thescotchirishviking Michael Taylor

Poetry/Lyrics about the state of the human existence and a look at frequency. How it effects you and me. 🔥🔥


Poésie Tout public. © Michael W. Taylor 2022 ©

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Exemption from Mortality

It's dark and it's bleak out.

Negative frequencies all around.

I'm not talking about a lack of light,

I'm talking about the sound.


The constant words and slurs

In pitches and tones that shake

the heart.

The nonstop tension from destructive

vibrations that's tearing these

nations apart.


When did it start and how does

this end?

I'm watching as more fallen angels

descend.

Squandering time that is only on

lend.

Wandering blind through the

wreckage of men.


The seed of life now tainted,

It's so blatant to see.

While people stay placated,

It's so obvious to me.

Life is a reaction to the

actions that we take.

A natural attraction to

the frequencies we make.


Don't chase away the sun and then

complain about the wind and rain.

Face the day as if you've won,

and teach each other to do the same.

The hussla's game is just a way to

destract you from reality.

You're way off aim, if you think you

can gain exemption from your own

mortality.


When God spoke into darkness it was frequency that created light.

Particles of matter forming patterns

by the will of might.

Existence by persistence is the

evolutionary way.

I look into the distant future...

Further resistance will lead to decay.


To more of my dismay, I'm watching

evil spread like a forest fire.

It seems that everyday, the species

deathtoll's getting higher.


I say, come what may, because we

all will get what we deserve.

I sit in darkness and I pray,

How can I better serve?


My gift of words, my tongue is sharp.

I Shepard herds, my wisdom a tarp

for anyone that seeks shelter

from chaotic rains that weigh us down.

Escape the Helter Skelter that

only entertain's sad clowns.


Turn that frown upside down,

and become a new perspective.

Burn that thorny crown that you wear...

The sweltering air of despair is subjective.


Self induced afliction, subconcience

decions that are foolishly made.

Mass produced addiction to keep the

souls of men a slave.


The land of the brave is now full of

cowards controlled by a toxic society.

Running in packs, the honor they lack,

Devouring all of the resources we see.


It's really up to you and me to stop

this ignorant loop that we're in.

You can call it what you want, but I

call these latest frequencies, sin.


Look at the muck we're all in, as more

of our natural state slips away.

Finnagin begin again...

We're caught in a loop that must

end today.


Take to your heart, these words that

I say and maybe we will all be o.k.

I don't want a roll in this play.

I'm trying to keep these Matrix agents

at bay.


Red pill or blue...

It's all up to you.

Follow the clues.

I'm here to show

you who is who.


Everything you do

here on out, now that

these words are in your

head.

Is going to determine

your route, there's no

doubt there is truth

in the words that I have

said.


Maybe we we all eventually see.

There is no Exemption from our

own Mortality.


Written by: Michael W. Taylor

May 7th. 2022 ©

8 Mai 2022 01:39:55 0 Rapport Incorporer Suivre l’histoire
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