Right now I am happy,
I am content,
I am destined,
I am within the fruition of my labors,
the calmness of my heart,
the stillness of my mind.
I am in this moment, so that I can remember
that I have been here before,
and will return again.
In this trife life I live the rapids of excess,
the turmoil of success,
I live within this gruff,
fortuned and infinite my reach,
yet bleak and grim is my outlook on the eyes turned inward.
I will pray to keep this stillness,
to find my way back to this palace,
swim through teeth grinned waters back to your oasis,
suffered through bullets and burning bombs back to your creation
back to your manifestation
back to your sanitarium
back to your salvation
back to your loving heart’s embracing racing destination.
And If I can and then I will,
and by my will I shall know the peace,
know this feast of scrumptious luscious reflection of beauty and complicated completion
staring back at me through this mirror of my time here…
So have a beer on me on this present being of my moment of peace,
and to you my future self my futures felt,
I prepare a toast to you to remember,
to always remember
that this piece of you is its entirety,
it’s always here,
It’ll always be waiting for your return,
and when ever you steer course in wrong ways,
with black bleak waters cursing down in a thunderous haze
of jungles of twisted vines in a torturous maze,
I’ll resurface to your call and clasp your hand,
and lead you back here, to where we will laugh about this all,
and to say –
what a day, what a lesson learned
what a day we had today oh what a day,
oh my Buddha what a day.
So cheers to you adventurer,
cheers to your ups and downs,
cheers to your search for infinite wisdom and happiness
here without time.
Cheers to your will, to your fight,
this life here
is certainly worth living
And most certainly,
it’s worth loving.
-Julien J OReilly
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.
-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
In this flesh of a man, a prism of complexity, spinning in wild existence
in dominance of every attribute,
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
A poem falls victim today
on the battleground of a swallowed tongue.
The remains of a severed word struggles to usher it’s final truth
before rolling to a stop among the cliffs
of a desolate and unforgiving land.
As others had fought here before,
emerging from tragic storms on the horizon,
they now had seemed to spring off the banks in vein,
searching for a meaning amongst the lemmings of such other beasts.
Their crimes were suited with their fate,
washed away upon the shores of a closed mind
and a broken ear,
never to collide
with the passing of a sailing vessel.
But these words today
were given no such chance
but instead lay gasping for air,
before finally slipping back into the darkened depths
from which they came.
Perhaps tomorrow the tale will be different
of a victory to sweep
and to be awash under wine and celebration
but until that day,
these soldiers shall stay in their quarters,
to pass their time,
before their final calling is spoken.
Your concepts of travel, escape me.
In this notion of space, and time travel that is.
We exist, yes,
in this physical realm around us,
in the bodies formed to protect, to serve, to perform,
and also yet, to predict.
In the Present time, I stand here breathing,
forwardly projected in that realm we call space, time.
But where are we going?
There it is.
I did what the canvas asked.
Give me More it demanded,
so I obliged.
so I didn’t.
I just kept giving,
not even knowing what it was
that I gave, but sure enough,
little by little,
I gave exactly what it had asked for.
Even small amounts of something,
end up adding up
to the whole of everything,
at least what it was that I could offer.
If I held back,
then what was I even preserving it for?
If I save it all for myself,
I won’t be giving anything.
But then who would even know,
what that something
could have been,
should have been.
I may dream up of this big something,
you know, all on my own,
but in the end, a dream cannot be shared.
I can still provide that glimpse of self,
even if it fulfills another’s wishes, ambitions,
that glimmer of the greater possibility,
of what should have could have been,
will be blinding in brilliance, to those
who lay witness to the greatness.
And relish brilliantly in that moment,
so our proud parents, and grandparents,
can see a glimmer of their own dreams,
and say that;
they gave it up for us,
so that we could one day,
give it all up again.
-Julien J. OReilly
A sacred journey begins, taking flight across foreign lands, aboard whitened wing tips, Devine and steaming with blackened gold. A hundred hearts set sail, projected through this vortex of our time, and all I can think is, What’s the holdup? In our ancestral wake our impatience is glowing and pulsing with the Rythms of a continent’s creative propulsion.
Mount Kilimenjaro’s finest sights overlooked through a peeping hole, zooming forth into a cloudy-flurry of ash. Solemn attitude and frown hold their gaze steady ahead, leaving their stationed bodies and naturalistic essence in the mist.
Another fuel washes down the throats to satisfy a moment of pleasure, A rewarded distraction from the adventure of the journey.
If we’ve forgotten the lessons from the present, what more can our speeding futures deliver us?
A regress from the nuisance of the modern mindset leaves me to appreciate the recognition of a powerful moment. Carry on in your endless searches, while I take in the beauty you so conveniently have missed.
– Julien J OReilly
Don’t you forget.
The Limit of our existence.
Overcome with the desire to fill,
of our walled timeline.
Containment in just this fraction of a blink
or without life.
How much can one possibly burn,
set ablaze to melt beyond your skin’s reach
consuming an entire Island for one’s Deceptive Pleasures.
See with your Eyes, set within your Heart,
this Creature of Humanity,
expansive – across your toes,
folding in on itself,
devouring and blooming
in perfect stride.
the capsule of your own Flower,
but the Fields of an Orchard.
Leave your mark like water,
flowing to Creation and wonder,
a stream of seeping goodness in to the soil of time.
Have we not yet had our fill
In a life where the space between action and reward,
narrows to that of a cricket’s chirping, crackling, wings,
we’ve grown a Hunger
Larger than the Chew of our Bite.
Sew shut the muzzle of your cannons,
breathe life into words,
each World a class of its own,
and to learn.
Forever the Student
Forever the Teacher
of your own Wisdom.
Within those walls,
within those Capsules,
a way of blossoming – Unique to its own curse.
Never forget the time you have to live your stride,
set apart from those chains of monotony.
Your Story is Worth Telling,
I’m all ears.
– Julien J OReilly
solid ground now shaken loose,
with the cracks of age,
deep revelations suddenly awoken,
in a flash,
exploding outwards and up, up
away from the body of regret, a release, into nothingness.
In the mind, a tomb of spent dreams where shadows take form,
characters in a play,
What if, What for?
As the years ticked on, sipping down an ocean of drips, pushing down to another day,
Now the tide has gone away,
pulled by the setting reaper moon,
exposed skeletons of the possibility.
Delay, the fortune of youth,
Delay, the awakening in death.
– Julien J OReilly