Intellectual Barbie

Here I am –
make me pretty,
let me shine like city lights
and polished steel.
Make me up so I can pretend
that I am plastic
because real skin hurts too much.

Make me glitter just like you
so I too can hide
behind a painted smile;
so I can flirt as well as you can, and
spin candy-floss conversations
with any guy who looks my way.
Hell, in this dress
I could be beautiful.
Does that make me empty?

Sometimes I wonder why
the things I say don’t
resonate in your eyes;
but which of us is more discordant?
The one who plays in harmony (that’s you)
or me, who wanders aimlessly
to the beat of a different drum?

Or is it simply
that I am the assault force
to your guerrilla tactics?
Do you think subtle thoughts
behind that pretty smile
that the rest of us
can only guess at?

After all, if I can think behind this mask
of lipstick and mascara, so can you.

This is a really good poem. I can't exactly see what you are trying to convey here, but the first verse just sounds... really good. I tink maybe because "Make me pretty" is something I can relate to

I really loved this poem. I actually have found that when I have my contacts and my makeup on it seems the guys look at me different. People sometimes forget that sometimes pretty people are smart. I really liked the message of the poem. I especially liked the third stanza.

wow this poem is really good. this first stanza hooked me, and it sort of faded a bit in the middle second stanza, but came back strong and clear and held to the end from "candy-floss coversations" onward. great job. i have nothing useful, but lots of compliments. it supplies a good and very true point, too.

Awesome.Really like it!

You can make it better. I would make the barbie sound a little bit dumber. And this part of the poem doesn't seem to fit:

Does that make me empty?

Sometimes I wonder why
the things I say don’t
resonate in your eyes;
but which of us is more discordant?
The one who plays in harmony (that’s you)
or me, who wanders aimlessly
to the beat of a different drum?

Or is it simply
that I am the assault force
to your guerrilla tactics?
Do you think subtle thoughts
behind that pretty smile
that the rest of us
can only guess at?

But the first stanza and last stanza are wonderful.

hola, bubbles. my comments in green, ok?


Here I am – not sure why, but i don't like this line.. but it does go with the rest of the poem
make me pretty,
let me shine like city lights let me is different command tense than the rest.. us rather than you.. yes, spanish does come in handy sometimes.
and polished steel.
Make me up so I can pretend
that I am plastic [eh.. i don't like the way the line breaks here, or the metre.. too many syllables. maybe "I'm plastic" instead of "that I am plastic".. last line is... yes. just, yes.
because real skin hurts too much.

Make me glitter just like you
so I too can hide
behind a painted smile;
so I can flirt as well as you can, and nit-pick, take out the second "can" and possibly the comma and last "and".. read it and see how you like that, ok? just for flow, really
spin candy-floss conversations
with any guy who looks my way.
Hell, in this dress
I could be beautiful.
Does that make me empty? I like the last three lines

Sometimes I wonder why
the things I say don’t
resonate in your eyes;
but which of us is more discordant?
The one who plays in harmony (that’s you)
or me, who wanders aimlessly
to the beat of a different drum? um.. something seems off about this stanza to me. I like to be vague in random points in poetry, and this is almost too spelled out for my liking.. I'll show you what I would do so you see what I mean, but it's just what I would do, as I can't quite put my finger on what's annoying me here.

"the one who plays in harmony,
who wanders aimlessly
to the beat of a different drum"

ok, that's my two cents, and then some. but it changes the meaning, doesn't it?

Or is it simply what you you shorten this to "Or is it/that I am the asult force/to your guerilla tactics?" again, more than my two cents, i know
that I am the assault force
to your guerrilla tactics?
Do you think subtle thoughts
behind that pretty smile
that the rest of us
can only guess at? yes!

After all, if I can think behind this mask
of lipstick and mascara, so can you.

love the last stanza. love it

Okay...this may not be the greatest, but constructive critisism is very much appreciated. Thank you.

The light from the screen and the clock blinking form 1:02 to 1:03 were the only things noticeable in the dark room. The clicking of the computer’s mouse was barely audible in his mind. Click…it was gone and the terror would begin.

The middle of September, she was running home, bundled in a faux fur coat from a long day of Peterson College. Her name was Nicole and she was beautiful in every aspect of her being. She was very special, but only the one special someone could have her, Frank. Frank and her had been together for many years and loved each other more than life. His house was her home away form home.
She ran up the three, narrow steps to his door, she rang the doorbell and waited. The door clicked open and she was welcomed inside. Mrs. Johnson, Frank’s mother, ran upstairs to get Frank, came down and smiled at Nicole. She sat down to her knitting and hummed a lullaby. Nicole sat on the empty seat on the couch; away form all the homemade pillows and items of sentimental value. She didn’t want to ruin anything.
Frank came down in his pajamas and led Nicole to his room. He sat her down on his bed and turned the screen to his laptop on. He was barely able to say, “I wanted you to be here when I read this.” Nicole shook her head. He opened an email he had received earlier that day.
It read, “You hurt me, now I’ll hurt you, but my pain, is times two.” It had been from an old schoolmate of Nicole’s and Frank’s who had been killed in a mining accident a couple years before. Someone must be playing a joke on me or messing around, Frank thought silently. Nicole shuttered, murmuring, “Weird”
Later that night, as usual, Frank’s mother went to work the night shift at the super market a few miles away. Frank and Nicole watched the car pull out of the driveway and speed through the street. Frank shut down his laptop and they descended the stairs and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. Frank reached under it and snatched the key.
After getting their drinks and stumbling upstairs, liquor splashing out, they began to relax and laugh. When they got upstairs, after a seemingly endless walk, Frank took a drink, slammed his glass on the table, and dove into the bed. He laughed and threw his head back. Nicole giggled and put her drink on the table. She slowly walked over to him, and soon enough they were messing around.
An hour or so later, they heard a noise downstairs, like a door slamming. Assuming it was the alcohol, Nicole on all fours, over Frank, began kissing him, unable to hear the soft footsteps coming up the stairs. Another noise was heard, but it was closer. Oh well, they thought. Slowly and silently, the door opened and quietly closed.
Nicole looked up and before she could say a word, was stabbed in the back, pushed farther onto Frank and the blade struck them both. Before departure, the figure placed two leather gloves on, and made certain they were dead. Satisfied with no pulse, the silhouette poured the beer over the bodies and as silently as he’d come in, he slipped out. The only sounds to be heard were the stairs creaking and the wind moaning.

the poem (bubblewrap) was extremely true for me because i can sort of relate to it. i loved the wording and overall, it's pretty good in terms of subject-matter and the way you wrote it so that it sounds like a sort of rant (but that's good!). the ending in my opinion was awesome because it ends on a hard note. the rhythm might need a little work as would the adjectives used but overall, great job!

~mez~

bubblewrapped i really liked it, everybody else has said everything i picked up on so all i can say is i liked it

OK, thanks for all the help guys! Here's an edited version - Intellectual Barbie 2.0:

Here I am;
make me pretty,
make me shine like city lights
and polished steel.
Dress me up so I can pretend
that I'm plastic
because real skin hurts too much.

If I could glitter just like you,
I too could hide behind a painted smile,
flirt as well as you can, and
spin candy-floss solloloquies
with any guy who looks my way.
Hell, in this dress
I could be beautiful.
Does that make me empty?

Sometimes I wonder why
the things I say don't
resonate in your eyes;
but then, we all wear
dominoes*.
Do you think subtle thoughts
behind that pretty smile
the rest of us
can only guess at?

After all, if I can think behind this mask
of lipstick and mascara, so can you.

---

[*domino: A loose hooded cloak worn with a half mask as part of a masquerade costume]

What can i say? I like the word "guerrilla." Thats it for me.