The day rises again over my bitterness.
The birds have not yet begun to sing,
I am already angry,
still in a bad mood despite financial security.
At the slightest provocation, I know I’ll end up handcuffed in a prison van.
I’m afraid I’ll eventually break.
I am not afraid of dying, but of living.
I come from hell and walk upon a hostile land.
I am full of rage: the human species does not deserve this generous planet.
Once, I had gloved hands and a hooded face,
a Kalashnikov under the bed and the windows always sealed.
Today, I am far removed from the illicit,
with my scars, my skills, and my convictions.
I know how to get rich quickly,
and I am aware of the consequences of my actions.
I live with my nightmares and my regrets.
bruises scars and stretch marks
the sum total of diverse past experiences
~ I am strength and stamina
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
cancer survivor
loving the word remission
temporary joy
When time splits in two...
One you're looking for and one looking for you
You're waiting for someone you don't know yet
And you're not getting any younger
You've captured the rhyme but lost the poetry
The road seems bleak but familiar
A refugee from the you you used to be
And a pilgrim on the road to destiny
To fortify you resupply with fortitude and grace
But what persists you can't deny with force of will or face
The path may be familiar, but the route could not be more complex
When time splits in two... the division is in you
Nonetheless the test is not the journey, it's the end
And a smile is your only friend
Each scar has a name, etched into my skin—
White lines barely visible on my pale arms.
There’s one for every heartbreak I ever got,
One for each battle I silently fought,
One for all the wrongdoings I had,
For every time my thoughts turned bad.
Each scar holds a memory, a ghost from the past,
Every cut done silently, hidden away after every tragedy.
The lines on my arms fade each day,
But the memories behind them refuse to go away.
Maybe these scars are signs of a warrior,
Signs of strength and resilience,
Marks of my unwavering diligence.
I don’t want the scars to fade—
Maybe I’ll fade with them,
The signs of power,
The signs of a survivor
Slipping quietly away.
My scars are a part of me;
Without them, who will I be?
Just someone who went through hardship
With nothing left to show for it.
Who is that woman in the mirror?
The big blank eyes.
The mouth that never smiles.
The hands, always shaking.
I don't know her.
What can I do?
I am afraid of everything and everybody.
I only want to be home.
But I don't want to be alone.
I don't feel safe.
Why am I always crying?
Anxiety attacks that take my breath away.
Flashbacks of violence, so lifelike.
My body still hurts from his fists.
I don't know why I can't heal.
When will I be me again?
He stole who I was.
He broke me into a million pieces.
Then he gave the pieces back.
I don't know where the last piece is.
Where will I end up?
If I don't have that last piece,
Am I still a survivor?
I'm a blank image.
Alone. Unsafe.
Crying, anxiety, flashbacks and hurting.
Unhealed.
Please tell me,
Is that really "surviving"?
Sleepless nights keep piling up.
Always in a foul mood,
I poison myself with nicotine, caffeine, ethanol, and cannabinoids.
I live like a hedonist with suicidal urges.
I won’t bequeath my body to science.
The wreck will be too battered by my twilight.
One life, one ride—no concessions, no compromise.
I'm on alert, constantly in crisis mode.
I sleep with the windows open, like every criminal does,
A machete under the bed, a firearm beneath the pillow.
I will never trust the human species.
I've been repeating this deadly routine since I became a man.
Its consequences will deliver me into the devil’s arms.
I wasn't born to be anyone’s mop on this Earth.
I automatically break the law when my interests are threatened.
I unwind at the shooting range, my brain scented with cannabis.
I'm a paranoid forced to sleep with one eye open.
I don’t believe in love—only in the freedom money buys.
Forever alone, I blend into crowds only when it's time to grab without counting.
I came to make my name immortal.
Hiroshima, Nagasaki
far beyond the atomic act,
they turned things around...
The sheer curtains dance
Casting shadows on the wall
From the open window
A gentle breeze whispers its call.
The hum of a fan
Sings a soulful song
Breaking the silence
That trapped me so long.
Minutes turn to hours
Hours turn to days
The healing is lost
In a foggy haze.
I hide in the dark
Afraid to live
Succumbing to the anger
The memories give.
I think of what-ifs
Searching for blame
Lost in thoughts
I cannot tame.
I'm told I'm a survivor
But I don't feel that strong
What if I'm the reason
Everything went wrong.
A narcissist is a demon
Hiding behind abuse
And for every situation
He creates an excuse.
His words are like daggers
Piercing the heart
His malicious torture
Becomes his work of art.
The physical scars
Heal over time
But the words he utters
Become an endless crime.
The sheer curtains dance
In the gentle breeze
Where time stands still
And the reflections seize.
Thirty years ago, my life fell apart/
I became fallen and forgotten/
All my friends abandoned me/
For years, those tears poured/
All those tears formed an ocean/
For a crime I never committed/
For all I lost in life/
My religion is different/
I face religious hatred for years/
My faith is unwavering/
My heart is unwavering/
I face so much hate in my life/
I done nothing wrong to justify/
The ostrasim, treated like garbage/
People put on a mask to play games/
They play with my heart, my feelings/
They can't be themselves/
They have to judge, they have to hate/
What happened to my life/
Is unheard of/
But understand this.../
I know my worth and.../
I am a survivor/
I will not give up/
I will keep surviving/
Because, I am strong/
And I am a strong survivor/
(C) Michael Fulkerson 2025
In a faraway place sits an old man
living in an old old block of flats.
A group of tabby cats gather outside,
basking lazily in the warm sunshine.
He watches peacefully as people walk past;
Quarrelling siblings, loving couples.
He sits there as he has done for years
but nobody knocks.
Wearily the old man turns
and watches his friends' faces in the clouds float by.
I still remember the day you stole my innocence away.
The world shifted—
colors drained from golden light to endless shadow.
It started as a simple conversation,
slowly pulling me down to your basement.
I was only 13 years old
when you left me to walk home on shaking legs.
At first, I thought I deserved it—
because fear stole my words before I could speak.
You stole my voice, my innocence, my dignity, leaving me with nothing but fragments of myself.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse,
it did.
Another man used his hands,
leaving me with bruises and broken ribs.
He said it was because "he could."
But my story didn’t end there—
I would never allow it.
I was left with scars, but never silence.
I am a survivor, not a coward.
Created to be different to bring about a generational change
Trauma invoked to keep most from creative conscious range
Learning being different can bring in a great feeling
It's imperative for the need to work on inner healing
That inner child help develop creative healthy happy adults
Taking chances to heal, help the experience for those results
Don't stay in the cycle of programmed victimization mode of pain
Get help to find tools and resources to turn your pain into a gain
Take accountability for your role you played while blaming/pointing a finger
Easy to blame another, sometimes they had no part of the sadness or anger
The masks worn and swopped due to your unhealed trauma
Hides a grudge that blames friends, lovers, daddy and momma
Forgive them, they experienced and lived through trauma too
Reflected their own stories, hiding with pain too shame to tell you
Each generation has suffered through the abuse and trauma program
Become your generations' survivor with the future blueprint or diagram.
Survivor?
The ex. president
of the US.
Jimmy Carter
God blessed him
with old age
Carried around
in a crate
sleeps with open
mouth all-day
emits silence
She self proclaimed as
Designated Survivor
VP Sara said.
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