Yourdon's,...a human thing

So, I'll say one last time, just relax
Quit chopping with words like an axe.
'Tis part of the journey
of Y2K Weary.
Write rhymes. Just the facts, Gang, the facts.

**********

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), December 13, 1998.
Welcome back Donna and Gayla,

So long, Uncle, we'll see ya in a bit, We'll miss your wit,

There's no one else quite like ya.

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), December 14, 1998.


I seem to remember,
dear Mr. Hardliner,
t'was you who said,
in this same thread,
"how 'bout a fiesta, dweller?"

Well, here we are dear,
in our hands holding beer,
waiting for a cue,
anything from you!
Why aren't you here?

The zoo's growing big,
but I think you can dig,
the Asylum's a place,
we consider safe,
from the troll and the pig.



-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), December 14, 1998.

Uncle Deedah, please don't despair.

Most of us here really do care!

We wouldn't be caught dead,

Telling trolls about THIS thread.

It's one place we don't want to share.

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), December 15, 1998.


Come all you posters please take heed

I'm still composing my opus "stampede"

bet you'd forgotten all about that tome

too busy occupied in your own home

trouble I'm affected by the dreaded writers block

Fear I'll be the subject of De Yourdon's mock

'specially as I've bought a bright new shiny wok

-- Richard Dale (rdale@figroup.co.uk), December 15, 1998.


Chris, because you asked, I, myself have tasked, to write a rhyme, at Christmas time, of values better not masked.

Everyone's hot about Trolls, and National political Polls, "The Season's Best!" Give it a Rest! Get crackin' on survival goals.

The clock has not stopped yet, widespread awareness will get, more folks to thinkin', 'bout a ship that's sinkin' and, "What to do?", I'll bet.

Stop and breathe in some air, look at those folks over there, they don't have a clue, they're really brand new, and what if their cupboard is bare?

To survive by yourself would be sad, for your emotional health, very bad, you and your mate, must lose all hate, open your hearts and act truly "Mad".

We must look after each other, and call each man our brother. Take care of the old, we must act very bold, and actually love one another.

A radical idea, it's true, but one I suggest we persue, for if we don't, we surely won't, have anything left to view.

Fishes and loaves will feed, large multitudes without greed, lose a pound or two, it will not hurt you, belief is the strength of the deed.

Try not to come down with the hives, 'cause we're all going into new lives, but on this ride, who's at your side, will be more important than knives.

Pull a rabbit out of a hat, Mankind would have to do that, in order to miss, the coming abyss, and chances of that aren't fat.

To survive your best chance is if, when the herd comes to the cliff, you're far to the rear, you won't even hear, the cries of the mentally stiff.

It's larger than any do think, humanity's reaching the brink, of sustainable culture, we'll soon see the vulture, and civilization's blood he'll drink.

The paradigm will shift, there'll be no perceptible drift, in a way quite perverse, much will reverse, in what'll come to be seen as a Gift.

Some may go mad as a hatter, and simply continue to natter, but it's coming, you'll see, to you and to me, and in the end it simply won't matter.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), December 15, 1998.


I fool around it's true, not 'cause I have no clue, so I act immature, but it is my cure, lest I cry 'till I'm blue.

Your words of wisdom, I drink as they come, like Deedah's beer, but more than a cheer, sane spot in a mealstrom.

The end does matter, I'm no mad hatter, I WILL prepare, as much as I dare, more more and better!

For what is the use, to think and to muse, if not for a will, to live and still, be here and take the abuse?

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), December 16, 1998.


I really don't want to "play" anymore,

So I'll say goodbye, and walk out the door.

It was fun for a while,

Lots of you made me smile.

But, a forum full of trolls is a bore!

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), December 18, 1998.


Gayla, what the heck are you saying?!
Drolls, Trolls, Brains, all are in need of learning!
You're running for the hills too soon,
those aren't dangerous, they're simply buffoons.
Won't you reconsider by staying?


-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), December 18, 1998.

I'm hanging with swimmers in Existential Soup,
a thoughtful, ironic and very mirthful group.
We're pondering the Mind,
and Absurdity's rhyme,
our Y2K-Philosophy-TEOTWAWKI Troupe.

Our minstral song's sounding loud and so clear
about why we exist, and just why we're here.
Y2K is backdrop
for Humankind's flop;
fertile ground for veggies and philosopher's ears.

*****

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), December 18, 1998.

It's struggle just to log on anymore
Boredom? Or my fear of being a bore?
Or maybe, it's just Yuletide,
causing my Time Slide.
At least The Limerick Buddies I adore;

but, my Waker's Phase is in a different place.
No need in my mind - the Y2K mad race.
Just want to live and breathe,
intrigues, contentions leave,
with my different drummer keep a separate pace.

PEACE

****************

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), December 23, 1998.

Closing tag.

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), December 23, 1998.

Hi Donna -

I wanna

Merry Christmas cheer

To all us here.

-- Robert A. Cook, P.E. (Kennesaw GA) (cook.r@csaatl.com), December 23, 1998.


I'm now raising a full cup of Yule cheer
to my friends gathered round in this Here.
In our lives we harm none
as we work and have fun.
Join me friends! Let us ring out the year!!!!

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), December 23, 1998.

Gayla, Uncle, Hardliner too,

Hope you are happy, we miss you;

If there are others I haven't mentioned,

Be sure that I am well intentioned -

May your Christmas dreams come true!

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), December 25, 1998.


It's clear that you're all NUTS but impressive you have the GUTS to demonstrate so PUBLICLY your certifiable INSANITY but even if your minds are long, long GONE Give me some of whatever it is you are ON!!!

-- Whitney (y2kwhit@aol.com), December 25, 1998.

Tis Christmas day in Cali-for-ni-ay,

Sun shining bright as a day in May,

Delicious scents wafting through the room,

Lovingly disperse all thoughts of gloom,

May Joy, Peace, and Hope be your gifts today.

(And in the interesting times to come).

Diane

-- Diane J. Squire (sacredspaces@yahoo.com), December 25, 1998.


Twas the night before New years, and all thru the state every creature was shaking, wondering what is their fate?

Will it be the end of the world, or a bump in the road, for 18 long months, we've carried this load.

We've begged and pleaded, for people to see storing food would be good so ready you will be.

With a few hours left, and the stores empty of food, we enter the new year, In a very anxious mood.

-- Moore Dinty moore (not@thistime.com), December 25, 1998.


Looking over the edges of madness.
Unable, at last, to stay in the sadness,
and absurdity of life,
the ignorance and strife;
I observe my other self,...Oh, yes!

When life without Y2K is rocky,
as life always is (per philosopher-jockeys),
with Hamlet I ask thee
Is it: we'll be or not be?
Makes the Y2K question less shocky.

So, I laugh at all of the trivia,
and sigh at the human minutiae.
I keep loving my Lovelies,
keep storing necessities,...
write of nonesuch, & drink life's ambrosia.

**********

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), December 28, 1998.

Calling on insight, an ocean of wisdom,
Seeker walks in All Time, & finds peoples' ransom.
Dragon stands at her side,
matches crises fierce tides.
She discovers her love's and reasons' home.

Beyond Two Thousand her garden she tends.
Sufficiency teaches, and comfort she lends.
In All Times' vision
she has this one mission:
to show all that the Means are the Ends.

There are poems in pots, and some basil growing,
as she meets with her neighbors, crises are showing.
Koi swim in the pond.
Existence beyond
lies in broad contemplation & firm inner knowing

of one's own Center, and of finer perception.
Seas of frightened faces go without mention.
Y2K or not
will humans be taught,
"Look ahead, fin'lly learn?" Remains the question.

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), December 28, 1998.

Find time to prepare, where oh where When current problems their heads do rear And denial-heads cover themselves with sand When y2k hits who knows where we'll land A little levity now helps allay our fear.

Buckets for grain and buckets for beans Long johns for the bod and where's my jeans Solar panels and batteries, chlorine and H20 Bug out or stay, first this then that way I go A grinder, a lamp, oh how shall we clean?

-- Virlie (MstMtnRain@aol.com), December 31, 1998.


She opens the door and pokes her head in.

The trolls are gone? That makes her grin.

She wonders if she can come back to play,

The others tell her that it's OK.

She's really glad, 'cuz' she missed her friends.

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), January 14, 1999.


Gayla I'm glad you're back!
I missed you, and I envy your knack,
people just poke fun at me,
english faux-pas make me sound silly,
I wish EG and Andy cut me some slack!


-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), January 14, 1999.

Chris, don't give it a thought, 'cause character can't be bought; from a soul such as yours, sincerity pours, a quality avidly sought.

The values to us that you bring, make some of us just want to sing, in English or French, you're a delicious wench, fit to walk at the side of a King.

Your words do not often lack, you simply need no slack, they stand alone, as ideas are sown, regardless of scorn or attack.

Surely Andy means you no ill, besides, he lives by Nob Hill, from so far away, you can hear him but, Hey! words can't be solid; just shrill.

Now, "EG" is a puzzle to me, I've looked far and wide but can't see, anyone with that name, or even one of the same, but in case you mean just "E.",

E. Coli's a bug that's neat, helps digest the things that we eat, but many in here, just simply don't hear, they're afraid when he's out in the street.

Sometimes E. gives us gas, as we painfully try to pass, things that are tough, or just scary stuff, but he's really on our side, Lass.

So hold that fine head high, continue to let your words fly, most find their mark, in this cyber dark, and are valued and good to the eye.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), January 15, 1999.


Thank you, O Mind Solid,
To light my way among the sordid.
To give me strength,
as I search at length,
Truth, in this world fluid.

Words have so much power;
confidence sometimes cower.
But a few kind words rhyming,
is like a rope one is throwing,
to someone struggling to climb a tower.

E. is all that you've said I agree,
but I was talking of EG,
who's name is Elbow Grease,
a fine man if you please,
who sometimes confounds me.

Andy is really a kindred spirit;
with him I laugh more than I grit.
My weak points he knows,
and so it goes,
that he takes advantage of it.


-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), January 15, 1999.

body shifting
thoughts drifting
a part
of a new beginning

-- Critt Jarvis (Wilmington, NC) (critt@critt.com), January 16, 1999.

I'm feeling quite the pinch

Of time, it gives no inch,

Y2K comes fast

'99 soon past,

But my preps are just no "cinch"!

-- Tricia the Canuck (jaylse@telusplanet.net), January 17, 1999.


Refrigerator Magnet Poem Stream, Sans Rhyme

They rock my winter road
asking of me
ugly chants.
The sun will wax hot
and still
some want what I cry
shadow & summer
storm & symphony

Moment

Eternity.

Delirious, I tell them
Please stop!
Let me dream easy
one sweet time.

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), January 18, 1999.

Optimism Defined

It's been such a nasty toss-up,
to post at Yourdon's or just give up,
hunker down, leave friends
with the dross in the end.
Giving one last effort with hopes up.

**********

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), January 18, 1999.

Just lately I've been spending time
in writing poems devoid of rhyme.
Life takes its twists and turns;
we struggle and we learn
...and write true 'til we, at last, adjourn.

In Y2K its the same,
the rhyming and non-rhyming game.
You play it by ear,
practice now and here.
Improvise, my Friends, sing your name!

**********

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), January 18, 1999.

Donna of the Sheet, your return is incredibly sweet, your absence here, caused Deedah's beer, to drop in price on the street!

Your musical soul is needed, on our forum which has been seeded, by high flying jets, that have caused some bets, despite warnings which haven't been heeded.

Y2K is closer than ever, and Trolls have threatened to sever, the bonds of good will, with filth and swill, we need you to work the lever!

Don't leave us alone again! We promise to forego the sin, of being so rash, as to speak only of cash, but please forgive us the din.

The number of posts is huge, it's turned into a great big kludge, besides all the lurkers, we've acquired some chain jerkers, most notably, "Adam", the stooge!

But still we struggle to move, in a direction we hope that will prove, to leave us all ready, and morally steady, and one which Ed'll approve.

Robert and Chuck keep us straight, E. Coli and Chris put out bait, Gayla's come home, no longer to roam, and trolls we try not to hate.

Arnie and Arlin are ready, We still have no one named Teddy, with Tricia's geese, there has been peace, and Kevin and Leska are steady.

Bill's still workin' the clues, we wish we wore Deano's shoes, 'cause his code's all done, Wow! That must be fun! And Jack Sprat's still turnin' the screws.

S.O.B. and Diane are a pair, who no one would simply dare, to give any guff, they're both pretty tough, and taught us what we all could share.

There's other folks old and new, in our cybernetic zoo, I'd leave out not any, but there's just too many, to name every one of this crew.

We're glad you're back for sure, we know that your heart is pure, you've had your rest, now we ask of your best, and forget about being demure!

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), January 19, 1999.


The Asylum now must come back.
I log on and feel its sad lack.
Come rhymers, all gather,
and craft your poems, rather
pithy and poignant. Please come back!

Its Y2K we immortalize
in verse nonsensical and wise.
We do not bicker,
but write the primer;
we chronicle laughs and wailing cries.

So join us, add here your Life Spice,
A recipe, one not for rice.
Stay sane, clear your mind,
sing to humankind.
A true and worthy sacrifice.



-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), February 13, 1999.

There once was a rhymer
who's name was Hardliner
his talent with limericks
made magician's tricks
look like idiot fodder.

FRL thread dweller were many
who yearned for his company,
but the rhymer remained aloof
clinging to the Asylum as proof
to the chagrin of everybody!

Uncle Deedah brought along his beer
Donna is back and full of cheer
sure, we're still missing E. Coli,
but lurkers stop in on the fly,
so what's keeping you, dear?

-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), February 13, 1999.

Chris, you've made an assumption; the problem's not Fruitcake consumption, "remaining aloof", from all the spoof, is simply a bad presumption.

The Fruitcake League is a party, the laughter is genuine and hearty, the mirth and the cheer, rival Deedah's beer, and makes people act giggly and smarty.

I honestly don't have the heart, in the silliness to take a part, you're all such good folk, and I never would poke, something sharp at your Fruitcake tart.

All work and no play, is a very poor way, to deal with one's head, unless one is dead, and I'm not, I truly must say,

But to cast into a room, of partyers, just gloom; to be worse than rude, to spread doombrood; to adopt the Manners of Doom;

Would be a cold thing to do, to those so few; my cyber friends, who see the trends, and also inhabit this zoo.

The Nation I love is gone, before me comes a dawn. What brings Y2K? None yet can say, and despite my skills, I'm a pawn.

A Catholic may look to his church, it will surely survive the lurch, but technology's death? A new life's first breath? to know needs an omnipotent perch.

My Corps will most likely die, no more will they roam in the sky, nor sail the sea, it will not be, and that is surely why,

My despair is cold and black, and the requisite humor I lack, to gaily canter, 'midst Fruitcake banter, as it all continues to crack.

I have hope for the hairless ape, but only if he learns to shape, his greed so foul, with a mental trowel, into love, his only escape.

My fears for our future are deep, and from the FRL, I simply would keep, the angst and woe, that envelopes me so, and bar you all from sorrowful reap.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), February 14, 1999.


But, Hardliner, you must understand,

WHATEVER befalls our dear land,

If you stop laughing now,

To the fear you will bow...

And life ebbs like hourglass sand.

-- Gayla Dunbar (privacy@please.com), February 14, 1999.


Gayla, Fear is my old, old Slave, through Life we journey, together we're Brave; 'tho the Sands do not stop, 'til the last grain does drop, and we achieve the peace of the grave,

My laughter has long since fled, with the lives of comrades quite dead, any glee is vicarious, their memory victorious, as the pages of The Book are read.

My Faith is all sustaining, despite lost mirth, no complaining, Death is not the end, It's simply to send, to Eternity, what the body's containing.

My love of America's strong, I've flown and carried it along, I'll carry it ashore, 'tho She be no more, She's my country, right or wrong.

The World As We Know It, will end, and the message to Mankind 'twill send, if the change be quite small, or a terrible squall, is an old one: Adapt or die, friend!

The Hardliner's part is remote, he's just an old Jarhead goat, the Song will be sung, by those who are young, but still, I'll not miss the boat!

My life has Sand in it yet, (Sand's a lot of what Jarheads get), my race not yet run, perhaps only begun, Y2K's not the end; just a bet.

Care not, gentle Friend for my sake, what Life offers, one must partake, for moments are grains, like silent trains, that flow as the Past, they make.

-- Hardliner (searcher@internet.com), February 14, 1999.


Laughter a healthy mind makes
worry and sorrow the same it brakes
so replenish your strength
to keep reading at length
for your very life is at stakes.

It's the first I hear
of your abysmal fear
for the Corps' fate
I don't know what to make
can you be more clear?

I have 10 months remaining
I am not one for praying
I feel the same despair
flooding emotions hit in pair
but resigned to stay among the living.

Goofy benter with the FRL
is a way to bond and works well
to smooth out animosity
to build a sense of community
when burned out from flamings from hell.

So Hardliner don't let yourself go
fight off the grips of woe
allow your mind some Yin and Yang
laughter to conteract despair's fang
Nurse and many people need you so!


-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), February 14, 1999.

Hardliner, I very much fear,

That it's at my bequest, my dear,

We ask you to come,

Contribute your rum

And help us drink Deedah's beer.

You see, Hardliner, I've missed

Your rhyming, It adds quite a twist

You need not be happy

Or even much yappy

To join us, but we won't insist.

A thanks, I give now to Donna,

Sheets flapping amonst the fauna,

She brought back this thread,

It's no longer dead,

Enjoy it, I know that I'm gonna!

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), February 14, 1999.


Angst:

Usually I lie down to sleep, The Sandman comes quick a-creep, Tonight, however, My oh-so clever Mind will only leap.

From subject to subject, And project to project, It jumps and then, Goes on again, 'Til from my bed I eject.

So where has all my training gone? "Breathe deep and let your stress move on..." It used to work, But now a quirk Of mind will not be done.

Dear Richard, please forgive me, You asked from insomnia to be free, I answered fast, But here at last, Too soon it will be 3!

So I came by here to say 'hi', Because I can't go out to buy, For Y2K; I'll be ok, As long as stores don't run dry.

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), February 16, 1999.


"blah blah blah" y'all say
yah, that's all it is this Y2K.
But I've learned and I know
it's too late, and so,
I'm tired of arguing, all day.

Now I need to find a way,
my mind to ease of this weight.
A keyboard is just not enough,
noone around me - and it's tough -
who knows the meaning of Y2K.



-- Chris (catsy@pond.com), March 05, 1999.

I'm weary and tired of arguing too,
There's nonsense and BS I won't sign on-to.
Plant a garden instead;
fix wrong inside your head And accept all that you cannot do.

-- Donna Barthuley (moment@pacbell.net), March 05, 1999.

It's music to my ears,

The poetry that here appears,

I take delight,

It sounds just right,

And soothes my dreadful fears.

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), March 08, 1999.


Buying kibble in a number 10 can,

writing verse-- what a weird lot you all make!

And here I's am, adding a verse or two

or-three-four... Is there end to da madness?

So what's this 14 days of preps and Stan

trying verse-- will nothing surprise you now?

Aristotle, Aquinas, and virtue

is-one-thing, but sonnets are another.

Dante's Inferno, now Tom's take. O Man!

plying verse... with nightmares is daunting work,

and the rhyme, rhythm has got to be blue

as-bourbon... street on a hot summer night.

Maybe baby. I's does writes it right, ma'am.

but the herse... horse-drawn (of course) ain't for me.

And the oil, you virgins, smokes in the flue

of-my-lamp. so I's... keep on keeping on.

-- Stan Faryna (faryna@groupmail.com), September 26, 1999.


There it is in plain sight for all to see
the chronicle of how it was meant to be.
Was it here in this Asylum found
that chance meetings grew in bond?
Looking back it's almost scary.

This Asylum wasn't for naught
just look at what it brought.
Minds find one another
in this reality yonder
who otherwise could not.


-- Chris (#$%^&@pond.com), September 26, 1999.

Come one, come all, and don't be afeared!
Portended dates are ever near.
Observe Ye 'the bug'. Seek Center, give hugs. Prepare and write rhymes future-geared.

Sadness and peace, I follow along,
Trudge foot upon foot, and sing the One Song;
That is, Uni-verse,
The good and the worse.
"It is what it is," sounds the gong.

Like or not we're all here,...come inside!
Take the challenge. There's no place to hide.
Shake off the sedation,
And join the creation.
The Merry-Go-Coaster Life Ride.

--She in the sheet, clutching her 'E Ticket'


-- Donna (moment@pacbell.net), September 26, 1999.

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