#iraq
Sammy the Schnoodle
You came with no warning, a bundle of curls,
Eyes wide with wonder, docked tail in soft swirls.
She handed you gently, then kissed me goodbye—
Duty called her, across desert sky.
I didn’t expect you, wasn’t quite sure.
A leash, a crate, p ee on the floor.
But silence was heavy the moment she left,
And your little heart filled in the cleft.
We wandered the streets in the hush of the night,
Learning each other in dim porchlight.
You’d tilt your head like you understood,
Each broken thought, each mood, each “should.”
Endless walks down familiar roads,
You guarding my heart in quiet code.
Car rides like therapy, windows rolled down,
You made me smile when all felt drowned.
Then the day the bridge gave way to the sky,
Steel and screams, sirens that cry.
You sat by my side, unshaken, aware—
A grounding soul in thick, shaken air.
Through fear and rubble, through grief and the news,
You offered your silence, your nonjudging views.
No medal, no words, just your paw on my knee,
Reminding me gently, “You still have me.”
Seasons turned slow, then eighteen months gone,
She came back to find us, bonded and strong.
Not just a pet, but a part of my core,
The quiet teacher who opened the door.
Because of you, I learned how to stay,
To love without words, to show up each day.
You softened my edges, you taught me to bend,
Prepared me for fatherhood, friend to the end.
Now when I hold my child in the hush of the night,
I remember our walks, the streetlamp light.
Sammy the Schnoodle, unplanned but true—
The gift I didn’t know I needed was you.
© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.
Jul 26, 2025
Jul 26, 2025 at 10:22 AM UTC
Fire Through the Screen
Miles of sand, a war-torn sky,
And still, it’s you who floods my mind.
Your face lit soft in pixel light,
A ghost of touch in desert night.
You whisper low, your voice like fire,
Each breath a spark, each word desire.
My hands can’t reach, but still they ache,
For every curve I cannot take.
Your beauty glows through static haze,
A sun that burns in far-off days.
I watch you move, a sacred spell,
A private world where bodies dwell.
You tease the straps from sun-kissed skin,
And I forget the world I’m in.
No bombs, no guns, just you and me,
Two souls undressed by memory.
I talk you through with hungry eyes,
You answer back in breathless sighs.
The screen between us can’t divide
The fever rising deep inside.
This isn’t just some fleeting thrill—
It’s need, it’s love, it’s wanting still.
To claim you whole, to taste your name,
To feel you burn and do the same.
And though you’re half a world away,
We keep the dark and cold at bay.
Through cords and keys and whispered pleas,
We love in digital release.
Come home to me—my heart, my flame.
Until you do, I’ll speak your name
Into the night, into the fire,
With every pixel, every desire.
© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.
Apr 24, 2025
Apr 24, 2025 at 11:39 AM UTC
After the War, the Work
You came home not to silence—
but to sirens in your sleep.
Not to parades or picnics,
but to nights too dark, too deep.
The fourth of July felt like mortar rounds—
I held you as you hit the ground.
Neighbors smiled, lit fuses bright,
but I saw the panic flood your sight.
No one told them the war comes home.
That heroes flinch when fireworks groan.
That strength sometimes means shaking hands,
and needing help just to stand.
You tried to teach again—
chalk instead of chains,
kids’ laughter instead of drills,
but they sent you packing all the same.
Said “contract’s done,”
like your worth could expire.
But I’ve seen you walk through fire.
You don’t fold—you rise higher.
We fought back, side by side—
me, your shadow, your anchor, your guide.
Letters, calls, protests made—
we turned quiet pain into loud crusade.
And you stood there—tired, proud,
in front of that cold, gray crowd.
Not with rage, but steady breath,
proof that healing isn’t death.
I hold you close when sleep won’t come,
when thunder rolls and hearts go numb.
You were a soldier, still are to me—
in classrooms, in courtrooms,
in therapy.
The war is over, they like to say,
but I see it in you every day.
And still—you teach, you fight, you try.
My warrior in the softest light.
© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.
Apr 22, 2025
Apr 22, 2025 at 10:08 AM UTC
The Space Between Sand and Skin
You kissed me in camo beneath morning light,
Orders in hand, boots laced up tight—
New ring still warm on your finger’s grace,
Gone too soon, with fire on your face.
You left for a land of endless dust,
While I stayed back with memory’s rust.
The house is haunted not by ghosts,
But echoes of what I feared the most.
Your scent on sheets, your laugh in rooms,
Wake the war drums, old perfume—
I tried to bury all that hell,
But love like yours became the shell.
Nights drag slow through sleepless fights,
Flashbacks lit by bathroom lights.
I count each breath, I grip the floor,
Then whisper your name like a whispered war.
But God—when you’re back for those fleeting weeks,
No words, just skin, no need to speak.
You crash into me like the ocean’s roar,
I drown in you, beg, and ask for more.
Your body—battle-hardened, bold—
Takes me places I used to hold.
In that heat, we shed the weight,
Of every bomb, every twist of fate.
Then gone again—you disappear—
And I’m left clutching what feels like fear.
But this time love is my parade,
And in its arms, I’m less afraid.
Come back to me, my fire, my flame—
Each day I wait, I whisper your name.
You wear the uniform, I wear the scars,
But we still meet beneath the stars.
© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.
Apr 22, 2025
Apr 22, 2025 at 10:01 AM UTC
I stand inviaible in the road.
Frozen in place.
Frozen in thought.
I have misplaced all sounds.
Soldiers pull their bleeding brother out an RG-33 vehicle
in a flowing current of hands and fingers.
gentle, urgent
They hand him off to a swarm of medics then collapse into a grieving cloud of cigarette smoke
The pants and boots—especially the boots—are coated thick with blood
so fresh, so bright
My mind defrosts, gathers a voice to shatter the silence
What a beautiful color
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
Who is the man weilding my gun
when time stops and holds its breath?
Cold hate runs in his veins—
steady, unflinching death.
Engines roar, radios chatter—
Silent! Vision, sharp and thin.
All existence is ending
the threat closing in.
Thumb pushes the safety—
click
Center mass. Steady. Hold breath.
Squeeze.
Who wore my skin?
Foe? Friend? Truly me?
Will I ever see him again—
Bold stranger, powerful-- fear free?
Mar 11, 2025
Mar 11, 2025 at 7:03 AM UTC
The cancer we feed
Western hegemony
A fire out of control
Imperialistic goals
The secret coup
The crippling fall
Forfeiture of resources
Loss of civil law
Do you not see
their master plan?
Jul 29, 2024
Jul 29, 2024 at 12:39 PM UTC
_Demon and stration
Devil in the station
Deemed as action
Dew falls on its portion
So sign social interpretation.
To avoid war of faction
No matter what temptation,
do not cause discrimination.
Remember some diaspora
They played an opera
But we ever played biafara.
Some exiled to Accra
Without eating carbonara
Home is a home, just remember.
Its beauty looks like amber.
It's a steady stand like timber.
It's division divided like a chamber.
If stone throws from north,
the south will set forth.
And if it's from south,
the north will set forth.
Bring peace
Not to piece
But to prease
I asked you please
My fellow
Nigerian_
Jul 24, 2024
Jul 24, 2024 at 3:59 AM UTC
The largest mass ****** machine that ever existed!
We make a profit off of death!
Dec 8, 2020
Dec 8, 2020 at 6:04 PM UTC
My head became fragile no longer able to contain their shouting
What are they shouting?
Their fears at there last breath?
No, these faces were not created for fear
These voices are thunder in ears
They shout their promise, their mothers... we are alive with our Lord we have a nother life, they shout their promise
We died for your lives, we died to keep the fire we died to immortalize
They shout the promise
Dec 5, 2019
Dec 5, 2019 at 4:28 PM UTC
Everything was so horrible
That words stood beside me and gaped
At a life so cruel.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 3:43 AM UTC
i look out into dark, savoring the quiet, the stillness of new dawn, wondering who die today, whose life will end and whose will change forever, sending a shock of wave of pain and grief from an epicenter of a dead soldier
who will die today, whose mother wife daughter will cry today, whose father son brother will fall today
the sun has risen, reality has set in, its time to ride, its time for some to die, we roll the dice, who will land snake eyes
to sit in the humvee, knowing you are playing russian roulette, you can’t have hope, no inkling of a dream, lose the desire, it is the only way to survive, knowing you may die, give up all hope, consider yourself dead, be grateful at the end of the day when you are not. the drive down suicide alley, like the walk up gallow’s stairs. now i know how they felt. you surrender to fate. you stop thinking, you stop feeling, you go numb.
no longer in control, my life is no longer mine to live or die
i don’t believe in You, not since i was a boy, but i pray, that if we hit an IED, that i die instantaneously. i don’t want to lay on the ground, feeling the horror of dying, crying that i want to live, screaming out for my mother like i’ve seen happen to other guys
there are things worse than death, the living hell of coming home in pieces, physically damaged, emotionally traumatized, spiritually disillusioned, which slowly erodes and destroys your life. a new war, another battle, this time at home, fought in your head. the cycle of trauma 6-9-12, addiction, depression, how long do you let yourself free fall till you hit rock bottom
i am a man, i am not suppose to be afraid, but i am, i can’t show or say, not to them, especially not to you. i am not allowed to show fear, be vulnerable, you will lose respect, stop loving me, tell me to man up, in some subtle way
when everyone has left, everything lost, when the pain is greater than the fear. you must, you will, reach out, or die in combat, killed in action, in the war fought in your mind.
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 5:13 PM UTC
i am tired of fighting, i am too old, i’ve seen too much
i am throwing down my weapon, i surrender, **** me if you must have blood
i don’t care anymore, i don’t remember what i am fighting for, i just want to go home.
put this war behind me, live to love, not to **** not to die, for what purpose, for what god.
who will commemorate our battles, and those who have died just yesterday
who will remember our names, aspiration, dreams once we are dead
we are disposable, born to **** then die, who cares, why care, we served your purpose
we are the pawns, expected to die for the greater good that we can not have
look at your lives, was it worth it, how do you honor Them, those who died, so you can live
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 12:08 PM UTC
Kurdish Genocide
People gunned down left and right
The trees are watching
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 10:26 AM UTC
She wrote to her husband
Her husband was a sergeant
At the military of the greatest force
His president announced and insisted
That the president of Iraq gained
Nuclear and chemicals at his force
That was a reason to spread devil
All surroundings, all neighbors
So they must go to clear that sand
From every worst flying at all
Weather causing threading of any development
Causing threading to his neighbor
Especially his relative Israel
She sits at the heart setting
And the gulf countries which export oil
And give money if he wanted
According to his service and his guard
They obeyed him as they were feared
Of losing their thrones and also was feared
Of threatening of their worst neighbor
They paid every cost of that military job
He persuaded the public of his want
To destroy the army of Iraq force
To establish peace and democracy plans
And make Iraq advanced as they are
To get his dream achieved
Her husband was so honest
And believed in everything that president said
The army forces flew and took every weapon
They went also by sea ships
To achieve victory over that vain
They fought and made tricked
They used bad and evil plan
The wife wrote that letter”
Oh! Lover
I saw you there
Wide, wide of my look
But you are nearest of my heart
That I saw you are the greatest hero
But I doubt when I saw sad
Cover every face of Iraq people
, the difference appeared between communities
That made me happy for our nation
Want to establish the happy all over the world
But when I saw the statue of Iraq president fallen
The wealth and ancient ruins were stolen
, the oil must be exported
, their author would become according to desire
Of political author of our land
, the poor covered all weather
After they were the richest people
And the hanging of Iraq president
To be sacrifice on the Muslim's feast
As the Muslims do on feast
They sacrificed with cows or sheep
For helping poor for their God
The message sent to all of them
You have no price
, you have no aim to look up
Obey our want
Or you will be killed
Even you are very important!
My lover! Come please
We will not share that war
It is obvious bad at all
It is for money and humbled others
To do what we want without opposed
The God doesn't order that
Jesus said in his order
Spread the love all over the world
Make the peace your symbol
Islam religion in his greeting
Peace upon you when one passed
He invited you to get food
We rewarded him by killing
God does not satisfy with that
Jesus hates the blood bleeding
My lover! Return, we will build
A palace near an ocean
We will fish and hunt
Live as our god giving
Or we will cultivate land
The plants will grow green as your eyes
The wheat sticks are yellow as your hair
Flowing the wind as my hair
Return to complain our problems
To union in one bodies
I will make you my angel
Flying in sky, dreaming with kind
Making you forgotten yourself
And getting me forgetting myself
We will unites at one body
One heart, one mind
Return soon, I will not complain
I will be your honey you want"
She closed the letter with beauty kissing
She sent him with great longing
She waited a lot but with astonishing
Her letter returned without answering
She knew that he would come
So, he didn't receive that mailing
On the day they were telling
She waited at airport for receipting
All right solders ascended
Then, the wounded were carrying
She ran to his boss
She found coffin were downing
She looked to his boss,
Who covered his face with crying
She felt overwhelming
When she was up,
She cried," why my God
You take my love
and let who made it?
-
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 1:52 AM UTC
I lack complete memories there exists but fragments
From incidents that took place sometime ago
Like ricochets left behind in the wake of a fired bullet
They contain no context nothing tangible to recall
But abstract retentions from the distant past such as my father’s voice
Or my mother’s smile intertwined with my brother s laugh
My company psychiatrist diagnosis is PTSD
I whole heartedly object and resentfully disagree
It was like this before the second Gulf even before Kandahar
Ever before the war broke my bleeding heart
The immortal last words of Andy to his best friend Red
Pretty much sums up my infatuation on lost time and absent reminiscences which I won’t evoke
As I choose not to because I rather not; hence I quote
‘’You know what the Mexicans says about the Pacific
They say it has no memory
That’s where I want to live the rest of my life
A warm place with no memory’’
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 2:31 PM UTC
Mosul streets I walk,
Blood on every corner,
Innocence dead and lost,
Somebody please take me away.
This warzone has become,
A hell too much to bear,
There is no life for some,
While others die in despair.
Mosul streets I walk,
Counting bodies on the path,
There is no end to this gore,
No point in keeping false hopes.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 7:47 AM UTC
My army snakes the mountain-tops
as fields and valleys rent,
The first to ever wear the crown;
laws of nature -bent.
Mother was my wife as well; she as me, a god.
Appearing again 'in-the-end'...
Apocalypse; I am the king
****** *
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 7:27 PM UTC