Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacoix: "My Favorite VAMP!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "My Favorite VAMP!"

...WE LIVE IN HOPE, IN HOPE we live. as we strut for Truth & FRET our hour upon the Stage singing idiotic songs of sound & fury, of Love & Loss, of WAR but namely of Peace?

 -To rebound DEM slings & arrows of outrageous fortune, PUNCH-BACK! A defiant Sentinel, that KID in your Soul who said, "Not One step back!!!" Youthful songs, U forget & never remember, never get back? (fickle filter of memory?)

As for my Babee, the one who left me behind? -She was a Vamp, a Hollywood- Silk-dressed VAMP, a "Moon-over Sunset-Boulevard" LAMIA, who left me un-twined. AND I wish I could travel her ways; to slither across/within her Universe but somehow, I found it perverse? I never understood her ways.

We live in Hope; in hope we live but when emotional coastal tides recede U just know where it's going. My favorite Vamp. She'll sail across the sea & find some other prospect who (sad sap) probably looked just like me? 

(But IN this crazy World, what's a lonely Gal to DO!!!?) An Evening dress & a sparking Purse. That BLING of ENTRANCE, a "savoir-faire" & her signature - fake - diamond ring. What "House of Mirth" to make HOPE sing, in hope, in hope, where we all live.

As for my Babee, now aged, faded, in some "pensione", an Ille de la Cite/Paris, enjoying a block of Brie, a Vin de table-Rouge. An ancient - techno - C.D. player, no Internet, a frigid labium, but still a HUM in her songs & wondering how life could have been?

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Battle of the Bands!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Battle of the Bands!"

...AS FOR THESE ORCHESTRA "cover bands" with intense-lunatic Baton-Dude--waving/arms akimbo, up & down, (surprised they don't execute summersaults!) or shoot (with blanks) the 1st Violinist or "mosh-pit" dive into the hood of the grand piano (screaming: STEINWAY or Death!) or post-gig get prosecuted for trying to sodomize the prettiest Celloist or the "petite-petite" virgins in the Woodwind section, male or female? Classical Orchestras must be rancid with incestuous sexuality?

As Marlene Deitrich sings: "Go see what the Boys in the back room will have & I'll have a drop of the same!"

Still, as we distill the kernel of Music's dynamic/composition in Time's test tube of infinity, yet Time marches on, generations of genius, come & gone; an Ode to Joy or a Saraband, Litz, Chopin, Satie kicked aside to the sidewalk, (too incidental); later, in Nature's wisdom, will periscope & expose the inimitable cacophony of Man's creativity. As now, a thousand Spirits presently reside in La Scala, the Paris Opera & London's Royal Albert Hall. But there will always BE a Vivaldi who peeks out & sneers: "I got ya Number!!!" Or a Paul McCartney who'll sink your gig with a Song like "Yesterday..." An oubliette. Like yesteryears "Battle of the Bands". 

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Moonshine!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Moonshine!"

ARE YOU DEAD? DID U DIE? That feeling when there's no other place to go? Do U wither or 'shoot-up" some succulence, an extra-ordinary substance (Cocaine?) to excite your Soul, or did U weather the MOOD's storm, searching for a lighthouse in a raging seas moonless night?

Do U panic in fright in anticipation of Tomorrow's MIGHT; a living shipwreck afoul of shoals, reefs, jagged rocks & WRECKERS, daggers-drawn, awaiting on a Cornish ragged shore to tear the wreck-survivor's "living daylights" out of your Soul?

WHO survives the living horror, that dankness neath ALL we can conceive yet never know? A funeral pyre of rotting seaweed, pebbles, scallop shells? Are U dead, still? Did U die? Like a floating island in the stream or survive like flotsam by some foreign shore where Loves Moon no longer shines?

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "I met my MILLION $ Baby at the 7-11!!!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "I met my Million $ Baby at the Five & Dime!"

...I MET MY MILLION $$$ BABY @ the (convenience store), the "7-11" on Ventura boulevard, L.A. or Rue de Madelaine, Paris, which is IN (not Texas) France? I was, either, which way, I was hitch-hiking of course, Guitar/clothes on my back, at a glance: no future? But "what the heck!?" 

-S-where I met my MILLION-DOLLAR BABY (there's been a few) at some desert Roadhouse, GAS/FOOD/MOTEL, a "film-noir" windswept $5.00 & dime. Lucky Dave, as long as I HAD led in my Pencil, guilty as charged, with a guitar, would (Deutsche-Poet) Reiner-Rilkes "Angels" deny me of my destiny? Catch-quick: A Song!?

I met my Million $ BABY at the FIVE & DIME. Cassis. Milan. Cologne. She was vivacious, pretty-pretty, with love-abandoned in the extra-economy size, that awesome YAW of emotion to usurp your soul, no access, no second thoughts? And THERE, U have it. A whirlwind of passion. They left me with a DIME to use next time.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The STARE!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The STARE!"

(Après Edvard Munch painting; The SCREAM.)

"The STARE!"

...ANYBODY STARED AT U LATELY? I hear it's "de riguer"/pedestrian-pastime in Mumbai-India? But do not despair, U R OK. No need to repair (whatever). Try to forget, REGRETS, no profit there, the closets in your mind, the past is past which U cannot unwind, those inner throngs that nightmare your sleep, future journeys in the Afterlife, destinations, assignations' which U cannot meet or greet, like Victory, or Logic snatched from a conception, the "lilies-in-the field" -SCYTHED to the root of our essential nothingness!

Do not despair. Do not try to repair. Like innate Marionettes we dangle in this universal, its abstract stare, and yes, I know. For Me & You: It's lonely out there. We'll crack a joke, fall in love (again) & mirror our forefather's plight. Yet UN-mirrored we R. Reflections-dazzle that shatter ...(fill in the blanks, kids)...and so, we "boogalgaloo" into this mood, sit still, be quiet & just stare. But wonder! STARE!!!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "PUTIN (Vladimir) putting on da RITZ!"

 Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "PUTIN on da RITZ!"

SONG: (Singing/Tea Room quartet playing après song, Putting on the Ritz.): 

Got no time, no place to go, no upwards, hit the TOPS, hey, look at Me? VLAD PUTIN on da RITZ.

Throw all threats, a tall high-rise, throw Em off, whose gonna care, no witnesses, (U weren't there!) I don't give a frick! I'm PUTIN at the Ritz!

...The old Russian STALIN Playbook is my Bible. I was a K.G.B. sneaky SPY to begin with?...

Dice with Me, U dice with death, don't hold your breath, I don't CARE, a 1.000-yard stare, don't U dare: I'm PUTIN-putting - watch out! - PUTIN on da Ritz!

...I may go down, in history, with Hitler, Genghis-Kan, or Tambaline, no timeline fixed, but I'm putting u IN MY GRIP.: COSSACKS-OUTLAWED!

(A-CHOO-CHOO-CHA-CHOO!)

...GOT NO PLACE TO GO, NO HEAVEN ABOVE, at THE top, DON'T PISS ME off!!!... (Fill in the blank?) PUTIN on da Ritz!

Now, got no place to go, no heaven above -I'm at the TOP! -PUTIN on da Ritz! (CHORUS): PUTIN on the ROCKS! Balalaikas-STING!!! -Putin on da Ritz!

c.2026: Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Entertaining Mr. Sloane!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Entertaining Mr. Sloane." (Après British 60's Playwright, JOE ORTON.)

"Entertaining Mister Sloane!" (An Origami for your Mind.)

HIDE & SEEK (a children's game/before the Internet), count to 100: I'm coming ready or not!  When ya MOM, busy, under her skirts ushered U outside & said "GO OUT & PLAY" -when "play" is what U did?

Or singing a Medieval protest song over a Queens/Royalties lavish spending, careless of civic responsibilities:  "London Bridge is falling down, London Bridge is falling down, my fair Lady!"

On a darker note (the Black Plague) singing: "Ring-a-ring a Roses, a pocket full of Poesies, Atishoo! Atishoo! -we All fall down."

Whilst HUMPTY-DUMPTY (the Grand Old Duke of York), he fell off the wall? And despite commanding 10,000 Men, all the Kings horses and all the Kings men could NOT put him back together again.

Are U going to Scarborough Fair? =Parsley, sage, rosemary & Tyme. Remember me to one who lives there; she once was a true love of mine.

It's not the leaving of Liverpool that GRIEVES me but me-darling when I think of thee! Whilst "the Stirling's in Sheffield on a Saturday Night": "There R few who face such hardships as We poor Grinders do."

So, YOU take the high road & I'll TAK the low road, but I'll be in Scotland before YA, but me & my true love will never meet again on the bonnie-bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

It's a long way to Tipperary; it's a long way to go. (To that Geraldine I know?) Goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square (with no G.P.S./"sans" bullet-proof vest/I'm a name on a WW1 town memorial) but My heart's right there!

...Goodbye Brendan & farewell Sean. Our time was short, our hopes-forlorn? But still I remember those days of gold, those green fields of France & the towns we loved so well & PETE'S gone back to Cavern Town.

And we'll all go together to pick wild mountain thyme, all across the blooming heather; will ye go Lassy-go?

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.