I once knew a man

who married his highschool sweetheart.

He would meet me on the weekends

in a ***** hotel room.

When I'd arrive he'd be laying on the bed,

a cigarette in his mouth

and a bottle of whiskey in hand.

"She used to love me," he'd say. "Then she left."

Then he'd cough up a tired laugh.

Once he told me that I looked like her when she was young.

Tears littered his cheeks

as he recalled the love they shared.

"Now look where I am. I'm stuck here with a *******."

That whole year I didn't know his name until last month

when he said, "John Adair."

I scribbled it down on my palm and never saw him again.

The next day I went looking for her.

I finally found her this day.

So here I sit on this cold New Years day

silence thick in the air as I stare at the grave of

Cynthia Adair.

A sportin' death! My word it was!
An' taken in a sportin' way.
Mind you, I wasn't there to see;
I only tell you what they say.

They found that day at Shillinglee,
An' ran 'im down to Chillinghurst;
The fox was goin' straight an' free
For ninety minutes at a burst.

They 'ad a check at Ebernoe
An' made a cast across the Down,
Until they got a view 'ullo
An' chased i'm up to Kirdford town.

From Kirdford 'e run Bramber way,
An' took 'em over 'alf the Weald.
If you 'ave tried the Sussex clay,
You'll guess it weeded out the field.

Until at last I don't suppose
As 'arf a dozen, at the most,
Came safe to where the grassland goes
Switchbackin' southwards to the coast.

Young Captain 'Eadley, 'e was there,
And Jim the whip an' Percy Day;
The Purcells an' Sir Charles Adair,
An' this 'ere gent from London way.

For 'e 'ad gone amazin' fine,
Two 'undred pounds between 'is knees;
Eight stone he was, an' rode at nine,
As light an' limber as you please.

'E was a stranger to the 'Unt,
There weren't a person as 'e knew there;
But 'e could ride, that London gent--
'E sat 'is mare as if 'e grew there.

They seed the 'ounds upon the scent,
But found a fence across their track,
And 'ad to fly it; else it meant
A turnin' and a 'arkin' back.

'E was the foremost at the fence,
And as 'is mare just cleared the rail
He turned to them that rode be'ind,
For three was at 'is very tail.

'Ware 'oles!' says 'e, an' with the word,
Still sittin' easy on his mare,
Down, down 'e went, an' down an' down,
Into the quarry yawnin' there.

Some say it was two 'undred foot;
The bottom lay as black as ink.
I guess they 'ad some ugly dreams,
Who reined their 'orses on the brink.

'E'd only time for that one cry;
''Ware 'oles!' says 'e, an' saves all three.
There may be better deaths to die,
But that one's good enough for me.

For mind you, 'twas a sportin' end,
Upon a right good sportin' day;
They think a deal of 'im down 'ere,
That gent what came from London way.

I wrote me a letter to Satan,
          addressed to his penthouse in Hell,

         Saint Peter was unable to answer,
          or perhaps, not permitted to tell.

       A fire in the village had sparked me,
      and since, I've been riddled with fear,

            I wanted to ask, if his Red list,
          had somebody known as Adair.

A spokesperson for Hell

just released a statement.


" Satan has instructed

Red Adair to turn off the

  furnace under ******’s

  chamber, he has been

  given parole and being

    moved to Heaven as

   they need to prepare

the room for Netanyahu “

i'm still looking for the ****** word,
   no matter how many words you know,
however scientific, or however philosophical,
there seems to be no point
when technical terms come into play...
  all i have is skirting,
   but what i'm referring to isn't skirting...
         it's rather old fashioned,
   so i guess the misnomer guise will have
to do... "skirting" running along
the upper tier of the wall...
                  i.e. it's thinner than skirting,
   it's wood,
                     but it segregates about
an 8th of the whole wall, meaning the top
sits an 8th's length down from the ceiling,
before the wall starts...
                     or rather... wallpaper is so 1970s...
but people can't part with it...
                 so they leave one landscape wall
for a bit of wallpaper, the rest is painted,
pale of a desired colour,
       in this instance? an albino-lime...
                      i still had to remove this out-dated
skirting on the wall, i know there's
another name for it...
                        hence the clean incissions on
the ******...
                        a mini hammer and a...
ha! dado rail! yeah, had to remove a piece of
dado rail to allow a complete wall ready for
the application of a wallpaper...
                   some fluor the lis imitation,
gilded in gold, on a pale arctic...
                           but obviously removing
     a dado rail implies roughage,
      so?
                 the need to apply gypsum
to smooth out the holes...
                            and they do say not to make
the mixture too watery,
   what they don't say is that if you at least
make the mixture of gypsum and cold
water, watery, the mixture soon solidifies anyway...
so you wait a bit...
                       and: **** spreads onto a wall
like warm butter...
             obviously you end the whole
filling of "teeth" of a wall
                   with a wet brush...
                      the edges of the wallpaper?
   smeared heavily with wallpaper glue...
   but you wait for the glue to sink into the paper,
you don't exactly smear the paper with
glue, and the wall just ever so slightly
and immediately put it on... you wait for
some sort of digestion to take place...
              radiators?
                    i don't care how perfect your
paintbrush skills are: you always need
two coats...
                  you wait for the first coat to dry,
before applying the second coat...
         and yes, painting walls also takes two
coats,
    esp. when you decorated in the late
hours, and upon waking the next day
you find the old colour looking through...
             god the modern furniture
                           schematic...
   they think they can hide the screws...
                apparently it takes two types of
screws to hold a coffee table leg to the torso...
         imagine buying new furniture,
unable to sell it, having to stash it in the attic...
        20+ kilograms of wood had to be lifted...
    via a 68 x 67cm entry point...
                             with the table,
reduced to a two legged horse
                  coming in at roughly 70cm...
         and the ****** fit through the hole...
while waiting in the attic with a folded
ladder i started rummaging...
   dare you believe, that up there,
   among the clutter,
            i found: THE FIRST EDITION
   of gilbert adair's
               peter pan and the only children?!
e. p. dutton printing...
           1988!
                    copyright? 1987...
              the credits end with:
                              first, american, edition.
well, that's the attic...
     down below in the newly decorated room
we have an abstract flint drawing of
a cut-through...
         and sketches of Haifa
    circa 1954 - 1961...
      by none other than:
                 (apologies if i write this name wrong,
i'm working from something that was
handwritten, translated into pixel):

               בץאיד        
                                שהדי‬

because, seriously:
                                    ן‬ךף‬
(i.e. from looking up - nun,
    to looking ahead - kaf,
  to looking humbled, inward - p'eh) -

12 sketches of Haifa...
              and a tower with a scimitar moon
on top, which probably doesn't exist anymore...

if i could only remember that
****** name...

              in my wallet? a 10 złoty banknote
with Mieszko I on it...
           the first historical Piast...
    
        once they mentioned
              jagiełło to be the face of
        the 100 złoty banknote,
  and that 200 złoty belonged to
   zygmut stary...
     the 500 złoty banknote?
  well... if jan sobieski didn't make
it this far... he sure as **** was
going to be the face on that bank...
      
      not to mention my new favourite
poet, obviously he's dead,
          e. e. cummings...
   shame, shame that bukowski ate all
this time...
                  i should have been there
were the real action was...
                  coming along with
genuine orthography, rigid,
             structured...
      not this pish-poor attempt at
orthography,
           in a language that has no basis
for orthography,
           have ***** ιota into owning
a levitating head...
                       with only two entry points
into the study of orthography,
via / within english, based upon
the **** of ι & ȷ - what's the problem
in das capital?
                 I might add,
                      Joe would too...
                              as little tau already knew,
as little kappa added:
                    shrinking in proportion
to their big brothers: κettle brew on τop
                                         of the world...
now we can play.

flames burning bottom

                 Red Adair fails to quench fire

puts his Arson Wells

Out out the mangy dogs,
show them no mercy.

Cast them away like the
goats of scape -

Laden with the sins of
their evil empire.

Let them burn in Hell
Red Adair is in Heaven !!

This can’t be right,
because Cain is
not Able, never was
and now, according
to fake news, he has
a brain. Who would
have believed that!

He’s going to meet
Satan, and in case
you did not know,
Red Adair failed to
put out the fires of
Hell, so McCain, it's
back to Iraq again!



               Ryan © for John McCain,
               The low life rot. No, rat.

It's sad
What has happened
To the United States
Ignorance. Violence. Demagogues.

Loneliness
Dragon gates
Sci-fi movies
Basketball

Help me be grateful
Amidst despair
Children grow
Her flowing hair

        Andre Adair

A spokesperson for Hell

just released a statement.


" Satan has instructed

Red Adair to turn off the

  furnace under ******’s

  chamber, he has been

  given parole and being

    moved to Heaven as

   they need to prepare

the room for Netanyahu “