Above Castles by Sam Flot

Above Castles

Mid       day

Candle wax burning

Bees wax

Humbly pertinent

A persistent memory

Triggers by smell

Above castles

With

Smiling sun rooftops

Mid       day 

Candle wax 

Burning

Love is the strongest intoxicant

On earth

SAM

F

L

O

T

SF

Oh5

Question Each Word by Sam Flot

Question Each Word

Aiming at the truth

Throwing off the covers

Pulling back the curtain

Exposing what’s behind or underneath

Making the misunderstood become understood

Showing the populace the true face

The facts behind the fiction

They presented to us as standard operating procedure and

We ate it up

Like we’d never get another meal

We ate what they put in front of us

Sold to our parents after processing

Sold after they added cheap fillers

Sold under a banner

Or a cause

Or a name to be respected

We need to aim at the truth and

Uncover the facts on our own

Because Madison Avenue is on their own side,

Not our side,

Wall St. is on their own side,

Not our side and

Pennsylvania Ave might be the worst of them all

Question the coherency

Of the facts we inherited

Question each word,

How it’s used to sell or spin

Whatever they need to sell or spin

Question each fact and interpret it yourself

Aiming at the truth and

Pulling back the curtain

Exposing the lies and misdirection

To allow your own understandings

Inside your own brain

Dismissing all the pathetic rhetoric

To be left behind

As you step out front

Asking question after question after question………

6.10.13 

flot                               CFR

Homemade by Sam Flot

Homemade

Magnetic inference was displayed

On the first instant instance

We knew we were standing

In deferred magnificence

Of the briefly misunderstood wrath of beauty

Unleashing sublime and unlimited torrents

Of consistently alternating currents

Sunshine - rain

Sunshine - rain

Then

Sunshine - rain

Sunshine - rain

Balancing the answer to the equation

Of the distillation of true essence

Calculating to be solved as such:

A hummingbird searching for flowers

A guitar string sustaining

A series of odes to ones and zeroes

An inkling of ink on a canvas in Kansas

A newborn doe afraid of the road

A triangle a circle or a square

Coming into the focus of your stare

A smiling face in your peripheral view

Stirring up a pot of homemade stew

6.17.13

sf

@CFR

Climbing to the Clouds by Sam Flot

Climbing to the Clouds

Walking or waking?

What is all this knowledge for or from?

Where will the path astray lead me?

To the hill or the mountain with no top?

To that forest which begins but is never ending?

Uncertainty rests on my shoulder

Whispering

“Clarity is no where near”

I know for certain

My learning is not yet finished and

Never will be

So I gather my strength to continue

From the blubird sunning his wings on the grass

As I continue climbing to the clouds

flot

4.28.13

Mingus Never Played Marin? ..............by Sam Flot 2013

Mingus Never Played Marin?

“Mingus?  Never?

Mingus never played Marin?”

“No, sir, what I said was

Mingus never played the Forestville Social Club

I don’t know about never in Marin

Mingus never played the Odd Fellows

I know that and

I also know for a fact he never played the Forestville Social Club

Although he well could have

With a pre-born license redemptive

To fill spaces with compositional eloquence

Flat straight like a line shot line or

Straight in one fluid motion

Straight into the sky and

When did anyone ever ask for

a cabaret license in Forestville anyway?

It’s their loss....

He never cradled his bass

Starting out ready to play anything translucently

With class and panache to spare”

“Mingus never played Novato?

He never played Bolinas or Lagunitas or Muir Beach?

Mingus never played Marinwood or 4^th St. San Rafael?

Mingus never played Marin?”  

"Now, like I told you I don’t know about that

All I know is Mingus never played Forestville

No waterfalling horns leading down a path

All the musicians working together

A drummer spilling rhythm

Flowing into overflowing

Bird calling

Bird answering

He hit everything

He couldn’t miss

He hit everything but Forestville

He never didn’t get a drink from the owners

He never tackled that lack with a smile and a swear

With or without two pulls

On a bottle in a bag

Then back to the bass

Either way

Mingus never played the Forestville Social Club

Mingus never played the Odd Fellows either and

Just like everybody knows

There ain’t but two joints in the whole town

Then you burned right through it”

flot

3.29.13

Inspired by James Whiton's wit

years before this was finally written

60 Little Elves by Sam Flot

60 Little Elves 

(2013)

Inside this thin minute

Framed by contextual fractals

Illusions are becoming alive and actual

Despite the unheard of factions

Not intending to trick me

Breaking it down from one to sixty

Each second considered it’s own self

A part of the whole set up on the shelf

Tectonic plates are shifting all around

Inside this rock never taken for granite

Outside this wind is blowing both ways

Fluctuating factors fake or factual?

Laying it all out in continuous fashion

Telling the story sequentially this time

Still as surreal as it gets

Using fiction or facts

60 Little Elves 

On one little shelf

Collected like seconds inside the infinite

One elf for each moment

Inside this thin minute

Rocking my world

Never taken from granite

flot                           2.25.13                        CFR

Creaturemagic by sam flot

Creaturemagic

Pottery on the dime spot

Fundamental lack of time to trot

Out the surrendering costumes and robes

Coincidental to the be-bop skat

Bringing hats back and

Railing off the tracks

Sailing into

The atmosphere’s realm of musical passengers

 Flying through the controlled access gate

To the chaotic musical antics of the fast few

Rushing through the every day

On normal sunken functioning

Traveling at neck brace speed ready to be

Colliding styles like 
So many discordant threads unraveling

While appearing to drown in the middle of

A flowing maelstrom of flotsam and jetsam

As reality smashes into 

The imagination of the masses

Like the shore braces itself

For the incoming tides’ 

Repetitive story of onslaught

Riding up to some poetry in a time

Riding swaths along 

Forked paths with switchbacks

Topping the elemental slack of life on the beach

Tapping back into 

The traditional pine-cone-jazz-cat-beats

Spinning pineal rhythms and melodic melodies

Derailed on purpose and 

Then back on the veritable track again

Arriving to leave a mark or memory

Like creatures of magic almost always do

flot

2.25.2013 @ CFR

For the iRRev Roy

inspired by the Minutemen

Bent by Sam Flot

Bent

by Sam Flot 2013

I saw sandals traveling south

With Visigoth candles

Sensibly arranged and entertained

 Undeniably satisfied

By the common sense past tense

Seen before the night before the last one ended

Above scrutiny and ground

Under no pre-conceived deities

No ill-received frailties

Asked to be ascending or

Sent to falter relentlessly enhancing

Wreck-lessly dancing over chairs and tea tables

Meant more likely

To hold cucumber sandwiches

Not the feet of common transient sentients

Bent on transcendence

Through art and dance

3.6.13

Reductions by flot

Reductions

I’m detecting delectable confections

Serenading truffles and cooking with convection

Demonstrating skill in ordinary everyday insurrections

Whipping up round after round of vibrating revolution

Deducing this existence down to a vision of essence

Reducing a wee whiff down to a presence

Producing a feeling or a smell, relaxing not tense

Procuring a memory connecting to a sense

Placing self back with all the specifics

Person place time all things terrific

Everything’s perfect and nothing is tragic

A moment when all things are mirth and magic

Cherish every moment

Relish each breath

Enjoy every second sent

 To live and love in this earthly existence

2.12.2013

flot

Questioning Quantity by Sam Flot 2012!

Questioning Quantity

I was questioning quantity

The very first day

The second mongoose birthed

The new moon’s third fairy daughter

Feeding the fourth river

Flowing through the five fields

Freeing the creek from the six dry rocks of summer drought

I charted the chances of

The seventh hour of 

The eighth enchantment stone and

The syncopated transcendence of the ninth turtle

 Matches the ultimate glory of

The absence of ten black holes or

The opposite of eleven vacuums

I grew in twelve twisting ways

The minute the moon’s third fairy daughter

Began teaching me

To dance the thirteen dances of the forever living

Through fifteen barbed wire valleys

Over fourteen rock pile farm fences and

Every one of ‘em full of grapes for wine and

Going for days of soft color and simple sounds

I received the moment coming after 

The moment before it

 Cherishing the audacity

To which it will attest

Guiding my continuance in the moment now

I received the moment coming after 

The moment before it

Cherishing the audacity

To which it will attest

Guiding my continuance in the moment now

I received the moment coming after 

The moment before it

 Cherishing the audacity

To which it will attest

Guiding my continuance in the moment now

12.29.2012             flot                      CFR