Parasite

I promise I'm no longer bitter, but I wanted to share something written when I was (perhaps it's obvious?)

How dare you call yourself human?
You are a parasite.
You live and feed off your victims, contributing nothing in return.
You are a bottom feeder.
You lurk in the depths of hell and feed off the hopes, dreams and naiveté of the innocent and the sinless.
You continue to pick at the bones when the flesh is long gone then run off with the carcass so there is nothing left to bury.
You've fooled many.
I among them.
You morph effortlessly so no one catches on.
But when you've made your final transition, it's far too late to avoid the inevitable death of another soul.

 

© Susan Barton

The Me Without the You

 

You told me that you loved me

Now I know you lied

Did you  really think I’d wither?

Curl up? Wish I’d died?

 

How sad to be so broken

To lie to one so true

You have no clue what love is

Deception’s what you do

 

I won’t spend time obsessing

the you without the me

Your web of lies aren't binding

I’m glad to be set free

 

One day you’ll fall in love with

someone you’ll think is real

But she won’t love you back

Won’t share the way you feel

 

You’ll be the one that’s lied to

You'll know how much it stings

But I'll be on to other,

Bigger, better things

 

 

© Susan Barton



A Mother's Dream

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I dreamed you were a boy again

I held you close and tight

You clung to me like long ago

Eyes innocent and bright

 

Then toddling not too far ahead

I watched your every stride

Giggles drifted through the air

My heart so full of pride

 

But then the dream was over

Reality once more

The man who stands before me

Is marching off to war

 

Against my better judgment

I’m sad this choice you’ve made

I pray the Lord protects you

May angels come to your aid

 

So now I must let go and

I’ll trust you’ll be alright

I’ll close my eyes and hope that

I dream that dream tonight

 

 

                                                                                                      

 

 

                                                © Susan Barton

Murder or Suicide?

You may be surprised to know

that when you sleep

I press my head to your chest

To be assured you have a heart

 

How can you say you love me,                                

but hurt me to my core?

True, your blows are invisible

My spirit is what’s black and blue

 

I blame myself

I consented to this crime called murder 

And I’ve given you permission                                      

To prolong my death

 

The time has come

To save myself

And walk away

From my own suicide

 

©  Susan Barton 2013

Copper Kettles and Conversation

 

Fingers bent, misshapen, sore

She drinks her tea, stares at the floor

 

Thoughts wandering, she brings to mind

of happy days she left behind

 

Of friends and family who have past

All the memories she’s amassed

 

Days go by without a soul

She knows how old age takes its toll

 

A long, sad sigh escapes her lips

How she yearns for new friendships

 

For copper kettles and conversations would she give

the last few days she’s got to live

 

 

© Susan Barton 2013

 

 



Belladonna

 

 

If I had some belladonna

I’d put some in your soup

Not a lot, only a little

Just to make you sick

Sick enough to need me

And I would nurse you well

If I gave you belladonna

I could climb out of this hell

 

© Susan Barton 2013



Regrets

Last night he looked beautiful

 

Laying in the moonlight

Today he looks ugly

I let my lust get the best of me

The jello shots didn’t help either

I can’t wait to get rid of him

But he looks like he’s

made himself comfortable

Remote gripped in his hand

Feet propped up on my coffee table

I didn’t realize how big

his nose was

Damned bar lighting!

 

Last night she looked so sexy

Sprawled across the bed

But she’s not so hot in the daytime

Her boobs are kinda small

And she’s got some cottage cheese fat

On her chubby butt

That’s the last time I get wasted

And go home with some random chick

At least she has a big screen TV

I can still catch the game

 

 

© Susan Barton 2013

Women Rise Up

Okay sister, listen up.

I’ll only say this once.

If every woman were to lay down

and give up

where would we be?

No right to vote.

No right to choose.

No rights at all.

I know your life’s been harsh.

You’ve been beat down.

I’ve been there too.

Rise up and be angry.

Challenge every unkind word,

slap and blow suffered at the hands of man.

For every unjust act.

React.

Fight back.

Put down the diet pills, padded bras,

wrinkle creams,

and be you.

Not some distorted view

of someone who

has no clue

of what you’ve been through.

Challenge your mothers, sisters,

and most importantly your daughters

to stand up and be heard.

If not for you, then for them.

So that someday things might be better,

easier, safer, unbiased

and equal.

 

 

© Susan Barton 2013

 



Instead of Obsessing I Could Change the World

 

I’ve decided that

 

If I channeled my obsession for you

into a worthy cause

I could move mountains.

 

Instead of planning revenge

I could feed the homeless.

Two hang ups a night instead of twelve?

I’d have time to read to the blind

 

Sitting in my car,

outside your house for hours

could be spent

handing out condoms at school.

 

Going to court for violating

restraining orders

takes more time than

ringing the Salvation Army bell.

 

I could dish out a lot of soup

at the soup kitchen

if I stopped cyber stalking your girlfriend

and emailing your mom.

 

Yes, I could make a difference in this world

if I could get you out of my head

out of my heart

and out of my blood.


© Susan Barton 2013

 

 

Loving Someone Who Used to Love You

 

If we could trade places

for just one day, one hour, one minute,

my pain, I’d gladly give you.

The hollow void you left behind

would  then be achingly suffered

by you night and day.

My life would be as peaceful

as the expression on your face

when last we spoke.

How true, what they say,

the saddest thing is to love someone

who used to love you.

 

©  Susan Barton 2013