Wednesday, December 30, 2015

American History X

Those who love me are like the laundry boy in American History X,

While I sit in the prison that I put myself in,

While I endure the consequences of my sin,

Folding underwear represents where we met,

In the most humbling of places,

In a matter of unforeseeable circumstances,

But even there you have brought in life,

Given me an ounce of joy,

Given me an ounce of warmth,

And somehow as my sentence completes,

I walk away knowing that you have guarded me

I walk away knowing of true grace and love


<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
Copyright December 2015

Tuesday, December 29, 2015


You are so good to me,

My rock and my shelter,

A never ending source of love.


<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
Copyright December 2015

Sunday, December 20, 2015

Life and Death

Not afraid of death

What someone should really fear

Is to never live

Scott Izu, PhD
Copyright December 2015

Blog Highlights

From looking at blog stats, here are some highlights... Thank you to those who read, comment, share, plus, etc!

Saturday, December 19, 2015

A Leopard Haiku

True Change requires death

Can a leopard change its spots?

Catepillars can

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
Copyright December 2015

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

A Rant Against the Incubator

You call yourself a woman?

You are nothing of a woman,

You are supposed to be an incubator.

You are built for it.

You get a house

You have a power to make it a home.

You collect ingredients,

And you can magically create a meal.

You take a seed,

And you will make a child.


But what do you do with your man?

Do you multiply what you have been given?


You tear him down, nagging

To him, no matter how hard he tries,

You make him feel he will never be enough.

You fill him with hopelessness,

Because you place your hopes on him

And the barrenness of your soul,

You place before him

As if he was somehow suppose to fill that void

By meeting your unrealistic expectations


And you belittle and emasculate him,

Because somehow that will give you power

Over the powerlessness you felt as a child

Reacting to what your father did to you.

But that time,

Was supposed to give you insight

And compassion for a man,

But you twisted all that horrible pain

Into hatred

Rather than growth.

You could have been such an inspiration to so many



You ignore your vary being

Do you arouse him with your beauty

And sensuous ways


Because he does not deserve your love

You say

But there goes the twist doesn't it?

He already knows he doesn't deserve your love

Its when you give it under these conditions

You not only arouse his body

But you arouse his inner being

You release pure energy into his soul


And without changing your ways,

Is it any wonder he turns to the vices of the world?

He can pick so many to prove to himself he is a man

The world offers work, gambling, pornography, affairs, television, video games

Yes, he has a whole buffet to choose from

As a consolation prize for your love

But he has chose only one



Your man,

Is an extension of you

And you cut off your own arm

Because of self hatred

Bred from hatred.


Its time to heal my dear.

Its time to let go of the past.

To regain the strength you once had

To first be comforted

So that you can comfort

To first be healed

So that you can heal

Both your life and his are at stake.

I believe in you.


<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
Copyright December 2015

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Emerging Love

Love as a youth,

Its a selfish love,

An enchantment, an ecstasy, an awakening.


But love as an adult,

Its a servant love

It requires charity and perseverance and grace.


But I simply cannot give

Until I have received

It requires a dependence, a vulnerability, a submission.


How dreadful!

How scary!

How glorious!

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
Copyright December 2015

Toxic Love

I used to love you

And you used to love me.

But our love just was not enough was it?

Something so broken in our world.

Even our love.

So we sought the comfort of family

No risk or exhaustion.


You know, the kind of toxicity that occurs

When another being has combined with your core

And energy is now being used on another self

That is you, yet is not.

That kind of toxicity?


<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
Copyright December 2015

Thursday, December 10, 2015


A man is a fighter,

A warrior,

He cannot just sit around the house,

He cannot just watch over babies,

Or build a blooming nest.


Everything in a man wants to protect,

Wants to provide,

To be the victor,

The champion,

The hero


A man doesn't just turn to addiction,

He is inticed by it.

He doesn't just fulfill his lusts with pornography,

No, he hunts.

He searches for just the right place.

Just the right girl.

Hours wasted away

Simply driven by the desire to be victorious.

Because he was built for that search.

And he was built for a journey.


But without an enemy to fight,

A man will go crazy.

And he knows this,

So he will numb away these deep desires,

Sedate himself with alchohol because he can't sit still.

Because he can't see who he needs to attack.

Because the biggest trick the devil ever played

Was to convince the world he didn't exist.


But the world is afraid of man's power.

They want nice boys

And handsome gentlemen.

But without a story to tell

Without that great adventure

No meaning and no destiny

A man will grow bored and fade away.


But there is never death.

There is always something cooking in the kitchen

Always somethin in the basement

A flicker, a flame

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© December 2015

Tuesday, December 8, 2015


Mark was raised in a typical household.  Two parents, striving to make their way in the world.  Both hard working.  Initially, Mark's parents wanted to make a good family life.  They wanted him to have a great childhood.  Good food.  Good fun.  Presents on his birthday and under the Christmas tree.  They started out with good intentions.

But soon, the quest for wealth had overtaken Mark's parents.  He found himself walking home alone from school.  Eating dinner alone at the dinner table.  Mark was active in soccer and basketball as a youth.  He knew that athleticism was what it meant to be a boy.  To be male.  But his parents, busy with work, rarely visited his games.  He wasn't bad at sports.  But he wasn't great either.  He was plain.  He was average.

Around middle school and early high school years, Mark started to realize he was different.  He was a loner of sorts.  Although he tried to fit in, he just didn't.  He was attracted to girls, but he never mentioned it because people would make fun of him.  He liked sports but he just didn't feel like playing before school, during lunch and after school like other boys in his class.

Mark always stuttered when he approached other girls in his age group.  When it came time for his first Homecoming dance in high school, he decided to ask one of the girls in his class.  It took Mark weeks to gain enough courage to ask her.  He didn't know how to even ask a girl to go out with him.  Finally, the day came.  He stammered out the question, "Sarah, I was wondering if...  I was wondering if you would like to go to the Homecoming dance with me?"

Sarah replied, "Oh, I'm sorry Mark, I'm going with David."  Now, Sarah was a little immature, being in high school.  Rather than simply leaving it at that, she decided to tell her friends about Mark.  Quickly, the rumors spread and the blow to Mark's ego was securely in place.  It was that humiliation that left Mark with the realization that he was an outcast and simply socially unacceptable.

Mark's wound, deep in place, was clear.  He was neglected at home and separated by his peers.  Mark felt unwanted, alone, insecure and pretty much powerless.  But he didn't know what to do about it.  He simply continued to go through the motions.  To try to pretend to fit in.  To continue to work hard like his parents wanted.

Then, one day, while Mark was a Sophmore, he met Amy.  Amy was a senior.  She was smart, caring and just seemed to have a nurturing quality about her.  Amy was always building up Mark's self esteem.  She would compliment his physical appearance, caressing his arms.  She would gasp at how smart he was and hard working.  She was sure Mark was going to be someone important someday.

Mark loved the attention.  In fact, he was attention starved.  No one else seemed to pay attention to him like Amy.  Soon, they started to go out.  Amy would often pay for things, drive Mark around.  She took the lead on so many things.  Amy, even helped advance things sexually.  She would climb on top of Mark as they made out.  Mark felt that he wasn't quite ready for Amy's advances and he would try to voice his concerns but he was afraid of losing Amy's love.

Mark didn't think much of the steadily progressing physical nature of their relationship.  After, Mark was a teenage boy with his own curiosities, desires and fantasies.  After six months, toward the end of Amy's senior year, Mark and Amy had sex for the first time.  Mark's first experience of a sexual orgasm left him in a state of shock.  He was amazed at the feelings ignited within him and literally had his mind blown.

While Mark and Amy continued to date, soon after, Amy left for college and eventually their relationship died down.  But something about the whole relationship stuck with Mark for so long.  Deep within him, he just couldn't quite grasp the fingerprint Amy would forever leave on his life.

Mark continued to date throughout the years.  But in each relationship, Mark just felt something was missing.  After a while, Mark started to lose hope and wondered if he could ever find his life partner.  At first, looking back, Mark started to believe that no matter how much he dated, no woman could ever recreate his "Amy" experience.  But then, over time, Mark evolved this thinking to believe that no woman could ever fill the void left by the neglect and rejection he experienced during his childhood.  Mark started to understand that no matter how much he tried, he could never go back in time and receive what his heart longed for: unconditional love.

It was then that Mark started to notice the pattern of his dating after all these years.  Each relationship would start with Mark's extraordinary sense of the lonely or neglected.  While Mark would start his relationships well-intentioned, with sincere efforts to help extend a hand to these lonely souls, inevitably, these relationships would quickly degenerate into sexual relationships.  It was as if Mark could only truly identify with these women he dated, if he was intimate sexually.  And because, he knew what it felt like to be isolated and rejected, he was easily able to idolize his dates, to shower them with affirmations about their value and desirability.  With a clear unmet emotional and physical need, Mark's dates seemed to be drawn into a deeper connection instantly.

In any given relationship, all the while Mark would feel he was providing the love and acceptance that his girlfriend deserved.  After all, he felt that everyone should feel loved and no one should ever feel as he felt during his childhood.  But there was something interesting about each of his girlfriends.  Each seemed to have a sort of innocence.  A sort of unawareness or lack of experience sexually.  And Mark was obsessed with creating a "first time" experience.  Something unique.  He couldn't explain it.

Perhaps, somehow, this sense of power, might in someway resolve some of his own pain.  Perhaps, somehow this breaking of innocence might provide the thrill and justification that purity and innocence could have never remained within him.  Or that somehow, this experience might somehow give him the acceptance he is looking for.  Or perhaps, it was related to legacy, that if Mark was the one to introduce such shocking pleasure, that he would hold a permanent place in the life of his loved one, that even abandonment or an ending of their relationship could never remove.

This unique fingerprint would forever shape Mark's relationships.  Was this unique fingerprint a journey to find a father or mother figure?  Or was it simply driven by a narcissistic endeavor to unite with an image of his idealized self?  Mark would never know.

<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
Copyright December 2015

Inspired after reading "Sexual Healing" by David Kyle Foster