Too many Ginger Bread Men running from their maker to be eaten by the fox.

Too many Red Riding Hoods riding ignorantly in life to be swallowed by the wolf.

Too many Jack and Jills, rushing up the hill, do not last the thrill, everything goes downhill.

Too many children being led away by the Pied Piper; their whereabouts unknown.

Too many Humpty Dumpties having great falls and never getting back up.

Too many Sleeping Beauties waiting for that kiss to wake ’em up from slumber.

Too many little chickens become weather forecasters screaming, “THE SKY IS FALLING!!!”

Too many Jacks climbing that beanstalk, no clue of what awaits them in the clouds.

Too many Rapunzels rotting away in a tower, hiding their beauty from the world.

Too many Little Pigs eaten up for putting up mediocre homes.

Too many queens making rash deals with Rumpelstiltskin.

Too many Pinocchio’s trying to change who they are for someone they cannot be.

Too many so called Robin Hoods taking from the rich and giving to the poor. Do you do it for the poor or do it for yourselves?

Too many ducklings, knowing not what the future holds caught up in the act of covetousness.

Too many complexes on the road to Emerald City hoping for absolution from the Wizard of Oz.


The cock crows 3 times, I wake up aged 24.
Another day and the hustle and bustle that comes with.
You know it’s a miracle when you make it out of bed, take time to thank He who made it possible for you to be alive.
I’m physically fit, mentally sound. Thank you God for I’m a blessing.

The school dropout.I pray to Jesus for enlightenment.

Now, I hope my development in this environment is a testament that the Omnipotent’s covenant in my life still stands. Yes, I’m a descendant of Abraham, Old Testament. A lieutenant of Christ. The New Testament.
I’m quite fluent in the Gospels, an exponent of the good news, but speak just a fragment of it’s language. Why?
Entanglement of the world’s pleasures holding a guy back. Pardon me, for the components of these worldly enjoyments far too pleasing for me to pass by.
Imprisonment. That’s the state I’m at this moment in my life. I look to God for imminent release from the clutches of this life. I’m a walking contradiction.

When I was 12, in Sunday school, I yearned to be Solomon. Asked God for his wisdom and splendor.
Wisdom and money can get you almost anything, but only wisdom can save your soul.
In my quest to be King David’s son, I study his works. Then comes Ecclesiastes.
The first word I meet on my journey is ‘meaningless’. I confess, after my incipient viewing, the zest I had for life was somewhat suppressed. Each painful page got the kid distressed and depressed.
After a few more chapters, I quit reading altogether. This book was making me stressed; man needed some rest. Hence I digressed to something else.
Nonetheless, I dressed up and came back to the teacher’s class, Bible on my desk. I press myself to find meaning to the meaningless.
Alas! The boy finds his ‘Perez’ in the last chapter of Solomon’s address.
Without God, life is meaningless, bottomless and aimless. Like chasing the wind.
That is the underlying message of the book.

Life is good; Life is crude.
Life is simple; Life is complex.
Life is a jungle; Life is serene.
What I’m doing? I’m saying that life is a paradox.

I cried when I failed, laugh more as I succeed. I’ve been beaten and broken, fed and taken cared for. My life is sweet but my cross sure is heavy.
This is not a story about how I would tell you that I’ve found the prognosis and antidote to your problems. This is not a song about how I promise that all your life’s grievances will be cleared up after you listen to it.


This is a note to tell you that there will be tears, but also there will be joy. You will have friends and you will have enemies. You will fail but you shall succeed.

This is to let you know that life will cheer you up and beat you down to be trampled on.
How fast will you get back up?

Special shout outs to the happy,
And much love goes to the weary and burdened. Hang in there, for this I can promise, you will laugh again.

Seize the day!

Dear Lord

Dear Lord forgive me for I have sinned. Where do I start?
This life far too cruel and I might quit. Sometimes I wonder what my destination would have been had I not eaten from that tree. Blame Adam not me.
Pleasures of this world far too appealing for my lethargic spirit. Spiritually my cup empty, materially it runneth over. All I want to see is green faces. Somewhere inside my soul I feel You trying to escape from the cage I placed You in. I would set You free, but the keys, I can’t find them.
Modern day Brutus. I have betrayed Your love for savage desires. Blame Judas not me. The guilt I’m feeling is driving me towards the Field of Blood. What is clear is that I have placed myself in a position where satan manipulates me. My motivation is unclear.

Dear God forgive me for I am a sinner. The Pastor reciting memory verses I once memorized as a child.
I’m at church and Your word is enlightening. ‘I am the light of the world.’ This little light if mine I’m gonna let it shine, but the oil in this little lamp of mine about to run out.
My eyes are blinded, my legs cut off, guide me Lord that I may not stumble for this path rocky.
The church choir sings praises to You: Hallowed be Your Name. I don’t feel welcomed at church any longer. Preacher talking about Heaven and Hell; the narrow path and broad road. “Where is your life headed?”
Somehow I feel his message directed towards me. All eyes on me. The indifference I feel in Your House.
Can’t call You Father because I sold my birthright for a plate of D’evils. Blame Essau not me. I’ve abandoned the Proverbs and entered the home of the immoral woman. She seduces me with her coy glances. I lust for her. Her lips are as sweet as honey and her mouth smoother than oil.

Forgive me Jesus, I have sinned. I’m a fool for my lack of self control. I’ve denied You of Your temple. Blame Peter not me. I know my faults, I want to change, I tried but to no avail.
Can’t I just be Switzerland?
I know Your ways are pure and true but further away I stray. Hate the devil and his ways but find myself at his place. Law of magnetism.
I’m a disciple of d’evils, persecuting Your followers and trying to convert them. Blame Saul not me.
Please Spirit I come to You in full acceptance of my crimes.
I thirst.



She’s 18. Physically she’s got the body of a woman, created in the radiant image of her maker. Psychologically an advanced model to her peers. And Lord knows she beautiful.

18 with a bright future and a faded past. In her short existence she’s lived the nomadic life, shuffled between mom and dad. Mostly kept to herself, making friends was just meaningless.

Don’t blame her, her reasons be valid.

Why put myself through the pleasures of childhood friendships when time is going to run out. Chronomentrophobia. Picture sharing your life with someone with the knowledge that the relationship is temporary. Her childhood was mostly for herself for she came to cherish her solitude, moulded her to the person she is today.


It’s the year 2007, she’s 10. Finally settles after her world’s exodus. Teenage life is at its genesis. In the beginning her universe was formless and empty, darkness all over. There is no light. Yet.

Still 10 and already the smartest in the room according to daddy. Needs to live up to the hype now. The pressures of making it. The weight of expectation weighs heavily on her frail shoulders. Cries when daddy gets mad at her, when things aren’t going as expected –that’s the world love, things don’t always go as we want. She cries when getting berated for not being like the girl next door.

What mom and dad fail to see is the moral fibre displayed by this girl next door was a complete façade.

She’s just a child; she’s just a child, 10 years old and being treated as an adult. Prays to God for she needs Him. This life far too hard, the pain. “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”

10 years old and already preparing her first substitution.

In: no emotions; out: feelings. She’s on the defensive now

It’s the year 2015, she’s 18. 18 with teenage social life problems in full swing

“Will I be accepted?” Be the outlier.

“Enough friends?” Define enough?

“Popular enough?” Who cares?

“How do I look?” What’s good Jeannie Mai!! Your imperfections is a wonderful blessing from above, that’s where you got it from.

She’s 18, the prototype of a goddess, made in the bosom of her creator. She’s 18, has been to hell and back. 18, and on the way to heaven at Godspeed. 18, with the mentality of an athlete. She runs to win.

All athletes are disciplined in their training. They do it to win a prize that will fade away. But she does it for the eternal prize. Paul.

Let there be light.