Cognac Jack
Range radio battling through the ecstatic shadows
Over the airwaves under the radar
Underworld
Underground
Getting over any way possible
Trekking with no subtle inference
Through deliberate syncopations or
Emphasis on the second syllable
Cognac Jack is
Lipping off again at Driftaway Beach
Telegraphing his tendency to broadcast his thoughts
Which were never-ending secondary analyses
Of premium primitive mythological yarns
Dreamily traded within blasts of withering in the wind
As the smoke follows first instinct
Around the fire circle
The kind of hero’s journey we hear of lore
We hear the legend and we embody the hero’s mind
We are traveling the spice roads and
Rendering a desert oasis
Then deciding if it’s worth crossing the sands
Colors then combine all becoming gold
Worth crossing the desert bandits
Who leave a curse on foes
Which crushes their knees and curls back their toes
They trade screams then they trade cries
When does it all end
If a never-ending journey is the prize?
1.20.23
flot
MF
WA
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Tactile Fractals
Repetitions tipping over
Flipping cover and spinning inside out
Stopping to flop and then
Tripping over one foot then the next
Floppily flapping and collapsing
As if a ghost were aghast at the predictable last gasp
From the tank of energy form of gas
Each form spinning out to the music
Be it the beat or the > IT < inside the beat
Determining which is no small feat
Feelings have shapes and they both shift about
Malleable inside bubble clouds of quiet and
Bubble clouds of loud
We’re all wondering
Which will be the first to burst?
We have no idea no clue no which came first
We never slow down inside parallel worlds
We’re timeless and tactile
We’re spacy and offering hugs from a fractal
Possibly worthless in a material world
But some flags need to be unfurled
We’re fragile and agile
We’re crafty and uncanny
We’re creating sensate objects
Again and again
Repetitions tipping over
Flipping cover and spinning inside
Repetitions tipping over
Flipping cover and spinning out
Repetitions tipping over
Flipping cover and spinning inside
Repetitions tipping over
Flipping cover and spinning out
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Sometimes A Hummingbird
Sometimes a hummingbird just sits and thinks
Just stops all the hectic flutter and stops flying all about
Grabs a branch or a stool at the sugar bar
Stops between sips and just takes it all in
Not glancing left right left right
Pointy beak simply pointing straight ahead
What do hummingbirds think about when they sit and think
All full of sugar water so
Not thinking of the next drink
Where do they look?
What do they see?
Who is it that holds their thoughts
That they hold way down deep?
You might see one fly past you or
One checking out several flowers
You might hear the buzz of their wings
Above the sounds of other things
You might usually see them chasing each other
In consistent motion
But sometimes a hummingbird sits and just thinks
Same as us in between drinks
In that moment of poignant thought or understanding
Slowing down the buzz for a thought plane landing
sf
5.10.23
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At a Lookout
Torn at the format
Born at the laundromat
No quarter taken up to date
When you designate
Instinct with distinction
At a lookout
High up above the mountains and clouds
Above the birds and egos and vanity
Escaping some of the lack of sanity
At a lookout
High above humanity
Earthbound still but high above the reasons if it all even matters
Whether or not it all splits and replicates or shatters
Whether the string was loose or the sensation filled the bucket
Whether or not the bass holds down the grounded urgency
Glancing occasionally the familiar
Transient consistency
A lookout high up above the mountains and clouds
Above the birds and egos and vanity
Escaping some of the lack of sanity
At a lookout
High above humanity
5.21.23
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The Cosmic Lion Goddess, Holding The Sun
The cosmic lion goddess
Is the translucent heir to the realm of the dreams
Her presence was considered the ultimate blessing
Amongst the dreamers, almost all of them
Are fervent and passionate in their belief
About her appearing in your dream
That it is a generally good omen
If she appears holding the sun
Your dream was golden
Billowing in the afternoon’s easy breeze
With plentiful indications of positive meditations
Dedicated to your personal well-being and fortune
For the future.
In this instance
When I went to sleep I had no intention,
That is - I had no idea to enter the realm of the dreams
Nor had I any intention or hope or desire for anything
Other than a fitful and restful sleep.
The cosmic lion goddess
Somehow chose to appear to me
She was crossing desert sands effortlessly
Gracing us upon arrival at our oasis – she declined water upon entering the archway
She unexpectedly asked that we all turn ourselves around in a circle,
Our group of seven complied instantly and in unison
Spinning together slowly, we each stepped to our left
We each turned and when we returned to see the cosmic lion goddess,
The only translucent heir to the realm of dreams
We all saw and eventually understood
She had taken the sun from the desert sky
She was standing on hind legs
Holding it high above her hair
Her lion goddess arms stretched straight above her
We all stood unmoving
But she was natural and comfortable
Helping us all to feel unencumbered by the presence of such a goddess
We felt safe - we felt secure and
We all felt the warmth of the blazing sun
While never receiving any hurt or burn
No worry and no concern
There was little action, really
The dream ended rather abruptly
The sensation of the memory
Feels almost frustrating
But only because it was so soon that it ended
The realm of the dreams closed and
We few in the oasis were left only with
The memory of the cosmic lion goddess
Aloft on hind feet holding the fiery sun
High above her goddess head
For our simple pleasure and blessing and
What does it all mean?
Nothing other than just that It was
For our simple pleasure and
The blessing is sublime and remains present
Until this very moment,
This moment now it is still felt and
I hope I will always feel this pleasure and this blessing
I received in a dream from…….
The Cosmic Lion Goddess, Holding The Sun
6.26.23
MFWA
sf
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That Dream’s Not Gonna Dream Itself
Helping myself to dream
I’m taking a big helping this time
Gonna fill the bucket my way
No more drop by drop
Drip by drip
Whether you use the word dream or manifest
I use my brain to jump on a train
To think about the idea in a concentrated trance state
Usually it’s nothing I can anticipate
I kick it around in my head and picture it inside my mind state
Some folks might think dreaming is easy
But swimming the mind river sends oneself through
Unimagined obstacles
Not every dream makes it to the other side
I’m remembering I am my best facilitator
I’m helping myself to dream
Gonna fill my bucket up this time
Not leaving any of it behind
I’m taking my swing
And I think it can be everything
It could be anything and I choose to make it everything
I/m dreaming my dream with no holds holding me back
I’m living my life on my terms and serving up
A tray of possibilities
I’m remembering to try
Because no dream ever came through on intention
Many dreams are intention
The trick is in the trying, there must be some action
Before that dream gets any traction
So today I will be
Turning fiction into fact
I’m turning a thought into an act
I’m helping myself to a big helping of dreaming and action
I’m using my brain and my body
I’m taking my swing this time
Gonna fill my bucket up
It’s my dream and
It’s not gonna dream itself
Today’s the day
Intention and traction and trying and action
Become real
8.12.23
sf
MFWA YWI
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The Alpenglow Hues
(Connecting at Dusk in the Forest Choir)
Inside the incandescence
Propelling properly through the iridescence
Feeling as if the earth is alive
Beneath my beating heart
My connection is my feet
Since my first steps began to start
Since the first beat inside my heart
Right now amongst this headwing heady reeling
I need to find a mindful of change to distract this sudden feeling
My bare feet feel the dirt
Connecting to the grounded earth
I look around to see what I can see
All the green from alllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll these trees
Each one its own essential beauty I stand in the forest dusky bright
Some visions are dark and - some visions are light
I don’t think its vanity
To say I feel a sense of purity
In the post rain drops of water
Making a fuzzy filter
For the uncertain tricks of dark and light
That dusk will often give me inside my vision and sight
I see through clarity’s lack
To gather that pure and clean sense back
The dark side I see is the trees and their tree-trunks connected
They face the sunset to gather the light’s directive
The trees roots spread out beneath my feet
My legs, my hips and my heart as it beats
We are all sensing this dusky sunset bubble
There is no sense of worry or trouble
The trees feel more suddenly to be acting like we do
Whereas I kind of feel like a tree-in-the-forest with a sunset view
I settle in trying not to move
As the trees are all turning themselves to the alpenglow hues
9.3.2023
YWI Sam Flot MF, WA
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Like A Cantilevered Bridge Can
(Post Dated Rotating)
Analog axis pro-rated rotating
Anti-fog allusions to fun following
Sudden festivals erupt in city streets
Food, costumes, flavor and fun - music to celebrate for weeks
Like a Cantilevered bridge can
This festival in the streets never misses a beat
It’s a carnival of life when we leave behind our troubles
Blissfully dancing inside our little bubbles
The world sometimes feels tilted
A little off kilter, a little bit stilted
But when the music plays it’s all on track
It’s all on point we’re all getting’ what we’re givin’ back
The feat appears to be wrapped inside the understanding
This beat appeals to me and nobody in the room is sitting or standing
We dance away the sea of apathy
We end up swimming in a dance of empathy
We all stood up to do our own dance
We all dropped into our own little glances
The beat drops on us and we sense the night trances
Nobody sits or wallflowers and this time everybody dances
We’re off the analog axis post-dated rotating
We’re digi on the earth surfaces consistently conflating
We’re guessing and reading and stressing and breathing
We’re on the same page and paragraph everybody’s reading
Like a Cantilevered bridge can
This festival in the streets never misses a beat
It’s a carnival of life when we leave behind our troubles
Blissfully dancing inside our little bubbles
The world sometimes feels tilted
A little off kilter, a little bit stilted
But when the music plays it’s all on track
It’s all on point we’re all getting’ what we’re givin’ back
The feat appears to be wrapped inside the understanding
This beat appeals to me and nobody in the room is sitting or standing
We dance away the sea of apathy
We end up swimming in a dance of empathy
Sam Flot 2023
9.24.2023
MFWA
YWI
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Your Conifer Moniker
Like a switchback sneak attack
Gives away or gives back
A percentage of your age
Like you’re a tree with rings inside the crosscut flaw
Funk in your trunk or lazily leaving the colossal behind the times
Like diligent gear or filigree rhymes
That sometimes dip and sometimes climb
The up and over of a four-year clover
Clocking the over
Talking up the blunders that led to the under
Which did not pacify the vitals nor the preferred nomenclature
So, the route was compensated and the familiar delegated
To a nearby folder easy to find regardless of context and
The result speaks like a voice inside your head
Giving you a conifer moniker
The needling was on point now and
May never escape the inside
All warm as the early waking woodstove heats up the misty morning
As if they were not behind the curtain
As if they were not certain
When emitting an opinion or a punch line
But then again, they both always sound the same
From that voice inside……
sf
11.25.2023
MFWA
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Underneath the Overpass
(Still Feel Alright)
This chorus is versed in the words of the universe
Unilateral and existential
Some carry water
Some chop wood
Some are porous and
Some pour it all out
To the limits of each of the four directions
Which represent
The borders of the soul trimmed and primitive
Marching forth with strong steps
Demonstrative and deliberate intentions
Which can never be properly stopped
Uninhibited never prohibited
Inhabiting the expansive home of the overheard tidbits
Like the whole hive is entrenched
In holding tight to a vision or a sight
Or I could let it all go and
Still feel alright
Seldom uniform in function or flight
Form fitting in the one size fits all outfit slipping
Around
From the onset of the output
Of the venerating generations with impenetrable gumption
As if they had wherewithal as opposed to withdraw-all or
Some sense of retreating when faced with a choice
Treats or a treatise?
Choose whichever one will feed us
Contemplating the possible eventualities
When redacting the future direction
We made an eroding decision
With much imprecision
We said we would pre-validate all the parking
Just as the water overrode the broken coast
Rather quickly
But then again
We were keeping an eye on the future
By looking in the rearview mirror
Still missing the warning that was right there
It was actually closer than it appeared to be
Leaving us the undeserved sense an evacuation would be
Hurried as the nights grow longer and we have not yet found another planet
It became inherently true
These days would shorten themselves
With no unction
The portrayal of the fortress is
The betrayal felt by the ranks
Of generational angst
Probably rooted in all that evil money
They keep in all those banks
Like so much haircut hair
Just dropped off
As the clippers crank and
The doorknobs do not think
They simply turn
Under specific pressure and actions
Never taught always learned
So when a window of opportunity appears
Offering some conformity
We try to remind our virtue
“When one door closes a window often opens”
Just following the thread connecting
The sour to the sweet
The lemonade to the shade
Making sure to get some poured into
The shaman griot’s empty glass
So, he still feels alright
As he still holds the floor
Underneath the overpass
12.27.2023 sam flot maple falls, wa
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Be Distinct
Teleport the telephone game
Didn’t get what you said
But I repeat it just the same
Amplifying the amplitude
Without meaning or attitude
Validate with tepid trepidation
Salivating over the misheard malaprop
The maladjusted and uninformed rumor
Teleport the telephone game
Before we resort to rhyming with riddles
Or a stack with uncooked middles
Calibrate the corrections
With all the correct intentions
All the willful mentions
Corroborate before you collaborate
Save your traction
Underneath the action
Follow no body and no thing
Other than your instinct
Be thorough
Be original,
Do different
and
Be distinct
sf
7.16.23
