Driven by red
riding hood,
wheels of eternity run
hot and cold
along the tracks
in her arm.

Around the bend
there are jigsaw
pieces of a puzzle,
scattered as destinations
once towns and villages,
now fodder for
the migrant beginner.

According to fable,
there's a wolf at the door,
home is no longer
a worthwhile rendezvous,
but a trap of origin.

Misery is a train ride,
a stray fantasy,
lingering in the wilderness
of her fractured mind.

She sells her gold bracelets,
for she needs
the dark coal,
she seeks
its deep freeze.

She can then
be many things
along the journey,
just never
a connection,
never a permanent signal.

In a distant land, a city bright,
Where olive trees bathed in golden light.
Fields of oranges, ripe and sweet,
Where children’s laughter filled the streets.

The markets buzzed with joy and song,
With bread and sweets the day stretched long.
And in the air, so soft and near,
The call to prayer, both calm and clear.

A boy named Adil, young and free,
Kicked a ball beside the sea.
His laughter rang through ocean’s roar,
His joy, untouched, his spirit pure.

The sky, once bright, shattered apart,
A deafening BOOM that shook the tide.
The earth exploded, a deafening roar,
Shaking the heavens, tearing the floor.

Adil, still laughing, thought it was a game,
Chasing his cousin, calling his name.
But with each step, the world shook more,
And childhood crumbled to the floor.

His cousin’s grip was all he knew,
They ran, though neither understood.
“What game is this?” young Adil cried,
As they fled with nowhere to hide.

They ran through streets of bloodied cries,
Each corner echoing with broken skies.
Adil, with innocence in his chest,
Held his cousin’s hand, still thinking this was a test.

Where once stood a shop full of sweets,
Now rubble, fire, and twisted streets.
The joy he knew had turned to dust,
The city crumbled—lost to rust.

Still, Adil ran, his mind confused,
This had to be a game, he mused.
“Mama,” he whispered, wild with dread,
But this was not a game he had been led.

Through empty streets, they ran in vain,
Until cold metal came like rain.
A machine, massive, towering high,
Once seen in movies—now his sky.

Adil stood, still thinking it’s a race,
The terror too real, too much to face.
“Is this the game?” he thought in fear,
But the nightmare pressed far too near.

And at last he prayed,
Prayed since all hope had perished,
All virtues faded and all sentiments gone.
Down the river he now floats, cursed with angst and pain.
He mourns his loss but his grief won't go away, for this is the consequence —
The consequence of action he so inadvertently did without a second of thought.
Oh, the lives he ruined, the chaos he brought.
Denial is the river, and denial is what he sought.

In denial he drowned,
And in denial he remained.

-Asher Graves

There once lived a beautiful princess named Savarati
Her sweet strong charm was the hit at every party
She was enchanting like an angel with wings on her shoulders
But this borne a complex becoming uglier as she grew older
And very soon Savarati would learn her lesson but not nicely

The beauty of Savarati was true for everyone she met
People were dumbfounded in her appeal they would not forget
Her splendor spawned their devotion to her to always be dear
This made Savarati’s arrogance develop through the years
Even though she was stunning, she felt she was humanity’s present

One day, the daughter of the noble family went to a genie
She said to him, “I wish to live forever so my beauty won’t leave me”
As her wish was granted, she thought this was what she wanted
However as time went on, this would leave her very disappointed
The things around her as she knew them would change quite greatly

It began with her deeply beloved son who passed away
He was no more, as were all the trees and flowers that started to decay
Soon everyone she cared for were gone and things became of no value to her
Now that she had such durability, what was the point in doing the things she preferred?
Savarati wondered this to herself as she cried for another day

She then went back to the spirit and demanded him to fix this
Savarati’s mortality came back but not happy with her still deceased family, she let out a hiss
But the genie told her that there was nothing he could do to revert her loved ones
Knowing this would be the end of it, the princess understood only darkness would come
She laid that night with her photo of her family haunting her hopes giving it one last kiss

That night with no one by her side, Savarati died of heartache
But she realized one important thing before she did not wake
That is the truth of having an enjoyable life is not how long you live
Instead, it is how you display yourself to others and what you give
Because living is not about how many breaths you take, but what of it you make

1.) Sitting by the window side looking at the sky, thinking back to the good ole days "boy" those were the times.

Kids playing, women gossiping, men arguing pandemonium in the market square, A normal day indeed! Those were the signs.

Filled with hopes and ambitions, making jokes and gestures where could we have gone wrong in a journey of a thousand miles.

Amidst the chaos and commotion, distortion and confusion there were better days ahead or so we thought.  A stitch in time saves nine.

2.) O sky full of mystery, O earth filled with misery, the moods have changed food I shall not taste for the clash has begun!

Empty houses, burning bushes meaningless I should say, this world has gone mad how I wish to be reborn.

Blood is thicker than water, my tongue is dry as I wonder; slash, splish-splash. What do you think is dripping? My blood or my sweat, matters not!  Soon I shall join the rest.

And when all is complete, with bodies torn to bits; ravening wolves, sickening clothes. I take my last breath and exclaim "It is finished".

Finished indeed! Displeased with grief,  the aftermath you can not fathom, our fall to the deepest bottom. All started well, none remains here.

A Cell for Love

I wrote a message late one night—
Not hate, not rage, just one last plea.
A heart too full, a soul mid-flight,
Still holding on to what we’d be.

But law saw threat where I meant grace,
And cold steel slammed across my name.
I landed in the darkest place,
Branded by a lover’s shame.

Beside me, mur der wore a grin,
And ra pe had eyes like hollow graves.
And here I sat with trembling skin,
A man who only tried to save.

I wasn’t perfect, never claimed,
But I believed in what we had.
In vows and tears and midnight talks,
In fighting through the good and bad.

You asked for space—I gave too late.
You drew the line—I crossed in hope.
I didn’t know love could equate
To cuffs, to bars, to twisted rope.

They said, “You violated law,”
And maybe, yes, that’s what it seems.
But all I did was speak of love—
Of shattered hearts and broken dreams.

How did “I miss you” turn to chains?
How did “Please talk” become a crime?
I wasn’t stalking, wasn’t cruel—
Just stuck inside our ruined time.

And now I sit among the worst,
Men who’ve stolen breath and light.
I whispered love, and now I’m cursed
To dream of you through endless night.

I should have listened, should have known
That silence meant a needed wall.
But grief can beg when left alone—
And hope is stubborn when we fall.

So here I write from this cold floor,
Still reeling from the cost of care.
You’re gone, the door is locked once more,
And love became my cross to bear.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

till the ****** of love
she sang

till the drapes
in tatters, wail
they shiver
threads,
to ribbons
as tears
frail in spring breeze
stiff
bony breath of winter
chills the soul
readies me for the wound

she could dance
belly and all
entrance my naked heart, my dizzy doldrums
how all I'd wanted
was her
in the midst
of my forest

mistake my love
for the stars
she did
for the myriad
she tossed her well
into my coin
and I drank her in
leagues deep
with one penny
for her mind
read her life
saw her perfection stem
in my interest
coffers full
no rust, pon my copper touch,
dividends of time, we had
and yet
by the hour, struck every eve,
the penny wast all I had
for, spat back, my penny went

a man can love a woman
but should his penny be worth her life
her love, her heavens, her crown,
men,
with wallets heavy as banks
will buy her drunk
ego, pride, unmerciful
to the brim
with lust
save one's penny, she'd be rich

though poor all her days, without you...

Maybe you were never ready
to carry a weight that’s so heavy.
If you can’t set the course,
you’re going to need to follow.
You can bring water to a horse
but you can’t make it swallow.

You have to put your foot down
to ever take a step forward.
From the city back to town,
from space bound to homeward.

But she’s a Medusa with a mirror,
frozen inlove with her own reflection.
You scream your lungs out but even near her,
you’re always ignored;under detection.

Maybe you were never prepared
to share a burden that should never be shared.
It’s been a few years; it’s been some time
since you lodged your last complaint.
I’d like to believe you’re now doing fine,
and you’d like to believe you’re just a saint.

You have to put your foot down
to ever take a step forward.
Follow the air bubbles to not drown
don’t turn a drama into a horror.

But she’s a Medusa with a mirror,
frozen inlove with her own reflection.
If she can’t move will you still fear her,
and her manipulation and deflection?

I sometimes forget Medusa was victim to a curse,
and I never tried to make it better but I sure as hell made it worse.
Maybe Athena could’ve been more forgiving and kind,
she didn’t have to leave her living, or she could’ve made her blind.
She could’ve plugged her ears
so she wouldn’t have to hear the screams
of the men who holds fears
of a woman who dreams.
She could’ve ripped off her nose
or just taken her voice,
sometimes that the way it goes
you just don’t get a choice.

But she’s a Medusa with a mirror,
frozen inlove with her own reflection.
Even if she could scream no one would hear her,
and long ago got used to the rejection.