Izz on glory

Glory, here I come. - Izz

_Email this to a friend by clicking on the 'envelope' below_

Izz on faith

We can't always get it right but we must labour forth. The string-like path of life that anyone full of purpose chooses will always squeeze them a little bit tight, swing them wobbly to an almost fall. But it is at such a time that we must remember the devine word: faith. - Izz

It is not often that we attempt something that we have been failing to do for our lifetime that we get it right because we kneeled down and prayed. God only grants us that opportunity to labor our actions a little bit harder, one more time in order for us to get it right. -Izz

_Email this to a friend by clicking on the 'envelope' below_

Tears of the heart

Why does it be, why,
Why is this heart so torn apart,
Ripped into countless pieces of an unfitting puzzle

Is this heart that loves so much to be punished,
Banished to infinite desperation,
Despair-ation which knows prayer but not answers

How does it be, how
How, that I love man and hate my Creator,
Man exists with me to love and war with,
He who created exists only to deny me,
He refuses me the key to the puzzle,
The puzzle, a conundrum He tossed asunder into my life

I’m a wandering Mighty,
A royal soul trailing in the cold shadows,
Cold, dark shadows of dunes of a hot desert,
To say I’m lost is to suggest I shall be found,
To contemplate that someone is seeking me,
No, I’m not lost, I’m banished to infinite emptiness

What is this, this… this POWER,
Royal mightiness cast upon me,
A force worth all the gold in the world,
Ahhh, so valuable, so measurable, falleable,

What about my invaluable desperation,
What about the heart of my dream,
Will that too be granted,
Oh no, it is denied by He, forever denied

It is denied… denied… denied

_Email this to a friend by clicking on the 'envelope' below_

Izz on dreams

Pop culture teaches us that dreams are nothing but our minds going gaga over nothing. My forefathers believed otherwise and that's why their generation was wiser than our shallow nations.

_Email this to a friend by clicking on the 'envelope' below_

Mikhaela’s tragedy

[]WARNING: Some readers may be offended.[]

Sob, sob, it is no use for me,
I can sob all I want, but this place,
This dark place which never shone light on me,
This eve-of-earth is my birth and death place

Sob, sob, it is of no gain,
For my mother never knew me,
I never felt the touch of her soft skin on my pain,
How my wretched skin longs for it

Sob, sob, it is fruitless tears of shame,
Consolation – this place my spirit is trapped in at least has a name,
It’s called grave

My father, I never knew,
His strong hands never caressed this dry skin,
His adoration – in his heart – flew,
I bet it was not even enough to be shamed as too lean

Sob, sob, where is my name?
What is my name?
Was I going to be named A, B, C or Z?
No, my sense, when it was not only a trapped spirit heard a voice full of buzz,
A sweet voice sang to me, Mikhaela, Mikhaela,
Mikhaela, oh Mikhaela

Was that to be my name?
I'm not Mikhaela,
There was no ceremony to name me,
I have no name

What was I to be, a girl, a boy?
Was I to be light, dark?
Was my nose to be sharp, hair curly and rich black?

Sob, sob, what do the others conceived in my time look like, like me?
Do they today life and its spoils enjoy?
Was I to play with them?
Was I to give mama and papa joy, pain, joy, pain, perhaps joy?

Trapped, trapped, will I ever escape this dark place?
At least it has a name,
And surely I don't have

Trapped trapped, will my spirit ever escape,
But I have to rejoice,
My spirit, in this dark place, must have a reason to rejoice,
For I hear mama walk, dance, sing,
And I feel her express her love,
Where is my itsy bitsy of the spoils?
Must I demand it? No, me, spirit –
I can’t make demands. No rights

When do I die as a spirit?
My body is no more, it has never been,
My eyes, with fire of the sun were never lit

Sob sob, I only die when mama is no more and stops to dance,
NO, I MUST PROTECT MAMA, I must protect mama, sob some more,
But I need to look out for my own plans,
What plans? I’m a lingering spirit banished forever in a dark place

Sob sob, I sob not for me,
I sob for mama’s protection so she doesn’t die,
But what of me?

Sob sob, I’ll linger in her womb,
No, my spirit will linger – it must not be a bomb,
Till she is no more

But no, I must protect mama.
Sob sob.

_Email this to a friend by clicking on the 'envelope' below_

Izz on pain

The recurring pain in our lives sharpens us by revealing our self-love and appreciation of life itself. But to strive to minimise pain does not take away lessons it teaches. - Izz

Pain tutors us to absorb the harder, more difficult lessons that we otherwise would not have the ability to understand in our normal merry state. - Izz

Pain is gain. Just think which: grieve or opportunity to introspect to become better a person. - Izz

_Email this to a friend by clicking on the 'envelope' below_