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"suavity" poems
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!
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Macavity: The Mystery Cat
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!
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42
It's unfortunate that Parisians Are very hard to bear, In terms of flash obsequiousity, They drive me to despair! And patience is an attribute I don't profess to have To mercifully administer When accents veer to Slav. Baltics look like jellyfish, The Germans are obscene And loud and overbearing But the Swiss are very clean. Italians are a swarthy lot Who gourmandize on food And sacrifice their suavity By being impudently crude. The Spanish are no better, In fact they are probably worse, For obsessing in the blood sports I actually rate them in reverse. Starchiness is British They're convoluted to the core, The Old Boy system's lost it's sheen Aspirants flock to it no more. The Yanks are looking slightly crass Whilst fighting foreign wars, Their pinky held up squeaky clean To call "foul" to China's flaws. China sits inscrutably Holding all the cards Waiting for the moment To strike beneath the guards. India and Pakistan Are squabbling like kids The uproar over Kashmir Rates them lower than the Yids. The Yids are walking tightropes With Iran's nuclear ****** Whilst currying Yank approval, Eventual bombing is a must. The Dutch behave so anally They're always proven right When faced with rigid negatives They blanch with haunches tight. But not the Argentineans They love to dance and flirt, To chase the senorita Cavorting in the scarlet skirt. The South Pacific's wallowing They're adrift from World affairs Oz's self preoccupation Mirrors Kiwi's vacant stares. Africa's way past comment Lost to heat and dust, Warfare, **** and pillage And the rest decayed by rust. Eskimos are OK Clean living on the ice The population static, Zer-O pollution's nice! Marshalg @theGate Mangere Bridge 14 April 2009
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May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 12:08 AM UTC
Eskimos are OK!
It's unfortunate that Parisians Are very hard to bear, In terms of flash obsequiousity, They drive me to despair! And patience is an attribute I don't profess to have To mercifully administer When accents veer to Slav. Baltics look like jellyfish, The Germans are obscene And loud and overbearing But the Swiss are very clean. Italians are a swarthy lot Who gourmandize on food And sacrifice their suavity By being impudently crude. The Spanish are no better, In fact they are probably worse, For obsessing in the blood sports I actually rate them in reverse. Starchiness is British They're convoluted to the core, The Old Boy system's lost it's sheen Aspirants flock to it no more. The Yanks are looking slightly crass Whilst fighting foreign wars, Their pinky held up squeaky clean To call "foul" to China's flaws. China sits inscrutably Holding all the cards Waiting for the moment To strike beneath the guards. India and Pakistan Are squabbling like kids The uproar over Kashmir Rates them lower than the Yids. The Yids are walking tightropes With Iran's nuclear ****** Whilst currying Yank approval, Eventual bombing is a must. The Dutch behave so anally They're always proven right When faced with rigid negatives They blanch with haunches tight. But not the Argentineans They love to dance and flirt, To chase the senorita Cavorting in the scarlet skirt. The South Pacific's wallowing They're adrift from World affairs Oz's self preoccupation Mirrors Kiwi's vacant stares. Africa's way past comment Lost to heat and dust, Warfare, **** and pillage And the rest decayed by rust. Eskimos are OK Clean living on the ice The population static, Zer-O pollution's nice! Marshalg @theGate Mangere Bridge 14 April 2009
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64
Stop battering her mind by invasions of your curious cultural perversions Get out of her way I tell you for god sake. She needs quietude To come out of her servitude to repair and restore her aptitude In the balm and calm of solitude Her dome is broken with throbs torn yarns spasm derobes With velocity escape to infinity Due to your ferocious felinity She needs peace to space walk To gather the ruffled rob safe back So leave her  alone I tell you As if she were in ICU She needs silence to settle Down to revive her mettle with rarer precious metals Cement her mental pieces Mind can swoop down with trough Ride on a rough wave's crest Pat and pacify with suavity bring back the halo from infinity zero down the hero with unity, from a state of KD  rejuvenate the PD Back to an ambience of 3D So Leave her alone I tell you Let her bleed, perspire in despire If mind willing, desire compelling Let it prepare her self, to repair itself the broken respiration sighs With high waves of neighs conspires to set in her scattred inspiration To the errected pyre of desperation Asunder to cinder and surrender. Let the fire embrace her to scintillation In a catalystic ambiance of ventilation Mix and suffix with whirling flame To phoenix her into a healing dame. For god sake leave her alone I tell you..
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Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 2:45 PM UTC
Leave her alone I tell you
Alexander k Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) Of Orwell George and his satirical 1984 Manufacturing words abracadabra and demagogic phrases Making juvenile English to swell in size and all Beyond Shakespearean bossom of a teen African woman Forming ubiquitous the double-speak whose Attendant ****** sisters of England are Double talk, double talk, and double smile Who said the suavity in double love and double cross are The twin progenitors of Eric Blair the farmer of animals Collaborating with Jones to sleep in the pigsty where swines mate Plummaging the world with plethorae of yutopianisism Wherein glorious big brothers watch you African double speakers As you sheepishly Sleigh international criminal justice in a beautiful ploy To obfuscate mellifluous bambinos off the buffoonery powers that be But When 1984 comes after a full circle of idiosyncrancies, the fools will be seen
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Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 4:17 AM UTC
OF DOUBLE-SPEAK
They mumbled on me, For something I never did. You were my alibi there, But you just disappeared. Was my suavity the reason? Or am i a knave to you? I was in a daze, And all I needed was a tender touch. Don't know the reason for your wrath, I can only blame these rotten days.
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Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
In a Daze
the key is getting human feeling right not only understanding of the fact and answer blending suavity and tact but proper sensing of the victim's plight with sentiments concrete and not abstract the key is getting human feeling right then sitting with the injured through the night binding their wounds when they had been attacked ensuring they had the one thing they lacked the key is getting human feeling right
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Jul 5, 2011
Jul 5, 2011 at 5:06 PM UTC
getting it right
**I’m full of loud buzz I’m a fizzy in a glass I’ve got true class to crown my suavity I boast shining amity in the seething cauldron of a churning world that our forbearers would swear  always was tossing and turning and writhing and sighing as equilibrium dissipated at a time not anticipated a time to lie down and cry for the gory scenes in the world**
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Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
churning world
Queen without a nation no copper in my blood no parade of swanky princes competing for my hand no one who dresses me with someone else's money I don't ask anything by decree and my **** doesn't fix me to an inherited bullybook composed with suavity and silky soft cords of sticky oracle words which way flag and pennant blow and that it is still far, but the nation the nation the nation Hooray Hooray Hooray I am a queen without a nation
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Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 3:59 AM UTC
Without a nation