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"Life is about movement. If one doesn't make bold choices, death has already occured."



from 'Not Dead Yet'

Meditations On Innocence: October 24th, 2014

Amnesty International - stop violence against women

Click below for my most recent entry

Tao te Ching Verse  #17 


The best leaders are barely known to their people 

They act with faith, trust, and use carefully chosen words 


When their work is done, people say, “we did it ourselves!” 


My response: 

Loneliness is a hole inside.  An inner well that if one falls into, the falling never ends, 

there is no bottom.  That is depression.  Looking inside, but without a light.  Staring at 

shadows and believing they are real...


( *


I finished an unpublished rough draft, Tao and the Art of Drowning, focusing on the question, “What does it mean to live in a fragile 

temporary human body?”  And now am working on another book project, Oath based on the question, "How can genocide be prevented?", which I am now realizing is the wrong question.


"What is the connection between personal violence and global violence and how can violence be prevented or at least minimized?"


Two questions leasing to more questions.


So far I just have several sentences:


"Look back to move forward"


"When is 'freedom' a dirty word?"


"When is peace a curse?"


Not too much writing so far. Sometimes hard to tell the difference between a question and a sentence.  My family's lives have been ruined.  But I am not yet dead, so I write in secret.  Don't tell anyone note: Mom's keys ostensible peace (poem title) slow to travel thinking does nor require immediacy history has proven to repeat itself days and night of million of people not bombing anyone on a daily basis note:  not to be rude:  having to not read Facebook messages for now until I can catch up wimy life:  want to connect/reconnect:  so a big 'hi hello and how are ya?' Julie Jeanette Trahan (also known as Dolphin Julia Trahan or/and Julia Dolphin Trahan) (please do not copy or borrow my poems without written and signed permission: the BBC/BBC OUCH! has copyright and distribution rights) tougher out (poem title ) style is always in never crying is not fashionable anymore rampageous rarely appropriate when I don't want to make the word of the day poetic it began in 2008/2009ish, a brand of comeuppance I had never experienced before: I had finally grown up and I was going to invest in a home to call my own my essential injured and now I find my self when barefoot chasing running from my fears until I put on my boots and prepare to greet the world road trip, Salem on the way (poem title) poison in Sophie's food dry air in the car thirsty with lotion save rampageous could be worse I am usually the most direct target on a witch hunt today is children' s rampageous beginner's disabilities morning rampageous when I revisit where I lived as a child, I remember a time when morning rampageous were harmless my Mom converses with me a little part of myself, I left outside in a busy street around the corner from where I left the chocolate bar bar code purchased at the Providence hospital gift shop near where the empty lot with crab apple trees might have been; a few blocks from Liberty school where rampageous behavior was limited to playing on the merry go round word spell word when I was on the floor you helped me stand until I could see your rampageous pain and find help when you are tossed on the floor rampageous prayer (poem title) sitting silently praying for torture's end, Girlie ran so happily her feet on the ground stepping into my childhood as I left a tiny part of myself where my words about a hit to my face was simple walking away the soul of a dog on Memorial day 2016 (poem title) special food for a special dog an example to be followed the soul of a dog on Memorial day goes to where it hurts to think about and doesn't even sweat lotion fingerprints (poem title) does the word disability make any sense in a world where every fingerprint is important and original? my black and white perspective "they" ignore pleas for mercy from their victims and rarely do I have such a piebald outlook my clear handprint (poem title) life is painfully different now having foolishly moved to a euthanasia fetish State however, as I paint my hand in white lotion and place it firmly on a blank white surface; seeing how my mark isn't readily visible; memories of white roses on white plastic in our used to be pink bathroom; I miss what seemed so alive years ago and I scoff at my silliness; my sentimentality over my Mother's toilet paper holder; perhaps because I, like her, am easy to forget, easy to overlook, easy to not even notice and what is worse is, as I grow older, I appreciate my clear handprint for what it is lotion fingerprints (poem title) does the word disability make any sense in a world where every fingerprint is important and original? wanting innocence (poem title) there is an emotion, without conflict and I don't need to explain justify or apologize for sentimentality about remembering when all I knew of romance was holding hands and feeling so dangerously brave risking tiny peeps into my achy painfully over ~ sensitive artistic soul; and looking for love and never knowing how to ask, 'do you love me as much as I love you?' peeps missing (poem title) out to dinner with Mom on Memorial day 2016 watching the planes stay in the sky and the streaks of memory immortal: peeps missing look in the ninth window reflective/responsibility (poem title) [written at a spiritual women's retreat with my church] when I saw the pain in your eyes; my heart broke I am unafraid to write because I know that so many others have seen the pain in mine and reminded me to dance in the pain ww now tic noetic (poem title) [note: misspelling below is on purpose ] what if the most desperate emergencies we're people needed to write a poem before it's too late?! what if the word now meant think about what is in your heart and inscribe yourself intellectual barbarians on wheels I can travel faster than I ever in my noetic mind dreamed possible so I wonder why whoever invented the wheel is called a barbarian what did I expect? an adventure? (poem title) growing up, I didn't know what to expect: I didn't expect to be physically disabled or rather, I didn't expect to have disabilities I guess learning to walk again after my evolution from ICU to a wheelchair was a miracle at least other people said it was then why am I surprised when I am filled with lethargy and disappointment about judgements of me from bystanders? how many times have I circled this problem of distancing myself from feeling humiliated and angry when scorn is placed on me until I physically remember a lack of expectations is a freedom of sorts if going on an adventure the smell of intentional ignorance (poem title) stronger than fetid mold of books in the rain wrestling with inner demons behind the building and up the the brick building ; there is no shame in using the side entrance and elevator; wrestling prowess has only inner demons in comparison offbeat prowess in the driveway (poem title) round and round I swirl not in very perfect circles though more like toiling without looking very graceful however, stretching in my four wheeled walker, the anguish of muscles neglected, the resistance against allowing human beings to be put on shelves without function or use is activated as tangible as pain relief for injuries on top of injuries suit worthy condign enforcement would mistakenly pray for punishment while judges seek inherent quality regardless of clothing diagonal to the playground * (please don't hate me for whatever reason Contact Improvisational dance mix) diagonal to the playground my bagel ~ and ~ cream cheese and ice ~ cream writing offices within blocks my window over the bus stop I simply never heard the traffic noise like a quarter at 25th Avenue cornered with difficult to understand leader at Castro street then I ignored defeatists of its too late surrounding my affordable San Francisco apartment now: I continue to wish I understood there is usually a simple answer to complex problems and I wonder if there was a way I could have made it to Al-anon meetings (frequently) would I have spent my time sorrowing my existence as a failed filmmaker or would I have found spiritual and emotional myself as I have found before as I seek and find in mirrors of God daily as I look for simple answer to complex problems accepting my difficult personality is entangled the heart in the American hospital bag .(1977r qaqweq. (poem title ) hurry beyond I tell myself as my life explodes into wasted time; tall women! I can not help myself! I love tall women the way they talk it's in the way they walk and I just love her so much I don't even think about it . . . as I explore the red chocolate box heart shaped if injury? then what? hurry please hurry imprisoned dignity (poem title) is it true? do all people put a tiny piece of themselves in prison? do we all have imprisoned dignity from self imposed jailers? perhaps and I wonder is there anyone believing like I do in that we also have in our minds the keys to freedom cold water on a hot day (poem title ) mystical poetry expatiate like cold water on a hot day outside near the trees where the heavy air reminds of a blanket of thoughts unspoken when you sell your own soul (poem title) words expatiate can never replace the harm done when you sell your own soul memory quality the quality of a memory is much like the quality of a poem within expatiate there is a center I remember about love mid ~ street note picture poem* (poem title) in the middle of the street not far from a restaurant there is a tiny expatiate note *picture poems: it is a good name for a writing style I might continue; it feels a little bit like an incomplete sentence however it feels like a completely thought provoking poem as in, 'here is a word picture and . . . I can't think of the correct word here : like a game of football; a poet throws a football and then some body catches it and decides what the meaning of a football is how it feels to be hated as far as I am able to see the healthiest way to deal with being hated is to be generous with the gift of your mind prayer request (poem title) my Mom travels to Paris and returns to Portland Oregon safely; in church every prayer is original creation and everything/everybody is blessed; deserving of respect (in my understanding) cold air on an extra hot Sunday (poem title) cherries grapes melons and plums; protean race not quite won; church hypocrisy blowing like a pinwheel upon a child 's knee average quotient (poem title) a challenge in judging good art or bad art is in-looking at the artist and understanding his or her true intentions; there are artists excelling ina specific form spending a lifetime on perfection; then there are the protean creators, I like to asiestinclude myself among them, artists with an emotion or idea to express and the medium is what ever is easiest and immediate lamps, lamps and more lamps /picture poem (poem title) the light of my life protected with a ingenuous lampshade; such a fragile lightbulb recompense revolutionary reverie (poem title) is there anything more compassionate than an ingenuous reverie? when there is suffering a surprising daydream is often the best medicine honey. I told you if you want to have stress Report some White-collar crime or other violations (poem title) having a baby must be difficult; would anybody name their baby Stress? I don't know we checked the DNA (poem title we checked the DNA a specious statement how are you? (poem title) pleasantries are barely manageable at times; I need their specious ability as how are you? is a revolutionary question my cross hip (poem title) my furious hip's words rage through me like a crucifix fashionable wrapped in parchment from matriarchal times; today is encased in what I never thought I would live to see; enough invisible ink penned in expressing music I almost never heard; and I do not have the strength to be as perfect as I want; my specious hip spots my mind; a vertical vantage point from which to outcry, 'I am pivotal! I determine your destiny!' and as I wail my phrases of physicality I have faith found there are little girls determined to survive golden dots golden drops golden hair (poem tittle) any alchemist can make specious suggestions about the best way to find gold buried within grey stone it is a task only for the light hearted to do as bringing forth shine enthusiasm from dull mystery challenges the elements themselves a golden dot a golden drop golden hair golden opportunities within golden dreams all visible when under stood with a clear golden heart freedom of religion aswellas freedom of assembly ¥ to neglect belief because of fear is specious; when sin defined is lost connection from God: resurrection is humanity personality specious bullying loses and strikes out quicky find center as hc is real went over my head (poem title) during my photo expose specious decisions ; it's exciting! 'take three!' a photo hides a photo conceals a photo remembers in the moment 'here this is what I look like' specious smarts not to be nasty however, when there is noise from the greenroom are people smarter than they look? or look smarter than they are? not at the moment (poem title) at times I wake up feeling feisty; not this morning; there are two under the table and two more curled up inside a milk container word ~ of ~ the ~ day email dialogue (poem title) what is the word ~ of ~ the ~ day? pureblind an entire day spent moving dog food (poem title) to avoid an obtuse angle when trying to move quickly try being dumb pureblind and dim witted ghosts of jalapeños gone are the childhood days when my older brother and I would stare each other down while eating jalapeños now he is all grown up and doesn't have time for feisty poetry running on wheels (poem title) the reason to fall in love with life is because when it feels like anything is do able the odds greatly increase that the dreams scary to dream because failure has such a sharp ache . . . in love with life I find those joyfully delirious dreams of flight without a fall just might be more than feisty dreams less than half an hour (poem title) for hours, I danced in the parking garage and I couldn't email this note without reminding you I thought of you then and it all seemed so easy today isn't a feisty day tomorrow will be a swirl; a swirl of momentum everyday less than half m hour and I won't forget ever forget to think of you and write you a note even when my pen runs out of ink childhood dreams (poem title) as a child the larger world of grown ups impressed me so; and adults around me had qualities I strove to develop and perhaps most importantly is with work dreams inveterate are woven things I don't understand (poem title) when my body hurts too much to sleep and my inveterate dog cuddles; I wonder about humanity learning numbers nothing ever happens suddenly; learning to count to five seems obvious( five fingers on a hand however, an inveterate task and worth the work in five days a week integrated injury the commonplaceness of sidewalk ramps; so many languages to learn and sign language becomes part of a group: busses bowing to greet wheelchair and scooter user's part way; the integration of disability or is it acceptance of the human body: the human body that wears out? the human body that survives torture? the human body that gets injured? the human body that is born the way a human body is born? a normal life: my inveterate goal: an Actress amid Actors and Actresses, as the play inside the play is like a tree trunks rings or water rings after a stone dives bravely into the rapids determined to find the bottom: the rushing current hiding all evidence of rings before nature has a chance to count reoccurring patterns a tiny disturbance creates this is the human body I understand: my human body: it is as if every person is an instruction and I am a piece of paper with my mission statement written in my personal DNA ink and from the almost eight billion pieces of paper alive today, there are links to books and scrolls and manuscripts: every set of instructions, a human story where the protagonist writes and is written; so perhaps I merely follow an improvisational instruction from childhood a time when simply watching me stand and walk caused people to smile joyfully required dialogue a play requires dialogue or it isn't really a play; an ingenious monologue is what it is: an ingenious monologue: a play is a play eating rhubarb pie in back shed (poem title) when I eat rhubarb pie, I do it in a restaurant without the slightest bit of shame my ingenious plan to converse with ice cream at least once a week peer pressure it has always been done this way? a tradition of ignorance is nothing to be proud of; what does an ingenuous resistance look like? I think it involves much handshaking with both friends and enemies and peer pressure to breathe deep on a Saturday night night thieves dreams are life at night when night thieves steal ingenious children's pens and pepper. food is lost ingenious nature if I look foolish because I am caught off guard so easily, it is only because I want human nature to be gentle old wisdom/ a wrap around poem (poem title) is it true to grow old is to grow wise or is it to grow old is the result of being wise because it seems to me newborn babies have infantile wisdom on their side then again how is it possible to have insight into knowledge without experiencing the circumstance aswellas its opposite, or at least a few alternatives then again wisdom is not measured in comparison to an individual; wisdom is timeless; at times I feel there is wisdom in punctuation or rather allowing a personal communication style to be found, complete with pauses, stops and juxtapositions in ideas or statements and emphasis given, within a series of complex structure: as I grow older the difference between a sentence and a question seem less important; both having ingenuous wisdom and both tending to run on at times hug a mug a sturdy mug goes a long way; the necessities often written off as details or little or trivial make warming up in the cold possible; cups and saucers are all very polite however for rude types like myself a thick won't ~ break ~ when ~ dropped mug is a like a hug reminding me I don't have to look pretty to look good the story of the hugger mugger (poem title) maybe no one has ever heard the epic tale of the hugger mugger; it was rumored he was over six feet tall and weighed a couple hundred pounds: he would look people in the eye and in a deep voice say, 'I'm gonna hug you'; and before anyone could reply the hugger mugger would hug them in his big hugger mugger arms I don't know what happened to the hugger mugger. maybe he moved or maybe he got tired of hugging. I do know whoever he is he surprised lots of people into laughing at serious stuff and enjoy being hugged your ugly mug (poem title) when I see you and I smile it is because you are so damn ugly and I like you all the more and I wish I could be like you a way to survive (poem title) if you. my dear Face book friends, have ever wondered what the sound of the voice of the person you are chatting with sounds like, you are not alone did our shared planet Earth become more destructive with the industrial revolution? is the human race a breed of hugger muggers with cars? radio, get on the radio snd let your sound fly when I serenade you/ please don't disappear (poem title) do you hear me serenading you through the argle ~ bargle of so many voices? everybody talking at the same time doesn't have to be confusing; how else can we learn to harmonize if we silence ourselves?. my gravelly singing voice breaks with sobs that my eyes never cry; as a vocalist, I'm not so good and I stumble over my articulation: and I ask for help to express what weighs on my heart and is in my mind so maybe you won't ever hear me sing, 'please don't disappear' in person? can you hear the ambitions and the aspirations and the enthusiasm and the endurances I am trying to send you? listen for the vigilance, vehemence, verve, vim, vivacity, vigor, verve, vibrancy, vigor, vim, vitality, vivacity, vogue, vigilance, vehemence, vigilance, vehemence, verve, vim, vivacity, vigor, verve, vibrancy, vigor, vim, vitality, vivacity, vogue, vigilance, vehemence because it is all my gift to you and if you think this poem is for you. then your suspicions are probably true an end to violence in advertising (poem title) there are many overlapping voice underneath the yelling argle ~ bargle calling for an end to violence in advertising if you hear me shout, at least you will understand my response my argle~ bargle recording sometimes real tangible life is was more interesting then imagination; sometimes the daily mundane chore is the center worth to hold on to voice to text poem with corrections: when I don't have time to write (poem title) when argle ~ bargle is too intense and I don't have time to write, I rely on technology voice to text poem without corrections: when I don't have time to write (text poem) when I don't have time to really Punta little green goop local is too intense and I don't have time to me is always good to see balloon poem today (poem title) as you read this poem can you concentrate on today? can you think/remember what is your Mother doing as you read this puckish poem today? another reason women are important, (poem title) has there ever been any Puckish man not smiling, at least inwardly, about women and how we, as over generalizations abound anyway, are catalyst in reminding the serious things in life are easier to handle with a feminine touch because you can't hold a fictitious character the sexiest woman in advertising (poem title) the sexiest woman in advertising is the woman in my imagination; maybe I have seen a photo of a similar woman in a magazine; maybe in a movie; or on television; the sexiest woman in advertising is the woman in my imagination; and she loves me more and wants to be alone with me and only me when I spend a little money on education or sports or purple stage lights or purple hair dye so I'll be smarter and stronger, more creative and I won't look like everybody else and when I spend a little money on music or food or boots or books; maybe I'm not thinking about sexy women: it reminds me that the human race would've been over long ago if it weren't for sexy women in charge of balancing the budget if Shakespeare's writing's were banned if Shakespeare's writing's were banned there would be no mischievous Puckish forest imps; only an absence of Hamlet's hat; and King Lear wouldn't trust any of his children hockey skates (poem title) for whatever reason hockey never interested me; goalish. puckish, skatish, netish: none of these things make me think of a game when she barks (poem title) digging digging digging digging in the dirty dirt and I go everywhere with a dirty digging dog and neither of us are hoity ~ toity when we bark body is temple (poem title) my soul is red; perhaps this is all I truly understand as I clean poison from my dog's food bowl and my drinking cup I have so much to learn from those with bodies of integrity and I try to listen and personalities seems hoity ~ toity and desperate am I made from the red sea? water from red dirt? the black sea? am I made from desert sand? mountain ridges? melted snow? if a body is a temple then my soul's color is all I really need to understand waking up nauseous waking without noticing the sunlight my guts vomit the hurly ~ burly of top hats stolen from off the top of my book case and my poetry web page no longer opening in the City of Roses a poem with a long title: If You Had Only 24 Hours Left Would You Write or Type A Poem? (poem title) if I thought I only had 24 hours left to survive on this beautiful planet I would write or type a poem but I wouldn't worry about whether or not it would actually be my last poem ever (partially because I don't know what happens after death but I suspect lots of poetry gets written in some form) if I thought I only had 24 hours left to survive on this beautiful planet I would write a letter asking world leaders to improve the lives of people (and animals) in their own countries before blaming other countries for not being good enough if I thought I only had 24 hours left to survive on this beautiful planet I would ask every single person to write a poem (then maybe type it) and then combine it with dance moves and then decide what kinds of sounds they want to hear if I thought I only had 24 hours left to survive on this beautiful planet I would try not to be afraid if I thought I only had 24 hours left to survive on this beautiful planet I would make certain that my mobility dog, Girly (a ChiwawaTerrier Mix) had a loving home with people to exercise her and feed her every day (as she cannot open dog food packages or fill her water bowl and she is scared to even walk on the floor or go outside because dogs three times her size have biten her so badly she needed stitches and sometimes the only reason she has escaped with her life is she runs really fast) hurly burly world history (poem title) hurly ~ burly can't erase slavery; consent is necessary in innate freedom my red sweatshirt (poem title) when I vote I vote for survival ; if somewhere in this hurly ~ burly world I could write a poem or choreography a dance that would bring comfort to the mourning, I would write it in my red sweatshirt because my red sweatshirt reminds me how I was sent warmth it's all about the garden (poem title) sitting here in the garden ( a garden with walls and carpet and temperature control), wondering why people are cruel to each other, especially since most people don't appreciate being the recipient of cruelty: when I realized mulct is spelled a lot like mulch: big picture/little picture: my inner wisdom speaks in a tiny hesitant voice with a pleadingly scared look in her eyes like my chihuahua/terrier service dog when even I forget she doesn't like her head patted if you move your hand above her head too fast <:

Staying Sane, Staying Calm; Poetry 2008

Done That, Been There: Tao and the Art of Drowning 2006

DArt Links to Disability

Monthly log: May 25...2003

Nothing new here

the way they are (poem title)

safety concerns that last forever; as long as the human race (on wheels, boots, running shoes) there are safety concerns; broken, disabled, and improvement are words not quite making sense when I love someone for the way they are and simply want them to live their innermost heart's desire
in other people's eyes (poem title) leading the horse race is freedom from fear, followed with freedom of worship. while freedom of speech is struggling to keep in third place and freedom from want is putting all through a challenge: then on the sidelines there is mulct and it is important to stay in shape in order to win at the track accidentally mulct (poem title) my hurried scheme wasn't about earning money anyway; in fact, I was distractedly thinking it would ward off the bad guys; and of course remembering being in love; whichever way you look at it. accidentally mulct has a humor: because some people doing real mulct will talk about this poem and how clever they are and then might turn themselves in hot hot. hot (poem title) jalapeños in the morning! jalapeños at night! bilious in the morning! bilious's alright! bilious pen (poem title) de prêter un stylo. au moins dans mon cas, est une façon d’exprimer, « ce que tu dis est important et ce n’est pas un problème pour moi d’aider de façon minuscule » depuis que j’ai ni parler ni écrire le Français, il n’existe aucun moyen je peux demander, « quelle plume vous souhaitez emprunter? » a child states (poem title) sticks and stones are on the front porch: life is much more than a bilious existence information quest (poem title) bilious muscles: going as fast as I can and a bright smile turns my blue's volume up looking for facts where did it all begin? (poem title) this beautiful begetting story of civilizations; where did it all begin the human race's bilious joyful experience? and to realize I live on planet Earth; ground zero of God's evolution centuries nd centuries of passing time, and here I am at ground zero in the center of a Universe filled with ground zeros with life I can only meet if visited somewhere in between (poem title) inveigh against what is best left unsaid; a time waste at times when harm dangles over the seemingly inescapable duplicity; less passion ~ rilled talk of hate speech and more passion for love: a whisper is often too much when all that is necessary is the quiet air of awareness aswellas the ability to hear the sounds already present mental health and woman health (poem title) going hand in hand with inveigh only purpose fully mental health and woman health (poem title) how are you feeling? I wish you the best in other countries/ my lesbian hair (poem title) is falling in love ever safe? will I ever fall in love again? (my guess is no, however I'd rather fall in love then whine inveigh about hateful asswipes); I know comparison between cultures is often divisive; however, in my heart, a huge part is grateful I live in America where I can say and type and write: I am a lesbian with short hair and I love women; and the people demanding apologies and explanations and wanting to argue are the people considered cruel and sick with a need to change fear of scrolling (poem title) envy takes a voice when inveigh; ancient words written old paper when there is no wasted breadth to promote fear of scrolling courage is found what is a walk? (poem title) can everybody alive today walk? well, some would answer yes some would answer no some would answer in a complicated way I say yes! there is absolutely no amount of inveigh words able to command people about how they feel about their bodies and what they do orange probity (poem title) what is disquieting about the color orange? orange morality would mean independence in thought; truth in emotion and a consistent willingness to stand out http://members.tripod.com/dolphin_j/meditationsoninnocenceoctober24th2014/ what's on my boot sole's? (poem title) washed off in a puddle: not everything washed off in a puddle: what's on my boot sole's? don't you realize? we walk on graveyards? when raining when shining when dark/light/when/sad/angry/happy/soul/souls please walk with sacred http://members.tripod.com/dolphin_j/meditationsoninnocenceoctober24th2014/ another poem about my pelvic reconstruction surgery (poem title) it is fun to say outloud: P R S my dog's stomach is growling so loud it hurts to hear: my pelvic reconstruction surgery was years ago and has held and hold's so how could I allow a tiny dog to suffer these conditions after such grace was awarded to my scars a descent person (poem title) used to be the last thing ever I wanted to be was a descent person. being a descent person meant doing whatever simply because someone decided certain people should behave a certain way and other people should behave another way then I decided being a descent person meant inner probity; pretty simply: don't go out and hurt anyone, including yourself. and now I say things I am not entirely comfortable with and I say them anyway and the way I figure it, I must be a descent person because I feel best when the things I say and do don't hurt anyone, including myself on the verge of being crass: the Make A Wish Oregon foundation is holding s car raffle and the winner will be announced K103fm on June 24, 2016 at 8:20 AM. http://oregon.wish.org I purchased tickets, requesting they donate the car to the Make A Wish kids for fundraiser walks and parades and such anyway, it's a cause personal! and here is a not to much info poem to go with the pr: my teeth (poem title) my hearing dog, Girlie,I love her like I love myself. I remind myself everyday she can't eat without help. she can't get a glass of water on her own she sleeps all day and is dependent on me to keep big dogs away and pay for her dog food, veterinarian and doggy provisions; never do I get slightly frustrated with her dependence because she shows her sharp probity teeth a sturdy foundation (poem title) a strong core stems from a sturdy foundation; simply the probity of big black boots of the heart old fashioned (poem title) would I trust my child with a daily task so near and dear to my heart? I have never given birth: listen to the rising sun and watch the rising moon; everything in between; what decorous person could hold all this without becoming filled of greed? my bloody books (poem title) as I collect items for a photo: various books I'm published in today's postal package manuscripts a work sample contained in the BBC's documentary, 'Julia's Body' to request a grant award miscellaneous to clean misconceptions, my body weeps. my well ~ planned writer's life and so little published and documented I would sob if I could, it is one chance in one lifetime legacy quality? decorous quantity? I don't even know anymore I do know the only blood I have ever spilled is my own and it is in my writing known at night (poem title) the small oval blues disappear;  tutelary is challenging;  so important  to grieve quickly and refuse to cooperate while freedom of decision is free of extortion bird tutelary (poem title) soaring beyond wild notions of normalcy; bird chirping to confirm: it is good bird flying reminds me peace is possible it doesn't take much (poem title) it doesn't take much to comfort someone hurting; sometimes all that is needed is acknowledgement a look of the eye tone in the voice a realization in this buzy world someone somewhere is truly in pain ; tutelary prevention is best however when the predictable happens understanding is like a hug professional injured (poem title) when, after centuries, of friendship the banned books remain read my gratitude abundant friendship means we need to listen and write  lies aren't true (poem title) deep value last with an open heart as my tutelary schooling hurries me under nature's tutelary (poem title) sway over strain a leaf flies defying gravity's pull looking through the glass (poem title) quality, when a writer writes, is measured when the reader or listener is lost in the genuine moment of life's adventure: sitting in the covered window car with my Mom while Amtracking across the US ; after everything we have been through, she's traveling with me to college in Yellow Springs as the rough terrain of America zooms past our eyes, what I don't realize is that it I am leaving a time where I am simply Julie and entering 'civilization' where I am a 'woman with disabilities' what is my Mom thinking? I don't know. I do know that all those decades ago, when I was a teenager going off to college, I looked through the glass understanding authenticity: that time shared is important. vermeil vermin (poem title) fake is fake shrubs are shrubs faded dreams (poem tittle) gilded surfaces vermeil dreams there is no substitute for you (poem title) all my life you have been there to make certain I walk with my head held high sit a bit straighter test myself where I think I can not win challenging me to find out what I don't know or understand ; a questionnaire filled out: there is no vermeil substitute for you: the importance of familyv vermeil fields (poem title) a glint blinding continue breathing lesbian's actually do have a sense of humor (poem title) knock knock! who's there? um, I was going to say uh, well, then I got distracted bulky equipment (poem title) here I am it's me! the camera lens becomes my lens the camera's focus becomes my focus; the most precious thing in the world in vermeil easy to carry disguise a photo in my wallet reflective ( poem title) plastic grapes with vermeil covering my curly blonde hair "no, it isn't you", strangers would tell me; at times I would lie and say, 'I carry my girlfriend's photo everywhere' ; to the response, "she is beautiful"; then usually I'd explain the photo is me and I just showed it so people could insult me to my face about their prejudices and low expectations about women with disabilities rather than talking behind my back; and me wondering why no one wanted to talk to me or even answer me when I greeted them warmly most people I showed my Queen photo (because the photo is a very regal headshot) would converse with me briefly; rarely seeming defensive about being caught in my social litmus test; and usually had a rare opportunity to look into another person's eyes and realize they were confiding in me about emotions they likely had never said out loud perhaps never thought of before and I realize the people I care about live all over the world and they look all sorts of ways and do all sorts of things including finding the time to have a conversation about their reflection in a photo and finding inner strength; not realizing inner strength shines into outer strength from across the lake (poem title) while sitting on my bed, on the other side of the vermeil bridge, I could see traffic from across the lake complete failure (poem title) wearing my bloody London shirt, I search for the safe way where food, medicine and technology are available to women instead I find vermeil and run out of time the way they are (poem title) safety concerns that last forever; as long as the human race (on wheels, boots, running shoes) there are safety concerns; broken, disabled, and improvement are words not quite making sense when I love someone for the way they are and simply want them to live their innermost heart's desire warning:  poem below contains adult content: couldn't even train someone to be disabled (poem title) when trying to include everyone in a conversation, especially in a discussion where an agreement or at least mutual understandings are the goal, it is extremely important to find a way for everybody involved to *want* to listen and respond: the difference between gang rape and diplomatic debate is huge: regardless of similarities in language:  one at a time, talking stick, next on the agenda  are laws protecting disability rights protecting the right to be sexually violent and get away with it (my definition of disabled)? (many people with disabilities can't run so it isn't too difficult to figure out why people with disabilities have higher victimization statics compared to people without disabilities) so argle ~ bargle pudding and pie. kiss the girls but don't make v never happens (poem title) there are people and I can't remember them ever raising their voice; and I wish I could say it is true about me however my temper ponceau has served a purpose; handling giant wroth (poem title) dog under the table difficulties technical note:  not to be rude:  having to not read Facebook messages for now until I can catch up wimy life:  want to connect/reconnect:  so a big 'hi hello and how are ya?' Julie Jeanette Trahan (also known as Dolphin Julia Trahan or/and Julia Dolphin Trahan) (please do not copy or borrow my poems without written and signed permission: the BBC/BBC OUCH! has copyright and distribution rights) note: at film festival note: my teeth and sinuses hurt; drank some coffee with cream on the house free of charge; i put a coin in tip jar with my spit DNA the way they are (poem title) safety concerns that last forever; as long as the human race (on wheels, boots, running shoes) there are safety concerns; broken, disabled, and improvement are words not quite making sense when I love someone for the way they are and simply want them to live their innermost heart's desire https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B3Rm2gzEaDOcMmxEdFlnOVRoWWc https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=891846510942793&id=100003523588201&ref=bookmarks
note to FBI semi ~ spell checked sent Wednesday June 29th 2016 using their website web form; fyi: videos don't copy to their web form
note: in process to fbI which I might not send untill later

Dear FBI,

received call from No Caller ID at 4:00 pm Wednesday June 29th 2016

caller with heavy difficult to understand accent said I had won and the US Government would be giving me a large amount of money

the guy was on speaker phone and my hands were busy so it made it difficult to focus/hear what he was saying (didn't hear the amount)

simultaneously, at 4:02 pm, I texted : anytime to have a surprise lunch at Sizzler after 2 tomorrow? : to my older brother and his wife. these asswipes love their harassment so much that is very difficult to say or do anything that isn't in nazi code

the man on the phone said I had two options and as far as I could hear it involved me giving my bank information and what the second option isn't/wasn't clear
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
damnit! I might have panicked myself this time; however I will send this message anyway as the phone call was creepy:

this was after an iMessage earlier conversation today: at 1:58 pm on Wednesday June 29th 2016 while going to Safeway to pick up my prescription: riding paratransit
(paid for prescription with cash borrowed from Mom/moms as my ATM card is in the mail and I used my spare cash on a luncheon a few days ago

iMessages: important!
my iPhone has been the site of drug gangs

panic
anyway, somehow a threat against Mom was put on my iPhone calendar!

I have a paratransit van scheduled in a few minutes so have to go

I will type the FBI before my phone battery runs out because whoever these asswipes are st the very least they fuck up phones computers

hey Scott if I wanted to discuss asswipes edit
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

my iCalender reminder this morning : dad's birthday

and for whatever reason I didn't have a calendar entry for my Mom's birthday; my memory technique of remembering my parent's birthday dates means I have to remember both dates simultaneously.

the calendar entry I panicked about was on my 'all day' list (meaning I leave annoying automatic daily reminders of certain annoying events so dumbass stalkers have to admit they were exposed to factual information daily without being able to comprehend or interpret it correctly

maybe I misread my own entry: I thought I read an iCalender entry: I added the commentary today: fuck asswipes note: assholes entered;

fuck asswipes note: assholes entered; real Mom's birthday
daily

this morning at breakfast with my Mom at Village Inn, I made a point to add a correct calendar entry and even said outloud 'yearly'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
sometimes it seems like the paratransit van arrives over 15 minutes early (which
I don't mind time wise but would appreciate the driver saying something )
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have a scheduled paratransit round trip aswellas a Doctor 's appointment tomorrow in the afternoon and it is on my schedule; nothing I need asap so I will likely cancel, even though the Mom/mom's go to area's of )





important panic (text poem)

warning:  poem below contains adult content:

my scarlet promise (poem title)

which is noninvasive as color's go?
passionate ponceau?
burgundy depths? enfolding pink?
my Olympic's are an injury heals with medicine and care, a scar is the only badge of courage I need and blood letting is a medical practice as out of date as
complete self ~ reliance to provide food and
the concept of public humiliation to punish a woman for sexual independence

call from no caller ID at 4:00 pm Wednesday June 29th 2016 (poem title)

tiny articulation
I understand when I glean
breathe out ponceau
breathe in ponceau
narrate narrate narrate
narrate the point:
and I apprehend
the speaker's words;
my answer can't be vocalized

sharing thoughts on paper (poem title)

very good thing that I don't drive because I would want to write or type a poem at every
stop

however, when sharing ponceau thoughts begins again it is important to have a working pen handy aswellas an extra to lend just in case you meet a person needing a writing instrument

across the ages (poem title)

what was it like before?
on a ponceau day
ask an old cynical woman

what is the ponceau thing?! (poem title)

a poem in process
as I try to hurry and handwrite
a few poems in my Mom's birthday gift poetry journal notebook:

a b ~ side rampageous poem (poem title)

the sensitive side of a peaceful revolution might not want to be seen
or herd

a b ~ side rampage might not be visible
however, I won't wonder if I begin to smile in my sleep again like I remember

a tip about gratitude

on those rare moments when all you want to do is sit and draw and there is time

that is the best time to draw a picture of what gratitude looks like

freedom lost/do you understand? (poem title)

a Grandmother crying alone, ashamed to be seen, on her 75th birth day;
is it how my Mom felt?
similar to when I hid my ponceau sadness behind my high school locker door during lunch time; ashamed to be the iid in the wheelchair scorned

the party isn't over until the dishes are washed (poem title)

it is and it isn't just simply ponceau politeness to at least
offer to wash the dishes when visiting a person's home;
it is important to at least offer to wash your own dishes used when visiting, because it provides your host with an opportunity to refuse to allow you to do anything besides simply enjoying being honored as a guest; which is called gracious; and in my experience, being gracious can be a reward onto itself;
and when a guest offers to help with the dishes and the host and/or hostess, whichever the case may be, accepts the offer, dishwashing changes from a chore into an opportunity to exchange ideas and emotions; ideas and occurrences that.might seem trivial and maybe happenstance
until its remembered all people need to eat and need to eat using sanitary dishes

a birthday word forgotten (poem title)

gratitude riot think
why, with all the words of the day,
are those three words
always
in my memory
when I try to think
of a word for a poem?
thank goodness for the word gratitude!
because my mind is like a
ponceau riot
when a word
of the day
is forgotten

the intent of inconsistencies (poem title)

punitive gender inconsistencies:
venial sins
and I wonder
what is the
the intent of inconsistencies

old sin (poem title)

to be old is a blessing!
why be ashamed?
how could growing
be a venial sin considered

the sin against creation (poem title)

creation's example
is humankind can commit venial sin's against humankind ;
to stop creation
until humankind matures seems like a sin

Connecting to the captioning system... Waiting for an available
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5:24:14 PM Captioner #7025
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it isn't how you feel it is how torture is basically some extremely annoying people needing constant daily attention /you are/pharmaceuticals don't have to live in fear/ so some people sold their souls however most didn't/dance mix (poem title)

it really is all about the paperwork;
to waste God's gift of life hiding venial sins is to destroy Heaven on Earth

I know when I say I don't know , it means. I do not have the information; I doubt I am the only person who uses the phrase I don't know in this way (possibly implying I'm not even slightly interested in grt rich quick scheme's)

penny rolls (poem title)

there is no venial technically
when it is a penny roll matter

when I am lost, I call your name (poem title)

in the heart of World War .5
I call your name
and now I understand
am reminded
however, your luxury forgets
I am the target as well
and I remember

her careful/ her words (poem title)

if sin is to be separated from God
and you,
my dear,
your afflatus,
your everything,
are a part of God
then to prink you words
to stolid your mind:

Church and State are separate to protect religious tolerance innate worth

Girly has no family she is adopted;
she has no possessions no ancestry; cannot reproduce; cannot feed herself; because of cruelty can not get out bed; to survive she must stick with the people who feed

her (poem title)

empathy, try to understand in other people's shoe's, when I try to understand in other people's shoe's I can't walk: status stolen,
possessions stolen,
family stolen,
body stolen,
what is freedom?
it isn't abuse of

her (poem title)

is the question?
yes, she loves, she communicates
and people love, are inspired care about Girlie more than she will ever know or remember;
she probably doesn't even know this poem is about her
about her,
about her
she has lived her worthwhile life doing nothing except loving and being loved
without saying a word:
it is about law;
defining law

go fourth and believe (poem title)

a day of gratitude
I am from a long line
of people's who search
to find places where
their beliefs are respected

no taxation without representation (poem title)

on July fourth the Boston Tea Party reminds knavery about the importance of ice cream

my tenderness wroth (poem title)

at times when I listen to others speak,
I hear underneath their tone
the muted cries
of an angry fearful
small child

with all my wroth (poem title)

my prayers; I know
the ocean hears my prayers
because when I feel I
am drowning on land;
even though I am far away:
perhaps I have saltwater in my veins

all my wroth (poem title)

my prayers; I know
the ocean hears my prayers
because when I feel I
am drowning on land;
even though I am far away:
perhaps I have saltwater in my veins


wroth whirl write (poem title)

please begin
don't waste a moment;
sitting standing
move so fast that time laments how
quickly you pass by


wroth's physical strength (poem title)

lifting heavy with my right hand;
what I used to have to look for in the basement,
now I find without any effort as wroth embraces me then dares documentation

never enough time (poem title)

before venal existed
monetary systems
civilized

excitement growing/ eg/example given (poem title )

never did I suspect a miracle in my lifetime
where Empathy
would become the path
of the brave;
the call to the warrior
and the dare to all

note:  not to be rude:  having to not read Facebook messages for now until I can catch up wimy life:  want to connect/reconnect:  so a big 'hi hello and how are ya?'

Julie Jeanette Trahan (also known as Dolphin Julia Trahan or/and Julia Dolphin Trahan)

(please do not copy or borrow my poems without written and signed permission: the BBC/BBC OUCH! has copyright and distribution rights)

my ice team bar (poem title)

my ice team bar melted
in my grocery bag
like my stone heart's
excitement about Mary's dedication to service 

good night Angel revisited (poem title)

a decorous mind
decides carefully
the past tasks maintained
the presence/future embraced
cornucopias of falling happens

rearranging decorous (poem title)

class is easy on the eyes
easy on the ears
admittedly, class is listening
before judgements

emotions decorous (poem title)

if emotions were a paintbrush
my landscape would
have dark color's

a neighbor's funeral (poem title)

a measure of life's worth in a moment; a measure of life's worth every moment; do the momentary actions and words, done without fore thought, of an individual, change the course of history?

a happy decorous greeting can last for years; I did not know him well;
however, a man who can introduce himself and welcome neighbor's to a new neighborhood is rare in foodie Portland Oregon; at least for me

icy you (poem title)

my heart is icy;

is it because of the lies they tell about you or is it because of the lies they tell about me?

either way your icyness
I see you

swollen feet aswellas legs (poem title)

sometimes it is time
to call it a day
before the day even begins:
feet above kidneys
and a decorous movie

A context for my work: NEA Partnerships

Q*ink!

I'll make changes to this site on a regular basis, so you should check back often. And be sure to sign my guestbook at the bottom of this page so I know you're out there!



honestly whatever

the way they are (poem title)

safety concerns that last forever; as long as the human race (on wheels, boots, running shoes) there are safety concerns; broken, disabled, and improvement are words not quite making sense when I love someone for the way they are and simply want them to live their innermost heart's desire

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B3Rm2gzEaDOcMmxEdFlnOVRoWWc

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=891846510942793&id=100003523588201&ref=bookmarks



the way they are (poem title)

safety concerns that last forever; as long as the human race (on wheels, boots, running shoes) there are safety concerns; broken, disabled, and improvement are words not quite making sense when I love someone for the way they are and simply want them to live their innermost heart's desire

note to FBI semi ~ spell checked sent Wednesday June 29th 2016 using their website web form; fyi: videos don't copy to their web form
note: in process to fbI which I might not send untill later

Dear FBI,

received call from No Caller ID at 4:00 pm Wednesday June 29th 2016

caller with heavy difficult to understand accent said I had won and the US Government would be giving me a large amount of money

the guy was on speaker phone and my hands were busy so it made it difficult to focus/hear what he was saying (didn't hear the amount)

simultaneously, at 4:02 pm, I texted : anytime to have a surprise lunch at Sizzler after 2 tomorrow? : to my older brother and his wife. these asswipes love their harassment so much that is very difficult to say or do anything that isn't in nazi code

the man on the phone said I had two options and as far as I could hear it involved me giving my bank information and what the second option isn't/wasn't clear
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
damnit! I might have panicked myself this time; however I will send this message anyway as the phone call was creepy:

this was after an iMessage earlier conversation today: at 1:58 pm on Wednesday June 29th 2016 while going to Safeway to pick up my prescription: riding paratransit
(paid for prescription with cash borrowed from Mom/moms as my ATM card is in the mail and I used my spare cash on a luncheon a few days ago

iMessages: important!
my iPhone has been the site of drug gangs

panic
anyway, somehow a threat against Mom was put on my iPhone calendar!

I have a paratransit van scheduled in a few minutes so have to go

I will type the FBI before my phone battery runs out because whoever these asswipes are st the very least they fuck up phones computers

hey Scott if I wanted to discuss asswipes edit
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

my iCalender reminder this morning : dad's birthday

and for whatever reason I didn't have a calendar entry for my Mom's birthday; my memory technique of remembering my parent's birthday dates means I have to remember both dates simultaneously.

the calendar entry I panicked about was on my 'all day' list (meaning I leave annoying automatic daily reminders of certain annoying events so dumbass stalkers have to admit they were exposed to factual information daily without being able to comprehend or interpret it correctly

maybe I misread my own entry: I thought I read an iCalender entry: I added the commentary today: fuck asswipes note: assholes entered;

fuck asswipes note: assholes entered; real Mom's birthday
daily

this morning at breakfast with my Mom at Village Inn, I made a point to add a correct calendar entry and even said outloud 'yearly'

poems more:







note: Mom's keys



ostensible peace (poem title)



slow to travel

thinking does nor require immediacy

history has proven to repeat itself

days and night of million of people not bombing anyone

on a daily basis



the absence of children (poem title)



if I had a daughter

I would suggest:

she emblazon her

self definition

so she would never forget herself,

I would advise she never ever waste

a moment of her precious life,

I would clearly state that she choose her sex partners carefully

and if she wasn't in love, say, 'no'

and I would encourage her to exercise sleep eat

and use all her talents

to the best of her ability



reel fear/real fear (poem title)



pseudo sophistication

ostensible

fear is real

reel fear/real fear



ostensible measurement (poem title)



my Mother lost her Fitbit

technology measuring her steps; I currently don't have means to purchase her another; and so again

breatheheartbeatbreathe

the old fashioned technology

is priceless



the heart condition game (poem title)



the heart condition game is different from the card game, hearts;

the heart condition game rules

are not on the Internet;

most are written down ;

not all;

which does not mean the heart condition game rules are made up while playing;

the main rules can be heard

when you pause in a quiet place

and listen

to the beat

of your heart;

if you want to play the heart condition game,

I advise listening to the instructions

before beginning to play



feminist suffrage (poem title)



words seem to confuse

except for listening;

is a lying tongue a liar?

is a lying tongue a person who rests their tongue and doesn't over use it on gossip hatred and slander?

my vote is a liar sins

and my vote is I define the word sin anyway I want



note: not to be rude: having to not read Facebook messages for now until I can catch up wimy life: want to connect/reconnect: so a big 'hi hello and how are ya?'



Julie Jeanette Trahan (also known as Dolphin Julia Trahan or/and Julia Dolphin Trahan)



(please do not copy or borrow my poems without written and signed permission: the BBC/BBC OUCH! has copyright and distribution rights,



the religious education of girls and women (poem title)



the paradox in God's blessing is in humanity's birth;

a woman is born as a man is born;

will either fall from Grace if studies are completed and books are read and written? (or avoided entirely?)

of course not:

however, religion is of God and Civilization

and as in any garden fane

requires communications



prep colonoscopy (poem title)



if life could be controlled

and physical comfort

equated kindness goodness trust and compassion

then there would be

at every fane

buckets of colonoscopy prep



prayer interference/ the trouble with Pontius Pilate Private Investigation (a poem in process title)



this early mourning waking:

the light through the window

as if I wake into a fane

there were so many Mary's mentioned; so many Mary's listed;

was Mary Magdalene a prostitute?

as my Private Investigation goes: no, Mary Magdalene was educated and influential for a woman of her time; is the Gospel of Mary a banned book?

'Do not weep and be distressed', she had said.



and Jesus told Luke, 'You have judged rightly; Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair . . .

Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.”



on the subject of sedition:

there is incitement of violence

and there is insight into violence (and how to prevent it/emergency reactions and recovery)



were you expecting

a rhyming poem?



if I saw you were bleeding?(poem title)



if I saw you were bleeding and did nothing would it weigh on me like a Navy ship stuck on a reef?

would I become like an expensive indomitable boat with a boundless ocean to explore

and instead park in passive apathy?



or

would I

become a tiny peccadillo. if I saw you bleeding?

if I saw a cut on your arm;



with all her might (poem title



it wasn't the first time

and she has the scars to prove it;

I pulled at S so she could escape

I wasn't strong enough

and kept losing my grip



it all happened so fast

it wasn't a small peccadillo

she ran bleeding

with no where to go

and was quickly caught

on the ramp

she escaped again

and ran to my lap

I hid her inside her good will house

and geographically separated

she was temporarily safe

until we could walk beyond the fence



later when it sunk in how easily I could have lost her for ever, I vowed to make our time a little more worth while



it was funny/a small offense (poem title)



admittedly, I am inexperienced;

however, my peccadillo

guess is:

a lack of remorse

gives everything away



memories gargantuan (poem title)



an earliest memories

a center point for an individual future?

my memory and my present

embrace



bridge notes (poem title)



the view from the bridge

is gargantuan

above

below

when I am the bridge

and the river below

and the sky above

and the view as far as I can see

and perhaps you can not feel

as I can not feel

that we are touching



my permanent red mark (poem rifle)



did I learn to swim as a toddler?

and my adult mind clutches hungrily for some thing to hold onto;

some inner truth to reassure me life is steady and I will not fall even when the ground beneath my feet shakes with gargantuan reminders of human fragilities;

on my face

is a permanent red mark :

my personal bookmark

to note:

surrendering to fears and circumstance:

placing my life in the care of faith joy grace and harmony is neither painless or pretty



myself daily (poem title)



everyday I begin with what I mean;

and in this gargantuan world

where self is interconnected

with self,

I am here: this is where I am: I'm right here



the assumption (poem title)



suspended in mid air

are layers thick as clothing;

brief high school dismissal;

with bitter sarcasm, I say, 'my only crime is surviving my highway pile up': admittedly, gargantuan statistical data challenges personal idenity:

I never realized so many Americans with disabilities are jailed



when two go kaput (poem title)



in a car where FDR is nowhere to be seen;

while I was talking;

my welt

near my eye

is visible

and on the side with a permanent red marker



the depth of sitting (poem title)



looking out my hospital window

when a child

I saw peace in a tangible form

too far away for me to reach out

and grasp it in my hand

however near enough to understand

peace is visible



today

as an adult

I am sitting and listening

and understanding

peace can be heard

and seen

and felt



and questions can be asked:

how can there be peace

more?

how can there be more peace?



elementary kaput (poem tittle)



what I learned in elementary school is

family are elemental



slander media kaput (poem title)



note :

needle mark on center back of right wrist; difficulty photo inn



a writer traveling to France isn't me

and my used passport remains

faded

old

wrinkled

and

folded



pedestrian typing (poem title)



if there was a keyboard tattooed

on the ground,

I would wake up

every morning

and I would type

using my feet:

you will never believe how

much I love you



note:  not to be rude:  having to not read Facebook messages for now until I can catch up wimy life:  want to connect/reconnect:  so a big 'hi hello and how are ya?'



Julie Jeanette Trahan (also known as Dolphin Julia Trahan or/and Julia Dolphin Trahan)



(please do not copy or borrow my poems without written and signed permission: the BBC/BBC OUCH! has copyright and distribution rights



pedestrian typing (poem title)



if there was a keyboard tattooed

on the ground,

I would wake up

every morning

and I would type

using my feet:

you will never believe how

much I love you



the ground beneath my feet (poem title)



when I walk or when I roll,

I tend to think I am more aware of the type of ground beneath my feet;

not that I spend much time on arrogant comparison.

my naïveté is, at times, an inconvenient blessing,

as I couldn't identify a carpetbagger if it bit me on the face,

I can't spell vacuum

however, I do know when representatives take the floor

it is no longer political analysis



the smell of old books (poem title)



a carpetbagger distracts

from the illuminations seen

aswellas the panentheism scene



heckler's sexual harassment (poem title)



heckler's litotes is their's to decipher;

as it is much easier to simply walk away

and not get involved



the smell of old books (poem title)



a carpetbagger distracts

from the illuminations seen

aswellas the panentheism scene



less than three centuries (poem title)



carpetbagger war over piles of jackets and coats;

nature provided the answer (as contrary to the solution) before time began

Socrates' gift to humanity might have been formulating the question as the definitive correspondence:

am I meek enough to try to understand nature?

am I strong enough to

comprehend birthing as a blessed event

do I have enough courage to state that child bearing must not be miraculous tarn



wasted time (poem title)



difficult to accept

my body is not a carpetbagger

as I am still exhausted

even with thought of someone else's money



a trout with an ATM card (poem title)



a fish with an ATM card donates everything to the litotes Church while a dolphin with a sword dreams about swimming



note:  not to be rude:  having to not read Facebook messages for now until I can catch up wimy life:  want to connect/reconnect:  so a big 'hi hello and how are ya?'



Julie Jeanette Trahan (also known as Dolphin Julia Trahan or/and Julia Dolphin Trahan)



(please do not copy or borrow my poems without written and signed permission: the BBC/BBC OUCH! has copyright and distribution rights



a crowd gather's (poem title)



good deeds should never be alone;

as in a harsh litotes world

when anyone falls

the observer's sin is in adding insult to human nature



where I have been (poem title)



if eagerly life could be charted as a choreography piece:

a solo waltz

baby walks here:

child steps here

teenager crosses here

young adult climbs here

middle aged adult tango's here

elderly adult walks here

connecting the balletic movements

fortifying the gestures

until every individual emblazon can be embraced; then perhaps humanity would understand the importance of dance

and all it's translations



the mathematics of lesbian (poem title)



defensiveness sadly as defense is sadly needed:

if I have complaints or suggestions about creation, I will converse with God myself

and if there is a test written into human existence, it might be can you find the third choice?

when Garden of Eden matters are on the frontline: is the answer likely to be popular or comfortable?



the absence of children (poem title)



if I had a daughter

I would suggest:

she emblazon her

self definition

so she would never forget herself,

I would advise she never ever waste

a moment of her precious life,

I would clearly state that she choose her sex partners carefully

and if she wasn't in love, say, 'no'

and I would encourage her to exercise sleep eat

and use all her talents

to the best of her ability



when it feels like Friday (poem title)



when it feels like Friday, my maternal instincts come out and I begin

to wonder

how suffrage happened

with women surrounded

with exhaustion



note: not to be rude: having to not read Facebook messages for now until I can catch up wimy life: want to connect/reconnect: so a big 'hi hello and how are ya?'



Julie Jeanette Trahan (also known as Dolphin Julia Trahan or/and Julia Dolphin Trahan)



(please do not copy or borrow my poems without written and signed permission: the BBC/BBC OUCH! has copyright and distribution rights


Australia Jan 1999

BBC & me in Oakland; 2002
bbc.jpg

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