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Best Poems Written by Michael Fulkerson

Below are the all-time best Michael Fulkerson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Michael Fulkerson Poem

The Body Possession Horror

It started as a whisper, faint,  
A voice that slithered through my brain.  
Not my own, but just as clear,  
A presence lurking ever near.  

At first, a shudder down my spine,  
A fleeting thought that wasn’t mine.  
Hands that moved without command,  
Footsteps shifting in the sand.  

My mouth would form a stranger’s sound,  
Words escaping, unprofound.  
My mirror’s face, though still my own,  
Reflected something not alone.  

I fought with will, with endless dread,  
A war inside my weary head.  
Yet every day, it took its claim,  
My mind was dark, my soul felt maimed.  

And then one night, no battle came,  
No voice, no force, no phantom’s name.  
Just silence where the echo stayed—  
Was I the one who’d been betrayed?  

Had I fought, or had I fled?  
Was I me… or was I dead?

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The Haunted Spirit

It whispers low on midnight’s breath,  
A shadow wreathed in mist and death.  
Not born of grace, but spectral might,  
It haunts the veil 'tween dark and light.  

It stirs the winds, it bends the flame,  
A nameless force none dare to name.  
Through hollow halls, its echoes creep,  
Disturbing souls that once could sleep.  

A ghostly hymn, a mournful wail,  
It rattles chains that time made frail.  
A shrouded guide, a cursed friend,  
To those who stray where sorrows end.  

Its eyes, unseen—yet ever near,  
It feeds upon the breath of fear.  
With spectral touch, it marks the air,  
A lingering chill of pure despair.  

Yet some would call upon its hand,  
To guard their steps through haunted land.  
A force unknown, its wisdom deep,  
Though bound within the night’s cold keep.  

So heed the whispers in the night,  
When lanterns flicker, dim with fright.  
The Haunted Spirit waits below,  
In mist and moonlight’s spectral glow.

Details | Michael Fulkerson Poem

Life in the Penitentiary

Steel bars whisper cold truths at night,  
A jungle of killers, no room for fright.  
Survival ain't luck, it's blood and bone,  
Earn your name or die unknown.  

Respect ain't given, it's taken in war,  
A blade in the dark, a fist to the jaw.  
Weakness is death, don’t flinch, don’t fold,  
Only the ruthless make it old.  

No second chances, no rewind, no grace,  
One wrong move, they’ll rearrange your face.  
Ain’t no nine lives, just one shot to last,  
Make it count or fade fast.  

The yard’s a battlefield, the rules are clear,  
Stand your ground, show no fear.  
If it goes down, handle your biz,  
Ain’t no mercy where killers live.  

Every step’s a test, every glance a threat,  
A life of war, no time for regret.  
You bang with the hardest, you earn your place,  
Or get erased without a trace.  

Chains don’t break, they only weigh,  
A lifetime lost, but dues to pay.  
You either rise or rot away,  
In the penitentiary, where demons play.

Details | Michael Fulkerson Poem

My Mind On My Money

I got my mind on my money and money on my mind/
Cat scan if you like you'll tell I ain't lying/
Verse One
Money is all I know all I see and remember/
From January to December I'm about seeing my figure/
From big Bens down to the pennies and nickles/
I want it all, you can call me a penny pincher/
Pennies for my thoughts add to a couple million/
I paint a perfect picture money stacked taller than buildings/
Everybody getting money, me and my minions/
It's a domino effect because all of us getting it/
I can be a billionaire and still won't go in my pockets/
I never understood it ain't tricking if you got it/
If I gotta throw mines then I guess I don't got it/
I ain't never been that type I want all of my profit/
Money hard to come by my momma not a doctor/
My dad is not a lawyer, and my uncle is not a rockstar/
but I'm trying to rock hard so I want it all/
And when it comes to the money, I'ma get it till I fall/
Verse Two
From being locked in the Penitentiary, I learned the value of money/
Because when I was dead broke it wasn't close to funny/
But I never been a dummy and I always had a hustle/
BY any means necessary, I'ma get something/
Everyday, I think of different ways to try and make a dollar/
And making my own money, I'm proud of/
Women wanna holla, dudes wanna be prostitutes/
Because they think I hit the lottery since I got a lil bread/
But really I'm just popping because the charts be topping/
And they think that I'm dropping but they outta their heads/
I get out of bed, thinking, money, money, money/
My palms steady itching so I know it's coming/
They told me if they hating on me then I'm doing something/
Because if I wasn't doing something, my name wouldn't be humming/
But I'm only worrying about the only thing on my mind/
And the only thing on my mind, is on it all the time/

Details | Michael Fulkerson Poem

The Lonely Road

I walk a solitary path, a reclusive soul/
Lonely whispers echo where shadows console/
Nobody speaks, nobody sees/
I'm lost in their world, like a silent breeze/
In public, I vanish, an invisible man/
An outcast, a shadow in their grander plans/
Yet within me burns a heart so true/
A Romeo's passion, longing for breakthrough/
I may be deaf, but I hear through skies/
Telepathy bridges what hearing denies/
My silent ears, tune to unspoken sound/
A mind reader, a Psychic yet deaf/
I hear you, feel you, though silence surrounds/
Don't hate me, don't judge what you think you know/
Don't let my deafness mark me with woe/
For I am not less, and I am not weak/
A soul in the shadows, yearning to speak/
The journey stretches, endless and long/
Loneliness binds, but I remain strong/
A road of solitude, yet I've always known/
The quiet holds power, it's my own/

Details | Michael Fulkerson Poem

Lil Miss Ghoul

LIL’ MISS GHOUL

  On the night of Walpurgistnacht,
  Lil’ Miss Ghoul walks into her bedroom,
  She is deeply saddened after the break up with her latest man.
  Lil’ Miss Ghoul puts on her black Victorian dress,
  Softly weeping, she sits down at her Gothic, Victorian Vanity Mirror,
  She gets out her pure black lipstick and paints her lips black, 
  Her nails already painted black from this morning, 
  Lil’ Miss Ghoul walks to her window and slowly looks at the moon,
  Her sobs becoming stronger as she tilts her head at the full moon,
  She sings to herself a song of love as she begins to weeps hysterically,
  Lil’ Miss Ghoul returns to sit down at her Vanity Mirror desk,
  She looks at all the pictures of the men surrounding her mirror,
 The men who swore their love to her, used her and ditched her,
She slumps over her sobs uncontrollable. 
She looks at the Gothic switch blade knife and picks it up,
She looks at the men she thought loved her, 
One by one, they were only interested in her body,
Lil Miss Ghoul makes a hard, quick slash across her right wrist,
She looks at the moon, then, slashed her left wrist.
Lil’ Miss Ghoul stops crying, as she looks at the moon.
The blood from her wrists like a geyser, quickly spilling from her body,
She never takes her eyes off of the moon as her life slipped away,
Lil’ Miss Ghoul rises from her body, looks at the men she thought loved her,
She remained hovering in her room, till the next morning.
Momma came knocking, entered her room, and screamed,
Momma screaming, “Oh, my baby!!!! NOOOOO!!!!!!”
Daddy came running to Momma’s screams,
Daddy falls to his knees as he begins to cry, “NOOOO!!!!!”
As the days passed till Lil’ Miss Ghoul’s funeral,
Lil Miss Ghoul in spirit form attended her own funeral.
At her own funeral, Lil Miss Ghoul looks around,
Her entire family was there, all her friends,
She watched as they all painfully weeps hysterically.
Lil Miss Ghoul realized she has made a mistake,
As she says, “Oh my God, what have I done? These people are the one’s that love me, why did I let these men get to me?”

Details | Michael Fulkerson Poem

Ghetto Pitbull

I walk a lonely road as a ghetto pitbull/
With pride and honor, I'll always have a fistfull/
I don't take no bull from anyone or any spirit/
I never had no one to feed me, I eat off the land/
Back against the wall, paws on the concrete/
Living life fast with my mask, trick or treat/
My life isn't sweet, it's really dead meat/
Trying to make ends meet with my books and music/
My friends come and go, they come as they please/
It seems they only come when it's time to eat/
And always off my plate, and as a platoon/
So I feed everyone, with a long handle spoon/
They call me a goon but I really howl at the moon/
I'm a ghetto pitbull coming to your hood soon/
So before you try to judge me from what I do/
Take a look at my past and see what I been through/
I'm a ghetto pitbull so just give a dog a bone/
Where I lay my hat is my home, I'm a rolling stone/
I seem to always roam in the worst gutters/
And all my dogs are the baddest of the bad/
They never believed me and probably never will/
Even with the skills that I posses, I outshine them all/
With these skills, they still don't believe me/
Any microphone, any instrument, any rhyme, any riddle/
Any opponent, I outshine them all like Johnny Fiddle/
Betting against me is the wrong predictions/
It should be a crime and I'm handing down convictions/
I'm the metal God, pitbull of the Gods, go ahead, crucify me/
I'm a sacrificial lamb, I was sent here on a mission/
Sometimes my life gets hectic but I love it that way/
Because the thrill keeps me going, see I'm different, ok/
I was raised in a place that nobody came to visit me/
I've seen all walks of life, I've seen the craziest of the crazy/
In the ghetto as a ghetto pitbull, get my gist/
Now they see me coming back, I know they're shaken/
Smile now cry later has always been my motto/
Sleeping on the pitbull is a hard pill to swallow/

Details | Michael Fulkerson Poem

I Am A Survivor

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

Details | Michael Fulkerson Poem

Original Pitbull of the Gods

ORIGINAL PITBULL OF THE GODS

Intro
Original Pitbull of the Gods, I was sent for a reason/
To eliminate the politics, corruption, and treason/
I convert all music heads into metal heads/
I had my choices and chose to do this instead/
Verse One
Original Pitbull of the Gods, I am the chosen one/
The Holy one, they chose to lead this Nation and I’m holding them/
Down to the ground with this knowledge and power/
Second after second, and hour after hour/
Big headed and rowdy, I’m exuding my energy/
I get the crown bucked up and everyone feeling me/
I do what I do, the energy wallop me/
The truth lights the way so the metal heads follow me/
The cops try drilling me, and so do my enemies/
But I’m blessed by the fallen homies spirits that’s filling me/
And they still in me, everyone of their souls/
Like the Mississippi River, I flow and flow/
Like Flo I glow, this is progressive/
Life is all about fallen getting up and lessons/
So take these blessings, listen and come alive/
Follow my lead, take a ride to the other side/
Verse Two
I was sent here to bless, but I been tested/
With trials and tribulations, I can’t rest/
Until my duty is done, so I do what I gotta do/
To lead the next generation  and show them how to move/
I was blessed with this gift, that’s here in your presence/
Open up your ears and receive this message/
I got the knowledge from the Gods and I will lecture/
All the music heads refugee who’s running from disaster/
Call me your pastor, the original Pitbull/
If I give you anything, it’s gonna be a fistful/
Eat it and get full, my lyrics is flesh/
These other people doing it, is just doing their best/
I do it with no effort because my skills is divine/
My craft is divine that’s why you feel every line/
Every line every rhythm, is hard every time/
And time is of the essence, so I’m doing it now.

Details | Michael Fulkerson Poem

Falsely Accused

In 1996 they came, shadows in the night/
Declared the case is bigger than me/
Told me not to fight/
Threats and whispers, like a storm they flew/
But my heart of gold knows, I stayed true/
A light too pure to dim/
A soul they sought to taint/
With accusations dark/
They painted me with paint/
A heart of gold, forged in flames of truth/
I would never harm anyone/
Silenced by the weight/
Of lies that cling and bind/
Yet my spirit rises, justice on my mind/
Falsely accused/
My name dragged through the mud/
But in my heart of gold/
Flows an unyielding flood/
I wish to clear my name/
To stand in light once more/
To break the chains of injustice/
And soar/
Innocence, my shield/
Truth, my guiding star/
Falsely accused/
But pure, no matter who they are/