OUR MAN in EUROPE/now BELIZE; Dave Delacroix/a.k.a, david michael oxley (WANTED in only 6 Countries for telling jokes): "The Grande Illusion."

OUR MAN in EUROPE/now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix/a.k.a. david michael oxley (WANTED in only 6 countries for telling jokes): "The Grand Illusion." (lamb dressed as mutton)

 ...lamb dressed as mutton, mutton for wine we sing our (cancer) survivors song, a death, twix birth n NOW, health, drunken n good cheer to echo-herald for all our kids-become to lighten their fears. HUZZAH -me Lads! Song of Songs. AVANTE!!! The Grande Whoosits!

..."Anacreon" in heaven we raise our glass to thee, to salute all our follies, the men we thought we'd be, as for that pretty dress, le je nais cest quoi, that bewitching banshee, lamb for mutton, a soldier's song, Society,

which pictorial, Cricket-match NO HINT of War's disability, the crippled -survived, hide-a-way rural mansions, row on row, of face-burnt, one-legged youths, dormitory beds, row on row still dreaming of Francine, Adele, my LOVE! Where did she go? She never writes. WW1, WW2, Today!

A Medal for Mutton, an award for a lamb, dead Gogol Souls; COUNT EM!!! Any Messiah, ALLAH, bereft of tears, bewildered, why lamb murders mutton, beer or wine, songs to sing IN our own time, by a GOD, in Sha-allah, but mostly DA MONEY, Man's History: Narcissus, a mirror of greed, EGO beyond caricature! As lamb...

...lamb dressed as mutton, mutton for wine, we sing our survivors-song, twix birth n NOW, health, drunken n good cheer to echo-HERALD for all our kids to lighten their years. Song of Songs. The eternal cigarette, medicinal WHISKY, or heaven on earth: The grand illusion.

 Unseen power behind the power U see steering the Trireme, oar by oar, we DO row. ANECREON!? We prevail, drink & think of us as we of thee!

c.2025.davedelacroix. cancer-thingy improving. might make aged 70. whoa.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix (a.k.a. david michael oxley esq.): "The Mariachi!" (Bandolero)

 Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: The Mariachi!

(Dedicato: Jason Eklund/Bandolero-his CDs on Utube)

The Mariachi!

The STAB, the POKE, the GIG, the stroke, the hug, the KISS, the digital MISS, that wish, YOUR INNER that goes, not beyond a laptop/phone message, a SMILE, Chanel No.5, a memory in psycho-whoosits, may as well be AROMA-Cat food?

That LAMB CHOP, succulent in a photo, steaming FRIED-VEG, carrots and all, the thoughts U get, masturbating-frantically, when U try to remember, like birds coated in an Oil Tankers shipwreck, stuck in some seashore hell? Lament!?

The Wishbone, XMAS dinner, the blood of ANY Martyr U care to choose on a Cross, big "X", T-Bone crucifix, fashions change, the dialogue-weary, the outright desperation of AGE, from golden times, when a Dime was a Dime, songs-sung, lauded Mariachi, guitar, sombrero, smiling disappears?

O-LORDY, encore on Encores will the applause never end, the Plays debate of the Plays DEBATE before Act 111 is over, the costumes disrobed, the fevered brow, wan, the flower, BUBBLY popped! The adulations, crowd, the Fife, Drum-Timbrel, a Mariachi, out on his alley-ear? 

A LIMOSINE to carry a DREAM some place and ALL "groovies", Society's fleeting embrace; a torn WISDOM upon a face, dressed in Yesterday's rags, icons-tinsel, lines, cosmetics, souvenirs of mountebanck, Mariachi, engulfed by the highways once commanded?

Laid low the fervent Lover/Knight, subdued the Soldiers of the Night. Song begets Songs to wrench-sense from dark to light! A Mariachi to sing your tune? NET, radio, Vinyl, Jukebox, an echo, the whisky-dram from the next, cheap-ass motel room ...soundtracks your destiny.

c.davedelacroix, jan 2025/corozal-belize.

OUR MAN in EUROPE, Davew Delacroix. "Corner of your Heart."

OUR MAN in EUROPE/Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Corner of your Heart." 

(dedicato: Loic de Vauvert-Guillard/fellow Poet)

STUCK AT THE AIRPORT, Bureaucratic Fucks slither your Soul, I.D. Poverty, chased, Life's guilt ON THE RUN, A corner of your Heart. A Paper WALL, but Tyrants, NAZIS, roles change with afternoon-Tea. Life's WUNDER-BRA, NO tits at all!

DESTITUTE, living under a highway bridge in SEWERS neath LAS VEGAS glitter, in Paris, the "Streets of London" where-ere U, YES YOU!!!..Your literary domain, in vain, hookers & rogues, U gotta corner, someplace, shelter, food, David Copperfield: I was BORN! Heart's CORNER: despair?

STUCK at an airport-IMMIGRATION, a barrier, Life/STUNTED,  or Life's Food Stamps-if lucky, a queue for SOUP-GIGs, hand-outs, that broken GUITAR the Street Busker sings your plight, Songs-UN-thought TO DEVIL!!!? TOMORROW wrings its hands in RAGE; that corner of your Heart, You.

c.davedelacroix, jan.2025, corozal-belize.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/Belize, Dave Delacroix: "the specter in your eye."

 

OUR MAN in EUROPE/Belize, dave Delacroix: "the specter in your eye."

There's always a BOY in the Man, a childish a rag-a-tag, a Girl in the Woman who commands, a battle-victory, a face that launched 1,000 ships, your Wife or Gal, a yesterday who once ruled your Love, the poetry in your motion?

There's always that Chord, a memory-tremolo, a sign, a taste that drives its rusty nail into your heartbreak, that song of songs. Your inner Gods-aspect has no mercy! 

There's always a Prince who'll betray U, a Joker in the Pack, Judas-Small-Change. A last kiss-memory, divining your sanctity to lay bare HELL, the abyss, whose reptile lips, puckering in invitation seduce your entrapment with or without, furniture, jewelry or airline-carry-ons.

A crucifix on a chain, a mantra, a childhood dream-indoctrination, the boogie-woogie Rabis, Imans, Grande-Buddas, JU-JU Men, backed up by scriptures, RITUALS, dancing round a Maypole; Clowns abound to ASPIRIN life's slings/arrows, for the Boy, The Girl, the glint, the specter in your eye.

c.davedelacroix. 2024,dec.31. FIREWORKS, N.Y.EVE. Bango!

OUR MAN etc., for Dylan in Piacenza.

 Our Man etc. For Dylan in Piacenza.

davedelacroix@aol.com.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/BELIZE, Dave Delacroix/David Michael Oxley (on F-book): "The Ferryman."

OUR MAN in Europe/Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Ferryman."

(dedicato: Lanny Nelson) 

ALL BOUGHT & PAID FOR, said GOD to your Life, short of trimmings, dead-buddies, wealth or a good Wife, husband, partner? WHOOPEE-DO!!! ON your Own? Love's sinecure-vacuum, even there? ALL bought & paid-up in Peace, WAR! Whilst inner greed? No need to worry, broke, not broken, DESPAIR, it has no tomorrow. Regrets however, and that 1,000-yard stare? Even THERE Universal forces ferment. Lamias slither in most back yards.

I'm an EXPERT: "Left-over Girl"? S-all bout HELENE. Homer? He Lied! Trojans, the Fascists of their age, no Love, Greeks (?), no SEIGE, NO WAY! - of Troy -7 YEARS of WAR...for PUSSY? 2024-no change. Not happening. Centuries later, the Romans...singing..."Go tell the Spartans!" And as (historical/situ.-legacy) John Wayne's movie THE ALAMO suggests, as I age, no NEW PUSSY is gonna put me in a domestic cage?

AND DON"T whisper U R DEAD, broke, forlorn, DOWN-whoosits to da BONE, hanging on Love's "Ariadne's thread", that single Malt Whiskey-KICK! -the MOON's got its own rage like an "AI" hologram to souvenir your mystery, yours TOO, your story: "I wandered lonely...as a CRUISE-MISSILE, pls don't piss me off!?" DIOGENES! A Hermit. Mathematics & Beans! Happy guy apparently? Father of Arithmetic & Vegetarian cuisine!

WHO CALLS U BACK? Beyond? And all scoundrel-dusty trails rewards in haunting? Yet who records your kisses, pre-empt, societal, voluptual, erotic? -non but your MEMORY, twix Life's ORCHESTRA still clutching to harrow consciousness, perceived loves & betrayals, dastardly and honored deeds, ALL the dynamics, ULLYSES's living creed, his Penelope, his dream? AUGURS, signs & wonders, the Ferryman awaits us all. Next hour at the Tavern we will sing our song!

c.davedelacroix/david mich oxley. belize.2024, 29/12.

OUR MAN in Europe/now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "...Winged R the Devils!"

 Our Man in Europe/Belize, Dave Delacroix, age 69: "Winged R the Devils."

WINGED R the Devils we KNOW, the years "Fly Fleance Fly!" that MURDER the beloved, the rascals, FRIENDS, no jokes-no more; eclectic kisses-stained lipstick "YO's!" on tavern boards in expectation, but no Winged Devil to bring Home all they once rejoiced? SHADDUP & Die Young! -someone said.

Shadows IN shade, no Paparazzi-glare to lantern, to candle, to isolate Time's FANG in echoed song,  "Anacreon in Heaven We raise our glass to thee!" righting all wrong, goodly, but usurped by Winged Devils in un-tapped consciousness, tomorrow's Nativity betrayed in utero: WotchagonnaDO!? An existential Wonder! NEXT!!!

Winged R the Devils, seething, THIRST, a tankard of ale, a cask-wine, blood-pined! And shattered, the Cellar of your Soul, the Winged Devils will find U there. Who FUCKED the Lamb, if not You, then ME! Canines, Wolves, Jackels mark their spot on trees. Picture. Winged Devils feign disinterest. Do You?

Winged R the Devils, in the mirror, in your face, a beloved, in Winter, who hold U close till Summer then GONE! Seen no more. As All Hallowed Souls writhe, wail, tormented, Centuries in chorus, an En-tombed Hollywood-fail. Dante's Inferno, the Musical! ...Abstractly, we sometimes wonder: "Whatever happened to Lucy, Bill or Jim?" Winged R the Devils we know.

c.2024. davedelacroix, Xmas encore.