The Battlefield of Survival
There is nothing that brings out our fragility
to surface like surgery, dreams one has of
success is laid bare under the well-lit light
of an operating table
First time I had one of those growths removed
was seventy-five years ago by our doctor
wearing a three-piece suit with a blue tie
My memory of him is that of a man who
had a cigarette in one hand and a scalpel
on the other hand, during the proceedings
he spoke to my mother about the weather
That was inclement, and the Labor Party
He and my mother were communists
For a long time, I had to take blood tests
which I didn't mind, his waiting room was
full of magazines and newspapers
There is nothing to read in waiting rooms
anymore, apparently, it is unhygienic
Not that it mattered, one has phones
The surgeon and his assistant spoke
pleasantly to each other about their work
at hand, I just happen to be there
After the operation, I was led into a room
to rest and dress, no, there was no kind
nurse serving tea
Rain falls wet upon my body,
I lay half-dormant in the gutter of my mind.
Unable to move, it worsens
Striking cold and hard.
Then brightness sifts through parting clouds,
And the sky begins to glow.
I rise, stretch and go my way
As your warmth dries my weary soul.
A BUSY DAY IN NATURE
Spiders building webs…
Maggots metamorphosing…
Free flies flip flopping…
Always remember to pack the essentials,
Bat, Bottle, Bag, Boots,
Cut down anyone who tries to get in the way,
Don't look them in the eye, it only makes it harder,
Enemy, everyone is the enemy, yes, even them,
Find what you can, anything, you'll need it later,
Get up, you don't have time to rest, not yet,
How have you survived this long?
Imagine a better world, running water, safety,
Jokes are the only thing keeping you going,
Kill or be killed, even when its all over,
Like an animal, lose yourself in the fray,
Most of them aren't even people anymore,
Notice how they don't look you in the eye,
Only you are left, Only you can rescue them,
Persevere, soon it'll all be back to normal.
Quick, you have to run, to escape,
Run, run, doesn't matter to where or why,
Stop and you are dead, run, run,
Today is the day, its all over, you can't escape-
Unless you remember the ABCs,
Very good, recall everything I've taught you,
When the end finally comes and its all over,
Xenial little thing you are, listening to me.
You will be safe from the onslaught,
Zealot of the new world order.
Killick Poetry Contest // Sponsored by: Craig Cornish
( 7th Place )
Written: August 26, 2025
I never chose the burden
but life pressed stone and rope into my hands.
I lowered it into the unsettled sea,
and waited for balance to return.
The sea murmurs of leaving,
of slipping past every safe haven,
yet I stay, steady on hidden weight
gripped by the understated endurance.
Some may laugh at its rawness,
a patchwork anchor of scraps and stone
but I trust its unshaken clutch.
It does not shine,
it does not speak
yet it keeps me from dissolving.
The killick teaches me this:
strength is not perfection...
it is simply staying when all else pulls away.
The bark peels back like old skin—
Mine, yours, the cinnamon scrolls
Of what we shed to live. August
Bleaches the world to bone, the bark’s faint spice
Rising in the noon glare,
Heat tasting of salt and sand. And still this Crape crowns
Itself with Myrtle fire. Still—
I cannot explain what breaks in me. Still I press my cheek
Against its flaking flesh, feel
The pulse beneath—magenta,
White, pink, the deep red
Of what I've never
Bled for anyone.
Each blossom a small fist
Opening with the muted pop
Of summer rain on dry earth. Each petal, tissue-thin
As the lies I've told myself
About enduring. The Eastern Shore sun
Has made this tree what survival
Looks like: stubborn—
Beautiful, built for the burning
Seasons that strip us
To what we are. Winter comes,
And I am learning
How to be naked—
These mottled limbs
My teachers, conductors' hands
Mid-gesture, never finished
With their fierce music
Of staying alive. Of reaching
Up through the killing
Cold, brittle air ringing
With the clink of frozen twigs toward something
Green promises I cannot fathom—yet still I know
Lives in the light returning.
I have seen the ones who climb from the wreck,
hair smelling of gasoline and rain,
eyes wide as if they’ve just been born.
I have seen the others,
still in the wreckage,
leaning back against a seatbelt’s cradle,
breathing as if it costs too much to keep going.
Some Will Rise to the Challenge, Others Will Not.
Second chances are not handed out
like paper cups of water at a race.
You have to bleed for them,
take them in your teeth,
tear the flesh from the bone of your moment.
Some rise, stunned, their knees shaking,
their grief like a warm animal under the arm.
They run toward the light,
even if it’s only the dim lamp
of a stranger’s porch.
Others turn inward,
folding their pain like laundry,
sliding it back into the drawer.
The difference is not will—
sometimes it is only breath,
or the lack of it.
I walked away not free from snags
caused by those in authority,
but to be free from cruelty
to save my spirit against evilness
And injustice in power's grip
Tied up by abusive six sprawling
division in command,
footsteps no trace, only an echo
weeping soul in the dusk!
Harsh words
dug deeper into my soul—
sickening insults
to my inner self—
a burden carried
within the shadowed kingdom.
So I just walked away,
to protect what is left in me:
my spirit,
which no man can ban
from entering
the paradise of sovereignty.
Walked away for peace!
there is ugliness in this world
where there is no need for it
why do we tolerate indifference
injustice, brutality and greed
when there's plenty to go around
it's a game of checkers for the have's
and mere survival for the have-not's
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
The devil couldn’t reach me,
so he sent diversions in the form I desired most.
He wrapped lies in laughter,
gave them cute faces,
glittered them up like gold.
And I forgot, sometimes a wound wears jewels,
sometimes danger looks like everything you ever prayed for.
So I fell for it.
I wasn’t the sun in their day, nor the star in their night.
Even the moon could’ve shone better than me
but I wasn’t that either.
Is it any wonder
that the mark once adorned in gems
started bleeding on the one who never cut it?
And guess who walked away with the scar?
But what if scars aren’t shame
but signs?
Badges of strength,
proof that I broke, bled, and still rose.
I couldn’t dodge the pain,
but I gained the wisdom.
And if he couldn’t stop me from reaching everything except him,
then truly,he is powerless.
Now I know where I belong
with the One who loved me
when I couldn’t love myself.
I may stumble, fear, fall, stutter, break
but I now know whose I am.
And from this day forward,
I shall happen to life
not the other way around.
Life is short they say
So you better make the most of it
But what happens When that's not the case for everyone
Where there are some
Who are constantly changing freedom
Whilst simultaneously hiding in the shadows
Hoping to see tomorrow
So how can one live life to the fullest
When the odds are stacked against you
But when you're black this is your reality
A life controlled by anxiety
Where our life is a puppet
The strings are the shackles
The puppet master is a system
Where the audience are the racists
And their laughs translate to racism
Life is short but we have to spend it trying to survive
Constantly trying to hide
As if we were on the run from a crime
The crime at hand being black
As if our existence to them was an attack
So yes life is short, but for us It's even shorter
Where we are hunted for fun
And our main focus is survival
So I'll say it again
Yes life is short, but for us It's even shorter
She smiled in rooms that cracked her spine,
where beauty bruised and grace meant lie.
They called her calm, not knowing this–
each breath she took was clenched like fists.
The silence praised was not her peace.
It was the cage. She found the keys.
The world demands identity—
a name, a face, a history.
But in its grip, you lose your way,
and shame is what they make you pay.
They drag your truth into the light,
then twist it wrong and call it right.
They dress you up in guilt and fear,
then whisper lies for all to hear.
A coin of shadow tempts the soul,
Whispers bartered for control.
Peace, a dove, retreats in flight—
While angels weep beyond the night.
No love is free—not in this place.
No kindness shown to a stranger's face.
Sincerity is bought and sold,
for only friends within the fold.
But I’ll disappear—not out of shame,
not from guilt, nor playing a game.
I leave to guard what’s left of me,
from judgment’s gaze and cruelty.
For though they tell the world I lied,
they never saw the tears I cried.
And those who turned their hearts away—
they never knew what truth I’d say.
Just walk away with peace,
and never rethink
the cruelty
they say
A heart grown weary in silent rain,
No roof to shelter, no meal to gain.
No gentle voice, no hand to hold—
Just aching silence, damp and cold.
I left behind what broke my soul,
A job that crushed what once was whole.
Now I drift with nowhere near,
And all I know is ache and fear.
I do not seek to shame my name,
Nor beg with pride consumed by flame.
I only ask—if one heart sees—
A little help to bring me peace.
Not for always, just for now,
Until I rise again somehow.
A small kind gift to help me leave
This room of silence where I grieve.
I ask with trembling, not with blame,
And pray no one will cast me shame.
Just light enough to cross this night—
And walk once more toward morning's light.
If you can’t give, a prayer will do—
That mercy finds its way back through.
May God still move through hearts unknown,
And guide the lost ones safely home.
"Blackbird"
You cannot cage what's born to rise,
she blazed beyond their brittle lies.
They named her ash, they named her end,
but fire learns how not to bend.
Her silence cracked the sky in two,
she flew where only lightning flew,
They heard her cry, not weak–but wise–
a battle hymn of "Blackbird" skies.
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