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:
“WHISPERS IN SMOKE”
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!