Our Man in Europe, now Belize, SPY versus SPY, Dave Delacroix: "Lill' Ol Bi-Polar Me!"

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, SPY versus SPY, Dave Delacroix: "Lill' Ol Bi-Polar Me!"

(dedicato: Charles Delafay, "PPS to the Queen MOM, 1970s/80s, also known as "Frenchie"/my BRO!)

"Lill' Ol BI-Polar Me!"

THEY AIN'T WRONG, I TOO ain't wrong. UN-expected "Day Guests?" Lill' old Bi-Polar me. Nobody seems to sing the same song, everybody's on their phones...like U R not there?

GROWL!!!

The WORLD ain't wrong. It just moved along; God bless our parents, GRAND PARENTS who probably KNEW, resenting as WE, sing the same old song: "Planes & Boats & Trains go passin' by" U ask me why?

I TIP & DIVE!

... Step outside your Theater. DO NOT mention the "Scottish Play" less we send U outside, U must turn around THREE TIMES so U can come back, join the gang again. There IS no God... Sympathy? It comes at a cost.

...Sadly too, there AIN'T NUTTUN' wrong in your Psyche-Dialysis - that maybe a bottle of Whisky can't cure? - it'll get U calm or beaten up in a Bar; there's always some Nemesis who says: "Let's take this outside!".... (Kickboxing? What's WRONG with these people!?)...

...by which point instant sobriety (The guy's SIX FOOT-FOUR) comes to your aid. Your best punch-Ups R the ones U never engage. Yet "Once more into the breach Me-Lads!" .... Lill' Ol Bi-Polar me!"

c.2025. Dave Delacroix. Life sometimes can be UN-forgiving!

Away, away, come aolo9ng with mw & we'll build u7s a hou7se in the mead0ow,,,,

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "BELOW the SALT!"

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix Esquire: "Below the Salt!" 

WE HAVE NOTHING except the clothes on our backs. The Duke, once in a while throws us a bone like we R dogs. We, if invited banquet, sit "below the Salt" yet when it comes to battle, the fighting, cannon fodder, we R in the front line.

We have little, no pension, no score; Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest seems HE gets ducats galore? My Long Bow at "Crecy" my Long Bow at "Agincourt" for a Prince of my Country, I wonder what for...

So, there I WAS rehearsing Pergolesi's "Stabat Mater" (Roughly translated: "There was an old woman from Swansea!") & I with throat cancer, /early Rod Stewart tonality, reasonably penniless, I UN-hook a Guitar off my bedroom wall, todays LONG BOW, stretch a string or 2 & fire a song into the night & aim wistfully at the moon...

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now in Belize, Dave Delacroix:"Full Moon!"

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Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Full Moon!"

Gotta FULL MOON IN Mah POCKET, a SUN around my head, ORION"S BELT around my whoosits, a UNIVERSE in Mah head. Gotta POLAR STAR I keep in a jar, I'll show it U some time.

 I gotta INTERNET that no-one's ever meta-met and I ain't texting with U... As for PONCE DE LEON & his fountain of YOUTH, wotchagonnaDO?

...NO SMART PHONE's gonna get U HOME, no APPS, no Guitar Foot-Pedal? Your voice is ya VOICE, REJOICE! -yet perhaps no-one will hear? Is this what U fear?

Gotta full moon in mah jacket less the rain it comes along. Snow boots in da closet, an old guitar to sing a song. Gotta a crazy past, a doubtful tomorrow, donating BAGS of Joy & Sadness to the GOODWILL County store.

Still. Gotta full moon, any way U look at it. It stares US in the face. That "SELFIE" U wish your buddies would erase. "Who knows where the time goes?" (Sandy Denny/Songwriter), old photos stuck on the kitchen "fridge", a portrait on your bedroom wall, friends won or gone & that full moon - look in your wardrobe/it's in an old coat pocket somewhere - lost?

Gotta FULL MOON in mah POCKET. A'mah thinking 'bout AEROBICS BY PROXY. Or SKIING the "Mahogany-Ridge", sucking on SOME "trip da light-fandango", arguing at the BAR: "U IZ WOT U IZ!" And as I say, when U got a FULL MOON in ya Pocket?  Argument? ....U can't lose! Getting a free brewski? Probably not.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A MURDER of Crows."

 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A Murder of Crows."

IN THE BEAT OF the NIGHT, a murder of CROWS: CAW! CAW! CAW! In the beat of the Night, your lonesome NAME don't count nuttin' at all. (In da beat of the Night.).

In HEAT of the DAY, funny how sometimes it gets away from U? One day she's there, next day she's gone away? And in the heat of the Night, Whisky-Blues!

In the BEAT, that resounding, that reverb, that ECHO how U shouted your "farewells", trashed furniture, smashed mirror, clothes thrown out upon the street, she strode off into West Hollywood & said "hope we never meet!!" (Again).

Again & again, who rhymes & reasons the sphincter of LOVE that opens & closes like, well, the wings of some white bird always hovering, swirling

 less the beat of the Night comes to PROMETHOUS BOUND to peck at your heart gizzards ripped out, by a murder of Crows: CAW! CAW! CAW!

c.2025. Dave Delacroix. (Hello FULL MOON! -rising above Corozal bay-Belize!)

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The ORCHESTRA,"

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The ORCHESTRA."          

The ORCHESTRA.

...The Bitch on Oboe, Nipples-Oh-Susannah! stole the heart of the 1st. Violinist in the Orchestra. The Mezzo-Soprano, waiting for some big-wig celeb soprano to sing/fail, maybe steal her role, "knocked-up" by the Bassoon player, apparently, some rich kid, her "andante" still not yet showing? 

The "flake" Conductor" - La Dude who stands in Stage-front/the Tuxedo ICON who frantically waves his Arms all about - can take his Orchestral-GIRLIE-GOUPIE-PICK except HE'S GAY; he's in love with "drummer-boy" out back on "Kettles"!? (Big Drums.)

As for THE CHOIR, all FIFTY SINGING SOULS surrounding the Orchestra, belting it out IN FULL GUSTO but downright INCESTUOUS; can't tell the Fags from the Castratos? (Does it matter?) The ladies dilute all focus. Who can guess the Jazz between the Blues? (Put a LID on it?).

Yet orchestral backstage "fumbles" in taffeta & tuxedoes; who's 'a guessed twix "Oratorios" or an elongated "Fugue"? Panting in the Dressing Room! All Orchestras have their OWN requiem, that off-stage urgence, a performance to an adorning "Cavalcante" mask? Rameau's "Gallant Indians" comes to mind, History's Lotto! A yesterday's shadow.

...That Bitch on Oboe. Heartbroken, sounding ON my Fugal Horn. The whole wind section is in sympathy. Will I EVER fit into a Classical orchestra, a "COPY BAND" of yesterday's GENIUS, Beethoven, Mozart, all those cool Cats, ever again? Love, will U ever come back, like Music again? 

As for that GLANCE of POETRY no unique singer/artist cannot disguise, a beauty, an innocence from where they began shines on stage enveloped in Natures rhapsody. A kiss of death to surrounding mediocrity 'less they wear Salieri's crown.  

c.2025. Dave Delacroix/"Non baton/sans Tuxedo.".

 

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A Taste of Fame."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A Taste of Fame."

...A touch of Fame, that brutal game, to usurp the aspic of your given name? That touch of fame, demonic shadow, a kiss of fate. In utero yet aborted, somehow?

DANCE! DANCE! Wherever U may be. I am the Lord of the Dance said He an' I'll lead U all even stuck up on a Tree, I'll cough up a song or 2 for thee!

PRANCE! PRANCE! But nothing is for free. When the music ends do U still get a seat? I'M the Cat who pulls all the strings. Come along & sing wiv' Mio! (Ghostly sounds!)

Ain't no sunshine when IT'S lost. A "has-been" in Hollywood, join the flock. A touch of Fame, Medusa's STARE & U. R. nowhere. And the Golden Fleece? Ever illusive. A taste of Fame.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our BONNIE LAD in Europe, now Belize, dave delacroix: "The PLAID Sky."

 

Our BONNIE LAD in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The PLAID Sky."

ALL THE LEAVES R BROWN & the sky is PLAID; my Sporran's in the wash & my Kilts all frayed. Guess U gonna CATCH ME in my Under shorts; nutting to worry, whisky in the JAR-O! (Tra-la!)

I went into a Church. Strictly dress-code. Got thrown out on my ear...on a Winter's Day? The bristles on my thighs & calves (BRRR!), don't think I'm gonna stay. All the leaves R brown. On such a Winters day.

The BAGPIPES DRONE (Drone-drone-drone!) they got something to say. Romance, History so I got down - KILT-less - on mah knees? I gotta share it 'wiv U; JEEZE-CHRISTIE! All the leaves R brown & the sky is plaid.

(Song ends here. Ran out of song, California-Dreaming Alt. ideas. 3.a.m. Cats need feeding & am running low on Scotch. Sorry bout dat.)

c.2025. dave delacroix.