Jody Poem
Bio
Darel “Jody Poem” McDonald II (born October 10, 1995 in Corpus Christi, Texas) is a American producer, rapper and singer that founded LAST LAUGH Records.
Stories (3/0)
ILY
It was an abstract concept, misconstrued through it's verbal presence. Action of it's existence had become in short supply. The phrase "I Love You" was now a weapon of the abuser. The abused had become housed in it's poor construction. Then, how had the world made it to the times. It was from societal expectations, traditions, and economical gains. Love had become an object. The worth of something meaningful losing value in imperfection. To be born imperfect yet expect perfect affection. The affliction itself was greater than the lack of effort. In truth it was not a one size fits all diagnoses. Others became exceptional through becoming the seed to tenderly be nourished. The injustice of unrequited love sent but hate received, what does love mean? Love was action and the action had a word. A chosen word formed to eat rotted addiction from the inside out. The irony of a killer killed with its own weapon. To live by the sword meant to die by it. It is true, the greatest addiction is love. How can this be? Is not life filled with strife, pain, and disappointment? Were innocent not slain? Did good works not go in vain? For another it is complicated and for some it is simple. To the lord they prayed because he understood their pain. The same had seen the innocent and been slain. But belief in love? How? Why? The people were this way not because of gratification but merely consistent simplification. It is known winds cause storms leveling houses, buildings, and cars. Yet, have the hills moved? Did the mountain not remain in its place? In this space that is why they gave him highest praise. Firm in foundation in any breeze, it just cooled his face. Face to face there was much discrepancy for even though they lived longer they could not recognize he. How could this be if in past there was notoriety known infamously? It could be believed words fell from mouths only filled with jealousy. To what extent could that want was in flesh was not had or to begin with they did not understand. Unconditional was the presence. Though anguish indeed was a non physical message. It was understood then as it should have been now. Looking for signs of weakness but it would have been easier to stand in the field and plow. Love less than what it had been. At least from experienced eyes it was more than a city of sin. To win in love would mean a loss. Chances were taken as interceptions because there was a difference in sitting on the sideline and growing as a moss. Candied words are pleasant to the ears, all the same with false promises and endless tears. A love well beyond it's years. It became the norm to find love not from difference but the same and in location be sifted instead of good years. The imagination is profound yet there is no culture. Where this was segregation had become the mainstay of vultures. The cycle continued beyond its portion. There was no longer a difference in love and breeding horses. Then where laid the blame in societal forces? To each there own not being the voice of golden. Easier to hear one is bad and another is good. To whom were they good and what made them better? If one loved then would it not be forever? I love you was expected in this poetic justice but the way it is said it is the same though toughly he blessed it. Even though time passed, hopefully to open ears hear the message.
By Jody Poem2 years ago in Confessions
