Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix; "THE MANDARIN."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix (a.k.a. on Facebook: David Michael Oxley): "THE MANDARIN."

(dedicato: Acountessa Carol Aniello)

"The Mandarin." (The fallibility of a JU-JU-Man)

..."Soldier" is on patrol, roaming the estate/compound. "Bela' "is  killin' geckos/bugs. (Names of my Pet Cats.) It's what OUR CATS DO. So, what do all U boys & girls of yesteryear FEAR, or for that matter, tomorrows horrors? Are we not FELINE protected! (Kharmic PURRS!) No worries.

 ...Pets, Cats, busy scratching/washing PURRING//patrolling? ...Yet a North wind SECRETS your psyche in knots, an Inter-net virus: "OUT DAMNED SPOT!" (Lady Macbeth having a tantrum!) Outside of an ASP, Cleopatra's ghost? ((Cats Anonymous?) or lack of valor? Handguns/.38 Specials not yet invented. Echos of your Opie's Film Noir or your Parents Disco years>

 Do you (dance) "Pogo" do you do "The Toaster! /up & down", the "LURCH"/kind-a Corpse-like, or the "ROBO"., the latter my fave. U adopt a zig-zag stance/stay put till the Disco fog song ends. No exertion needed. (Invented by William Houston from Texas), but AS for your Wars, trouble & strife...centuries before...

...an "Agincourt", A "Crecy" (your ancestors/ battles/long bows/arrow thingies) where English RAIDERS in their self-glory destroyed peaceful French farmers & raped their Maids/Meet the NEW BOSS-SAME AS THE OLD BOSS, new devils, new GODS, that low-life kernel of nature, people had to die (?) And devils in Life's fog... coughing the phlegm to spital, actuality for a viral "reason"?

... No coffee. Not even a decent cigarette! Misery always needs a friend. Form a Trade Union?  Gods un-needed. That SCREAM un-sound!!!

"Soldier" (my Cat) ...on patrol, no control. "Bela" (my other Cat) killing geckos, s-what CATS do. Outside of purring, S-what we morons do too! Propagation S-what's divinely engineered, celibacy not an option. Even the Virgin Mary got knocked up! Wondering if Mohamed had a decent sex life. No mention in the Koran. Allah-Akbah-nice to meet U! "No Intifada on MY "Shorties!" (Underpants)

I AM TIRED OF PISSING MY PANTS! -being NICE to strangers, listening to old songs, well-worn lyrics, that old fashioned -I'm an old-fashioned man, a MANDARIN who outta wisdom; some dude who lived too long. I have no future, but I fear for YOURS! 

Your mirrors, deception, epiphanies, delusions-galore! Your kisses vanish in memory, past fornications, gone with the wind, station to station. With/without U, can U STICK it alone. Can U STICK the cold, can U STICK the rain, usurped by THINKING loss & yet even LESS gain; diamonds, gold, emeralds that dissolve in your hands, abstract thinking, inside what is rare?

"ALLORS!!!"...A Maestro without a song. A Mandarin outta Truth! -it beguiles. Can U carve your name with pride? And all the Truth we've yet to know, as kisses tomorrows on lips unseen;  A'la Chaucer: "Rest after toil. Port after storm, death after life, yet Inter-net porn, occasionally, doth greatly please." A Mandarin in our time. A Poet without a rhyme. And there IS or lies our MYSTERY to un-wind, but hopefully with warmth & a smile.

c.2036. Dave Delacroix.

Our man in Paradise, BERLIN< Dave Delacroix, "BERLIN/This Side of Paradise."

 Our Man in Europe, BERLIN, Dave Delacroix: "This side of Paradise."

...This side of PARADISE, once, this side of the Berlin Wall, we had NO rules, WEIRMAR-TOPLESS in City parks, thought nothing erotic, blondes singing sonorous military songs in Berlin's fracture, yesterday's ruins, post war generations anthems or a "Whiter shade of pale."

This side of Paradise, the WAR-won, yet now threatened, a new bloody "fun"; America, China, that Putin-Clown in Russia - invading Ukraine - a breadbasket for AFRICA & just what can he gain: A domestic "HUZZAH!", Cossacks-galore till he discovers now educated Cossacks gone to Paris...and fell in love with Peace?

This side of Paradise, that throw away "FURR-BALL" hat. Gorky Park. No-one's in a rush to get back. As ISLAM/MULLAHS brainwash 5 times a day, people's OWN sense of faith will go their own way; this side of Paradise, "in shah-Allah", my faith belongs to me...leastways, on this side of Paradise. Just when will these greed-tyrants just let people BE?

(Singing:) For SHAME, for Shame! These Jackels FIGHT & Name! For a House divided cannot stand.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.,,,,, 

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A Scoop of Youth/The Venus Flytrap!"

 Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "A Scoop of Youth." /"The VENUS Flytrap!"

...Enraptured, captured! Your juices at her command. No FIRE EXIT, no escape (WotchagonnaDO?). Paint her portrait or "postmortem" sculpture her likeness? Hauntings anew?

That Black Widow Spider, post-post intimacies where never ever-ever U can, can ever to begin; a deaths-head beetle skull engraved on your heart? Ambitious Genetics without a thought?

A Chrysalis, an evolving song to take U to Love's grave. A majestic SWIRL backpacked across the river Styx, to Hades, that dark Hotel California: YO! U can check out any time, but it never leaves U.

The Venus Flytrap, that succulent-verdant green with all its claw-spikes to pierce your loves eager blue-eyed greed & then to consume. Enraptured. Captured. Your juices at her command. That scoop of Youth.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "movies, "BULLIT" & "Catch-22!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "2 Movies, "Bullitt" & "Catch-22!".

"BULLIT!"

...The Man in his "Mustang, inseparable don't need no GAL to hold his hand. "Bullitt", some Cop on a mission from God... dodging life's gunfire, nailing down his Job, an odyssey of sorts, a vindication of Thought in a Mustang, super-charged, an effect of Cause?

The Man in his Mustang, the man at the wheel, a crusader of justice, no fear, no deceit, nor pander nor glory, a renaissance man who drives like the wind, a solo plan.

The man in the Mustang, a cinematic music score, the twists & turns/Shakespearian-lore. A WHITE Stetson, BLACK for the bad guys, no matter which ways it works, "Bullitt" wins.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. (Bullit-movie, directed by Peter Tates/starring Steve McQueen)

"CATCH-22!"

EUSABIAN-confused, WW2 bombing missions, flattening Italy, HISTORY! -killing civilians when U already got the Blues. Better U "fettucine-bomb" the fishes of the Sea; their farewell notes to wash later in the bay of Sorrento?

Eusebian-confused, perplexed when the General comes to his base along with his "aide du camp", legs up to her neck. (Groans-ensue!), And U ask: "the pathetic man, is this you?" Another generation, another WAR and the merchants of death salute your pathos. A Catch-22! The nature of War.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. (Catch-22 -movie, directed by Mike Nichols/with Orson Wells)

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Dead Man's Plaid.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Dead Man's Plaid."

 ...Once again, I forgot my computer Password. We Non-Techies R in a morass of Communion Hell. Damned Zippo lighters on the blink too. My "rollie" cigarette got a serious droop. Yet MEIN GOTT! it's not supposed to be like THIS....I envisaged a lonesome/dilapidated rooming house/toilet down the hall, predictable background, friendless to demise (for all my acknowledged Sins) haunted by past loves, sleepless nights, a lone trumpet on a rainy boulevard, no way to communicate, friends, loves, man or beast, yet somehow, as sometimes, the World's YEAST curdles. 

Once again, GOBSMACKED into Hell. A labyrinth of indecision. Where goes the ebbtide of my inner rage, that powerhouse upon which I depended, now saying: "Arrivederci!" leaving me at the gate of nowhere, Palookaville! ...No map, no compass, no astrolabe, no day or night, nor a SUIT of dead man's Plaid, just an array of fright, a Dante's inferno where, as I plunge downwards, I briefly shake hands with past buddies, budettes, the fools & the clowns who - naturally, as I spiral/one way street - glad-hand, wish me well & "if it comes out kosher" will always welcome me back and say: "Ce sera-sera!", my story, OUR story...life's shallow wishing Well.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "BELIZE after Ten p.m."

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "BELIZE after Ten p.m." 

...After TEN p.m./supposed to be quiet. Community rules. Kids asleep. That swimming pool mild. Palm trees ain't swaying. Local rowdies all a-bed. It might end up raining; the Cats quit their purring. Belize school kids' slumber/minds a-wondering whether the taught THREE "R's" (writing, reading, arithmetic) ever gonna make 'em RICH or at least a Hollywood star... 

After TEN, a motorcycle BARK, a Bartender checking out over on some street off the canal where neighbor's dogs fitfully sleep. And the birds in the tall pines, having previously, NOSILY-organized their tree- branch seating arrangements, semi slumber less an Iguana selects them for "petite desjunnez". (Fast food!) And all good maidens, good gentlemen too decide... tomorrow cannot come too soon. 

c.2026. dave delacroix.

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

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Nine Tailors."

(dedicato: Anita Johnson)

"The Nine Tailors."

...I'm da GHOST that never came back, that SILVER in your SHEFFIELD-STEEL, the one U loved, U thought real; not the Gigolos who lined up outside your Stage door.

I'm the Mandarin, the MANDRAKE magician w/flapping cloak, a mask, an anonymity, a life-specter. A GHOST on da beat!

I'm the Ghost that never comes back, that switchblade-MURDER, that Un-resolved Love; uncanny-intrinsic, the bottom of the Well. (Lotsa wailing!)

The Nine Tailors/Church Bells ring on out. Three bells for the death of a Lady yet a soccer crowd ROARS! -Alas your Ghost disappears. Nine Tailors bells a-ringing. Ghosts-anonymous. That midnight hour. The Ghost U knew who never came back.

c.2026. dave delacroix.