‘ATLASUSA’ and Other Poetry by Skip Hughes

ATLASUSA

“Material of this sort is best read aloud.” – Frank Fortky

The postal gurus are creative and clever.
Our Massachusetts-Pennsylvania family
Brought forth a Maine addition – MA & PA, and ME.
Per partly pluperfect plus purely preposterous purpose,
State names will be spelled with two letters forever.
Of course Hawaiians say “Aloha,” meaning HI!
Ohio – OH, and here’s a great idea – why
Not unify city and state names?  That shouldn’t perturb us.

A modest proposal?  Think swiftly.  For instance,
Try Providenceri, and Walla Wallawa;
Consider Bogalusala, la-la, la, la.
An Idaho robot could be Pocotelloid-created.
Those dogs in New Jersey are sick with Cape Maynj, gents.
Fargond is way out there in North Dakota found.
Kentucky jazzy tunes are Lexingtonky sound.
All hail Oklahoma composer, Hobartok restated.

Mom’s line-dancing Georgians Maconga, by jingo.
Talkeetnaak – an Alaskan skill; a paradigm,
Accomplishing both oral functions at one time.
White bears air-defensive at Kodiakak in Alaska?
A Chicagoil – Illinois moll, in the lingo.
Same state – the city finger fashion – Urbanail.
Same state again – my sibling princess – Ciceroil?
Stack toys on display shelves in mid-California – Stocktonca.

Oh fly me to Michigan – Kalamazoomi.
“Let’s buy an easy-riding Iowa sports car, Dad.”
“I hear that those are made in Davenportia, lad.”
Salemma defines Massachusetts, not so as to please ya.
“Go hunting in Maine?  Don’t you dare Cariboume,
‘Cause we New Yorkers have this Lackawannany.”
That college town in Iowa?  The folks, you see,
Forever forgetting the “n” in it, call it Amesia.

Missouri, let’s Rollamo.  Just a suggestion.
Hawaii’s altitude dilemma – Hilohi?
Wyoming’s curiosity – Chugwaterwy?
It sounds like, in Maine, they don’t like a big eater – Bangorme.
Some Utahns are crazy.  They’re nuts, beyond question,
Especially in Loganut and Ogdenut.
You may have heard of New York bison sausage, but –
No matter how thin you might slice it, it’s pure Buffalony.

Tiananmen Square

If history teaches this and nothing more,
That deep desire for freedom is a fact
Of human nature, never disappears,
However latent or suppressed, there’s hope.

If history remains a chronicle
Of conflict, tyranny and slavery, wars
And warlords marching, countermarching on,
Though people suffer, bleed and die, there’s hope.

If hope yet lives in China, history
Is vindicated.  Freedom never has
Been known, experienced there, until a man
Faced down, unarmed, a serried line of tanks.

You tyrants by whatever name or cause
Have still that hill to climb.  You never will
Defeat your people’s hearts.  However cruel,
You cannot beat that human nature down.

Go!  Build your walls, your gulags.  Ply your whips,
Your torture chambers.  Still your enemy
Is human nature, and your victory
Is short-lived, bitter, even so to you.

Imaginary My-Way

I wondered when the world would wend my way.
Distraught, I thought it ought to every day.
I fought to force the fit, but floundered.  Say!
What if the world works well its own wild way?

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