J C

.

I will not pretend to dislike 

This virtual reality

Having a mask that empowers

Hyperbolized honesty.  

Living a Self-Created caricature 

In a synthetically governed space

No consequence or accountability

A recipe for a Sub-Human race. 

Our minds are fully engaged

And feelings often exaggerated

Our true hearts remain hidden

Behind levels, over-rated. 

I am not content to be contained

Within the limits of this identity

"Relationships" that might exist

With conditional sincerity. 

Though it's time to go outside to play

There are some I'll miss a bunch

And if we meet in real life one day,

I'll take you out to lunch. 

With real food... 

.

Can a lie become truth

If I try to show proof

To convince that what I said is right?

When you choose what you believe

 Is it a ruse, the web I weave

 Or do the facts reveal events in plain sight?

Can I manipulate the view

Articulate and spew

To make your mind betray your heart?

Passionate and clear

I'll play upon your fear

Until your doubt simply breaks you apart.

I will tickle and tease

Your insecurities

Until you lean upon me as your friend,

And with your heart in my hand

I will tell you where you stand

My lies will be your truth in the end.

••••••••••••••

If you follow your heart in the mire

Stay true when your love's under fire

Have faith and live by the golden rule,

Learn to laugh at your mistakes

You may have what it takes

To avoid becoming April's fool. 

Back porch reflectin, written by our dear friend, Dallas:

It's a wind chime morning

with a steaming cup of tea.

Sunrise brought an West to East, heated breeze

teased Bamboo into a melody of sorts.

A test of will or just a thrill?

It entranced, caused me to want to dance.

The rocker, squeaky, older than I

added to the abstraction

in some awkward sense of harmony.

Responding I reacted, setting the cup

and rising, stretching

I reflected,

saying "Thank you."

Words written by our dear friend, Dallas-

If I had a way to say with no character limits

I could spend the day in thousands of minutes

sayin thanks to all those I know

Y'all took me in, adopted me kinda and ya help me grow.

The list of those I care for could be way long

but I have expressed it sometimes pretty strong.

So many have come to my back porch musins

so many have met my family, and endured my poetic choosins.

So in this what I'm tryin to truthfully say,

I so love ya all, look forward to seein Y'all every day.

Thanks.

Soon it's gonna be MOONday

so ya gotta do that as ya commute

on the interstate, just silly play

Oh but don't crash, OK?

TUnESday, turn yer car radio loud,

sing in a traffic jam windows down

as ya cuss the time it takes gettin to town,

but proud.

WHenDay will be before ya know

like a count down startin

avoid the tacos fer lunch

they set out too long and "stuff" really grows.

Thirstday, yeah ya probly want a hundred proof lunch

only one more day, then ya can hear

the 5 PM release, clink glasses and cheer.

Just my hunch.

FRYday, bring in yer grille

do BBQ in yer office cubicle

yeah the boss may stress

but share some, they will feel the thrill.

SATIREday, my fave will arrive

Goofin, playin, scoopin,

shufflin lazy through the day

a deep breath knowin I survived

SOMEday, more quiet by choice

big meals cooked

family falls in, It's OK

cept Bubba's boardin house reach and voice.

Hope Y'all have a strong, not weak comin week

--no need to comment, just posting for you to enjoy the read...

Written by Dallas 3 weeks ago

Fuzzy, ticklin caterpillar

does more than crawl

touched its back, it's a dance

a last chance before metamorphin

in a natural, driven call

inchin on my back porch rail

I pray it makes it's way

so I nudge it toward

the vertical post

a host, cocooned today

Soon I know, tented it will change

emerge with beautiful wings

I'll go out each day and watch

patience is what it takes

and when its beauty is released, I will sing

A Recipe For Disaster?

Just follow the recipe when you bake

Seemingly something anyone could do,

There is no magic in making a cake

Something declared universally true.

But I question that wisdom I’m given

For what you have made tastes incredible.

Though to make something sweet I am driven

My result is often inedible.

Perhaps the real truth is that I should stop

And accept that I have imperfections,

Enjoy the sweets at the bakery shop

Feasting upon the grandest confections.

Sadly, I will remain in denial

My baking will continue for a while.

.

(something silly)

Individual loops;

Stretched, then forced

Up then down,

For better, for worse

Woven together

Colors entwine

Bound as one

Of perfect design

Now having purpose

To endure scorching heat

Lasting forever

My pot holder’s complete.

.

In an effort to improve my critique flaccidity, I'm seeking advise for improvement (a Poet was offended by this critique, if there is a different critique that I've given that you'd like to critique, please feel free.)

>> Imagine in this space

>> Observations

>> That don't say much

>> Of anything

>> Written in rhyme by

>> A Human Being

It's a nice poem, some good thoughts and your rhymes are good. I think it would be better if you balanced out your meter. Given that there is no hidden meanings or serious impact, to have it read more smoothly would help.

.

There are times in rhymes 

When tension climbs

And Grammar Primes 

Nickel dime our crimes

Well I say poets 

Aren't fools who bend rules

They're jewels forming pools of thought

Are they naught?

Beckoning the 5th season...

Still buried in snow, up to our eyes

It really came as a big surplus 

this year, and with temps below zero

Since the last storm

It's been quite a challenge for us to keep wardrobes

Stocked, with dry winter clothes

How long will this last? I'm sure somebody noticed

What the forecasters said

It's gonna stay cold so go back to beckon

Mother Nature to bring

Sunshine and warm weather,

The Season of Mud. 

Does your nose take the helm

Without any warning

And interrupt your day

With incessant bullhorning

Have you ever been halted

In awe of the power

While the innocent you face

Receive a snot shower

Do you curl one finger

Under your beak

As you sneeze so demure

With a light mousy squeak

Do you mimic a train

With your choo choo choo song

Snapping your head

Like a game of ping-pong

Or do people move over

Without making a fuss

As your schnoz starts honking

Like the horn of a bus

I don't mean to sound snotty

So if it's alright

Happy sneezing to all

And to all Gesundheit 

A couple days ago, I saw a question I answered was resolved. The other answerer received BA, and I noticed they were Level 3 with 100% BA.

Curious, I checked out the other answers they gave that were chosen as best, and it led to no less than 50 accounts all linked, all created on Feb.19

20 of these accounts were level 3 with 100%BA, the other accounts only generated questions. Most of the questions posted were taken from other sites, many of them from a few years ago.

Why would someone create so many accounts and push them all to level 3? Is it possible they are just for reporting?

Are you surprised?

Do people say things

You'd never expect?

Writers you respect

That leave you perplexed?

Do you hold your breath in wait

For the answer that's just right

"Maybe if I keep it posted

Just one more day... and night" :)

Are there answers that arrive

That take your breath away

That make you stop and think

"I wish I always wrote that way"

Just curious how it is for you when you receive critique, good or bad, that you weren't expecting?

When a writer encourages another to go deeper, it is a tremendous gift. Thanks HD.

With lights off,

I would sometimes just sit 

at my piano. Rest 

my head on my arm

and softly, place my hand,

Her softness 

instantly reassures.

Press two keys.

Slowly. Three keys

And... four.

F sharp minor seven, Now

Listen

Listen, pressing the 

expression pedal;

She breathes

Sustain... 

I have called

to her, and she has

whispered back.

Romeo's question about writing a suicide note inspired this challenge. Write your own obituary assuming you live for several more undetermined number of years... (Not as much what it would say if you died soon, but what you hope to be true of you in the future)

After falling down

Do you look around

Before you check to see what's broken?

Then stand in pain, 

Composure regain

And grumble "I was only jokin' "

Have you stepped in poop

Or spilled your soup 

Down the front of your shirt or dress?

Ever mess up like a fool

And try to act cool

And be tragically lacking finesse?

Ever drive through town

Get cut-off by some clown

Who ignores that you're even there?

Do you let your rage linger

Respond with a finger

Or just give back an evil glare?

Are we getting delirious 

Taking life way too serious

Always responding with stress or rage

Perhaps laughing gas would do

For some, one dose; some two

Wars of merriment we could wage

What it would look like, I can only guess

If it was joy that we suppress

Instead of anger when we finally snap

Attacking with a smile

Giggling all the while

Experiencing laughter without holding back.

I wrote this poem as an answer to a question. My answer was deleted and I received a violation notice with a 10 point penalty. They said it did not follow the correct question/answer format. So now I'm posting it as a question, what do you think?

Won't someone please help poor old Guess Who

She most certainly in turn, will bless you

She'll come wash your car

Give 10 points and 5 stars

Just do her homework so she won't have to?

Such a sincere plea for help and assistance

How could we deny her existence?

Think of the times

You didn't read those rhymes

And chose cheating rather than persistence.

Guess who should read some poetry? Guess Who

Guess who should do her own homework? Guess Who

Guess who will get a 0 if she doesn't? Guess Who *insert pouty lip here*