Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "East of Eden."

 Our Man in Europe/Now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "East of Eden."

...THE WAILING OF WOMEN, WITCHES/BANSHEES to stir your BREW: AVAST! AVAST! U demons, let an old Soul lie still, to crumble, smolder like an old cheese-decay, an "Eve of St. Agnes", a Keats' Ode, a worship forgotten, a Poet's workshop's grind.

The platitudes echo on a CONCERT-night when everyone hugs U but there's no EYES insight, only them/U, just heads with blank eyes that stare thru U but U never know why? DAH!? (Edvard Munch's painting: THE SCREAM!) And kisses beyond all promises true, the price of your fame, then kicked by the roadside, lame. What were their names? My name? Yours too. All yours. Mine! Were they blue?

East of Edan where U find your Blue. Bros. GRIMM, Hansel & Gretal, a paper trail in the forest, a "whoosits-boogaloo" to take U by the hand, a stranger's hand, sometimes to befriend. No G.P.S., no inner kisses. The crux of semantic-enraptured Soul just where U first found it...when U were once whole.

The wailing of Banshees, witches at your door and the songs U have known I wish to never hear no more.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "South of Capricorn."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "South of Capricorn."

THE DEVIL MAKES WORK outta idle hands & if that son-of-a-bitch with the LOUD lawnmower doesn't quit soon, we talkin' 'bout justifiable HOMICIDE!

It's always tough when U actually find your "feng-shui" (peace of mind) but ya can't blame some Cat, found a way - mowing grass/looks like shit/looks like its bin left out all night/needs a trim -to make a Buck - homicide-Insurance, nevertheless it's always on the backburner (my TRIGGER finger is itchy!). Maybe it's a dream retirement illusion/plan, palm trees, smooth sea, clement weather, no bugs, far from the madding crowd?

The Devil makes work outta 'retirees"- minds (called Dementia) plagued by a life times' haunting, that never-forgetting specter, PROMETHEUS unbound. Such a sucker to get tied up, pecked at by a "murder of Crows" in the first place as all Men DO, leastways on a Paris fling with a "floozie"/lost weekend. It may be a Marital Sin but it ain't no crime? Still. Gotta hurt?

The Devil, that inner JOY, that intrinsic sluice that never quite bleaches your conscience, and South of Capricorn where they say the - sink/toilet - CIRCLES "lefty", a Devils foot to keep U on your toes; like writer Henry Miller on tiptoe before he got a dose. WOTCHAGONNADO!? Nobody knows. Better your "dick" falls off AFTER U die. Hopefully not before...South of Capricorn.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Super-Moon!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Super-Moon."

(dedicato: Carol Aniello)

When the Super-Moon is gone & U lost your Song & that longing feels like U don't belong, U can turn to Me.

When the tides gone out, your sailboat will never crest a wave, that kiss-a-wind, U can turn to Me.

When that silly-guile fails to smile, that Xmas tree fails to beguile? This time (betcha-boogie!) U can turn to Me.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize: "Cosi Fan Tutti!" (Après' Mozart)

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Cosi Fan Tutti!" (Apres Mozart)

DON ALFONSO & DESPINA ARE not dead, they're just sleeping within your desires, your passions, occasionally making mischief as all our good DEMONS are tempted to do.

Don Alfonso & the maid, Despina, the servants of our Souls; there to stir the bouillabaisse, a plate or 2 for your guests, the ones U choose, an EGO'S curry, yet just where does it lead; no-one knows: Arias abound! 

Don Alfonso & Despina, an entwined super-spy, the James Bond TWINS, Shaken AND Stirred to Rock & Roll your "droll" which plagues your platitude, an Eagle in a Cage; what classic duo could ever restrain your rage or stem the tide, beach footprints U left behind?

Don Alfonso & Despina. STEREO! Ear to ear! Calculus! Shaving cream! Pasta sauce! Do we ever go shopping/get all we need? Milk. Eggs! CONDOMS!!!...We always rely on a pretty song? "Cosi fan tutti", our crazy GIG, along with Shakespeare's "Hamlet", sometimes Love's grave we dig.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Deacroix: "QUO VADIS!?" (Which way?)

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "QUO VADIS?" (Which way?)

QUO VADIS!? CAN I GET U a Cheeseburger, a pit-stop, maybe some adult entertainment, leastways find some Sage to tell/sing a song of past Glories; my own Canvaserai, the camels R weary, I need a bath, U guys got a vacant room, taverna Via Alpina?

QUO VADIS? I may be arrogant, but I come from Damascus, DEATH never caught me there. There's a lot to be said for living out in the "boonies", no internet, no E-mail, no-one finds U there. The Devils Astrolabe is outta whack?

QUO VADIS? No G.P.S. No antique radar, old love letters neither received or sent, a dissolution of 'Affairs de Coeur', kisses unspent? Where do we un-wind when we're losing our mind, as love dissipates in the beer & the wine?

SINGING: "Solomon & Sheba we sing thru the night! Solomon & Sheba we sing thru the night! Queen Dido of Carthage was she just a Dyke! Cleopatra is dead, a Cobras bite! Tra-la-la!"

QUO VADIS? - A new day under the Sun, that longest night... never to find the dawn... in all its rapture, in all its bleak light; a Winters tale, a shadow's blight. I heard guys played FARO-4 days straight! Only a fool to ignore Love's might.

QUO VADIS? Any which way but loose, a Mandarins prophecy, a Rabbi's scroll. A Bhudia's mantra, a Viking Saga-chant, a Cheeseburger pit-stop, an eternal song. Is nothing wrong? Will it ever end? The genetic double-helix gone to whoosits? Hearts un-wound/always spaghetti?

QUO VADIS? QUO VADIS? I sing U a song. A repetition, a echelon that echoes ANON. Not belonging to ME nor unique to your Soul, the STUFF of existence, the kick to your goal. Quo Vadis, Saint Whoosits, a voice in HIS God-mind said QUO VADIS (turn around), went back to Rome...to martyrdom. 2,000 years later? We sing his song...

c.2026. dave delacroix.

Our Man in Europe. Dave Delacroix: "It's not Unusual.."

 Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "It's not Unusual."

IT'S NOT UNUSUAL TO GET STABBED in the back. a Borgia Prince ever ready. It's not unusual (your wife) to find lipstick on your collar. Where-a-way, a song in your heart & no money in your pocket?

It's not unusual, restless at night, haunted, doubtful dreams, NIGHTMARES, which scream: "BE-JEEZE!", ya gotta AWAKE and prowl the floor: No money in your pocket. (Bitch left me!)

It's not unusual to go ROAM THE WORLD to find the SELF OF U, never find (alas!) or wallow in some "self-divine" or rue the day U got a clue? (Even LESS money in your pocket) Outta Biscuits!!!

It's not unusual, any day, when U kissed goodbye to all U knew; ICARUS not with-standing, U flew too close to your own personal Sun... Aloe Vera/WAX WINGS/Max Factor cosmetics wears too thin!

...As wings dissolve, a silent fall, musical chairs, when the song ends, a throne/high table or a stool below the salt. (She'll never come back) It's not unusual to get stabbed in the back, that Borgia Prince in the mirror.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "NO WORRIES!!!"

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "No Worries!"

(dedicato: Lady Caroline Aniello)

NO WORRIES! ALL WE DID was scratch on the universal chrome, a kiss blown in the wind, a situ. beyond tragic comedy, perhaps the Gods chuckled, exchanged heavenly Bitcoin for a Dime?

No worries; a lack of ZEN (Yen?), that "Yin-Yang"-Pheng-Shui, the peoples "groovy Tuesday", an antiseptic for your Soul, an Aloe Vera for your sunburn?

No worries. Battles lost? Does it matter when U meet your MAKER, CONFESS, I was a "Toss!" -Jesus don't mind, least U gave it a try, eggs broken/omelet-made, some bouillabaisse?

 -like too much water in your Scotch whisky, something to ruin your day, that thing with every yesterday we all throw away.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. Happy New Year Kids.