I am from Iowa
the corn state
we have corn princesses
corn queens
Mrs. Corn
Miss Corn Pone
Corn festivals
corn pudding
corn dogs
corn-on-a-cob
Corn City
South Dakota has our corn palace though
Ten long years in jail for petty theft at a bus stop,
While leaders steal in billions with a wrist-slap.
A man wore the hangman’s noose for armed robbery,
Yet a governor earned honours for a pen robbery.
Citizens bled by taxes to please Bretton Woods,
Loans secured not for growth but to fatten pockets.
When the people protest, police scatter them with contempt,
And soldiers fire bullets to silence their voices.
Black ink scrawls draconian laws on tyrant’s tables,
Threats and punishments stitched to entrench their power.
But such laws befriend only ephemerality,
Before the masses seize the reins of their rulers’ reign.
Mass anger drove Rajapaksa out of Sri Lanka,
Gen Z rose in Nepal against a media ban.
Burkina Faso’s streets toppled Compaoré,
And Egypt’s squares forced Mubarak to resign.
The people’s voice will always drown draconian laws;
Chains that glitter at first soon corrode into rust.
The rulers may feast while the nation starves in silence,
But shackles will break—the storm leaves none untouched.
Treating
the symptoms
ignoring
the cause
The outcome
redundant
all change
stuck on pause
The people
the problem
the root
of the pain
No law
or restriction
can change
DNA
Our values
on fire
from those
who are lost
They hate
with an ignorance
perdition
defrosts
You can’t make
an omelet
with eggs
that won’t fry
And you can’t save
the farm
feral pigs
— in the sty
(Dreamsleep: September, 2025)
A PIOUS PACHYDERMIC POSE
(A Haiku Duo)
Big head, knees, and legs;
A huge body, kneeling, as if
In genuflection:-
Long ivory-bound trunk,
Graciously bent down, as if
In pious prayer:-
Orders descend like sharpened hail
each shard cutting language to ribbons.
We learn to swallow pain quietly,
to bow our eyes before the flag of silence.
Walls do not need ears...
fear builds its own cathedral,
where every heartbeat kneels
to the god of obedience.
Children are taught to trace straight lines,
never to bend them back into loops.
Curves are forbidden
too dangerous a hint
that what dies might begin again.
Even breathing is tallied,
counted like coins in the dark.
Still, a single breath slips past.
Unmeasured, unowned
a secret chord that rattles
the cage of silence.
From that small ignition,
the world remembers how to grow.
loving my dream state
diving into my mattress
lovely luscious nap
I steal the time and i steal the heart,
I steal the memories and i steal the scars,
I was a thief who stole for love,
But finally they caught me deciding how should I'd punished as I was a thief who stole laughter,
I was a thief who stole sadness,
But it was a crime they said in the end,
Would they burn me or buried me alive,
Would they behead me or cut me alive,
I accept any punishment as I was a thief who likes to steal the pain,
No draconian law affects me or cage me as I became a thief who stole the freedom and fate,
I died laughing as crimson was dripping from my flesh,
In the end I was called a thief who stole his own death.
Birthed in the nebulous cloud
of free love,
psychedelic delusions from acid tripping
travel into future generations
where free love
becomes a free-for-all.
Those who voice dissent
to the immoral majority
are named bigots, and cutoff
from the public square,
arrested and jailed
for saying a prayer!
ETERNAL STATE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brain cells fade like stars at dawn's first light.
Skin cells age, too, losing their youthful flexibility and might.
Hair cells, once proud, now surrender their strands, and
even their vibrant hues lose to time's unyielding hands.
So, why amidst this cycle do fat cells have a different fate?
No matter my age they seem to have an annoying eternal state.
Summertime
in Louisiana's Big Easy
bass are jumpin'
and the cypress grow high
no your daddy ain't rich
but your ma's not bad-lookin'
so fish a little bayou
won't you try
some of these evenings
they're gonna rise up flyin'
and they'll spread their wings
as pelicans take to the sky
but 'til next mornin'
there ain't no one can charm you
like Acadians or Cajun standin' by
With apologies to Edwin DuBose Heyward (1885 — 1940)
BIG TEX*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a cowboy named Big Tex.
was huge like Tyrannosaurus Rex!
His hat large like Texas barn,
he strutted ‘round town with charm
But his love life was a complete wreck.
Big Tex hung out at Texas’ State Fair,
Wore humongous boots and jeans with flair.
with deep voice, wink, and a grin,
He says, “Y’all come on in!”
Look! 'Tex' has buckshot in his derrière!
With lasso in hand, he aims to impress,
missed every steer, what a terrible mess!
He'd shout, "Yippee-ki-yay!"
in a most clumsy way,
And the longhorn would just laugh, no less!
With a chuckle, he dusts off his hat,
“Guess I’ll stick to the dance and the chat!”
So he twirls 'round the barn,
With a laugh and Texas yarn,
The best cowboy—now how 'bout that?
Go Tex! Go!
*Note: This poem was the first place winner in the 2025 Texas Limerick contest. This is my original poem
SILLY BUT TRUE: A TANKAING FREE
FLOW OF THE STATE OF OUR NATION
Tariffing power,
With screwworm-like politics
Coopering our lives
Uprooting our lives:
Uprooting human justice,
Tree barking dread injustice:-
Military law,
Takes on nationwide control;
Policing all life:
Modern day monarchy times;
POTUS becoming king:-
Peace soon lay to rest;
The DOD, soon to be
The new DOW:
Download Other Wars coming,
As well as the new Red House:-
Yes, autocracy,
Displacing democracy,
Freely echoing
Power to do whatever
It wants to do, and will do!
Silly as it sounds,
All of this is as true as
The sun and the moon:
A true living reflection
Of the state of our nation:-
a flower's momentum
never interrupts the observer
both exist in prolonged beauty
only the distracted and distant
note disruption of decay
relinquishing feeling of thought ownership
silence is our default orientation
innate vibrance of consciousness our worship
the void of cessation our meditation
bliss in permanence is then our heart’s flagship
obtaining the power of bilocation
doing nothing yet as all doings are done
recognising clearly God and we are one
SLEEPING WITH THE FAN ON
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Texas, where summers are more than hot,
Sleeping with a fan turned on is a must-have spot.
With a whirl and a breeze,
It brings sweet, cool ease,
While we snooze in a sweat-soaked, warm cot!
We sleep while it spins with a roar,
As sweat drips and puddles the floor.
With a chuckle, we say,
"Goodnight, heat of the day!
Tomorrow, we'll battle once more!"
So if you should visit the Lone Star State,
Know the heat is an oppressive weight
Just find a big fan,
Join the cool Texan clan,
And together we’ll laugh at our fate!
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