Long Ursula Poems
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Steadied by anthropological roots,
the strong influence gained in Kishamish,
flitting in and out of light and darkness
while harvesting the fields of literature
she delved into the depths of cultural
diversity, the political strength
of peaceful and ecological themes,
dialogue, balanced ideologies,
oriental spiritualism. She
blended science, fiction and fantasy
and harped on environmental issues,
feminism, sexual identity.
Her faithful pen a constant companion
in a long journey of exploration.
Hers, a brimful life with No time to Spare .
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Contest hosted by Debbie Guzzi
Placed 4th
© 28th February 2018
Year 1488
Daring to hide it in verses and score,
Ursula Shipton predicted her scrolls would not be understood until years after her body’s release.
Read aloud by an educated nephew, almost five decades after they were protected by a family of peace.
She may have been burned at the stake for her predictions of America’s Civil War, simply for being a she.
Her prophesies included horseless carriages, and men’s future unfathomable plans to conquer both the sky and the sea.
Understanding that a metallic monster, would change education, and the menfolk from farms would flee.
Pictures that feel alive – computers, U-tube, I-pads, video and their predecessor – TV?
Mother predicted all this and more. Daring to hide it in verses and score,
Nostradamus had protection of patrons, medical background, sublime.
Ursula Shipton knew her predictions she had best write down in decipherable rhyme.
England’s most famous prophetess, born in Norfolk, England in 1488, she dared not share her fire. Prophesized that women would cut their hair short, and wear trousers, practically three hundred years prior.
When I think of her brilliance at hiding her mystical savvy, hiding psychic self in her moods,
Her declaration that “men will live as hogs” makes me smile, predicting processed foods?
London fire seeing before the fact, she knew of the Catholic Church’s fall, the rise of Elizabeth,
Me thinks a comet is coming that will circle the earth for six days, six nights, causing us instant death.
A homely woman, she may have been, but her ideas were sound, as they came right in.
Daring to hide it in verses and score, Prophetess Ursula Shipton, forevermore!
O Ursula, crowned not by grace, but by shadows,
You wear the EU like a robe stitched with silence.
You spoke of democracy with polished lips,
Yet your fingers typed millions into secret deals,
Your phone — the vault of truth — wiped clean
Before justice could knock.
Once a daughter of public trust,
Now a ghost in marble halls.
While Europe bleeds beneath inflation’s blade,
You sip diplomacy with warlords in tailored suits,
Feeding fires in foreign lands,
As your own people starve at home.
Tell us, how does one delete a continent’s pain?
How many messages must vanish
Before integrity becomes a myth?
You hoard power like it is your inheritance,
But this Europe was not born for empires
Built on contracts carved in smoke.
You preach democracy,
Then silence the streets with policy.
You speak of peace,
Yet shake hands with bombs behind curtains.
We, the people, see your theatre —
Gilded corruption played on a Brussels stage.
Madam, this is not a throne — it is a scaffold.
Step down, if there is a shred of honour left.
Let not your legacy be famine and flames,
Let it not be another Rome that forgot its people.
We do not ask for perfection —
We ask for truth.
For leadership without masks.
For a Europe led not by merchants of war,
But by those who still feel hunger in their bones.
Your crown is cracked.
The whispers grow louder.
And history — history is watching.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
how do you choose
the fairest of them all?
why do you get to pick apart every single person
that never gave you the right?
Snow White ate less and less apples
until she became so thin a gust of wind could’ve blown her away
and she needed a strange man to save her
What if he tried to do something else?
What if heroes aren’t good
and villains are just broken?
Who tells a man when to save a damsel in distress?
What if Beast was always kind
and the witch messed with everyone’s minds?
Maybe Snow White just wanted to be beautiful
Maybe the queen just wanted what Snow had
Who are we to tell if the voice was Ariel’s or Ursula’s?
Maybe we believed Ariel’s beautiful face when no one was there to see if Ursula stole anything at all
Mirror, mirror on the wall
why do you choose the fairest of them all?
Maybe she doesn’t want to be beautiful,
what if she’d rather to be regarded as kind?
Does it make you feel some type of way
that the fairest of them all
was the one who got away?
337.
The Rape of Ariel
Gay Ursula! You, dirty octopus, set me free!
How dare you enjoy my painful agony?!
Deliver me now or you’ll regret raping me!
My rapist, your abominable sadism will cost the life of thee
I’m not joking! You will pay dearly to me
After this your elation, you will cry certainly!
Ah! Sebastian, go tell our soldiers what’s happening to me
Tell them that I am writhing painfully
In the clasp of this octopus so yucky!
Oh! Flounder, go tell our king his son’s calamity
Tell him to make haste in rescuing me
Or I’ll shrink into pieces if you don’t come promptly
Ah! King Triton, my father, rescue me speedily
Ride on the torrents of the sea
To retrieve this so pitiful me
Oh! King Triton, aren’t my eyes tricking me?
Is there a mirage under the sea?
Is that you, my father, who I see?
Oh! Flounder, is that our king in reality?
Gracious! My hero is here! What a relief to me?!
Deliver me now from this agonizing cruelty!
Oh! Sebastian, have you also brought our whole army
To bring down the savage & maniac enemy?
At last! Sealed now is the fate of me!
My rapist, your chastisement has come so aptly
Embrace now the prize of your debauchery
Taste our retribution in fullest intensity!
End now the Rape of Ariel by this creature so stinky
Detach me from the clutches of these tentacles so slimy
Gay Ursula! You’re doomed! Farewell to your savagery!
-02/14/2015
(Dumarao)
*Disney Characters Sex Change Collection
before I started writing
what I call
"poetry."
Whatever standards that
aspires to,
I don’t meet or greet.
My favorite Disney characters,
are the Walt Disney villains,
the cartoons whom
I will never talk to,
laugh, or banter with.
Cruella Deville:
you make me smile
and wish I was
your partner in crime.
Captain Hook:
let me be your bedfellow,
and curl your mustache
with my tongue.
Show me your
rancidness,
Scar, and let me
show you mine.
Jeremy Irons,
I am your
suckling pig,
smoked, and ready.
Ursula, you are
the queen
of my heart.
My woman of six
tentacles,
and two arms
equals eight.
Sing, and sway
your hips
and I will sacrifice
my voice to you,
any day.
I love the child in me
more than the scraps
(the rest).
Is that “as good
as it gets?”
—A Discourse Beyond Empires
You come to Beijing in polished shoes,
Wearing history like a crown of thorns,
António and Ursula—names carved from conquest,
Eyes soaked in the smoke of fading empires.
For fifty years, you called us rivals—
Now you call it friendship.
But friendship built on suspicion
Is nothing but diplomacy’s ghost.
We are not like you—
You measure greatness by how far your flag flies,
We measure it by how deeply we understand ourselves.
You conquer others.
We conquer the self.
Why do you enter our halls
With the tone of spoiled kings,
Telling us to condemn
When your own hands drip with silence?
You mourn Ukraine in white silk,
Yet you clothe genocide in Gaza
With golden indifference.
Do you not hear your hypocrisy
Howling through your noble speeches?
You demand that we kneel
To your morality—
While your bombs speak your true tongue.
You speak of business,
Yet you enter our gates with prejudice.
Can trade survive when trust has died?
Can partnership grow
When one partner still believes he owns the map?
Europe, you are not Rome—
Though you dream as if you were.
The days of dictating to China
From across seas and centuries
Are dust now,
Scattered in the wind of rising civilizations.
You say modern philosophy was born in your soil—
Then where is your wisdom?
A world awakens,
And you still sleep in glory long expired.
The lady I knew as grandma,
Called me Jeannie my whole life.
She told me a family secret,
On her death bed.
She said" Remember who you are."
"Remember where you came from."
She said promise me you will find them.
I promised remember telling her,
I never belonged.
She looked at me with tears in her eyes,
Jeanie you were right all along.
Then she took a breath and she was gone.
They all said she was out of her head,
Then why did she call me Jeanie??
They were silent.
I searched anywhere for the records,
And for any newborn pictures,
None were found.
The pictures start when I'm 3 years old.
I was sent a birth certificate from the,
State department the day I,
Started asking questions.
A conspiracy trying to hide a lie.
I got a lawyer and we filed DNA and,
One month I'm standing in his,
Office with the envelope in my hands.
All I see is 1 match in 200 trillion.
Ursula and Josef Mueller from,
Butzbach Germany the town,
I was born and lived, included,
Was a police report.
My lawyer said your family,
Just landed they'll be here in 20 minutes.
I fell into his arms crying.
I asked him "My name?"
Your name is Jeanie,
Your grandmother knew but,
Was threatened and she vowed,
To tell you before she died and,
She kept her promise.
On tundra that is intent to destroy and defy,
the winds and the ice will attempt to deny
any who are willing to stray across boundaries.
Those who are willing to scale up a mountain,
or leap over the crevice of an alien divide.
She has walked us through valleys without windows or doors where we
learn to escape what we once knew before,
teetering on the ledge of an unexplored world.
She reflects on a land where the mind speaks in tongues,
where gender is one, not clearly defined.
So how does she convince a rational world
to balance its logic on this delusional scale,
while blurring the borders so frozen in time?
Her pen sculpts in waves that can touch the horizon,
with nothing to offer but ice and illusion.
She tells us of friendship, of soul mates
who'll stray across lines,
twining two spirits as if they were one.
Do we believe in the end, where conclusions are sought,
on a kinship so true, there is no simple "who"?
Where lies the truth? Is the left then, the right?
Are there those who will doubt? Are there those who believe? Is it he, is it she?
To cut, paste, define what is love, what is not?
Is dark so dark, or light so light?
Or are the two just as one, as lovers might be?
________________________________________________
2/14/18
Inspired by the contest: "Ursula De Guin"
Sponsored by Debbie Guzzi
Not everyone has houses or lands, gold or silver, stocks or bonds, IRA’S or CD’S, Cars or cash, insurance policies, etc. But that does not mean we have nothing to leave behind when we depart this earth. The best things in life are still free, and there can be great qualities in our lives that are well worth the leaving. So why not make a ‘None-Material Possession Will’, and describe from A to Z what you wish to leave behind. i.e.,
TO AL, I LEAVE MY GOOD ATTITUDE
TO BETH, I LEAVE MY INNER BEAUTY
TO CAL, I LEAVE MY COURTEOUSNESS
TO DON, I LEAVE MY DECISIVENESS
TO EARL, I LEAVE MY ENERGY
TO FRANK, I LEAVE MY FAITHFULNESS
TO GWEN, I LEAVE MY GOODNESS
TO HARRY, I LEAVE MY HONESTY
TO IVAN, I LEAVE MY INTELLIGENCE
TO JAN, I LEAVE MY JOY
TO KEN, I LEAVE MY KINDNESS
TO LORI, I LEAVE MY LOVE
TO MARY, I LEAVE MY MERRINESS
TO NANCY, I LEAVE MY NICENESS
TO OLIVER, I LEAVE MY OBEDIENCE
TO PAM, I LEAVE MY PLEASANTNESS
TO QUENTIN, I LEAVE MY QUIETNESS
TO RON, I LEAVE MY READINESS
TO STACY, I LEAVE MY STABILITY
TO TOM, I LEAVE MY TIMELINESS
TO URSULA, I LEAVE MY UNSELFISHNESS
TO VINCENT, I LEAVE MY VIBRANCY
TO WENDY, I LEAVE MY WILLINGNESS
TO XAVIER, I LEAVE MY XENIA (Ze-ni-e [Greek = Hospitality] )
TO YOLANDA, I LEAVE MY YOUTHFULNESS
TO ZACK, I LEAVE MY ZEAL cj071507PoSp(Posted 3/23/20)