From ltracy@earthlink.net Fri May 29 02:52:10 1998 Received: from italy.it.earthlink.net (italy-c.it.earthlink.net [204.250.46.18]) by enteract.com (8.8.8/8.8.8) with ESMTP id CAA09952 for ; Fri, 29 May 1998 02:52:09 -0500 (CDT) Received: from earthlink.net (pool005-max2.covina-ca-us.dialup.earthlink.net [207.217.135.55]) by italy.it.earthlink.net (8.8.7/8.8.5) with ESMTP id AAA20983 for ; Fri, 29 May 1998 00:52:06 -0700 (PDT) Message-ID: <356E6924.47B2F2CE@earthlink.net> Date: Fri, 29 May 1998 00:52:05 -0700 From: Lee Tracy X-Mailer: Mozilla 4.04 [en] (Win95; I) MIME-Version: 1.0 To: Marek Lugowski Subject: Re: Marek / one of -- Re: ~Undead Love Poet~ References: <01bd8854$24e59ce0$5708b4cf@default> <356A9566.1D57@erols.com> <6kiaaf$qi$1@nnrp1.dejanews.com> <356DD437.EA0C23C2@earthlink.net> <6kkne9$1nc$1@eve.enteract.com> Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Status: RO X-IMAPbase: 1513428022 0000000001 X-UID: 1 Content-Length: 5370 you are a dangerous man. i like the fingerprint relic idea, too. Marek Lugowski wrote: > one of > ------------------------------------------------------- > > not only did jesus fart but > he was snagged so > to be revered > as a relic > > an indulgence on sale > pay for sins. > > there were jesus foreskin relics > there were jesus fingerprint relics > > one of the few things about jesus > i cannot write a poem about > > Marek Lugowski > 28 May 1998 > Chicago, Illinois > > In article <356DD437.EA0C23C2@earthlink.net>, > Lee Tracy wrote: > >Not only did Jesus fart, but I think it was captured and revered as a relic at > >some time in the past. It's always fun to read about what things have been revered > >as relics. I know there were several Jesus' foreskin relics floating about, for > >example, ... it is one of the few things about Jesus that I cannot write a poem > >about. > > > >penelopes_loom@hotmail.com wrote: > > > >> In article <356A9566.1D57@erols.com>, > >> shadow42@erols.com wrote: > >> > > >> > B. Callaghan wrote: > >> > > > >> > > Undead Love Poet > >> > > > >> > > The lid of the coffin creaked reluctantly > >> > > as if loathe to unleash its inhabitant. > >> > > With great ceremony the Undead Love Poet > >> > > climbed down from her chamber and surveyed it. > >> > > > >> > > What a pretty coffin it was! White with gold > >> > > trim on the handles and lined in soft pink taffeta > >> > > with matching fluffy pillow. Her victims, > >> > > (how she hated that word) heartily approved. > >> > > > >> > > She was a bit thirsty but that could wait - > >> > > time for a poem! Her special pen served as well in > >> > > Death as it did in Life. The Undead Love Poet > >> > > wrote about her favourite victim, the one dear to her heart: > >> > > > >> > > "Let my fangs > >> > > s > >> > > i > >> > > n > >> > > k into your > >> > > neck so you may know > >> > > > >> > > my LoVe for you is > >> > > > >> > > real > >> > > > >> > > is true > >> > > > >> > > is deeper than the deepest ocean > >> > > > >> > > r > >> > > e > >> > > h > >> > > g > >> > > i > >> > > t h a n the sky > >> > > > >> > > and will last for all > >> > > > >> > > * e t e r n i t y * > >> > > > >> > > Happy Birthday Rod !!!!!" > >> > > > >> > > Yes, it was the Great Poet's birthday > >> > > and also the special anniversary > >> > > of the first time she bit him! How sweet > >> > > his blood had tasted as she drank from the > >> > > > >> > > two perfect wells bored into his manly > >> > > neck. How quickly the flow of his words > >> > > rushed through her body as she sucked out his > >> > > essence. And he could not fail to be impressed by her > >> > > > >> > > low-cut black gown, perfect for the Undead Love Poet. > >> > > "Oh Rod!" she had moaned. "You are mine now - > >> > > all mine!" She would never forget the ecstasy of that > >> > > First Night. Rod waited for her the next night in his > >> > > > >> > > bed, resplendent in designer pajamas and moon-and-stars > >> > > linen. He whispered her name as she tenderly > >> > > sunk her fangs into that magnificent large throbbing ... > >> > > No! She will not think of that last night, the last > >> > > > >> > > time she saw her beloved Rod. She will forget the look > >> > > on his face as she lapped up those final drops of blood, > >> > > his words, his life force ebbing like the tide going out to > >> > > sea. How could she have known he would expire so soon? > >> > > > >> > > She would think only happy thoughts, > >> > > tender thoughts befitting the Undead Love Poet > >> > > on this, the birthday of the World's Greatest Poet, > >> > > a lover she had known > >> > > > >> > > *in a very special way*! > >> > > > >> > > B. Callaghan > >> > > > >> > But she said, "Poetry is just a game. We toss our words like fastballs, > >> > sinkers, and curves. We're just having fun." > >> > > >> > Very well written, Bettina, but still a cruel mockery. I'm a bit > >> > surprised. > >> > > >> > Bob > >> > > >> > > >> > >> Why surprised? Her surgically precise parody cruel? One person's cruel > >> mockery is another's poem of erotic romance. There are some nice smart people > >> too. Being good doesn't preclude having a keen aesthetic sense (or defecating > >> either St. Francis passed gas and Jesus farted. Big deal.) > >> > >> Careful what you say to Bettina. She's the closest we've got to a Madonna. Not > >> much is sacrosanct here but her. > >> > >> Joy whose proud not to be a clever boy > >> > >> -----== Posted via Deja News, The Leader in Internet Discussion ==----- > >> http://www.dejanews.com/ Now offering spam-free web-based newsreading > > > > > > > > -- > magical mystery tour summer 1997 - http://www.enteract.com/~marek > clickable geo-map - 12 areas + loop - last add - kristie's postcard > - HalinaFAQ: Halina Pos'wiatowska Translation Project > - ongoing Tu-We-Th 7to9pm free poetry noMike: Chicago