Stories Of The Han

Country Road Here we go To a place Where we’re alone Father Stone Father Stone To a land where he began Oklahoma, wide the plain Endless roads where Pickups reign Recant of Scripture Tales of Old Life in Wander Father Stone ----- Disclaimer: Music used in this recording is purely for creative aesthetic. I do not claim to share commercial value in this work.

Awaken the dawn Awaken the day Thank Helios Thank Vishnu Thank Mother Earth Heal Me Feel Me Allow me to partake in your wonders Lay me to rest Temper my ill wills Relieve me Transcend me Evergreen Evergreen

A thought.

A thought.

A thought.

ANJALI —— Graphic Design by Monsterandom x RYK —— Poem & Music by RYK . She lives to live. She strives to strive. And that’s ok. She sits alone in her room, her dreams wide and open. She smiles and cries alone. She sees the glimmer, the glint between the high trees. Glory soon come. Freedom: Ring Ring Ring She lives to live. She strives to strive. And that’s ok.

ECHOES IN THE DARK by RYK

They sit, feet flat, bended knee, body crouched, hands busy Old women working on the pier Turquoise rubber gloves, pink silk head wraps, yellowed straw bill They laugh and gossip, hawking their wares for passersby Wind restless, sun bright as they come A lovely day, a lovely day The old women of Pusan Generations of wisdom Generations of laughter I look at them in awe as if they are a mirage a memory of another era I wonder about their families I wonder what inside jokes they tell I am in wonder with the colors before me The dark blues, the prime greens, the neon yellows The vibrancy of my motherland The vibrancy of country Pusan Pusan Pusan

He wailed through the walls His dreams dark and menacing His eyes closed, his body thrashing I turned on the light and nudged his hand He wouldn’t awake I gently prodded him, asking if he was ok He remained quiet His body silent I wondered if he was alone If he was frightened A scared boy A scarred child My Father

A vibe.

Crickets in the calm. A gust of wind gently making its way down the Bayou. I hear your echoes, your laughter, your southern purr. I hope you’re doing well. I hope you found what you were looking for. I’m still here but stronger. My lust for life never listless. Crickets in the calm. Down by the Bayou.

The recent incidents regarding hate crimes against Asian Americans must cease. Undoubtedly this is a primal reaction from false propaganda. As a first born American citizen and a son of a US Army veteran, I consider myself American. I have traveled and lived in Asia, in times to further grasp my identity yet I find myself most comfortable in the States. Asian Americans comprise 6% of the populace, of which we have virtual zero representation within media, entertainment, and sports. In essence, we are considered an invisible people. It doesn’t help our cause that our upbringing within an Asian household is seeped in Confucian ideology encouraging filial piety and group think. However, I propose to you that this new generation; namely mine, is part of a new canon of a different ilk. We are the hybrids. We are educated and further more, we are defiant. Our parents are of the age where they are feeble and tender. When I witness these careless and crass exhibitions of violence, it saddens and enrages me. Far too

A vibe.