Now how to figger what makes a feller tick?
They’re hot and they’re cold and they’re nothin’ at all.
(Th’ persuasive arts ain’t no match for a brick.)

A body can stand herself pretty and slick
But he’ll hem and he’ll haw and harrumph an’ stall
Now how to figger what makes a feller tick?

I’d much rather take on a lion that’s sick
Than a certain mouse backed up ‘gin a wall.
(Th’ persuasive arts ain’t no match for a brick.)

Wish I had a gris-gris or some other trick
So’s I could hold a certain feller in thrall;
Now how to figger what makes a feller’ tick?

Sof’ words and June moons—why, they ain’t worth a lick
If your life is just one big free-for-all
(Th’ persuasive arts ain’t no match for a brick.)

Your poor hawt cries a river an’ beats real quick
When love takes you down like a cannonball.
Now how to figger what makes a feller’ tick?
(Th’ persuasive arts ain’t no match for a brick.)

I gave my solar plex a tug and flexed sumthing
maybe a lil' too much
I got up on the wrong side of the bed
and hit my head on the wall
it's just another weird day
she told me she was leaving, again,
last night so I got wired
and it's all just words
nothing ever seems to come of it
I been watchin'
got some beer and **** left and the tv
might just stall
on the couch and wait for
a soap opera
to get me stirrin'
I used to have no life,
go figger

A Roman Catholic concept rooted in a Jewish tradition where, if you cannot attend Sunday mass, you can go to the Saturday mass, the evening prior...

http://t.answers.com/answers/#!/entry/anticipated-mass-definition-in-the-roman-catholic-church,4ffcc10b­7af68a84dcfcad8b

not a religious man,
another "ain't behaving Jew,"
been long time passing,
since I went to a synagogue
of my own free will

(that,
free will,
a subject,
I won't discuss,
a free will choice,
unlike this poem
which writes itself,
me, just the telephone company
common carrier transmitting)

the holy days and
the holidays
come cycling through,
recycled sung sing tunes from
genes that once trained,
once disturbed and reawakened,
pass it on down
willingly or unwanted,
the calendar and
human marker thereupon,
in your face, undeniable,
you are, or start,
being what
they want you to be

been to midnight mass
on a Christmas past,
with a friend who happened
to be a Jesuit priest,
yeah, I'm an electric eclectic
ecclesiastical poetic natty vibe,
with many a
neutral nomenclature,
happens to live with an atheist,
so, tonight, we watch together
at her suggestion,
Fiddler On The Roof

boy oh boy
there I am,
Tevye the Poet,
writing poems on the roof
up on the wide screen,
talking to god
every where I go,
whatever I am doing,
even cursing the
Cossack ***** of the traffic hell on the
Long Island Expressway,
*******, you see

{but you grow weary
waiting for a writ called
Anticipated Mass,
and not a sermon
of a nonreligious miscreant,
who just happened to be
created, born on
the Jewish Festival of Booths,
in an R.C. hospital
on Fifth Avenue,
right next to his coreligionists edifice,
Mt. Sinai
(go figger, all part of the plan,
says my fellow new yorker, Allah}

if you are busy Sunday,
NFL football perhaps,
or a summer FIFA World Cup match,
Wimbledon working,
while on your deck surfing,
(Go Federer)
or a working stiff,
serving man for tips,
waitressing, taxi driving,
in order
not to starve,
for a living
must be made on
the day of rest,
so you go to
Anticipated Mass,
the eve of the day before
the prom dance

now that is something I like,
a flexibility that
inflexible dictums and regs
don't often offer,
like birth control being ok,
every other day

but anticipating my prayers,
just a bit too
OCD compulsive organized,
no matter
9:00am or midnight,
or even 6:00pm
the night before,
I can't anticipate
when the need to
go verse
with The Lord above,
arises

so I like to inform you,
when anticipating
the wine and the wafer,
the sabbath candle lighting,
the prayer rug time,
don't have to wait,
for a mass, a mullah's call,
or a minyan,
do a Tevye!

speak to him
with this Rx prescription,
"as needed"

let your own mass
be lightened, lighted, leviathaned,
relieved, celebrated,
the freedom from
anticipation and feel free
to listen to what god has to say,
cause he loves those
individual requests,
custom crafted,
even noises simple
grunted with good intent,
for those who posses not
the gift of
god gab

an informal sort,
a busy deity,
who appreciates brevity,
which is why
he gives my
long poems short shrift,
but sometimes attends
to my low whispered
observations for the needy,
for the masses,
whose body,
in his image,
I human share
and so often,
pray for...

Sunday morning lie-in,
she, ny times newspaper reading,
contentedly dress perusing-shopping,
in the bed both, but separated
by the distance of the electronic void

i am raven tapping poe poems on my diminutive IPhone,
twenty four inches distant from her lips

no notice taken of the man so overcome
writing his Sunday morn poems that are
drawn so deep from places
that make him so so so glad
good quality weeping
can be best performed silently

noticing that

- he writes best when writing of others, mostly, you

- he writes when the rented invisibility cloak covers his face
and
the wellspring offers him a choice;
write weep and tear
or
write weep and bawl
or just quit everything

whimsy laughs at his slo 'mo nonsense
his choices
this tough guy supporting a mountain of others,
the inversion of his inverted triangle,
him holding up the world

the worrisome grief that wears him down
best released in tears when writing about
you, go figger

and you notice stupid stuff
like why we use 'and' when it just ain't necesssry
how the core of 'believe' is lie
that ** ** ** rhymes with woe woe woe
and
that 24 inches is quite the distance when you are
** ** ** weeping and she don't notice

and how hard writing

only love poetry can be
even twenty four inches
from your nose

This spoken word.
I want to talk.
Folks'll put you
In a box.
It has six sides.
There's lots in stock.
Works just like a
Broken clock.
It fits in life
Two times a day.
Once the cradle.
Once the grave.
Then they'll fix
A label, TOO.
Once it's on it

STICKS LIKE GLUE.

There's a man
Down on the street.
Not someone you'd
Want to meet.
Drinks his meals
So he won't eat.
Shuffles 'round
Sits on the curb.
He's a "mumbler".
He's "disturbed".
Talks to self
Because he's shunned.
Got a label...

He's a ***.

There's a woman
Has no phone.
Has twenty cats
'Coz she's alone.
She talks to them
When in the mood.
She's so poor
She eats their food.
Yup. She has an
Attitude.
Has no husband
Who'd get paid.
On HER there are
Labels laid...

She's a SPINSTER.
An OLD MAID.

There's a teen
Who is arrested.
He's a menace.
It's attested.
Nope. He's not
Very nice.
He is into drugs & vice.
Is this "DELINQUENT"
Past retrieval?
Is he past knowing
'Coz he's evil?

Tie die. Peace sign.
Kinda trippy.
He's a "LONGHAIR"
He's a "HIPPIE".

Is she lovely?
Or "STUCK UP"
He's a "DOG"
The laughter's ****.

[chorus]
They aren't "NORMAL".
They're "unstable".
Slap 'em with a
POST-IT LABEL.

There's a girl
Who eats her pain.
Downs her food
Unrestrained.
She's bulimic
So she's "CRAZY"
She may be "FAT"
So she is "LAZY"
Another on the
"crazy" list...
His anger's inward,
He's depressed.
He may drink
So he's a "******".
Here's another label...

"LOSER"

Then there's the boy
Who lashes out.
Beats kids up.
He's a lout.
He is wild and
He is wooly.
He is labeled as a
"BULLY".
There's another
Kid who's shy.
So he gets the
Blackened eye.
He is "sraight"
He don't get high.
Nose in book,
He goes unheard.
What's his label?

He's a "NERD".

[chorus]

There's a one
We ALL know's BAD.
She was *****
By her own dad.
At age thirteen
She's "knocked up".
We ALL know her...

She's a "****".

There's a man
Who wears tattoos.
Labels he will never lose.
"WHITE TRASH" 'cuz
He owns a bike.
She likes women.
She's a "****".
She smokes fatties
So she's a "stoner"
He's just "weird"
'Coz he's a loner.
He loves men,
So he's a "***"
She loves him
So she's a "hag"
How'd YOU like
That odious tag?
Let's all do
The Label Rag!
Don't it make the
Tongues just wag?
It's enough to
MAKE YA GAG.

[chorus]

Tribal nation?
I'll be brief.
He's an "Indian"
Call him "Chief"
Does it make
White egos bigger
To call a black man
"BOY" or ******"?
Is that wisdom
Do ya figger?
Whatcha think
THAT'S gonna trigger?
Will the term "*****"
Do the trick?
How 'bout "******"?
How 'bout "****"?
How 'bout "****"?
That ***** Jew.
Well.
Let's take a look at YOU.

Look in the mirror.
The view is free.
Look in there!
What do you see?
Do you see yourself...

Or ME?

Is there smoke?
Are you deceived?
What's th label
You've received?


Look out dere!
HERE COME DA JUDGE!
10 feet tall & has a
GRUDGE!
And since we're getting
Really formal
Got another label.
NORMAL.
You judge someone
With capital blocks
Cuz you can't read
A CEREAL BOX?
Is prejudice the
Meal you eat?
Label on that
And it ain't WHEAT.

[chorus]

Yes. I'm white.
And I am sixty.
I ain't young. I ain't ****.
But I'm a POET
I can TALK.
I have been
Around th block.
You don't like it
You can WALK.
YOU WON'T PUT
ME IN A BOX.
I wasn't a "******".
I wasn't a "tweeker".
Was a "CRACKHEAD".
A ******* seeker.
Finally got it in my head.
There's another label.

That is DEAD.

Yeah. I'm a Christian.
"Jesus Freak"
I'm not ashamed
Because I seek!
Believe'n sure don't
Make me WEAK.

I'M DONE WITH
THE DISSIN' AND
THE TRASHIN'!
Got a concept called

COMPASSION!

Yeah. I know it's
Not in fashion...
But this no joke.
It's not a GAME.
I got a label...

It's my NAME.

I got another
Worth the seeing.
Another "label"...

HUMAN BEING.

Yeah. I'll preach.
I'm gonna shout.

My name is

CATHERINE.

Over. OUT.


SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/13/2017

smoke comes up like a hammer
bing bam slams a man
twists his nose
turns, e looks for his friends
in the other room, but theyr far now
farther than the knife big
man machete got eyes like
dog in woods, got teeth like
dog in woods
he aint shittin nobody now
no he aint
clever ***** none here
whisperin whisperin
comin closer and
i nos i aint got the time so
big lunge i giv him
a big un
but a big
dog needs a
bigger lunge
so i grabsme figger
and takes off wif no sound
but a big
dog got a bigger nose
sniff farther, dig
deeper, and a rat in the sewer
gets chewed, gets mangled
gets is wittl teethums pulled out
FUCKEM FUCKEM FUCKEM
getde teeth getde credit cards
RIPEM RIPEM RIPEM
hoo amex this ****’s got it
FUCKEM FUCKEM FUCKEM
rough, little yuppie ****
RIPEM RIPEM RIPEM
you think that *** is any good?
FUCKRIPS FUCKRIPS FUCKRIPS

Sweet oil heats, burns and spills over
skin sublime, so sensitive
who'd have thought a spaniard could fly off
a round of expletives on parents

Don't try to figger what ain't fit for fools
go fetch your yella bucket and                 (we told you so)
that box is waiting for you and (tap, tap)
sooner 'n you think, they need your hide again.

Being on the end of your spine, roll on over here
cartilage swings better than spume
that ugly red mother (don't be sore)
ssssettling sediment: the ocean beats slats, always cleans up
you never asked
zero, one, one, one, zero, one one
done!

a shell of a man sat in a cavern by the beach
barely willing to breathe
and he watched as the fishermen in their boats went by
deep inside he would let out a sigh,
"if only my father had taught me how to fish
and we had been wealthy and had servants to dish
up our food
then i would not be sitting here in rags

i would be in a nice little house with a pretty lady and we would have three children or four
if i had the money, perhaps we'd have more
but, alas, i cannot

i am poor and this will never change."
with what little he had, he fed that rage
he sat for days
begged for food from the passersby
they brought him shrimp, which he claimed was too dry
"and these scallops do not have enough salt.
yes.  everyone else is at fault."

with an upturned nose he'd cry 'bout his lot
his body was famished but his pride was not
it grew and reared its head like a lion
all while the leftover food would go flying
in tempter tantrums of rage
because his lot would never change
he loved his pride more than his own head
so he fed the lion of pride instead.

one day, a man (new to the town) saw him sitting in the cavern as people gave him food
the man, as usual, in a sour mood.
the new man had never seen anything quite like it before.

"Why," he asked himself, "I'll be darned if this man has never been taught how to use a net.  If I be a man of God, I ought to teach this poor fellow what he'll never forget.  I shall go out in the morning and teach him how to fish."

True to his word, the man was there the next morning before the sun peaked, while the corpse-like body of the man was fast asleep.

"Good morning, sir."  Said the man, shining his lantern into the cavern.
No answer.
"Good morning.
I am Cornelius.  I saw you yesterday being helped by the people of the town, and I could not help but want to show you how to get around.  Teach you to fish, how to make it a dish, I would even let you steer the ship.  How would you like that?  If I teach you, it shan't take longer than a month, and you'd get money to get you out of this slump.  Why, any employer would love to hire you on if you could figger it out and show some brawn.  You would earn more than enough to eat.  Could even buy yourself some nice new sheets.  Perhaps build a home, wouldn't have to be alone.  Find yourself a wife and have a happy life.  Would you like that, sir?"
There was silence for a moment, and the voice from the bed of rock and seaweed mumbled, "It is far too early for me to be awake."
Cornelius said, "Why, sir, there is no reason not to be awake right now.  I am offering you a day on the sea, I won't let you down.  Some people pay money for that, they do.  I haven't much time, I need to know if you'll come, too."
The mumbled voice, "I haven't any shoes, I could get splinters in my feet.  Besides, the morning mist is sweet."
Cornelius, "Why, I have an extra pair on the boat.  They might not be the right size, but they'd be perfect and nice."
Voice, "No, no.  I have bad vision, I will never be able to be a fisherman."
Cornelius, "Well, you don't have to look out long distances unless you are the one steering.  That won't be a problem, sir.  Come out, I will teach you to fish."
Voice, "I cannot be out on the waves too long.  Motion sickness, see, so much could go wrong."
Cornelius, "I had motion sickness as well, but you grow accus-"  
"And my arms are too frail to use a net.  No, it's best that I stay here and get some rest."
"Well, it wasn't for nothing, I suppose.  Maybe tomorrow you'll want to go."

He didn't move, his lips barely stirred, he said,
"Good sir, when you get back with the ship, will you bring me back those shoes and some fish?"

The doitnow voice

{one in a series of solos while considering multiple personality
mixed chorus tryouts for a spoken opera, ere this a Socratic voice spoke, then
a dialogue of anomalies took shape]
******* has the brackets.
This is a realised simulated happy ever, end prologicspiel
---
This is the way.
{remember Socrates said his voice said don't and sometimes only once.}
test the air you breathe out, that is not what defiles you.

speak light, draw attention, then
---
Do it now, as best you can
and keep doing best
every time
{ggood vibrain-tion tense in tegrity
best I think I can
buckyballs bouncing through the new age
mirrored 'alls of missed aitches}

(Ah, Casteneda, ya'coulda seen it> as the croW flew)

All things work together, every thing breaks,
alone,
everything is working
when any thing is re
al ized
different
Murfeesboro law, if nothin' can go wrong,
it cain't, whether it wonts or wants to, or not.

everything is working at reasonable good
when any thing is re
al ized
different
vibrant
unique, like you. Anomalous you, as yet

a daptible augmented alienated mind,
do you mind?
your integrity has been questioned,

do you now or did you ever
imagine you knew what
Castaneda said he saw and learned to see.

if you can fake sincerity,
it once was thought to mean

without wax
in the fractures,

standing still for as long as I may recall
at this point

the magi seem to miss the connection to true

some seem always to know,
this good out weighs,
unbalances,
any bad.

our best good to gather all our
power

dance around the fire
listen to the lyrics lick the liar

snakey-lick, microdose

two snakes, how shall we organize our structure,

is there a high command in
the organizms living
in my belly

memememememememe
for example
evidence

intolerable, wobble able skepticism
to imbalance the spin within
the wheels wheeling into forever

as far as mortals may care,
my dear.

re-verse engineer those lost religions

if you can't fit one in a word, you know you did not fold it up right.
or it never was the word. The one
Magi and Rabbi both said ineffable in an effable

utterance, singularity of
being
sense data, mundane and ordinary,
miraculous, as their inexplicable existences evince,

in my reality I find
quantum truth is peace ful to a peace maker,

in my experience,
a new voice seldom knows good from evil
if it calls

guilt and innocence
entangled.

Like Mars and Sophia,
who could ever imagine that
again?

The boy knows not the difference,

he was war trained,

too subtle to see from his ration-al

bogus science, theo dose us.

Good is good in every good boy who does fine like minded

A new voice, 30ish stuck near a next gate left swinging in the wind.
whoa, spiritual right used

breathe
who are we hearing?
(watch a comma mean everything)

, teaching 30 something and below
a true Richard Dawkins Disciple
to the novice-nots he preaches, true rest in knowing
I believe there is no god, we, you and me, he says, we know

there is no God,
but we can't stop thinking about him.
{he said that was one of the all things that are possible}
--- you can hear me now? cool, who's the preacher?

An atheist sounds 30, teaching 30 something and below
a true Richard Dawkins Discipline master spiel
to the novice-nots

come on encourage me
and I'll encourage you and
we'll be what ever we agree we are

as far as that can go. Que sera et cetera

idle words redeemed we mean what we mean
every *&^%$#@ and ,.';:"+_-=
as well.
We own Seri and Cortana. We got root!.

we stand to topple every imagination that imagines itself
beyond in every or any
vector from whence truth has been filtered by

{stop their minds are on auto. tongues and interpretation
situation evincing the confirmed's bias

to, exact now}

man's measure of time.

Spirit of truth. If that is, it is because you thought so.
once.
It never goes away.
It can drive you into a wilderness.
Stark-raving-mad thinking there is no reason

in your rational being.

That's nuts, if you really believe there is a reason,
what is it?

I make mere points where a story may
emerge to guide you past
some cultural events
you don't need
to know,

ripe cheese, you may  never know the unspeakable variety of truth there is
in the factual ripe ness of a lactis bacillis cousin community formed in the surplus
lactation left to rot by some human who once learned

some how, to milk a cow.
How'd yew figger that?

Would yew b'lieve a lit'le birdie tol' me?
That would be a lie, but a variety of the truth
by reason of thae tactile way a hand must learn

No clumsy boy learned that alone,
we dreams of certain carnal
joys unbeknownst, we
came with the knowing how, some how, good felt good,

who beguiled whom, the m is so im portentious in such
situations as we

find ourselves in, yin
yanging in eine klein bottle

oh, my, google klein bottle.

I may have poured the last thread to
normal

into a klein bottle with a quark in it.

she have skinny leg
an’ knockin’ knees
she be cray-cray an’ loud
she defen’ her right to be
she drownin’ in chems ‘n’ high as a kite
she walk ever’where when she floatin’
she so ol’ she temptin’ fate
how she ain’ died is a mir’cle
Gawd mus’ reely love dat womun
‘zall I kin figger


c. 2023 Roberta Compton Rainwater

gone learn it
this delicate complexity
of  a woman or the
English language
both seem like
my favorite subject
but both
I don't have
good luck with
might be subjects
left to mystery
and wondering abouts
instead of
trying to
figger out

These gatherings had become somewhat regular,
A short drive for most involved,
Having stayed behind once the mill closed
(There were the odd out-of-state license plates,
Mostly Florida and the Carolinas,
The vehicles' occupants sporting incongruous tans,
And they were treated with a certain reserve,
As if they had breached some faith,
Had broken some covenant)
And they were invariably in the morning,
Leading more than one wag to note
Well, at least we're all on first shift now.
And the talk outside of Wiegert's,
Shambling old funeral home a little more care-worn
With each generation of the family it fell to,
Turned to such things as Butchie's unusual good luck,
How he'd remained more or less unscathed by the mill,
Losing only the tip of a pinkie finger in a roller
(It was said that, back before the dining room
At the Montmorenci House
Had been converted into a tattoo studio,
You always shook hands with the left and right
To ensure a full set of ten fingers in the grip.)
And how he had, even though he was among
The most reticent of men, been a regular
At the retiree luncheons at the diner up in Wilcox
(The timing of such events subject to certain vagaries
As an infrequent February snow storm
Or the less uncommon changes in ownership)
And how he once explained his presence,
And then only when pressed,
By quietly noting Well, I figger my will-be's
To be a solitary thing, and the only folks
I share my used-ta-be's is all of you good people.

I wuz talking to Clyde down the hardware store
(on the phone, coz we don’t go out no more)
‘N I was kickin ‘bout how tired I am of making do,
Specially when it comes to … ya know, the loo.

He said cousin I’ll be right over with a wrench:
You won’t believe it – we got it from the French!
It’s half off for you all, they call it a bidet,
And it won’t even take me twenty minutes to fit it.

Afore I had time to say slow down brother,
He had this new pooper in place of the other
Kinda oddball lookin, but shiny and clean,
With some doodads on it I surely’d never seen:

I gotta run cuz, he goes, but don’t waste no time,
Just settle on down and you’ll do just fine!
I sez but whaddaya – heck, you’ll figger it out bo,
And I hear his truck peel out and go.

Well I positioned myself in the standard location,
And acted as anyone would in that situation.
Then I craned my neck back, looked over and down,
Took a hold of some thingie and fiddled around.

The first thing that happened wuz just-yer-everyday,
But the SECOND –

I Just Don’t Know What To Say.
How that THING took liberties with a Godfearin man
Is more than I can ‘spress, maybe the Devil can.

The next thing I remember I’m out back in the yard
-I think I wanted something heavy for to hit it –
When I heard the Missus comin back from playin cards
Yellin, What’s this Thing?
- I said, Hon, that’s the bidet.

Well she went on for a while, what a fool she took me for
And how come there was so much water on the floor;
But I talked her down nice, explained it pretty well,
And I sez why don’t You relax, and just ease yourself a spell.

And Man, before I ever heard that bathroom door slam,
I was off in my truck right out of Alabam’
But I took my AR-15 and shoved grenades in my pants,
Coz I wanna be ready when we declare WAR ON FRANCE.