I have come to realize that every moment of my life
Has been solely about meeting and falling in love with you.
That has been my life’s purpose and I didn’t know it til now.
To all my friends and family,
The ones who search to find me.
They look in the beautiful trees.
They look in the rooms I call comfy.
But that's not where I am.
That's not who I am.
They look in the corners of a library.
They look in the crowds of parties.
They look in the mountain breeze.
They look in the waves of the seas.
I love all these things.
But they are not what make me.
Tell me, friend. Do you want to find me?
Look in the gangs where I bleed.
Where the homeless lack company.
Where the faithless are angry.
Where the children are lonely.
Where the violent reign free.
There is where I will be,
As long as my heart beats.
Sometimes I wonder if eventually the rot leaves way for love,
if the thick layer of hope on my lips is enough to get myself out of the trenches,
I wonder if I’m held captive to my past because my past is just a reason to hate,
Am I in fact hateful?
do I hate the fact that it feels as though my past has deteriorated any thought of being loved future?
sometimes I just want to crawl out of my skin and soak it in bleach,
Allow every last sin to burn away at the chemicals on my skin
am I dirty forever?
is it really purity culture or just a lack of self esteem
I love myself repeatedly but it never seems to stick in the moments that truly decipher one’s loyalty to themselves
Conflict-ion of loyalty, love, and desperation.
- V.B
I AM ASHAMED
Of President of Mine
In front of all the world
And OTHER COUNTRIES
I am UNITED STATES
BOTH STRONG AND MILITARY POWER
AND THE YOUNG OF ALL
in world where we do we value CULTURE
THE TONE OF VOICE
THE STYLE OF SPEECH
the PERTINENCE
DISOCURSE the DIALOGUE
I WANT TO SAY
HE ISN”T REPRESENTATIVE to me
I am dialing the round telephone
BACK THEN
I AM ALTERING
the program
of behaviors
and rules
THE TRAP FOR FOOLS
THE CITIIZENS ARE TRUSTING AND NAIVE
whose DUTY is to COMBAT THIS
the fraud
ME
AS THE FEDERAL THE LAW
ENFORCEMENT
of them each on their own
THE DILEMMA
WHAT IS THIS I OWN
RULES OF THE GUN THE HANDLING
might be judged
I OWN GUN for the security of mine
I own HUNTING THE THE WEAPON
what for I own
the ASSUALT THE RIFLE
FOR THE THE CASE IF WAR?
And if the weapon handing is for SPORTS
and HOBBY
WHAT FOR
WHAT FOR
WHAT FOR
posses you STOCK THE PILE
of weapons this
IN CASE I SOMETHING MISSED
THE PURPOSE
_Scene: After the fight_
His snore filled the room now,
Like air inside a balloon.
Thoughts run like sprinters in her mind.
Steady. Distant. A retreat.
Sonia stood. Always standing.
Her eyes locked on the door.
Not wood. Not paint.
An exit.
The course was set,
Like the stubborn August breeze.
Purpose sharpened in her chest.
The bulb still buzzed.
The night was almost over.
For two who once joked they were lovers.
She breathed. She was ready.
His snore was surrender.
She watched the man sleep
Inside the ruin he built.
The argument was what
Burnt dried wood turn to.
The calm was colder than morning mist.
She looked at the door,
Not as wood, but as verdict.
Loveless shackles. Clanging keys.
“Course set,” her spine said.
Purpose loaded her chest.
She stood. No goodbye.
Liberation had hinges
That the door couldn't control.
Life, I have come to know
is an endless journey.
Each stop is only transit
into another uncertainty.
We spend our whole lives
searching for purpose
some chasing meaning
others just relief.
I find myself in the first
asking myself again and again
why I am here
why I still breathe.
And still I move forward
not because I am sure
but because not moving
answers nothing.
If every river longs to find the sea,
what shore is waiting for a soul like mine?
Why was I taught to count the passing years,
yet never taught what they were passing toward?
If mountains rise by carrying the earth,
what unseen weight am I supposed to bear?
Why does my heart recognize homes
my feet have never found?
If every star is placed within the night,
who scattered us across the dark?
Was I made to bloom,
or merely to become the seed
of someone else's spring?
If time is only borrowed breath,
who is waiting for its return?
Why do we spend our lives becoming,
yet never arrive?
Is the horizon always distant
because meaning was never meant
to be reached—
only followed?
And when this small flame
returns its borrowed light to dawn,
will I finally know
what I was meant to become?
There once was a man
His job was to count nuts for the squirrels
Every day, he'd count nuts
Every month, he'd get his paycheck
Every year, he'd question his true purpose
He'd ask himself the purpose of counting nuts
Still pondering, he went to the bakery
The same bakery he always went to
The same kind old lady
The same delicious bread
Until one day, the old lady got sick
With no one to make bread, the man no longer could enjoy bread
That made him realize that only some jobs have true purpose
His job wouldn't change anything of value in the world if he stopped
Her job would change something of value in the world if she stopped
This awakening led him to quit his job
To find a job where he could make a difference
A job with purpose
A job with True Purpose
You've never known how much your life saved mine
growing up I never felt the love of a real family,
not even one time
depression consumed my mind
and then the day came that changed my entire existence
I found out I was going to be a mother
and in that instant
the darkness disappeared
and the world became so much brighter
scared but so damn excited
I knew I'd finally had a purpose..
a reason to not give up
n become a fighter
like for the first ever
the universe threw me some luck
I fell in love with you as you grew
feeling you wiggle and move in my belly
I felt a connection I'd never felt before
and when I held you in my arms,
it was like I saw the reason for the beauty of every galaxy & star
it was the most eye opening moment in my life by far
you are so amazingly perfect
in everything and every way that you are
creating you was my sole purpose in this dimension
having the honor of you being my son
is the definition of a blessing
There's always a purpose for everyone's existence
‘Teachers don’t leave merely because of learners; they leave because of colleagues.’
You hear teachers talk
As you walk in your purpose
The transaction with your colleagues
Reveal the darkness in some of their hearts
They can hurt your heart
They can dim your light
But the truth inside still burns bright
A touch of purpose seems more than gold
This is an era where you need to be bold
So don’t lose hope when they try to darken your life
You can stand through it all!
They can’t stop you
Through all the foolishness
You are still teaching
Every scar is a mark of truth
They try to bury you with their hate
But their fate is sealed
‘The way you treat others is the way you will be treated.’
They told you that you will never rise
Plotting schemes to bring your demise
But you walked through the fire
Knowing that there is a higher purpose
The pain that management ignores is the lesson
Management will gain on themselves later!
They can hurt your heart
They can dim your light
But the truth inside still burns bright
‘Teachers don’t leave merely because of learners; they leave because of colleagues.’
Mark Frank
Copyright 2026
Like a puppet in a sense, I loosely hang here
Getting images of feelings in color. Bold, timely, revere.
A string from the thought to a brush in hand.
I trace and I move in unison per my command.
Swaying and twisting my wrists with love
Looking for a nod I’ve impressed master above.
Thankful for the gift given to me
To transmute love by design. Tuned harmony.
I don’t always understand the direction
but there’s a knowing in my strings. there’s a connection!
It’s not a game. I’m not playing. Nor am I a toy.
It’s an honor, a badge, a duty.
I’m a real boy.
-Jalaila Hardy
Relax,
Keep attitude
Deep, abiding gratitude,
Praising glimpse of purpose divine.
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