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Best Poems Written by Lisa Barton

Below are the all-time best Lisa Barton poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Cupcake

a crinoline dress crumpled by the bed;
the prom queens on her back -
a cupcake stripped of its frilled paper.

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Your Lies, My Truth.

you tell me i am precious to you.
i am not your currency.
you tell me the circumstances are beyond our control.
but i control everything,
every breath,
every word that leaks from my mouth.
you made me this way,
shaped me from wax,
using knives and tears to make scars in my form.
you tell me you have loved me,
forever,
and until your dying day.
these words slither from your tongue.
you could never have loved me,
its not something thats easy to do.
you dont care what path my life takes,
you dont know what i have been forced into.
you dont want love,
you want control.
you don't want a daughter,
you want a follower.
i have accepted that i have no mother,
that i was created by life's sick fantasy.
i wanted to love you,
when there was still a chance.
so don't lie to me anymore,
don't tell me that it doesnt have to be this way.
it does.
dont thank god for me.
there is no god.
and i am just a curse,
because i hurt you.
you preach that you have room for me in your heart, that you think of me everyday.
and i think of you,
in the morning when i wake,
and in the night when i rest my head.
nothing can ever be easy,
or understandable.
in my heart, there are only cracks
and cobwebs where you might have been before.
it throbs and convulses, refusing love.
i couldnt love anyone,
not if i tried.
not if i wanted.

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Princess of Suburbia.

cupcake.
dollface.
blue eyed beauty.
cookie cutter girl,
princess of suburbia.
she's sick,
because she likes it.
blood confetti on her notebooks,
the twinkle in her eye.
staining words on twisted minds.
her followers.
they want to taste the berries on her lips,
feeling the metallic taste in her mouth.
they love the broken things,
mangled shoelaces,
hearts torn apart.
they look up to her.
she used to play with barbie dolls.
turning them into baby prostitutes,
coke heads,
models who rose above.
she used to sing to herself in the basement,
or where ever there was running water.
math makes her brain itch.
wal-mart makes her claustraphobic.
so lets break out,
she thinks,
slipping valium into her teddy bears head.
no need to hide from the monsters of her mind.
theyve already gotten to her.

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Maybe He Is

appear in the sky,
to haunt like the night
burning stars peering down
to where your hair curls,
pretending to be a crown.
because you tell yourself,
you are a princess,
and you tell yourself,
he's here to save you.
and maybe he is
with white roses behind his back
his agenda burned in the ashes
maybe.

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I Let You Down

It won't be long, for the sadness to set in your eyes. I don’t have to see tears to know 
the things I’ve compromised. It won’t take long, for you tell me what I’ve done to you. 
I wish you wouldn’t, because I already know how much I hurt you.

I let you down. I let you fall between my fingers. I let you down. I know your sadness 
lingers. If everything went my way, I wouldn’t let you fall. I let you down, so far 
down, and I know it’s all my fault.

To run away, could only hurt you more. You know I loved you, but I’m not sure you do 
anymore. I cry for the pain I’ve brought you, every night when you’re asleep. I pray for 
you to wake, and maybe hear my weeps. Maybe you can understand, it never should have 
gone this far. But since it has, there’s no going back, I’ll still wish on every star. 

I let you down. I let you fall between my fingers. I let you down. I know your sadness 
lingers. If everything went my way, I wouldn’t let you fall. I let you down, so far 
down, and I know it’s all my fault.

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Life As a Flea Market.

everything has a price.
you like that vase?
for you, $10.
the lamp over there?
you have a good eye, lets work through some numbers.
a daughters heart?
talk to her father,
he'll give you a good price
on damaged merchandise.

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Hands.

a weapon. symbol. tool. nemesis.
a thing of beauty, creation, pain.
stained with ink, or blood.
delicate. broken. rough.
ivory. pink. brown. black.
hands of carpenters,
artists,
lovers,
conspirators.
feeding lust, feeding hunger.
slipped into crisp white gloves, woolen mittens, silky stockings.
betrayal.
holding bouquets of white roses,
or silver blades.
lifting cigarettes, joints, cocktails.
pulling triggers.
painting grotesque monstosity.
soothing,
delicate,
betrayal.

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Mid-Priced Coffee, Mid-Priced Life

i doubt i could be that girl,
smiling on the cover,
with crooked teeth and khakis.
shes never tasted cum,
or smoked a joint before christmas dinner.
because her parents have money,
thats why she lies on a manicured lawn.
thats why she needs to work.
to be a pharmasist.
a teacher.
another drone in morning traffic,
sipping midpriced coffee 
and talking on a motorola.
living a mid-priced life,
i doubt i could act as well as she can.

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Come Play With Me

You can't look me in the eye
For fear of saying that you don't like me,
That you don't want to come out and play.
You know I'm just a little girl,
Who's lost her ribbons
And scraped her knees,
And who crumbles at your feet,
Who falls apart every time you leave.
You don't want to talk to me anymore
Because I slurred my speech
And ruined the cupcakes.
I ruin everything, don't I?
Maybe it's time to quit,
But I don't want to.
Come play with me, baby.
Hold my hand.
Give me a chance.

Details | Lisa Barton Poem

Papa.

one person understood me.
one person stopped the war in me.
to wipe away my tears in the night,
calling me sunshine, calling me blondie.
one person went so far away,
one person won't return.
another voice i cant ever hear,
another loss i couldnt afford.
because illness fought a better fight,
because of old age,
because of death.
thats why i cry tonight.
battered photographs,
stories my father told me,
they could never do you justice.
because i couldnt cry when i saw you for the last time,
thats why the tears fall harder now.
because im reminded of you when i think of things,
like blueberry pancakes and peppermints,
of easter egg hunts, and the best birthday cards.
i hate to think of when you last saw me,
when i was tainted, alienated.
and i wish that you could see me now,
how far i've come,
and help me go further.
because no ones on my team anymore.
because i dont think they understood you.
because they played the wrong song,
because they think that you still linger in this life.
i want go back.
i want to cry.