Buddha Mind

Just when you thought you’ve accomplished some crafts-
the Buddha mind laughs.
Already you’re unraveling your first big error-
stitches going “bye-bye” on your hand knit blanket.

Just when you thought you did the right thing
through truth & honesty-
you find out your truth telling got a man testy,
which in turn made him act out hasty.
Shot a guy on the grid. Now he’s dead.
It’d have been safer if he was mislead.

Just when you thought you made a good decision
based on an inner vision you held so tight,
choosing to walk away from the fight.
So the guy instead ended up in a brawl,
right outside with your best friend, Paul!

Just when you thought the perfect job was right around the corner-
SNAP! You trip on a bulging tree root and bust your knee cap.
Now you’re back in that medicine room
feeling like crap.

It’s like a destiny trap!
no future planning…
no looking back…
Just this moment.
How long will it last?
I’m not sure, just don’t let it pass.
Say hello with a kiss-
holding onto this state of nirvana
and ultimate bliss!




Head spinning like the toy top my baby niece picked up. 
Is this how the mind picks up waves and radio sounds-
all distorted and contorted-
without a piece of solid ground to stand?
Perspectives ring true through my cognitive jukebox,
only, I’m outta spare change and even if I wasn’t-
would it even matter? 
Certain it’s out of order and probably even shattered, 
playing whatever song it feels-
no control, just on it’s own beat. 
In my head, there no retreat. 
Like a game of tennis- 
it’s the double edge sword. 
My refuge, my pleasure, my pain. 
But what is there left to gain? 
The ball bounces back and fourth
until one of us tires out. 
It’s manic solitary bliss
 will keep us locked into this relentless abyss.


9/11 Truth: A story from the 91st floor

Part One; Watching: The numbers on my face made my owner, Glen’s grin twitch. He put down his pen and flipped to my next face, his anniversary plans with Dana and daily reminders. His knees bounced as he fidgeted in his Ergo chair contemplating his plans for a romantic dinner. Romance had never been his strong side, but he figured after thirty years of marriage, he would give it a try. The smile was the first I’ve seen in a while. His wife, three daughters, and only son have been praying for him to receive a promotion for all his hard work, extra hours, and dedication so they can keep their house. Now, he had finally earned it, and all was good in the world. ‘Thank God!’ He thought, as he pressed his lips up for a rewarding kiss from his cup of Joe.
Suddenly, his hands shook, coffee spilled all over his bright white new shirt, some dripped on me and his other desk mates. Before he could finish cursing, he stumbled to stand up without wobbling. As he looked around, he saw that it was the chairs, the desks, in fact, the whole building that was shaking. First thing he thought of was earthquake, although, strange, an earthquake in the middle of Manhattan, NYC? A rumble from the floors above reverberated through the walls and a security guard swung open the door and announced that a plane had crashed between the 93rd and 99th floor and to clear out immediately.

The office crews were more hesitant to leave their posts than expected, but as the stamping got louder and the ceiling plaster began to crumble and rain down upon them, they exchanged shared expressions of bewilderment. When the sirens went off, they instantly dropped what they were doing and ran to the hallway. Quizzical whispered chatter broke out among the crowd and then rose to an almost roaring rumble when they heard an ear piercing scream from upstairs. Lights flickered in the hallway and the siren was much louder as they made way towards the elevators. When we got inside, Glen dropped me into his briefcase and tucked it under his arm so he could plug his ears. We were heading down to refuge when the whole thing started to wobble and then freeze. Glen began to panic, temperature rising, heart racing, asked, (to no one in particular) “What’s happening?” The elevator was only a few feet from the next floor. The voice of a janitor from up above caused Glen to raise his brows, look up, and lean closer. A flashlight hit his pupils too fast, causing his eyes to squint. Behind the light was Gonzalez, whom he recognized from those late nights spent at the office in the last couple of weeks. “Gonzalez, what’s going on?”
“Don’t panic, I locked the elevator, but y’all need to get out, now” he responded calmly as he lay down on his stomach and reached out his hands. Glen motioned to the lady behind him go first. She barely hesitated and in seconds, was lifted up onto the next floor. “There was an explosion and we need to get out of here ASAP!” He shouted as he continued pulling people to safety.
One by one they helped each other, bodies on backs, then shoulders. They were pulled up by now two strong men. The screaming and stomping around from above didn’t stop, but this group remained incredibly calm and efficient. Once all eight people were pulled up to safety they stayed together, except the first two, a couple from the tour group, who ran the opposite way to try to avoid the crowd. They were holding hands and running to the left stairwell only to get blown back from an explosion. They were coughing like crazy and struggling to breathe as they stuck their heads out the window where the glass was blown out from the force of the explosion. The man took his overcoat off and started waving it around in the air. He thought he heard the sound of a rescue chopper up above.
“Help! Please help us!” screamed the lady next to him. A couple of guards ran over to help them, but a pillar fell and caught on flames. The couple was now trapped, between the flaming pillars and the blown away stairwell, now a cliff-like structure of doom. So they both hung their heads out of the window, waving and screaming for help.
All the chaos distracted the group from the rescue effort and just as Glen sees the man start to climb out the window, a larger man bumps into him, “move it, let’s go, let’s go…” pushing him into the crowd of people and like one giant wave, they poured down the stairs, tripping and cursing, some struggling to stay standing. Suddenly a thick cloud of smoke covered their bodies and they became very hot, very fast and struggled, coughing and gagging for oxygen. As lights and glass exploded and, windows broke, piercing their eardrums a constant ringing remained. The fire alarm now blended in with the other sounds and people really began to panic. Some women were saying prayers, a couple of men were cursing strange obscenities telling everyone to shut up and just focus on getting down, some were chanting repeatedly, “Are we gonna die? I don’t want to die!” The severity of the situation was setting in and the outlook was grim. As they took their last breaths, screams, and cries on their way to a sudden and early grave, the floors collapsed on each other one by one and in a matter of seconds, everything had turned to dust.
Next thing I knew, I was covered in thick ash and smog. I was not in the briefcase, I was missing my binder, and the rest of the pages had vanished. I was floating down the street, only a scrap now. I have never been a scrap. Glen always took such good care of me. He kept his life on a tight schedule and I felt honored to be his organizer. But this certainly was not part of his plans, we knew that much. Glen’s vibrant, charismatic personality got him by well in life and he never gave up, even when times were tough. His life was much more than what could have been written on my various faces.

Life? Where is life? All I see now is burned and grey and still. Sky was bright blue and beautiful from Glen’s window an hour ago. Now… blackness and thick smog filled the air. Glen… Where are you now?

Part Two; NOW: I float through the rooftops, porches and into back alleyways. I float through the streets that used to be so crowed, but everywhere is empty and all is buried in ash and flames. There was an eerie stillness in the air. Soon I begin to hear the familiar screams and panicked voices, this time coming from the streets up ahead. Everyone is running away from me, from us, from all this death and debris. The windstorms of rubble keep ash covered people running, looking like zombies, struggling to breath.

A pastel white woman with thick glasses covered in ash, whispering to herself in Hebrew.
A fireman with third degree burns crashes into me mumbling, “I gotta go back, I gotta go back. There are still people in there…” he was referring to the tower that was still remaining, but on fire from second plane attack. The brief inflection whiffs me back into the air to be carried faster through the hot, hot wind.

A young baby girl crying is for her mother. She is lost.

I hear a younger woman in scrubs state through stuttered speech and tears that she saw people dropping from windows, hand in hand or solo, like miraculous tear drops coming from the towers.

The city’s symbol of bureaucracy and financial corruption will soon become the symbol of illusionary “freedom” tower and I immediately thought of the couple by the window, trapped between the burning stairwell and pillar. Did they escape, or were they one of the jumpers?
I am swept past them all, and for miles and miles but the panic never stops, sirens from fire trucks are blaring, horns honking. What irony and human tragic grief they must feel to think what was written on me today, would bring about the most honest smile on Glen’s face since the banks almost took his house away, to his biggest regret, for if he’d only been out for that “smoke break” on this dreadful day, he would have been able to kiss his wife and kids and been grateful to be alive.
My edges are torn and burnt and the numbers on my face mean nothing now. I ponder this while drifting closer and closer to the Brooklyn Bridge, where thousands of people are walking to get out of the city. I am blowing in a heat wave of smoke, landing on various shoulders until I find myself landing softly on a park bench covered in ash.
Long dreaded hair locks drape over her shoulders as she holds her face in her hands and closes her eyes, trying to block out the disturbing images running ramped through her mind. People jumping from windows, burned and bleeding faces running from buildings, firemen going into them, only to become crushed by the structure’s brutal collapse.
She kept wondering why, with our government and military, being as powerful as they are, why they did not interfere? Where was the mayor and who told the policemen to send the people back into the buildings after the first plane already hit? They will say it was to keep the people calm and not to cause panic, but did they know more? Why did building seven collapse randomly at 5pm, and why did the media take their focus away from that incident shortly after covering the events? A smoking gun perhaps? Why aren’t more officials asking questions instead of giving answers so quick it makes your head spin? Something is not right here. Something worse than I want to believe has happened and our country will never be the same.
She picked me up and as she read the numbers on my face, she wondered where I belonged in that building and what the numbers really meant. Then, she glanced to the bottom of my page and read, Friday: Take kids to Chuckie Cheese Saturday: Celebrate anniversary at The C… the rest of the note was missing. She placed her hand to her mouth and tried not to imagine who Glen was and who would be grieving for him so terribly today. She suppressed her cries with her hand, but could not stop the tears from falling from her eyes.


Amazing Grace

Amazing grace
has lost her place.
Along with a thousand other                                                                                                                                                                             tear stained faces…     
Some threw in the towel long ago.
Soon as the dollar began to slide-
they up and left it all behind.
Got on the band wagon of stocks and bonds-
in gold and silver-
yet still denied.
It’s over now, they missed their ride.
So she can kiss her grace goodbye.

Bravery Ails the Beautiful

Bravery is an iron fist harnessed by prayer shawls and placid faces.
In the sea of distraction, the oars man sets sail for another lone day.
On days when no one is watching.
No one is there to judge him.
He stands tall and suitably proud.
Bravery is a constant battle among thieves, witches and hungry vultures.
But in this great land of the free, only the strong will triumph.
Only then will beauty unfold…
Truth lies in the secretion of thought..
Drifters take a back seat and relax.
Listen to the sound of an empty cup.
Feel the vibrations of a beating heart.
As your wonder grows,
Beauty unfolds…
like Glenn Gould, feeling every key with precision and exuberance,
you become alive, joyous and free.
Centered for all of the world to see
what a blessing it is just to be.

Mo Shin Do

A beautiful angelic rose
blows in the wind &
hums a tune that penetrates
a place inside.

What I’m told is that the call has passed.
Did I miss my final chance?

A candle’s flame is dying.
Wax drips down like someone crying.

Telling me now a story of goodbyes
and lonely hushed up lullabies.

The pen is moving but I’m not thinking.
A zen trance without blinking.

Not alone-
this fight with death.
She will not give in to the darkness
but will surrender to the bud of a single rose.

Use your Mind & to us be Kind…

ImageMy name is Reece Resce, Dog Detective
and I’m here to say,
“Woof woof woof woof woof woof woof!”

In translation, all this means is,
“Listen to us, we have a voice.
However you leave us without much choice.
Some of us are taken from our homes,
some from our natural habitats,
and some from the streets
where someone left us without any treats!
Now we are stuffed into a small, cold cage.
This only produces nervous fits of rage.
When you perform those so called “science experiments”
it only creates mass confusion and delirium!
Your lab rats, we want to run and hide
’cause the pain just won’t seem to subside.
When you take away our fur, we shiver- burr burr burr
And for those poor guys out on the farms, like the cows, chickens, ducks and lambs…
Please let them roam free and eat the grass,
because the stuff you give them just wont pass!
It just makes ’em sick.
So treat us with love like you’ve been told,
and I promise we’ll still be there when you grow old.

My name is Reece Resce, Dog Detective
and I’m here to say,

“I’ve seen it all because I am a detective and this is what I do.
I solve these crimes, through and through. I fight for animal rights, I do.”

Fall from Grace

Oh my lover, don’t you feel my suffering

Oh my lover, We’ll break free from pain.
All my innocence, lost in misery.
Oh my lover, don’t you fall from grace…

The wind is howling, my hands are shaking.
Moonlight shimmering, streetlights glimmering.
My Tabby by my side, alert eyes open wide.
Walk up the stairs & the creaky door let’s us inside.

Oh my lover, don’t you feel my suffering
Oh my lover, We’ll break free from pain.
All my innocence, lost in misery.
Oh my lover, don’t you fall from grace…

So much history, so much misery.
An epic past. Your evil rein can’t last!
You hunted us, then tore us apart.
But I won’t let you take, the one closest to my heart.

At last I found this place.
It reaks of your disgrace.
I focus on my breath-
distracting me from this death.

The echos of the footsteps of my cat,
creep like spiders off the walls-
walking down the dim lit halls.

Oh my lover, don’t you feel my suffering
Oh my lover, We’ll break free from pain.
All my innocence, lost in misery.
Oh my lover, don’t you fall from grace…

The second floor; where are you hiding?
Feelings direct me. My training lets me see.
Pull out my sword; it’s magic blade glows,
blue lightening in the dark!
This time I will not miss my mark.
Tabby lets out a growl, her claws now razor sharp.
A light shines up ahead. The dogs begin to bark.
Mister, you have no chance! You should have let us be!
Now feel my blade as I send you back to misery!

Oh my lover, don’t you feel my suffering
Oh my lover, We’ll break free from pain.
All my innocence, lost in misery.
Oh my lover, don’t you fall from grace…



Here’s the music that goes along with this song… https://soundcloud.com/bo-yenhwa/fall-from-grace

Now we just need someone to sing it for us!!  It’s tough… Anyone wanna give it a shot, we’re here… let us know!  🙂


Bo’s Rant

Hey there!  Ya you, just sittin’ tight and pretty

with your bacardi and rum think you one uped my city?

Well then, ya better run

before I start some fun

watch you squirm out in the sun,

like a bug I got my mag glass gun.

Comin at ya harder than Woody Allan’s woody

on Miss America day.

Let’s face the facts,

and stay on track.

It’s startin’ to look wack,

Gettin’ steamed over a bag of someone else’s money

You’re thief and ya know it,

but you crew is gettin’ awfully runny

and it aint even funny.

Thin to the bones like one by one

they drop you like Suzy’s pantihoes.  

Plus gettin’ knocked out by your old lady in stilettos

who won’t forget

promises never kept

or the day you left

only bruises, scars and

shame upon your depart.

Tried  “sorry” with a dozen roses.

As if the act would hide you’re guilty composure.

Empty love is nothing but a weak heart

and a man with a weak heart,

is a man with missing parts.

what you did made remorse fade quickly to regret,

through her life off course.

Now I’m back to make you sweat,

get off your high horse..

This is the last time you take any woman’s voice,

‘cause in the end, we always have a choice.


So watch out Woody before ya try to cease my fire

rip through my style, then burn out by my desire.  

go ahead and try

while I’m kissin’ you’re hypocritical white collar trash

We know it’s just another class act but you don’t even try

Boo Whoo, now don’tcha wanna cry

hum, drum, a lullaby.

You wouldn’t wanna have to leave your own kids behind, wouldja?

without even a single kiss goodbye!


And to all the politicians,

from the people here in the trenches,

we comprehend more than you give us credit for,

We smell your scum the second you walk through the door

We only pretend to ignore.

Haters preachin; all that doublespeak

need to cease all the bullshit you call peace,

Did you think there would not be some moralistic leak-

starin’ through your peep hole

at the secrets you try to keep?

Spying like you spy on us without

even a warrant.

So disturbing, most refuse to see

what’s right under their noses.


As we know, that shit don’t fly

especially for a guy unwillingly fled to Iraq

without even a reason why

and you wonder why he cracked?

we don’t even know how he died-

no body ever found.

To follow Bush law I guess-

to clean up his mess.

-along with spreading wicked lies,

He had to put on a cracked disguise.  


9/11 stole many lives and was sensationalized all over the news.

But then when WTC7 fell the same afternoon, no plane hit through.

explosions were heard

but no one would respect their word.

Bush even said, and I quote,

“You are either with us, or you’re with the terrorists.”

making the baby boomers head spin,

thought the conspiracies would never end

but where did it all begin?

Was it on that unforgettable day in November, 1963

when Kennedy was shot in broad daylight

and they pinned it on a ex-marine –

the perfect CIA pawn.

We are told to keep our lips shut and our eyes closed.

Yet all this hate and greed built up, deceit upon deceit

until we all became one with the machine.

Stirring up hate in the wrong direction

How could one entire nation neglect

what’s right in their faces…

instead they just decide to change the station?

Pride, ego, insecurity, basically it all comes down to fear.

Let it all go and move together, to restore nation.


An old school founding father stood tall by The Constitution law.

Now, it’s been erased, without even a trace.

Lincoln said these words to our entire nation,

“Together we stand, divided we fall”

without a single hesitation,

Ya know why?   ‘Cause he was an honest guy.

and without deceptive motives nether.

So what are we so afraid of?

Isn’t he the one we’re supposed to believe in ?

Along with the Kennedys, Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Ralph Nader and Ron Paul too!

The ones who preached for freedom

but still they took the fall…!

So what is it all about?

Should we all just scream and shout?

After all, it’s not what the fighting is supposed to be about.

Civil War is what they want, so they can enforce Martial Law,

put us up against the wall, like Orwell’s 1984.

Every posse on my block is filled with doubt

ya because you cashed in

gave your wallet to a half wit

signed your name on the line & then cashed it.

What were you thinking?

Did ya think we were sinkin’?

Sellin’ out was what we’d promise we’d never do.

Afterall, I had just met you before all this shit went through

and now it’s platinum too.

So what’s all this amount to?

Some kinda foolish disguise

to cover up you’re wicked lies?

I don’t think so!

You may see me as weak

because I stutter when I speak

but that only started since I met you.

So leave us alone and find you’re own place in the sand.

If I had met you in another land,

would this have all been planned?

Would you regret it?

Forget it, you would not understand!



Paper Love: The First Year’s a Gift, the rest, Hard-Work and a Mystery

Staring at my paper cup,
rim saturated with lipstick, coffee stains and honey.
I wonder where the remnants
of our love resides, when the days get stagnant, cool and gray.
There’s a place where we can go,
when in need of a love fix in case of disaster blows.
Finding it, this years mission,
so we can go there when the tide gets high and the waves, rough.
Gazing at paper letters;
Dented up reminders of my frustration, eyes get wild…
Wet hazel and troubled breath
blind truth hides behind lonesome shadows of desired caress,
Too disjointed yet to kiss,
but you made the miracle happen with your warm embrace.
Paper receipt; lunch for two;
green paper exchanges made way for big changes that day.
Paper note folded in fours…
refolded, crumpled, flattened, recycled, torn
A tapestry of rainbows;
Our ever-lasting inertia of dreams guiding us home.
First year is a miracle;
Forever flowing, undying bliss will need true love’s kiss…
keeping our hearts strong and pure,
like the roots of a tree where paper derives and love stirs,
thinking about paper love.


For D.

Love A.