Sunday, June 28, 2015

Ill Equipped

Today I watched my daughter cry,

Tell me of the pain in life,

How no one understands and she cannot talk to anyone,

And as I watched her cry,

I could not bear it and I cried too.

"I miss it too," I managed.

And I stumbled my way and did the best I could to comfort her,

This broken adult.

And I said, I have felt the same way,

Within the past few days, in fact,

And even though it will not cure the pain,

It helps to talk,

It helps to pray.

And I love you and you can tell me anything and I will love you.

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

Wednesday, June 24, 2015


My body burns,

Lust consumes me,

The beast arises,

Primal and raw,

See the strength in my shoulders,

My chiseled form,

Take shelter in my arms,

Succumb and submit to my power,


That strong musky scent,

That stench,

That smell,

Let love's blindness envelope you,

So the smell becomes sweetly intoxicating,

Let your desire be to inhale the air around me,

Taking it in to fill your lungs,

Let it become the air you breath.


Fall under my spell.


Take me in,

Accept the man that I am,

Anxious and chaotic,

Give me rest,

Fair lady.


<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Cosmic Disillusionment

Why is it that I can feel heat and cold but not the perfect temperature?

I can feel stuffed and starving but not fed?  Feast and famine but not the simple meal?

I feel strength and weakness but ignore my daily health.

I dread loneliness and crave romantic intoxication but do nothing with love's existence.


If only I could consider what is, the endless gratitude that would ensue, rather than what is not.

For if that which is not, was, even then it would not be considered.
<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

Saturday, June 20, 2015

The Ironies of Life

The more I try to avoid pain, the more pain I feel.

The more I try to fulfill my own needs, the less fulfilled I feel.

The more I try to gain a handle on time, the faster it slips through my fingers.

The more I try to gain acceptance from others, the less I feel accepted.

The harder I try to avoid being a burden on others, the bigger the burden I become.

The more I try to be speak to others, the less I feel heard.

The more I try to learn, the more I discover how little I know.

The better I try to become, the more I realize how bad I really am.

The more I try to love, the more I realize I am incapable of love.

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
October 2014

The Living Dead

My heart feels like it is torn in two
The agony of feeling alone

I have friends
Yet I do not want to be with them
I want companionship
Yet I want to be alone

I'm on the verge of crying
Just the word makes me sad
I feel heavy and afflicted
Every weight makes me heavier still

My feet can barely walk
When my head hits the pillow
I feel rest
And pray the night lasts forever

How I long for the touch of a woman
The holding hands, the loving kiss
Oh, how I would love the kiss of soft fresh lips
The kind that sparkle with youth and passion

To be able to share a secret
Between you and another

To hold their body
to touch them in ways
That would make them want
to scream out to the whole world

A secret shared
A loving look
A warm embrace
To feel at peace

My body is either yelling in objection
Or feels like an abandoned ghost

I walk like the living
Yet feel like I'm dead
My soul speaks to my body
Yet there is no reply

Was there ever a time when I was confident?
Was there ever a time when I was attractive?
I can't remember
My memories fade

Oh how can one filled with so much love
Have so few to share it with?
How did I get to the place where my only outlets are
Art, music, poetry and novels

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
October 2014

The Night I Became an Adulterer

Sometimes life hands us the hard questions like, "Why did God have to put me through the pain of an extra marital affair?"

I don't know why God does what he does, but I can always conjecture, always try to offer my point of view.  My personal belief is that pain is the pathway to growth. Pain, when used correctly can be a very healthy avenue for growth.

When we work out, typically what makes our muscles exhausted, by itself, has no potential to grow our muscles. It is once our muscles are fatigued that the extra strain, the extra push, the extra exercise gives us the most pain and opportunity to grow our muscles. That and the proper diet once we have experienced that pain. Let me say that again, "The workout alone is not enough. It must be supplemented with the proper physical diet."

The funny thing I hear a lot is that "I never should have cheated and had that affair. I became an adulterer." While on the surface, that is correct, the conclusion isn't quite accurate. When you see people who are homeless, who have served time, who have cheated, what you should be saying is: "It is only by the grace of God that I am not in the same boat. God has blessed me with certain experiences, talents, environments, etc so I am not in that boat."

What is more accurate, is that the person was already an adulterer. All God did was align the circumstances to show it. So why would God do that? Why would God reveal the heart of a person, knowing the person would fall into sin?

I offer this. To grow His child. I often speak to people several years later, after an extra marital affair and ask them, "Knowing what you know now, seeing what you've seen and having gone through what you've gone through, if God placed you back into that same place, would you cheat?" Surprisingly, the most common answer is, "No." They may justify their actions, based on loneliness or blame someone else for hurting them, but they still say, "No."

Looks like growth to me. If you had an eternal perspective, knowing the sole purpose of this world was to grow your children, would you allow pain to occur in their lives? If you have a life long perspective, knowing the sole purpose of your household is to coach your children and prepare them for the remainder of their lives, would you allow pain to occur?

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
September 2014

The Comfort of Love

Have you ever been so hungry, having missed a meal, that you finally get to eat, to feel fulfilled?

That is what hearing her voice was like.

Have you ever come home sweaty, from the beach and felt the comfort of the warm water as you take a hot shower?

That is what kissing her soft lips was like.

Have you ever needed to go pee really bad and finally arrive in a restroom to feel the pleasure of a long awaited release?

That is what being intimate with her was like.

Have you ever been so exhausted after a long day's work, that you felt so relaxed when your head finally hit the pillow?

That is what resting in her arms was like.

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
October 2014


I sit in the back of the room.

Does she notice me?

Her words flutter, her voice is soft.

Her features are like the strokes on an artists canvas.

Shall I have my moment?

Shall I have my victory?

Then, the day comes.  Perhaps she will take notice.

Perhaps she will see my heart, perhaps she will breath my passion.

And I begin reading, "Friendly friends.

I am a friend to those who are friendly,
I wonder about those who arent,
I hear excitement all around me,
I see people laughing,
I want to join them,
I am a friend to those who are friendly.

I pretend there is no darkness in life,
I feel freedom,
I touch the flower that stands alone,
I worry about that flower,
I cry for the people who are like this flower,
I am a friend to those who are friendly.

I understand what gossip does to people,
I say the truth about others,
I dream of a peaceful world,
I try to melt my sorrow,
I hope I make others feel better,
I am a friend to those who are friendly."

As my poem completes, I gaze out to see her smiling face, amd I return to my place in life.

The bell rings and I patiently wait.

What shall I say?

How do I utter a single word?

But I am paralyzed.

Then, he approaches.  The smooth senior, the talented athlete, the muscular man.

The world freezes as he says hello, and they laugh.  She beams to life.

I sink back, stepping away from it all.

And as my body hits the walls of the long corridors, I miraculously move straight through the building walls.

Have I defied the laws of physics?

And then it hits me.  The car that struck me when I was only ten years old.

I was so alone, and so afraid, I walked in the middle of the road purposefully.

I was done with my life.  Too much pain.

No policeman to save me, to send me back home.

And the memory fades, leaving me to ask, "What shall I do?"

And then, I see her smile again and I think, "What can I do?  For I am but be a ghost."

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
October 2014

Friday, June 19, 2015




Sharing a cup,

To ease the tension before a hard day at work.

It marks the last day of our friendship,

Spilling coffee all over the floor,

I made such a mess.

But I would never take back that tender morning.

It marks beauty in brokenness.


Throwing a cup,

My laptop covered,

Shattered tea against the walls,

It marks the end of a season,

One that bore a variety of fruits,

Some bitter,

Some sweet as can be.


Meeting up,

Engaging in conversation,

Time flying,

It marks friendship.


The legalistic approach,

Over bearing and judgemental,

The absence of grace.

It marks the distortion of truth.


Sleep walking,

Dragging feet,

Feeling the warmth in my tired hands,

It represents peace.



<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

How are You?

"How are you?", I ask.

And my accuser blames me and points to my folly.

You are absolutely right and I am sorry.

I used to be a man of no regrets.

But somewhere along the line, my mistakes and regrets grew to monumental proportions.

I am not sorry I got caught.

Light has set me free and persuaded a better path.

I am not sorry I was disciplined or suffered pain.

The fruit has been revelations, knowledge and understanding.

How glorious!

It is why I tend to have to learn the hard way,

To experience myself.

No, what I hate about the wrongs I have created,

Is that they have somehow destroyed something pure, something beautiful, something innocent.

It is that they have caused harm to my loved ones.

It is the impact of how they hurt and affected you.

Deep down, within me, is a desire to create value.

To bless those around me.

Nothing in me wants to be a disappointment to you or anyone else.

Let alone be a disappointment to myself.

It is this desire, that makes the pressures so great.

That makes me fear becoming a wasted life.

That leads to the self sabotage of numbing vices,

When I feel the reality of not expressing my full potential.

Do not doubt that I care simply because actions speak louder than words.

Simply listen to the still small voice,

The one that knows the desires of your heart,

Underneath the worldly distortions.

And how your motives are so easily distorted,

By the perception of the simple minded and the reality of this broken world.


<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Dear Abigail

Dear Abigail,

I am sorry to hear of the recent betrayal that ensued.  A dozen years of loyalty and Mark decides to stray.  What an asshole!

You asked, "Why God?  How could you let this happen?"

The way I see it, you have three options.

1. Justice, giving someone what they deserve.

Let Mark burn.  Take everything from him.  Rip his life to shreds.  Let your wrath show him financial ruin.  Destroy his honor and relationships.  He deserves it, definitely.

This will feel good to take revenge and will fuel the flames of bitterness and contempt that ignite within you.

Unfortunately, your efforts will fall short.  Your punishments will never stack up high enough to give Mark what he really deserves.  And you will carry the burden of enforcement.

2.  Mercy, is not giving people what they deserve.

Amicable separation.  Take the high road.  Let Mark destroy himself.  A fool's lips destroy himself.

You will walk away with dignity.  You will feel good about yourself and your behavior.   You will have the peace that comes with no regrets.

3.  Grace, giving someone something they don't deserve.

You have a choice!  Such a blessing!  A unique opportunity to show God you truly understand His gift.  This is not about Mark, or you and Mark.  This is about you.

Thankful for a dozen years of loyalty.  Thankful for the daily blessings you have been given.  Even now.  Even now!

You will never have a choice like this again in your life.  And if you choose to care for the broken, sick soul God has entrusted in your hands.  To revive him, to stand by him, to breathe words of affirmation, nurture and care.  If you choose this route, you choose to give grace.

How easy is it to forgive a small trespass?  And how much more thankful is the one forgiven a large debt than the one forgiven a small debt.

No, this is not about Mark.  This is your chance to show your gratitude for the debts you have been forgiven.

If you choose this, I promise, you will have built a man, deep with gratitude.  When years have wasted away and children are grown.  A room filled with family and friends, will echo with the words of honor towards you.

If you choose this, your rewards will be countless.

Bless you Abigail,



<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

Denial of Poverty

I am lost and confused,

Tormented by a thousand steps,

Life stands still,

Or so it seems from the eyes of an ant.


Shall I live in denial,

And lie to myself,

Or accept the reality of poverty,

A life that lacks unfailing love?

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Distortions and Transformations

The devil,

He takes something good,

An ounce of truth,

And twists it and distorts it,

Until he builds his playground.

The desire to be loved,

Somehow contorted to the will to rape.

My God,

He takes something monumentally terrible,

And miraculously transforms it,

Into a foundation for something great.

The victim of rape,

Miraculously transformed into an endless supply of helping hands and shelter for other victims.


<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

The Good Woman

Here is your chance,

Possibly your one chance in life.

To show who you are.

You can either break a man.

Or redeem him.

And the funny thing is,

If you drag him through the mud,

If you bring down the hammer of justice,

You will be right!

You will be right.

But the man will be lost forever.

They say behind every good man is a good woman.

The reason being that behind every good man,

Is a woman who has chosen to absorb the cost.

So now is your chance...

What are you going to do?

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

Two cents

My two cents,

It is everything I have,

It is all I got.

And I give it.

It's not much.

I know it.

It is so easy for rich men,

To look at me and say,

Why doesn't he give more?

Why doesn't he try harder?

 To which I respond,

I am just a simple, broken poor man,

I am nothing special,

But I give it all I got.

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
June 2015

Monday, June 8, 2015

Perfect Beings

You arrogant fool.

You believe you have no flaws.

That you do no wrong.

Any damage done to you,

The worst event you have experienced,

Is nothing when compared to the damage you have done.

Your pride and arrogance,

Of believing you have a perfect record,

Has left children to the point of frustration and wrath.

And until you can see with clarity the monumental pile of your own shortcomings,

And the grace so abundantly poured onto you,

You will never be able to forgive those who did you harm.

And you will never be vulnerable enough to hear the words of those around you,

And they will be cursed with the frustration of condemnation and judgement.

Forced to feel invalidated, unseen and unheard.

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

Saturday, June 6, 2015

Distant Memory

Your words have no effect,

That abusive soul that radiates neglect,

The pretty smile you wear,

To hide from the fear.

Days spent are long forgotten,

Rented space is my head is now rotten.

Move along, move along.

Find someone else to burden with your pity song.

I tried to connect.

Placed a mirror for souls to reflect.

But you hated what you saw,

The emotions and feelings so raw.

Run away, run away.

No need anymore to stay.

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

Friday, June 5, 2015

Bad Blood

Oak Trees


When you see greener grass on the other side of the fence,

But you choose to stay because you are dedicated.

You will know your level of commitment as you experience various degrees of opportunities that you either choose to take or pass up.

The consequence of acting on the freedoms you have, to break and bend the rules,

Is that you will become enslaved,

With various freedoms taken away.

You will be forced to start over.

But the worst is the insanity of doing the same thing over and over,

Yet expecting different results.

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015



It hurts it triggers what I already believe about myself,

That no ruling can ever be anything but mercy when compared to my sin.



It hurts because society works in ways that people form relationships to fill their needs.

And when I am rejected,

I feel worthless and of no value to anyone.



It makes me feel used.

As if the things I did are long forgotten.

As if I no longer matter,

As if I am unimportant.


I spend my life breaking down walls and breaking barriers.

So yes, it hurts to be cast out.

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

Thursday, June 4, 2015


I fucking hate you.

What kind of mother makes an environment a pressure cooker,

An unsafe place where children are trained to perform before they are old enough to know otherwise,

Rationed on little food,

Tasked heavy with responsibilities.

And when the school system changed,

And God told you that maybe you ought to slow down,

And the people came at you with their thoughts,

You powered through,

So that your child would never attend a community college,

And your child would never be the stereotypical latino.

And what happened.

The child, well aware that the life he was living was not his own,

That his disposition and talents lied in other realms,

That his small voice would never be heard,

Attempted suicide.

And when his father became aware of what was going on,

Came in to defend the poor helpless child,

You tormented him and held him hostage blaming him,

For the failures that your blind pursuit caused.

And when your dreams and aspirations were not met,

You completely abandoned the  boy,

Withdrawing all love,

All financial support,

All emotional support.

Let him cry himself to sleep because he bothers me.

Ignore him because he will not do what I say.

Abandon him because he is not ready on time.

This was the fucked up mother that you were.

And not only did I lose out on the beauty and experience and relationships of scoring that winning layup,

I lost out on the opportunity to feel unconditionally loved.

To feel a sense of home,

A sense of belonging.

And when such a young boy is parentalized so young,

By a mother unaware of his needs or how to fill them,

He is forced to ask,

"Were you even human?"

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015