promises and good intentions,
all made in wintertime
will find the spring, then
summer heat,
and autumn’s cooling breeze
then wintertime and promises
that either came to stay or
faded when the gold June moon
seemed tethered tight
and goals had half a year
to come to stay in place

so just this year…

I will set aside the rules and lists
of what I need to do, and
will instead allow the things
I want to do to take their
place in hours where chores
have had their way with me
for decades past their usefulness
I hope to celebrate the days I live
and not what I accomplish
for when I’m gone, who will care that
my laundry was always done?

Dear Unsealers,
An acrostic poem about my goals for 2025.

Looking ahead to this next year
I strive to be more present and
Value and appreciate the good, the bad, and the mundane
Each day is a new opportunity to learn and grow
I want to take more leaps, without being afraid
Not worry about what other people think, or things that have not happened
Take my time, and stop rushing from place to place
Have more fun and laugh even more
Enjoy the little things and savor…
Moments with my family, friends, and pets
Opportunities to bring joy to others, and…
More time alone, for self-care and self-reflection
Each day I hope to embrace a little change
Not stress about anything trivial and…
Truly remember that each day is a gift

Dear Unsealers….

Dreams bloom from behind the pages,
Whispers of stories through life’s stages.
Words take root, their branches spread,
Revealing dreams merely stuck in my head.
The author inside, bold and true,
A world of wonder unfolds as each new story blooms,
With words that shine and visions clear,
Inspiring hearts far and near.
From quiet corners to center stage,
I’ll write my name in history’s page.
With every step, my light will grow,
A beacon for others, the path I’ll show.
A sought-after speaker, strong and wise,
My voice will soar, inspiring countless lives.
With courage and passion brightly shown,
I’ll show the world how much I’ve grown.

Hours fading while my desire continues commiserating

I will wipe away the cobwebs in my mind to see what I might find

Putting down the phone to discover the unbeknown

Facing a challenge of the heart, mind, and soul, that is how I’ll roll

They say that it’s too late for you, but that won’t change what I’ll do

There is no substitute for hard work, will, and a positive attitude

Write, write, and write some more, that is the only solution for sure

Rejection is the expected, but it will not get me dejected

Need to secure an agent, though I will need to be patient

Win a contest or two, feedback will help me get a clue

Land a million-dollar fee, they don’t know I’d do it for free

I’ll even try to write a poem and maybe take my first award home

GOALS ARE FOR SUCKERS.

Who cares?

They won’t exist long enough for me to achieve them.

The world changes too quickly for me, and many of us, to reasonably keep up with.

How many professions and passions have been rendered out-of-date in the last two decades? In the last 10 years?

The planet is literally and figuratively on fire.

Every goal I have ever had has been ripped from my hands by the greed of those who would rather see an imaginary number rise in their digital wallets than actually make life easier for the NPCs stuck in their world of worker bots.

Except those bots are people.

People who need food that isn’t poison

And water than isn’t poison

And homes that aren’t poison.

And you know what?

Fuck it.

My Goal this year is to become everything they so desperately wish to rip from my person.

My goal is the health they deny me with disabling policies.

My goal is the community that politicians and lobbyists and the oligarchical corporations continually and strategically fracture.

My goal is to live when systems would rather have us die than become unproductive.

My goal is to exist for the love of my fellow person, and myself, and for the spite of everything else that would dictate we should not do exactly that.

Movable joints, as if freshly greased.
My elbows and knees will move easily while I watch Sunsets in the East.
Silver shafts peak through honey brown, as if touched by a wand.
My hair will be healthy and shine even if I once was blonde.
Adrenaline shifts down to lower gears, even grinding to a halt.
My anxiety will melt away as I drink a strawberry malt.
Numbers steadily climb as they reach heights never dreamt of.
My bank account balance will stay full like the belly of a content dove.
Floating high into the clouds, light as a feather.
My heart will pitter patter as I read countless love letters.
Gravity bends light, and one can see for miles from atop the tallest mountain.
My pride will exude for my child from every cell as if it’s a perpetual fountain.
Spears, bullets and missiles soar through the atmosphere yet are deflected.
My armor will hold steady, and my inner peace will be protected.
Wood, stone, and concrete form a cocoon around a soft and warm oasis.
My heart will be content, as I learn to be satisfied with life’s basics.
Bombs diffuse as ancient frequencies encompass all that exists.
My ultimate wish comes true as I learn to surrender to life and simply no longer resist

Dear 2025,

Every written moment has been a golden one. One of those moments had me realize I am a person who has a chance at an opportunity for change. To shift in the way I view how I accept the things that I can change. To find the courage to accept that there are things about myself that I cannot change. Do I want to change those things? I think so, I don’t know, maybe. I don’t know what the future holds. I am ready for change though. I’ll need some time to think about what I’ve said, 1/3/2025.

I’ve self-reflected, and I’ve concluded that I know there are things I can change. Things that I want to change about myself. What are those changes? I have to think it over, 1/10/2025.

I slept on it. There’s two things I’d like to change. One. To give my community and the rest of the world an opportunity, through my writing, to see my world in a way that no one else can. To dedicate and commit my hands to the craft of interpreting what my eyes see and feel, so the rest of the world can see it as well. Two. An opportunity to make myself available for those I love. An opportunity to share my life with family and friends. To make memories that will last a lifetime. Gifted by those that enjoy the work I’m now doing with my hands. That’s all I got for now, 1/13/2025.

A third thing I’d like to add that I know I can commit to. To use my hands, those that are dedicated to the craft, to continue writing and change the world one written letter at a time. A written letter that spells out an opportunity for those that don’t see what I see. A written letter that shows the rest of the world the struggle my community faces. A written letter that shows the rest of the world the people that my community builds. Hands that make the world a better place, a place worth living. A place worth exploring. A place worth learning from. A place worth building a family in. A place worth building traditions in. A place, worthy of calling home, 1/15/2025.

From a person who embraces the journey of change, and accepts the unchangeable.

A friend told me today that she would love to make soup for James Baldwin in the great beyond. She is known for wanting to cook soup for those she adores. She said something similar when Timothée Chalamet was at the U; she also wanted to knit him a sweater. I can picture her in her kitchen chopping chicken and stanzas and pouring in hot broth with haikus. Her comment made me wonder who I’d make soup for. Who would I give my ladle of love and lust to? Do they deserve my sautéed stories? My strained stories? My stories of fresh tomato soup and grilled cheese? Are my words worth their appetite? Is this why I write? To feed the mouths of those who are starved and deprived of nourishment from a creatives garden? Yes. Because there is someone out there who needs a bowl of my soup. To slurp through their reality and feel the warmth of words slide down their throats. For now, I will make soup for myself. I think I need it the most.

This is the year.

The year I let moss grow over my feet.
The year I bathe in the clouds as they kiss the ground.
The year I stretch my fingertips to tickle sun beams.
The year I sleep in the cradle of stars as they whisper lullabies.
The year I let raindrops dance around my smile.
The year I paint over my scars with dandelion wishes.

This is the year:
The year I inhale peace and exhale you.

When I ask the most intricate parts of myself what is the goal, they respond in the most sweetest and saddest way. “Lauryn you can either expand, be complacent or smaller”. Will this year be better the same or worse? I would most certainly love for the goal to be me expanding so wide there’s only room for the things that will benefit me. Expanding the uncomfortableness so much it pops into extraordinary memories that’s so vivid I can truly see. Doing things only the childhood Lauryn imagined. Don’t die Lauryn stay alive. That has always been the ultimate goal. When the pain is overwhelming me with doubts and fears of abandonment, confusion, control your emotions so they don’t swallow you whole. Let that be the goal. Being certain in my uncertainties has allowed me to envision the worst and best at times. Thinking 100 miles per hour, but moving so damn slow. Lauryn go. Don’t slip into the what if category. Dont get caught and arrested by the imposter police because it’s hard to get out and simply be free and believe you can do things. I must let myself know to go. Let that be my ultimate goal.

71% Style Score

Last year flew by,
Not by pleasant times in fun filled lives
But by pain and worry and voiceless cries.
I watched as time passed
This year will be different
Although my joints may ache
And doctor appointments fill my plate
My passion will carry me through
I dream of telling stories
Fantastical and new
With one book down,
Many more to go
The world I craft is where I call home.
In my stories, I find solace
The place where I am free to roam
Unburdened from my physical state,
Where I am once again in control
Nothing will stop my will to create
This year I am on a roll
I will be a published author
And nothing will stop me from achieving my goal

What GOAL! A goal to succeed a goal to believe, a goal to achieve. Nope not me. However, I do hope and wish for happiness something that death stole from me. If only now I can become a kid again running, jumping, and skipping all over the place.
For the previous years has been dampen and has left me so depressed, I can’t think of a goal only just happiness.
Why look at me funny or stare me down I just want to be happy spinning around and around.
Life can be so amazing then just like that you are caught up in a trap, asking yourself can I get back?
Nope no goal for me happiness is what I seek.
How about money, fortune, and fame if I can’t be happy these attributes will not mean the same.
I want the hole in my heart to close, I want the tears to cease no longer roll, I want laughter that tickles my very soul. I want the joy that comes from within to find me again. Then maybe I will set my eyes upon a goal, writing the best story ever told watch it, watch it unfold becoming like Maya Angelou the lady was solid gold.
For now, my goal is imagining myself in a pool of clowns, one pulling the other tugging everybody’s joking around. I don’t want life ups and downs, but reality is to live is to experience the hardship that goes around. Happiness, joy, laughter, kindness, and love is what I thrive. The goal right now is for me to find me, for my mind needs to be set free and peace to engulf all of me.

A new day begins,
A fresh start, where hope lies within.
To finish school, a milestone to reach,
Turning a new page, within my reach.

A book to be written, a story to unfold,
Words like wings, a tale to be told.
To find love’s embrace, a tender vine,
Growing stronger, intertwining.

A car paid in full, a home to call my own,
Adventures to seek, on roads yet unknown.
To live with intention, each moment embraced,
Appreciating the journey, at my own pace.

Let happiness bloom, a vibrant flower in the spring,
To love more, complain less, and let my spirit sing.
To wash away doubt, a shadow that fades away,
As confidence shines, with each passing day.

A career that ignites my soul’s desire,
A life of purpose, fueled by inner fire.
To cultivate peace within my mind and soul,
To live stress-free and make my spirit whole.

I no longer look back at the things I’ve outgrown,
I’m embracing the future, a life that’s truly my own.

I used to have one million goals; now I have one goal with a million little steps.
My goal is to be free and find a reason for being, a reason for loving, a reason for learning, a reason for growing — a reason to be.
I have lived all my life afraid of the possibilities of life.
Afraid that If I stepped too far from the cage of my home, I would one day find out that I’ve always been right in my fear of stepping into the unknown.
But the older I grow, the easier it is to see that If I hide in fear, I will never be who I want to be
And who do I want to be this year? I want to be the best version of myself.
When I walk into a room,
Instead of my first thought being
‘How do I look?’,
‘Why does it feel like everyone’s staring at me?’,
‘Why does it feel like they want me to leave?’
I want my first thought to be:
‘Who can I meet, and what version of me do I want this room to unleash?’
When I work on a project, I want to say:
‘I am so happy that I get to learn today, and I am so excited to fail so that I can improve and get better the next day.’
Instead of:
‘Why do I bother to try something new when I don’t have a clue what it is I’m meant to do? ‘
When I talk to a friend, I want to think what I think and say what I say without worrying if the end of our friendship is on the way.
I want to speak freely and know that if the conversion dies, the anxiousness will eventually subside and we can continue talking until the end of time.
I want to be okay with saying no, not because I am sick or because I am busy, but because I simply don’t want to go.
I want to know that the people who matter will never let me go, just because of a simple no.
I want to find joy in myself and understand that I will be okay without having someone constantly in front me.
I want to know that I can be happy in the comfort of my room because I am interesting enough to bring color into a world that feels like it is filled with impending doom.
I want to choose me, every time that I find myself with someone who lies to, disregards, or derides me.
I want to love myself so strongly that I would never consider giving my all to someone who could never give me peace of mind.
I want to be so grounded in my faith that no matter what anyone says, I can reply:
‘ Your belief is your belief, and that’s okay, but for me and my house, I choose to follow a God who knows my name.’
I want to wine and dine myself and find the time to love someone else. I want to save up towards my goal of independence and be myself without worrying about defending it. I want to stand firm with my convictions and circumvent all the little addictions of this world. I want to make a difference, even if that difference only affects one soul, and that soul is mine.
I want to be free and I want to be me in 2025.

It’s 2025
A new year,
New promises, new dreams.
But all I see is an empty canvas—
Not one brimming with potential,
But one haunted by shadows,
A faint echo of what it once was.

I long for the days
When the future felt vast and bright,
When my dreams danced like sparks in the dark,
And the stars were mine to paint.
Back then, the canvas whispered,
“Anything is possible.”

But now, the stars are distant,
Surrounded by the toll of their brilliance.
The cost of creation weighs heavy—
Brushes worn thin, colors faded,
And I wonder, is it worth it?

Still, I hold my breath,
Hoping to believe again.
I ache to feel that spark,
To trust that what I do matters.
To dream beyond the confines of what I am told
And step into a world of boundless skies.

I remember a time when I lived beyond the canvas.
When my hands held the power to create worlds—
Purple trees, cloud-birds soaring free,
Waves of color defying reason,
Each stroke a rebellion,
Each moment a masterpiece.

But now,
The rules have tightened around me,
Defining what I can and cannot paint.
Confining my imagination,
Strangling the voice within my brush.

Yet it’s 2025,
A new year,
And I dare to dream again.
This year, I will break the rules.
I will shatter the frame.
I will paint not just on the canvas
But beyond its edges,
Onto the walls, the sky, the stars.

This year, I will reclaim my brush,
Mixing colors no one has ever seen,
Creating worlds only I can imagine.
Because the canvas is not a limit;
It’s a beginning.

I am a painter,
And I am the creator of my story.
It’s 2025,
And the stars are waiting.

2025, The Year I write my book

I shall write my book about my crazy life,

starting with my childhood and ending with another beginning,

for in the middle is a crazy timeline of supernatural

suspense, and self control to be determined.

And within these walls, I write my secrets.

I step back and admire the woven handy-work.

Rewritten many times and times and time again.

This one will stick. Dedicated to my sons,

The genuine heroes

I embark on the threshold of my sight. For when I see,

It was good versus evil,

Now it is light and dark and movable glitter.

so get ready,

And watch me fly!

Style score 100

As this year closes and yet another one opens
Not sure where to place all this wishin and hopin
Been through the wringer – stuck on survivin and copin
My therapy is written words and those spoken:
All the trauma leaking through my paper plate
Weakening from the all this added weight
Decaying matter past expiration date
Molding, polishing it to verse and bemoan my fate
Freestyle poems to make my flow first rate
Songs of strength, social justice and challenging hate
Lofty ideals and platitudes are great…
But, I witness multitudes of micro and macro aggressions
Many met with uncomfortable silence and hesitations
Past scenarios flash in my front of my eyes
And I try to forgive myself all the botched tries
All the times I thought to speak was unwise
Considering my job threatened and other reprisals
When I could challenge rivals and facilitate soul revivals
Next year, I must develop this skill
holding others accountable cause no one else will
Gotta live the truth that I wanna create
And find something to bolster my paper plate