existence

Galactic Rulers

We enslave the creator –

our own mothers who gave birth to the world,
to the universe,
all we see, and love, and know.

The mothers rule this earth, in spirit and in giving of life.

We are here to protect them, us men, not rule them…

We take entry into our bodies,
into our very existence,
say our thanks, and then go on to dominate the very existence
we were funneled into.

Look around,
-everything we know,
is because of women,
-everything we love,
is because of women.

Our hearts and souls, bound to our very mothers own.

Give the earth back,
for the rule of women has yet to be felt.
We are failing our planet earth,
our motherly planet earth.
By overcome with greed and power,
both of which were created by man.

I say it’s time to step down from our throne as king, a
nd serve and protect the rightful heir to the galactic rulers,
our mothers, our sisters, our daughters.

Let them lead with love, as only they possess the power to do so…

-Julien J OReilly

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Where Are We?

In this flesh of a man, a prism of complexity, spinning in wild existence
in dominance of every attribute,
constructing emotion
to devour the lives surrounding.
The raging battle,
in competitive survival
stacked and positioned
inventive of every new-age stage to marvel.
Even the purity of love,
used and sharpened,
as a spear tearing through all in its path.

The consequences of my being sets this rage internal,
pulling apart every layer of skin I’ve masked.
The walls of ego stripped bare, shredded,
until nothing remains,
not even a tongue for speaking,
or a sense of the self ever worth fighting for.

Where did my essence go?
Was it attached at the teet, at the yearning for life…
Has the reflections of the World sapped over my seed,
Infinitely generating a Modern Man of the time.
Where is credit due, or even deserved?
I am not the language I speak, or even the thoughts so deceivingly portrayed as my own.
I am the culmination of a millennia… no, of all of existence, of all of Time,
folded and struck from the chaos of the cosmos, in the brilliance of light and life.
My sense of self dissolving before me, into this fabric, pulsing with ancient wisdom.
All of life speaks through my mouth – every howl, every whisper,
every dogmatic twinkle of my ancestral molecules beating to the drum of my own heart.

I suppose the march will continue, long after the chuckle of my flame, gasses away.
Where will the emotion leave me, when the clock pounds out the cursed blessing of endless life.
I simply can only repeat –
In this flesh of a man, a prison of complexity, spinning wild in existence.

Julien J. OReilly