A PATH TO FLOETRY

The poor words of the letter F, so many lost to that most well known F word. Before all other words in the letter F family that one F word rules, slides into the most innocent of thoughts, is shortened to respectability, strongly spoken, appears loudly when cried in anger. It has strength no other F word commands; even has it own hand sign, the mystical middle finger, with its sliding scale of intensity.

Sadly, so many other good F words do not have the power of this one universal F word, as if all other F words have been caught in a minor key of obscurity.

It was the rules that got the other F words civilized, while that one F word became the forbidden, the most unsociable of powers, a curse, a question, a bold statement when only one word would do and there was no other.

Songs covertly sing the F words praise, while other F words, perhaps just as powerful, fade in its wake. You must think such a social renegade could be topped, unseated from its throne. Yet when cornered, attacked, it just enters a metamorphosis into other forms, adding more letters or words like What The F, WTF, or a mash up of letters and symbols. That F word is so elastic that social media scream with joy at its new attire until all the other F words shudder in the shock of being again undone.

We all know how it happened that the F word grew from mating and copulating. In its most dramatic move it co-opted the very spelling of the letter F, so that now `eff' itself has become the owner of just that one F word.

In the life of a language it is the creation of new words that give a language its vitality. While there are many people who proclaim that this is not a language's lifeblood, they are mistaken. For it is not rules of a language that govern its use, but how a language is used and accepted by those who speak it that allows its power to communicate.

Even the Scrabble dictionary has bent to new words, new uses of language. Those who claim that not just anyone can make up new words are missing the context of language. Language comes from use. If enough people decide a word has a use or describes a thing, an idea, an invention or a concept, that word will survive.

Latin and other ancient languages did not die out because of misuse. They faltered when they could no longer explain the world emerging about them. Yet they laid a language foundation as their legacy.

Other F Words is the beginning of a redemption of the family of F words. New words, a new meaning, until the F word `family' emerges from the fens and is acclaimed for its fervent goal to explain what is to come.

Time changes all and the written word is no exception to that rule. `Experiments in Floetry' introduces a new F word to the family. Allow me to introduce Floetry.

Floetry bends the linguistic norm, displaces the forms of grammar to a swirling line of rhyme, invents, retools, reuses, takes the future upon its soul and keeps the language vibrantly explaining what is to come of the myths of tomorrow. In this book it presents some of the other letters of F words in the favorable light they deserve.

The F word that conquered never truly conquered all other F words. The fraternity of F words went freaking at their fate as they became a virtual stillness of silence in fear of revealing their lettered relationship to the F word. Starved into myth, shattered into nothing, the family of F words rises now through Floetry.

It is not a contradiction of rules and creativity one should fear. No, indeed, if one were to believe you cannot add words to the English language, one would still be speaking in short bursts of grunts and moans of distaste and delight. While many still communicate this way there remains the unanswered question.

We may never know who first spoke the famous or infamous F word, but imagine their surprise at the response they got. That first speaker who first saw how one word could gain power over and beyond its four letters? Does it truly matter when so many new words grow and gather; we forget that in the English language renewal is its strength?

The criers of yesterday's language cringe on the forge of tomorrow's language, today. Yet what do they fear, a tradition shaken, their roots stirred?

So well worn workers of words, wise to the ways of the negativity of many change resistant humans, feel free in Floetry to invent words, create word forms that are unknown, change spellings, ignore grammar, use words considered improper to some, whenever you feel they have need of reinvention into the FLO of language reno-lution.

Perhaps chaos may be the response, but then who cried foul when corporations became humans, or Wall Street turned theft into bailouts with the redirection of words meanings. Changing the meanings of words did it all. It happens all around you, everyday.

Consider Floetry as a box. Within the box you are confined to internal boundaries. Outside the box you are confined to external boundaries. Now take a knife and lay the box flat till it floats on the air. You have expanded the box. Carve that flattened box into slices that float alone, and you have created a potential magic carpet of shapes that can take you anywhere you can imagine. Slide down mountains, construct a castle, and free yourself to express, what ever, good or not, of what comes close to your heart. Expose the world for the mockery it hides behind in form and tradition while allowing the rape of all life by greed and gods.

That is Floetry's power; a song, a thought, a story, a memory, taking what was known and experienced into what can be envisioned as FLO. This is a beginning, not an end. Yes, I am saying you can change the rules, break the barriers, and enter a new language dimension.

If you do not, will progress cease, will regeneration not continue, will the earth stop spinning, will you be thrown from Gaia into outer space?

The great secret of life is that those who hold treasure close would rather you not change their economic and language dominance no matter what the costs, for them change is too difficult to consider. Their ways are rooted in corruptly sucking the joy of life from millions. Their messages, their business practices, their governments, their religions are all in need of a reno-lution.

Yet they will fight tooth and nail to restrict sharing, construct virtual prisons to capture your mind and train you to believe all is fine and you are not deserving of their time. They do this all with words bent into meaningless symbols: work will make you free.

Within this book lies a vision for you to contemplate. You will find smiles and questions, things one should shout out, old and new, love, death and peace. Floetry after all is within ourselves, so why then not let what is in each of us FLO.

All Floetry offerings found here are titled with a word beginning with the letter F. This is an attempt to overcome the F word deficit and give the family of F words new meaning and appreciation, new thoughts.

After all I too have abused the F family of words. I seek redress for the family of F words, for stealing the spelling of `eff' to represent only one F word and to celebrate other F words we may have all forgotten.

The Floetry in this book are my glimpses into life and reality perceived sometimes in love, other times in sorrow, but always in amazement. Floetry tries to answer questions such as why so many people are denied a living wage or even the simplest celebrations of life, while so very few gather wealth and then use it to mount oppression's throne by misusing words to cloak their evil intentions, trapping the listener in meaningless stereotypes of fearful thinking.

Wars waged as economic drivers, chaos appearing everywhere, while inflation rips the soul of the working class to death while they blindly wonder WTF?

Oh come the FLO reno-lution!

What a world of Floetry to be alive in. There are many problems to solve in life that need Floetry to understand their roots and seek workable solutions. The attack of word-confusionist-butchers may holds sway as the media repeats over and over that a particular word means something new, and not what it once did.

To humanity's credit, no matter what we all face in life, we humans have found ways to endure, to change, to become more creative in the understanding that if we do not change, we will perish and enter a place we would not ever wish to be. Think of a world where children cannot read, where reading a book is visual violence, where words are weapons only. This is where those without FLO would lead us if we allow them to make us fearful.

The English language, owes its dominance in the world to the ability to expand elastically to describe new ideas, make understandable new thoughts and new technologies. The English language is a model of survival that has not yet embraced a totally negative profile.

Floetry embraces a "you can" instead of a `you can't do that' attitude. Trying to make a better place for generations yet to come. Within FLO we can direct energies to create a more embracing outcome.

Floetry, is a natural process, its roots in the earth, stirring new growth allowing great freedom and creativity freed from the sealed boxes of negativity.

Unleashing new words into the world is no more dangerous than tweeting. Floetry accepts that change will happen and a word's meaning may change. Use a new word enough and an additional definition may into dictionaries creep.

Language belongs to everyone. Creativity belongs to everyone. Let it FLO!

    FRIENDSHIP

    I remember the day we became friends
    you came crawling from under a rusting old Desoto so bold so cold
    One of a litter born six weeks ago
    you could barely make a sound
    too young to take from your mother
    the alternative to let you drown
    with no friends around.
    Wrapped in my jackets warmth, next to my heart
    on my ten-speed we flew
    up, down, around Santa Cruz
    At work you slept in a box behind the counter
    at first I gave you a bottle until you craved solid foods
    never wandering far
    we travelled to Avalon House sun porch
    the two of us no longer alone
    we pooled our strength
    we wandered the San Lorenzo
    surfed the Pacific's might
    ran in the Redwood's light
    playing can you find me?
    answering the family whistle
    Never apart, lovers of life
    joy brightens friendship
    when money is tight friendship is better to have than not
    occasionally we spent the night above the stereo shop
    inexpensive security
    a blanket for cover
    listening to the Dead, Hendrix, Led Zeppelin
    roar into morning
    the Concert Grand's shaking the windowpanes
    turn the Marantz up to ten,
    so we can really hear it in our den
    finally sleep took us.
    One night a thief jimmied the window
    broke in
    you growled a warning
    and attacked
    I grabbed his leg and ended up holding a sneaker
    the thief limped off
    never to return.
    Midnight the store closed
    when the streets were empty we rode
    you within my coat growing
    me peddling with the wind
    one night you ran beside me
    dappled panther black and brown
    no white except your fangs,
    running
    we became the night's knights
    undoing what was not right
    among those others the night called along to join our song.
    You were not impressed when I found her
    you would break between our hands as we walked Natural Bridges
    back in the middle
    till you accepted her to our pack
    her place beside me if she kept the pace
    little you knew nor I of women then.

    On the shores of Monterey Bay you finally accepted her
    as we barked at Walruses resting on the Coast Guard Pier
    explored empty canneries watching out doors long gone
    hearing the salt water bay singing its song
    Otters playing with abalone in beds of kelp
    A record store was our business now nine A.M. to midnight
    you stayed by our side
    I went to the burger bar to get our lunch
    three bold thieves saw only a woman, a dog
    who stayed behind for the very first time
    she threatened to call the cops
    too bad the phone was just an empty prop
    they swaggered from the back
    jackets bulging with records
    hoping to score they misjudged thee
    you don't scare that easily
    then they heard your growl
    and saw in your black eyes
    that they were about to die
    your fangs snapped hungry for their flesh
    you herded them back never letting them pass
    till they begged her to hold you back
    let us go they begged
    returned the records and begged some more
    with our lunch in a paper sack I came back
    to see three robbers running for their lives
    you stood by her she was now true pack

    The three of us rode Highway One in our '58 ford Panel Truck
    then east from California's wild beach to Jersey's old Atlantic shore
    where you were an overlord much feared and adored,
    the east was no place for our pack
    Connecticut where every grain of sand is owned and accounted for
    no beach
    no trespass
    no access
    no shoes
    no shirts
    no service
    no dogs
    no hippies
    no Vietnam
    no home no more
    to Canada we came
    crossing at Niagara Falls
    riding the rainbow bridge
    peace settled upon us all

    In T town the city lights became too bright
    the country stars called us west to the young coast
    nothing had even aged one hundred years
    where fools upon sandy shores
    did not build more and more
    so that rogue waves did not destroy their lives,
    fir
    larch
    cedar
    spruce
    hemlock
    balsam
    redwoods they're not but still giants to live under
    300 years
    of real life
    walking
    Pemberton
    Mount Currie
    Lillooet
    Lytton
    fishing
    Golden to Tofino
    Babine to Sooke
    drove onto Long Beach
    tempting the Pacific's storm surge,
    up valleys where no body lived
    hiking in forests
    climbed mountain peaks
    huddling close wet in the rain in our tipi
    swollen rivers
    creeks roaring
    fish for dinner
    our secret whistle
    safety
    love
    family
    so we could give friendship freely
    to those who gave it back

    Into Van and Vic we stumbled
    Fourth Street in the moment of a rebirth fantasy
    strong our pack became
    no others could make us unfree.

    Back to terminal city
    we lived for a while in Don and Kate's back yard
    where we would sing,
    swing with Saul's Afghani hash,
    listen to Joni's sad lament of paved paradise
    always with us
    cleverly at our side
    where no dog was allowed
    No drunks prowled our life
    you would growl them to a halt,
    herd them against the wall in fear
    their hidden demons come to life,
    not here where the pack resides
    under God's Eyes,
    in the soy drums we built
    could no evil dwell
    even if the city knew no peace.

    We were all young
    roads still called us
    back to Santa Cruz,
    we grew from three to four
    a natural birth
    a new brother
    learning the way of the pack.
    Treading the garden on mulched chocolate bean husks,
    home covered in Passion Flowers
    a new den upon the River San Lorenz.
    the chess master
    the ice cream vendor
    the California beauty
    the broccoli packer.
    We played as a pack,
    we grew strong
    we found UCSC before it even opened,
    we wandered its forest groves
    we were all still young,
    the world could not unravel our fun
    we lived within a Redwood tree
    so free
    we travelled afoot
    we feasted on the bounty
    Brussels sprouts,
    artichokes
    wild mushrooms
    brown rice
    water
    mountain wine (15th pressing).
    swam the ocean
    of a dead whale washed ashore
    to mask your scent you rolled about.
    We were about change,
    while change we did not see
    like rogue waves upon the sea

    The earth shook occasionally.
    We spent time at the birth center,
    trying to break the curse
    birth was not a disease
    Breast-feeding is a healthy choice
    birthing mothers have a voice

    Our new pack brother
    born strong as winter's winds
    found himself at the center of protest
    against those who saw
    Breast-feeding as a sin
    better hidden than seen

    We march down Pacific Street
    one hundred breast feeding goddess's
    with supporters to the sea,
    life force should not hidden
    by minds living in fear

    You had friends there,
    Clancy,
    Warthog,
    Blue
    Sparky,
    Adventurous humans too,
    Third Street warriors
    true
    Ben Lomond lovers
    blotter dreamers
    beach walkers
    all believers
    rolled into Big Sur
    into forbidden wilderness
    which brought the wrath of the one percent's
    enforcers of their imaginary laws,
    to befuddle a pack
    free on the ocean shores
    the crime of the highest majesty
    trespass
    The courts access
    justice's best
    someone must pay
    jail the dog!
    pay or die!

    Afore sunrise
    we break you free
    bolt cutter magic
    from the pound's compound
    for who knows what for
    death should not be
    your price for loyalty
    mine to you
    you to me
    into family fold
    until California seems to have grown old

    From so few
    the change grew
    back to BC the pack flew
    into the frontier we never knew
    horses
    chickens
    ducks
    goats
    gardens to last through winter's year
    became our test

    We ran for our water
    left our panel truck at rest
    a convenient shed
    electricity we did without,
    the sun our clock,
    now we gathered seeds
    hunted whitetails
    breaking trails in the snow
    fire wood stacked to dry
    come winters cold
    warmth to survive.
    there we rested the pack warm in our winter's den.

    The pack grew to four that winter,
    a spring son
    born into the warm sun
    our seasonal labours
    set a healthy table,
    till winter once again
    made us be forest people.

    building
    from logs
    on land
    where we
    could not
    be

    Rebirth
    the panel truck springs to life
    from savings gained splitting shakes
    logs skidded by Fife
    our workhorse strong
    Our sixth pack member
    another soul for you to guide
    so that no danger pack would see.

    Again
    the trek across country, wilderness to suburbia
    you a guide at being alive,
    family time
    work to find
    earn that paper tool
    we could trade for land.
    Set us in the city of Newark
    ethnic vibes uncertain
    Independence Hall
    twelve little girls
    grown old
    each with child within
    knowing the world
    wild with opportunity
    was not to be

    destroyed
    by racists
    smothered
    in shame

    in a place that gathered Oak leaves
    to burn upon some altar of blame
    here the pack stood strong
    You gained fame
    in the hood
    you walked at our side
    the fearful jumped up on parked cars
    pleading not to turn you loose
    when no leash your neck ever held.

    Could they not see
    that you were free
    enlightened
    more than they could be

    Pack grew strong here
    new souls in its care
    within Independence Hall
    fear disappeared
    change we brought
    Yet staying here was not our thought.

    Winter's call, sent you roaming
    this city of old hard stones
    chiseled beyond changing
    what has been dead so long
    till we found you gone
    searching the stone wilderness
    for a sign

    There hidden you crouched between the net man and the noose
    under the only wild bush
    big enough to hide
    on a concrete street
    a cement sidewalk
    trapped in a rubble lot
    where the ten foot pole
    could not reach

    Gathered
    the crowd
    to witness the wild and the man collide
    to remove your life you're light
    we came in search
    where the roads teed
    left University
    right Broad Street
    from the west,
    pack,
    family
    born within Redwood's strong
    tempered in the Monashees,
    nurtured upon the Pacific surge,
    the time to snap the eastern cord
    call of old falls
    whistle
    the pack call
    run brother
    family
    no harm here
    bolting like lightning from the sky
    exploded from under that bush
    net man stumbled and fell
    noose man dropped and ran
    your wild surge more than they could understand
    into the pick up truck you flew.
    engaged the clutch
    indicated my signal light
    to freedom turned right
    the crowd cheered
    a victory they knew had happened
    though they may not have understood,
    as we came to understand Newark could not be.

    North we trekked
    upon the Great Lake's shores,
    where the difference of a line on a map,
    was a beginning of welcome home.

    Portage
    we sat upon a rock and dreamed it all
    a pack of five
    each had captured the other's heart
    Work hard we did again
    Hog town upon Lac de Frontenac
    Lets all be CNE
    Rochdale insanity
    another city we strive to flee
    then you were lost again
    one moment running wild in a park,
    the next gone, into the dark.
    We searched
    we shouted,
    we placed posters on all the poles
    till one day a woman called
    I have your dog
    he ran into my car my dog in heat
    he enthralled.
    He would not leave
    I took him home, fed him roast beef
    so my bitch he could mate
    within a penthouse
    guarded by a doorman discreet
    who saw us as people of the street.
    I understood when we met again how you looked at that bowl of beef
    the bitch now out of heat
    I could enjoy this I felt you say
    I wondered could you live long in steel and concrete
    Grown tired of nowhere to play
    It mattered to you not
    the penthouse rot
    we were pack once again.

    Good T.O. wage slaves
    money we made
    entrepreneurial sway
    off again now in a Jeep
    the leash of the east released
    the west's wondrous song recalled
    mountains and streams, forests as far as you can see
    air you can breath
    water from creeks to drink
    safe
    our growing pack roots could set.
    Not old just comfortable
    to speak to one another
    not always in words
    comfort gained
    free to roam
    where nothing owned us
    save the pack
    this our holy pact.
    In the warmth of the den
    we made sure
    strong would grow the young at our side
    no enemy could stride
    that together
    we could not stand against.

    You, the blackness of night
    whose fangs offered a warning
    leave or fight.
    We stood by each other
    as friends do
    built a house of wonder
    in which something of each of us lived
    standing always as one
    till my old was longer than yours
    I saw you all the time
    play upon the earth so fine
    Then
    gone
    you
    away
    no one knew what good you did
    save a few
    this pack of yours.