Feeling the Floetry

I don’t know if it was the lengthy train ride or experiencing a concert in the rain but I’ve found myself insisting on writing–and not just any kind of writing, but writing floetry.  And when I say floetry, I mean, writing the first thing that comes to my head that I’ve funneled from a particular emotion or place inside that yearns to come out.  Floetry is what I’d like to call it because I feel what I write isn’t as beautiful as the poetry I’ve read.  This is more or less the way I choose to express what is troubling me.

And it’s interesting to note that it’s taken me at least three years to finally come back full circle to writing this way–I’ve been drawing, filming and scriptwriting lately as a form of expression and yet, I’ve picked floetry to lighten the weight from this previous weekend’s excursion.

So without bombarding you with too much exposition, I present my floetry in progress:


You’re facing an uphill battle
when you got him still in your satchel
Cut the lines that tie
and climb out of the lies
You can’t live in all this pain
when you got potential for so much gain

The world seeks out your light
you can’t go silently into the night
You can’t let him break your day
beacuse of the things you’d expect him to say

The situation has changed
you’re no longer the same
The wind has blown you off course
and smiling has become a chore
You privy the frown
as your world spirals down

Even a caged bird sleeps at night
as long as you can turn left, you’ll always have right
ou can’t always wear a crown
but sometimes the world looks better upside down

The sun is glowing, it’s final rays
and the look of sorrow washes your face
The desperate breath, uneven and shallow
As you tread and go, where no one can follow

I’ll never know that exact point of pain
but I’ll be here next to you, standing in the rain
The night can’t end with tears falling
I’ll hold your hands to keep them balling


I’m losing this hand to Cupid
He’s counting cards, I just know it
Called him out a cheat
Cards face sky, I read em and weep
It was all or nothing, disregarded the cost
Into Cupid’s hand, my Lover I lost

This will be a work in progress…and yes, I know, FLOETRY is not a word. But it should be!



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