Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "Truckers, KICKERS & the Cowboy Angels!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix" "Truckers, Kickers & the Cowboy Angels!"

(dedicato: Veterans: Vietnamese, United Nations Forces & U.S.A. Soldiers.)

"Truckers, Kickers & Cowboy Angels."

...HAVE U EVER BEEN TO DISNEY-LAND? No? Me neither. I hear they have huge queues for every RIDE; I'd rather go to Church. Give ME a low-rent Buddy-Weiser BAR (the Red Sox kickin-Ass on big screen T.V.) every time where despondent Truckers, Kickers, Cowboy angels SULK, lonesome & have no Life's wisdom to readily impart 'cept to maybe ask: "Do U know the difference twix Whisky, Bourbon & Rye?" "Yup!" "So, mine's a DOUBLE! Set EM up!!"

...Lost in Purpose, lost in Prose, no "raison d'etre". Have U ever been to DISNEYLAND, Orange County, or F.L.A. to experience/be exposed, FRIED by another's (lesser) Mortals concept Man-Made fantasy? I doubt real fantasy IS an inexact science, less - bells & whistles - a FAIRY atop a Christmas tree, that mistle-toe KISS, as meaningful as a friendly Lawsuit? Still, MOM'S Curry, Fried Rice, Apple Pie will always see U through; dark days R inevitable. (Load up on Kleenex! Wetting the bed, apparently, is no excuse?)

...Not long for this world, a SHROUD, a Vietnam "conflict" (AHEM!!!) HUEY "dust-off" canopies our progress; barstools, spittoons, the baristas name, blind introductions, faces un-remembered, "Chicken wings", "Mirabelle" or just "Joe"? And, finding yourself OUT with the Truckers, the Kickers & the Cowboy Angels & (quoting Gene Parsons/songwriter) "there's a good Saloon in every single town" a blessing might sometimes enshroud U. The ceiling fan, WHIRLING above U. Faulty! It goes "AKA-AKA-AKA!" -U can't go back... That SMUDGE in the sky of dawn's early light. "SET EM UP BUDDY! U got it. Mine's a double!"

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "I SCREAM-A, U SCREAM-A, WE All Scream-A! - for Ice Cream!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "I Scream-A, U Scream-A, we ALL Scream-A for Ice-Cream!"

..."EVERYBODY'S RIGHT...THAT'S WOT I ALWAYS SAY!"...Sometimes, I even lend them $5.00 for reminding me. Comes OVER like a Media World horror photo U can never ever UN-SEE which cannonballs into your OWN personal (Jesus?) Edvard Munch's painting: The Scream!

(Singing:) "Always wear RAYBANS (Sunglasses) when U fire up your Doobie/Cigarette. U never know if that Bic lighter is gonna light your cigar or enflame your Wig or expensive Toupee! And never fry Bacon for breakfast IN DA NUDE".... No explanations, me-thinks R necessary.; tra-la-whoosits!" (Background Ambulance sirens/Anxious family; "Was it a Mafia-HIT!?).

...AS for ARTISTS (we self-throttle!), a DIAGALEV "Ballet Russ" dancing to a TUNE we will never understand yet a theme upon which we earn our "bread & butter", the Public's adoring gaze under the World-concept grand illusion, Culture's canopy, aloft; we flitter & we fly, a humanoid MOTH zeroing into the flame of Fame.

...Everybody's right. I always say DAT. And YOU, amongst many, the ONLY Woman I ever loved! Heroic, fortune or fame now, perhaps, pickle under your gaze; indolent, indifferent, lethargic, of relegated value? No gilding the Lily under the Klieg-light of eventual wisdom? Maturity, NAY! Old age doesn't take prisoners. Still. What's that Praying Mantis doing, silently, hanging on to your thigh?...

(Singing:) "I scream, U Scream, We ALL scream for Ice-Cream!" (Ain't dat how it goes?)...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "ARC du TRIUMPH!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "ARC du Triumph!"

...THERE'S NO DENYING the WEIGHT, in OUR living memory, the DECADES, that seeping/slow flood of our Loves, friendships, hates, feuds, bickering, scores still to be settled, REGRETS & Blues, like SOUL REFUGEES to wear out sandals, shoes or fashionista "Winkle-Pickers"? (1960s Pointed footwear). A veritable Noah's Ark of memory!

...SALVATION, like a Las Vegas highway-roadside billboard to tempt an ailing Soul to divest his/her Life's potential, promise, riches, lonesome treasure, all U can pack into an airline-travel "wheelie-bag", like a protest/defense, a sword of JUSTICE which ALL invisible citizens, these days, can honorably still wield? Your bags wheels "mutter-mumble" on airport corridors as U advance headlong towards an un-certain - flight cancellation - destination?

...EMPORERS, kings, figureheads, in retrospect, histories' detritus, from Julius Caesar to J.F.K., to GANDHI! Recorded (?) upon Carrera marble or woven into a Bakara RUG to soak up some cultural big-shot's blood. And a funeral train. Soldiers, politicians, profiteers, women in weeps, sallow, some with heads held high, they too march, resolute: VICTA-VICTORI towards that Arc du Triumph, a seat of darkness where Angels are apt to vacuum its proximity.

...When, lastly U R "conveyed" in all pomp & glory upon the "Via Sacre" towards an ARC du TRIUMPH, even your Spirit, hovering above, is resigned to fading trumpets, that fickle/forgetting focus of the multitudes, and the inevitable "Ubliete", that un-knowing ZONE of your finite destiny which AFTER U R gone don't mean a Fig, nor whether the creek don't rise or your Noah's Ark is destroyed in shallows or the hidden coral reefs of destiny's un-certainty!

...(Singing:) "There's NO business like SHOW business! -TRA-LA-LA!"

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "MOJO-CRASHING!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "MOJO-CRASHING!"

...IT'S A TOUGH "MO-JO!" full knowing U've GROUD your (Writers') metaphors into dust? LIFE is an INTERDIT, a one-way street, a "cul-de-sac" and, indeed, fate or destiny, a passage du VIE! So, U give whatever cash on hand to the local street-orphan: "Go hit the Liquor store, Kid. Get me what I need."

...It's a TOUGH "Mojo" when U feel U have lost, a-kin to some un-wielding TWEEZERS extracting your inner-soul, suddenly EXPOSED like a shaven head on the Guillotine...just seconds before.

...It's a "MOJO" fondly remembered once in a Springtime's early light. U skipped the light-fandango, U knew how to fight! Where-as NOW the Soul still whispers, there's still a glint in your eye? A souvenir from when the world was your oyster, an array of pearls in your smile.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "DA MOON in DA MIST!"

 Our Man in Europe/now in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Da Moon in Da Mist!"

...The Moon in the Mist, that "lazy eye", a patched over retina, a not-very clever espionage Spy conveying UN-deciphered/UN-decoded, a message - it's in Morse code -: "The night is long that never finds the day, yet dimly to light a traveler's way?"

 (Whad-ya-make O dat!?) "Our Man in Havana is off his Rocker!!?"

-"Hmmm. Schooled at ETON. Played Cricket for the "Gentlemen" at Cambridge? I put him up for membership at my Club for heaven's sake!"

"Which one?"

 "All 3! WHITES, The Diogenes & the DRONE Club."

"Was he accepted?' "

"Alas, as yet not a peep & the Drone Club is dragging its feet..."

...(GET "JU-JU!!!"): DA MOON in DA MIST, a Delphi-Oracle, a Religio-Cult Slot machine, the longer U play, the more investment, the more Theological confusion! -An eternity, leastways, generation on generation, a MYOPIC on-going game begetting Wars, savagery, as the body count never wanes till even ICEBERGS are worth fighting over, till they dissolve into the sea?

"I fear for our British Diplomatic Corp.."

"Minister, U have good reason."

"How so?"

"The latest data on International Diplomatic Corps POKER tournaments show the Chinese on top, the Americans non-plussed, the British too cheap to Up the Ante & when the Russians feel cheated, they bash the opponent on the head & run off with the Ante!!!"

"That's definitely not CRICKET!"

"Quite so, Minister."

...Da Moon in Da Mist. With "lazy eye", a Child's eye, yet still a Witness! The Blakean symmetry in a Tyger's eye. A dauntless fermenting, like the yeast in the air, ever ready to pronounce a thing apparently NOT THERE to curry a mischief, a Gunpowder Plot, till some Lunar event exposes the lot! So, wear Safari-Whites, a plinth helmet, a monocle or 2 & colonize your mind if NEED-BE & suffer your Soul. As for DA MOON in DA MIST, recall your last loving kiss, a "lazy-eye" after-all it's what we R. In the mist of the moon, fragile, we linger.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "In the JADE of the Night."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "In the JADE of the Night."

...IN DA JADE OF DA NIGHT when regrets cloud your dreams & nightmares propound every altruistic Thought; that luncheon Oyster, finding a pearl in your gaze? -A metaphysical, an Eye-witness-CHAIN, thus, subpoenaed in the Court of Love in the Jade of Love's Courtroom, in the HAMMER-HORROR, the Jade of the Night? -Where Angels fear to tread, for that matter, even LAWYERS!

...Nobody's Guilty! Innocence? -A JOKE! Nobody's phony, got a PONY? -Some joke. A racing Heart's SPENT or never RAN! -in a culture, a system, a social registrar, religious/racial inter-mingling: ALLES VERBOTEN!!! In a solemn Heart's COURT, no Prisoners! -It Takes! A predilection invented by "JU-JU-MEN" who insist on body mutilation: sever your Vaginal CLITORIS or lop off your Penal FORESKIN! It's MANDATORY! U MUST be LAME & LIMP like WE!!!?

 ...ALL DONE of course in THEIR Jade of the Night, a 'la that Scottish Plays' WITCHES-3! -Encircled by the green eye of envy, succinct prejudice, racism, JEALOUSLY, a universal epiphany TRAMPLED under Ignorance's mindless boot! When, in the Court of Love the Heart hangs the mind or equally, when the mind enslaves the Heart? All alas, in this ONE case, smacks of gender-equality & is fair & foul in this, the Jade of the Night.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Internet-LONELY HEARTs Club BAND!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "THE INTERNET LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND!"

...The Internet-Lonely Hearts Club Band as HENRY the HORSE will dance the Waltz, of course! -or on a Aberdonian (Scottish) whistle-stop note, a SHARRAH-BANG magical mystery tour, stopping at the local granite quarry advising magical mystery-tourists, there's a "Tam-O-Shanty" at the bottom? Hence the big Quary! He's still digging for the Shilling he lost last Wednesday? (...in 1903).

...The Internet Lonely Hearts Club Band, forever INEPT, that desperado "UN-GENE-E-CITY", albeit a cerebral inner violence necessity, a late-nights texting-MASTURBATES until sleep overtakes? (Stay with me!) As for Henry the Horse? Who, these days dances a Waltz?... In Satellite ORBIT, even THEY, those "A.I" pieces of HI-TECH METAL R getting overloaded with "diatribe"/outta-space graffiti; Human Pathos! No wonder "A.I." doesn't need us anymore? "A.I." POEM: "I wondered lonely in Outta SPACE; I Laser-Beamed those Assholes in Manhattan-Kansas!!!" (Maybe NOW I can get some A.I. "Aggieville" sleep?).

..."I THINK, therefor I AM!" (Descartes/French Philosopher). The Internet Lonely Hearts Club Band; those hollow, lonely, desperate voices within the INTERNET CLOUD who might be STALKERS, jilted Lovers, outright SCAMMERS or the LONELY, desperately, needy, jealous of your flagrant vivacity which BLOW-TORCHES the non-existential inadequacy of SO MANY, mostly STRANGERS whom U cannot comfort - Quit Texting Me! - nor wish to feed.... Keep your Musket powder dry, compose a Suicide note, in INK, Eloquent. The Internet Lonely Hearts Club Band alas, like "Tam-O-Shanty" still down in the Quarry looking for his lost (1903) Shilling, me-thinks, our CEREBRAL-FORGETTING is ever circling!... I got no advice?...

Still! In the meantime? ...DRINK UP & BE SOMEBODY!!!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.