Macavity’s a Mystery Cat: he’s called the Hidden Paw—
For he’s the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He’s the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad’s despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime—Macavity’s not there!

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no on like Macavity,
He’s broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime—Macavity’s not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air—
But I tell you once and once again, Macavity’s not there!

Macavity’s a ginger cat, he’s very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly doomed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he’s half asleep, he’s always wide awake.

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity,
For he’s a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square—
But when a crime’s discovered, then Macavity’s not there!

He’s outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard’s.
And when the larder’s looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke’s been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair—
Ay, there’s the wonder of the thing! Macavity’s not there!

And when the Foreign Office finds a Treaty’s gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scap of paper in the hall or on the stair—
But it’s useless of investigate—Macavity’s not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
“It must have been Macavity!”—but he’s a mile away.
You’ll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.

Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macacity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibit, or one or two to spare:
And whatever time the deed took place—MACAVITY WASN’T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

the snow falls sincerely sorry,
like a pale yellow skirt at the foot of your bed-
i always said, "i didn't mean it".
but i meant it.
it's that time of the year,
where you'll wrap yourself in wool and leathers,
in hopes no one will feel just how cold you truly are,
but i can feel it.
you drink your whiskey straight,
yet feel too inhumane to rest your lips on the same bottle
as the only people who've ever loved you drink from.
your glass gets frosty.
you blow hot, pungent air between your teeth like steam,
in hopes we'll see you as some frightening machine,
instead of how you really are when you forget
that you should be holding up your fashionably unfashionable walls.
you're just another washed up actor,
who somehow lost the ability to differentiate between being on-set,
and being alive.
so you lie.
frantically,
frivolously,
and frusterated,
that nobody you trust can trust you to be you.
the scenes that you build get muddled and confused,
rendered too busy by your lack of attention
and over-use of the exact same hues.
you used to seem so beautiful,
until i found your pallet
under your worn-down mattress...
you only paint with grey.
oh, how you tried
to hide the colors that i am under a tweed cloak of comfort ability,
but i don't fade,
and i most certainly do not run.
i change every day,
and when i begin to hate the direction that my masterpiece is heading in,
i change course entirely.
i abandon the compass,
and the guide books,
and stampede across the pages,
until i become the new and improved version of who i was yesterday.
stop pretending,
and just be.
you wear your "fight" face everyday,
as if you may have to chase a pride of giggling hyenas away
at any given moment.
put down your knife and act right,
no one here wants to hurt you.
you hurt me,
you tried to hide me,
and you lied to me.
still, 
all i want to do is teach you.
teach you to let go of your charade,
to embrace the life you've made,
and how to paint the sunset as a sunset-
not a eulogy.

Blacked out,
I found you downtown,
Passed out on the ground.
You lost track of yourself,
I cried like a child.
Seeing you fall,
It was agony no one should know.
Cause you’re my desire,
My only.
Please come home with me,
We can be happy.
You’re not really like this,
You probably know this.
I can’t see you like this.
I’m crippled inside.
From the agony I've come to know.
You’re mine, yes.
I am beside you.
Did you even think about
how far you've come?
You’ve done it now.
Would you really rush out?
You’ve fallen out.
Torn down, I am.
Down to my bare bones.
The end of the line has come.
The moon leaves a cold light,
As you fall to the floor,
Half awake—half unsure.
For the irony I’d rather not say.
Cause you’re mine,
I will lie beside you.
Never will I hide you,
I’ll be right beside you.
I am blind.

She's lean and lanky,
And she sinks her eyes into your flesh.
Her bones hypnotize you,
The thought of touching her off-white skin sends you into a whirl.
Her black hair sits like sin on her shoulders,
And the emptiness haunts you when she's not here.
Her cherry lips constantly taunt yours,
and when she smiles, it's like
hearing The Beatles for the first time.
Charlotte.

Blue floor, blue chair
flowered curtains and
a view of fields
beyond the window.

Bed, unmade.
What history does
that hold, I wonder?
Radio plays, chatter, soft footsteps.

The Big Man arrives.
Kind, gentle, dark eyes.
Soft voice, good hands.
Pulls no punches.

This is what will happen.
He says, do I understand?
The words, of course I do.
The impact? Let's see.

The gas man arrives.
Banters jovially.
Nice of him to try but
I'm beyond all that.

He knows how to put us out
but his experience
of the experience?
Minimal. I asked.

Always throws them, that.
When you ask them if
they know what it is like.
So easy to be glib without pain.

This risk and that.
Do you understand,
they ask once again.
Sign here. "Good luck."

Never had a surgeon
Say, "good luck" before.
Sun's gone in,
It's raining now.

The way you wrapped your legs around mine
       slowly grinding against me
    moving smoothly through the water
letting the steady motion guide us.

The way my hands wandered
       weightless in the warmth
    blindly making their way
across your wet marble skin.
        
The way your hair was carelessly put up
        in a loose bun that draped, lazy
     heavy to the right
  outlining the tender chisels of your face.

The way my eyes investigated
        tracing the dark lines of your body
     meeting with your eyes for brief moments
  then falling back into the curves of your hips.

I fear all of this is too much,
   for me it's love, for you it's lust.

the coffee was cold.
a day old.
i heated it.
poured it.
fought through it.

put on a b-film.
something about crap
films made our lives
feel more fulfilling.

we laughed.
exposed every flaw.
we held hands.
snuck
loving glances.

i have to wake up in three
hours, but all i can think
is life is luck,
even for the dumbest of us,
when you tell your
eyes to open up.

Horns blare for the underworld caverns of the absent unknown
Twilight fixtures sprinkle their light on the face of the dead
Stones soften by water by dew by honey suckle droplets of blue
The hour has happened yet we are still here juggling through
I cannot recall the memory of a life without this wretched curse
The weight of one thousand anchors which rest at the bottom of every sea
Glazed haze I knew that I was always going to end up on this side of blue
Fast paced all a race but the winner wants nothing to do with you
Low out faded bubbling stout time stands naked in front of me
Clicking loud through the clouds God hand reaches for the blessed' ones
Head high cannot rely on love to get me any further then I've already went
Now she's here offering something queer eyes lit she smiles I'm bit
Stand-off gun show top hat know one knows how this game will end
I ask not what I can do for the book nor the work nor anyone else's nook
I should have took the job in Anarctica where the friends were always warm
Water hot with the heat of the devil's wrath He offers for you to take a bath
But the high hotness balances on a faith which I have no introduction
Makes my soul feel when it is lost that it will just enter another unnamed suction
So faith is the protector with the nectar that so many seem to think effective?
So I is left deserted in stone where a voice that says "Hello, hello"
Is not showing itself through me so how could it really be me?
Maze like tornadoes shout names of our land's ancient forefathers
Ye' breathe is not of this time and does not belong drifting around in this room
Connected through a network of dietary obsessions bent to the near insane
I listen to their voices see their eyes in contact they want nothing but the next stack
Why enter the body into a place that changes the mind to a foreign horse?
So the brain penetrates the pinnacle of a place not of your un-forgiven youth
Dear all the stall in this place is far too much for me to continue to bare
The words entranced here bargained here are like a lost litter but far bittier
She smiled with a crack like a diamond dropped from a robber's nap sack
We walked side by side like a ride that I dared never ever to get off
A laugh was all I needed and then I did believe I had enough
Alas' the tale is not mine own but some other better fellow
Stranded with a mind to a country far away and not of mine
A whistle for your thoughts dear lady the way you walked was more then divine
If your out there in the hilltops sipping honey thinking of me gimme' a sign
Cause you were the reason for treason in every war of every century
You were the soldier's last thought as the bullet loudly shot
Sweet girl with tranquil eyes and dressing in a pale light blue
Sun lit yellow flowered faker that smiles as if she is seeing her maker
Walker of a thousand roads which quake as you claim your stake
Water drifter atop clouds passing by planes seeking no fame
Take me nowhere for you in life would force me to ask you to be my wife
Ha! What an impostor of positions dressed in black and white visions
A moment here longer and I may have to the fair