our man in europe. dave delacroix, "The Great Boogaloo!"

Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix/The Great Boogaloo!

 ....no-one is safe, don't feel safe, that gig u found, no-one dances to the tune u sing, a background chorus resounds, no-one hollers your fate in the well, no-one screams that fate-befallen, no-one picks up your skirts, a laundry-bleached far away.

no-one writes your old fave tune or sings of your heroics in war n doom, no-one gonna pick up ya pieces or kiss your memory, that boogaloo, that was u. What is U, what IS u, por quoi?

no-one ever got -gone in their mind, a lost song, time long since, time after time, nobody Confucius, no body with half a brain will ever sing of your fame. a frail sinew. Eternity's SCREAM of silence.

no-one is safe from obscurity, that non-existential real estate of castles in the air, empires, or a code of ethics which dissolve in the hands of tomorrow's kids, yet their joy, resounding, echoes your despair? 

no-one is safe from the great boogaloo, the hat u wear, the shoes that wear your feet, no-one gets to meet n greet outside of the almighty, a busy icon, last heard, a-throng with riffraff, zealots, parasites n sycophants, whilst writing his own song, in perpetual utero.

c.2025, dd, giggin in czl, bz....we prevail.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix: "Kings & Crowns."

 Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix: "Kings & Crowns."

...ALL OUR YESTERDAYS, our Lifes regrets.... YOURS! -my own too; that brain-SWARM in your 11th hour to haunt, that hunts U down to - lol - dusty death? Macbeth (Scottish Gig/male-lead) a dude, maybe, arguably, never had it so good?...

Blood & GUTS, NO concealed weapons, NO Non-smoking, no Cafe=Klatch, no being NICE to bloody foreigners - outside of a decent CURRY - getting "loaded" and if U have a Dog why bark yourself? ("Fly Fleance - to Starbucks U Pussy!) WOKE fuckers stripped of their "shorties"? "KARENS up a tree?

Yup. All our gigs gone down. Yesterdays-tomorrows memories, that swirling Martini UP or any way IS the only way, your liver (Suicide note: "Farewell cruel World!) don't count; we don't mention the "L" word, in certain circles (cultural snobbery), wotchagonnaDO? 

Who SINGS of Yesterday, Francois Villion, some Poet, HOMER! (Don't forget Him!) Dante comes to mind too or rag-tail BOB MARLEY who will, sublimely, ease U into that long term room? King s & Crowns how mighty We fall...but JOY to the World; Nuff-said.

c.2025. dave the rave. belize-corozal.

our man in europe/belize, "The BLEED!"

our lad in europe/belize, "The Bleed!"

 no need to hook, 

no blow, no cook

the world in which we bleed

no sweet romance

u fucking prance

a world, s-where we bleed

u got ya blood

u own our soul,

but we don't care anymore

Singing: Death & Taxes U Sweetheart?

Please stick it UP YA ASS!

I aint Bleeding for U no more!

no need to look, catch my book,

we aint there any more

gotta GAL I wanna score, etc.

check ya Book

U outta luck: GO BLEED!!!

I aint Giggin for ya Gig no more!

c.2025 dd, whoosits.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, dave delacroix: "RIMBAUD A'la Carte!"

Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix: "Rimbaud A'la Carte!"

(dedicato: Steven Johnson)

"RIMBAUD A'la Carte!"

 ...(Singing:) Wine & Cheese, maybe some groovy prosciutto

wine & cheese, 

a decent Chianti or Bordeaux

can we groove again

Bela, mademoiselle, tonight?

Wine & cheese, perhaps

a bouillabaisse, a candlelight

a dinner in Cassis

by the bay?

Wine & cheese 

a Rimbaud poem comes

to mind,

birds wings fly, soundless,

my love resounds!

Wine & cheese,

Cheri, sing my Baudelaire

hail Apollinaire,

oysters in Normandy

a le recherche!

c.2025 davedelacroix. (always keep sentimental poem real short)

Our Man in Europe/Belize/Meso-America, Dave Delacroix: "NIGHT TRAIN!"

Our Man in Europe. Dave Delacroix, "Night Train!"

(dedicato, U.K. fellow rockstar, Marc Pierson)

 ..../WHOA! Who knows the pop song hook-line of ya Soul? -that CHORUS-orchestration turning ya Balls (Test-Tackles), that - in pain/soprano - sings out your Tomorrow or Yesterdays-gilded in gold OR that Silver of your Lifes-song, a song of U?

Who KNOWS the dynamic, that sleet & snow, dem battles U won or lost, GIGS, your days in Hell, a tragedy resting in a corner, a mantel, a Winter wear, somehow a kiss of Life, still to savor natures concubine, the YOU? The Fan's ROAR or a lonely dressing room? (Sweet-Lordy!)

Who knows your HOOK, that Song, sinew, haunting the devil in your fate... as all our yesterdays, like ghosts, stalking, a conscience, a role in our Play? Cosmetics, a hairdo, a costume change, skipping a rental, that World Tour in your brain? (Stand-Up Comedians, R they happier?)

WHOA! St. Crispins Day! An Agincourt!  A Night Train, your Life? .... let the "Te Deum" be sung. The Night Train "Arriba" always on time. Welsh Harps, Guitar Six-string complainers or weekend Rockstars, alas can never...warble...compensate? The Night Train is finite - tough break -but your song-belongs?

c.davedelacroix, 2025.

our man in europe/belize, dave delacroix, ...lonely the hunter.

 our lad in europe/belize, dave delacroix, lonely the hunter

dedicato, greg perez.

lonely the hunter

 his love alone in its own

 heart, lonely, hunting

 that yesterday, without a tomorrow.

lonely the sinew that coils a souvenir,

habitue of your reminiscence

fates after-thought

lonely is those pigtails, go frick ya-self kid,

the brat on gods shelf,

heavens hit or miss, the hunter.

lonely is your super-dome

the lonely fills just what u own,

as the lonely will come to u,

millions, a roar of silence

to confound your footprints in the sand.

lonely is the hunter

lonesome love alone in its own heart

that jaded prism, a rainbow,

nothing ends or starts,

a guitar strums, crows caw

the hunter's heart, screaming blood raw.

c.2025, dd copyright stuff, davidmichaeloxley.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/BELIZE, Dave Delacroix, a.k.a. David Michael Oxley (after-life FB existence)>"The SONGSTA-IL MARIARCHI!" (A hot cup of Joe!)

 Our Man in BOOGALOO, dave delacroix, "The Song Guy/IL Mariachi, still on Patrol-2025."

"IL MAESTRO-MARIACHI!" (A Hot Cup of Joe!)

.,...Lifestyles of the destitute & IN-famous... where to GET ON UP is to get on DOWN, where your mattress is cardboard, a guitar case for a pillow, where your Gal is the NAME of just another "RE-al California" Monastary/Nunnery/Transgender/hospitale for Social Fuck-Ups  and your Mariachi's reputation resounds in Tavern's, Bars from hell, some busy-bodies Clown goes "BOO!!!" - where iconic DIVAS love Ya till rich-pappas say "NEIN!" whilst their "Mommies" eye U with (great) sexual expectations, kids & Fan's, siblings RECITE your latest Poem/Canzone: Kids of course, U/WE always get along, poetry's Minestrone and moonlit nights, sunset dreams, the rhymes U have found, a dance in some Strangers mind, the "WHISTLER" fucker in the wind; a SOAP, TV media show,  a "Tempesta-Amore", Lifestyles of the destitute & In-famous: "WotchagonnaDO?" Like a Song for Ever more: The loneliness of a Mariachi, some LIFE twix Casa Mexicano, a long Texas (?) highway, this heaven on earth, that grand illusion. IL Mariachi plucks his tune, leaving your desert Soul, cold, alone, hitch-hiking to a roadhouse in the morning for bacon, toast, eggs over easy like Hamlet, Shakespear's Prince of Denmark or YOU... for a hot cup of Joe!

c. 2024, dave delacroix./david michael oxley.