Our Man in Europe/now Belixe/Dave Delacroix: "SPLISH-SPLASH!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "SPLISH-SPLASH!"

,,,DO NOT GO "SPLISH-SPLASH" into your swimming pool, IF U HAVE ONE, into this Good Night? (Sinister music orchestration!) Maybe a baby Crocodile ducked in overnight? Or a Literary Critic? (So best call the Pool Guy.) VACUUM! VACUUM! VACUUM!

Do not go BUY a Tavern's "Ragazzi's" their last rounds, supposing U have the Ducats, at the 11th hour, then opt to stagger home alone? Wanna be a Target!? Or recite, arms flailing, "DAS CAPITAL", Karl Marx? Another reason to get drunkard/Mugged. ISLAMIC THUGS R everywhere; bored too of grooming/ raping our Christian Children?

Do not promise "eternal love" to some GAL U cannot finance nor sustain (HAFIZ, PERSIAN POET/Pre-ISLAM fanatics, he writes:) "Do not play with a Tiger's Cubs nor rob a Woman of her illusions!" (A cone of Ice Cream on a hot day IS an option.) U don't need an Iman's call to know which way the wind blows? C'Mon! Highland BAGPIPERS!!! Blow their Iman-Minarets hollering's away!!!

Do not (Edvard Munch Painter:) SCREAM for a role in a Hollyweird B-Movie: "Faster-Pussycat-Run!" (Sans-Muslim-Fashion-HIJABS!) or to try out as a TRAFFIC COP in MUMBAI; trust me. U'll get run down without a Hindu thought? (A gridlock of sacred cows or tuskless ELEPHANTS is a reprieve?) Luckily, DECESASED, U don't get cited with a traffic violation. Or in Shah-Allah!

Do not worry 'bout your destiny, DEATH'S RIDER in Babylon - U SAW! - he will still greet U in Samara! There's no shirking your Tomorrow. Biblically, Death rides a Pale horse or an M1A1 TANK! Perhaps, "in esse", and I too burnt all my bridges, but my bridges - no retreat! - burnt for me? And across the river, what now does Death itself need? A coin for the Ferryman?

Do not go gently - SPLISH-SPLASH! - into your "own personal Jesus/your own personal SWIMMING POOL"...if U have one, a NO-GO into your "Goodnight"? ... Another Universe awaits which, yet we STILL cannot comprehend. An origami of the mind: Icons, Scriptures, chants to fill empty Souls; the Argonauts in search of a Golden Fleece?

 97 Virgins, the last I heard was the reward for Islam Suicide bombers under 18? ...In MY Christian/West European culture finding JUST ONE (Virgin?) was considered "pretty groovy" & U got to stalk away in your LEVIS & - goddammit! - write a Song!!!

 Popular songs, a.k.a.: BISCUITS: "Stairway to Heaven", "I wanna hold your hand" which of late we still knaw on till the big sleep. And of late, MEGA-TRON, Taylor Swift, aping, projecting feeling a 'la Minerva (Goddess of Poetry) like a whiter shade of pale. The Dumbing down, not only of America, Western Europe, but dumbing down divides us all; just WHO (Rainer Maria Rilke/German Poet writes:) "Who in the order of ANGELS will save us?"

But I digress: (Whilst listening to Barry Manilowe's pop song: "Her name was Lola. She was a showgirl, at the hottest spot north of Havana, at the COCA"...ad-nauseum)

MEANWHILE:  SPLISH-SPLASH, perhaps I thought I was Errol Flynn, cutting a swashbuckling movie dash, once upon a time when I dived - SPLISH-SPLASHED - into that Swimming Pool... There HAD to be FUN, somehow, someplace, with SOMEONE; the ripples in the swimming pool, now predictably ERASED! But NO REGRETS - well, SOME! but rest assured, I like U... will someday be replaced by voices, like ourselves who'll - Splish-Splash! - also sing to the moon.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Give Me 5!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Gimmie 5!!!" (Après classic song: "Bie Mir Bist du Schoen/My Dear Mister Shane.)

"GIVE ME 5!!!"

Gimmie-5, sweetheart. Gimmie 5 to START for whad-I-got to say to U; please gimmie 5!!!

Gimmie-5, my Love, I woz late for our Date. A friend (long lost) came, by surprise, a tumbleweed moment into town?

Gimmie-5 my dove? She didn't mean anything to me? But the apple never falls far from that damned biblical-EDEN apple tree?

...And it's really not my name (Or Mr. & Mrs. Smith) on that MOTEL register; gimmie-5 & I'll explain!

Gimmie-5! (Sweetheart) Gimmie-5 YOUR HEART! A yesterday's affair: Gimmie-5 & I'll explain!

(Singing:) ...I say now Bela-Bela, U know I love U. There AIN'T NUTTIN I wouldn't-DO-for YA!... 

Alas! (Pant-pant!) The night is long that never finds the day, but it's WITH U I want to stay? Gimmie-5!

 Gimmie-5 just to start? Whad-a-ya got to say? Gimmie-5! I KNOW that I am not worthy; but if U please? Just give me FIVE!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. (WE R always guilty as Sin!)

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

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

...YOU R ONLY LONESOME WHEN U DIE, but mostly, absolutely LONELY when U R alive. Funny how that works? Ask anyone. But not a Soul confesses. (Beatles song: All the lonely people.)

U, actually, R quite FRIGID; new clothes, new auto, new-whatever, dancing gaily, pretending TO BE for the sake of Societies' needs? (A Life-survival-necessities of: WOTCHAGONNA-DO!?) Saturday Night & Sunday Morning?

...There IS no TO BE or NOT to "whoosits" (Hamlet's problem.). We wear costumes, talk-hipster/always one eye on the $$$! & like thieves we rob our own Souls. It's the easy way out. Better THAT than face the ICE WALL of nothingness, the Universe.

(Singing:) Mary-Mary, quite contrary. How does your garden grow? -With Silver bells & cockle shells, despite being absolutely STONED, somehow all in a row! Whilst she's getting KNOCKED UP by the assistant Gardner: Poetry in motion!

Still. For the rest of us? It's ONLY lonesome when U die. It's only lonesome when U expire "sans" a Cellphone. No digital communication & that inner terror of feeling alone. Ask anyone! And good luck, if U have a real friend...beyond the Ice Wall...who'll listen to your Confession!

(Gotta feeling, surgically connected to your "handy" U might be put "on HOLD!"/Musak-playing...)

The ICE WALL!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix/a.k.a. David Michael Oxley on Facebook: "TEST-TACKLES!!!"

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/a.k.a David Michael Oxley on Facebook: "TEST-TACKLES!"

(dedicato: Brian Pavlic.)

"Test-Tackles!"

...DON'T FRY BACON in the NUDIE or U might gonna catch a SPARK nor forget to wear an L.A.P.D. (L.A. Cops) Velcro-Bullet Proof vest, specifically, wrapped around - ham-strung - your TEST-TACKLES!

DON'T - first Date? - kiss her on the mouth. That last second/the PIMPLE on her lips/U noticed before closing your eyes; just what was her last date, now sucking U way down South?

...But it's only a Samba, a LIMBO-MAMMA. U take your chances, some romantico G.P.S. Remember what your Mommie said: "Better a cup of Cocoa & a good night's sleep, better that than a night on the town!"?

(No-one will EVER learn of course:) 

Don't fry Bacon in the Nudie. Your TEST-TACKLES, pretty much is all ya got!...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Pontius Pilot."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Pontius Pilot." 

(Après the 1960s PROCOL HAREM hit song, "A whiter shade of pale".)

"Pontius Pilot."

...WE SKIPPED/TRIPPED (jumped out a 3rd storey window whilst on LSD/Acid?) the light fandango, did the "POGO/The TOASTER" across the floor? I was feeling kind of homesick. The crowd roared out: "Migrants go home!" (This was in Manchester/1970s/I was from Sheffield.) I was ONE of 16 Vestal-Virgins -wearing a Chicken's "Parsons Nose". And it's SO HARD, despite everything, to be a Sex Symbol as U & I both know.

...But that's ALL IT WAAASSS, a play on words, a propaganda short & sweet. Nobody ever gets to WIN in Love or that Hollyweird sordid grasp for Fame when U try to make your Name? And FAME sea-sick don't get U a PASS; fake death? That's just lame. (The Lombardo's divorce still racking up the credits!)

She said there IS no Reason, on Facebook where we met? Neighbors/Internet Door-to-door & I soon realized what an Un-holy bore she was? So, I DID a "Pontius Pilot", I'm not sure which airline I flew for & executed my sinful ablutions & sent them down the LOO?... Sometime even an IDIOT has to do what he has to do?

But that's ALL IT WAASSS! - The Play's, the thing? A match to burn, the Conscience of a King? A voyage-Romance, passing ships in the night, a passion play, a propaganda, a story, short & sweet!

...NOBODY in "Hollyweird" ever saw their ASS for Ducats. Too busy hunting down their own immortality. That friendless, ruthless destiny, ignorant; already got one foot in the grave! And now OLDER, wiser, I now dance, skip-trip/DO DAH TOASTER! -across some parquet floor. And yes, it's SO hard to be a Sex Symbol as U & I both know...

...This OBSESSION with washing my HANDS however is becoming "Hollyweird"! -I may need to seek out an equally crazy Therapist!!!...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

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

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

...PAPPA GOT A BRAND-NEW razor. Pappa got a brand-new GIG. But the tufts of his greying beard, last seen, he gotta a SMILE just like in his YOUTH.

Pappa got a brand-new BAG, goes by the name of "BANJO!". He plays it night & day. Even the neighbors R complaining! My younger siblings, like "Mummers" (silent actors) in a play? Wondring-bout their tomorrow! Destiny's illusive face?

Pappa got a new brown bag. Pappa got a new LIFE! (he) Buzzed off to Chicago, became a hipster MUSIC-MAN, & we never got wind of him since, till - in the PRESS - he had a hit song: "Lucille!" (My mother's name...)

Pappa got a brand-new Razor. Pappa got a brand-new GIG; where-as I now see my aging Momma, slaving in our local South Arkansas brick laundry building, fading, like our clothes & rags she washes daily, day by day to keep on having to think.

I hear it's the SAME via the town's Library-public Internet service IN ENGLAND, Europe, faraway? A family abandoned for some fickle "Rock & Roll" fame? A Man with a plan, a Guitar, THUNDERBIRD auto and a pocket comb?

But "in ONUS" just who stays behind? Who to stand, Sons & Daughters, by their planted seed? Not to mention who KEEPS your town, your Village-green; who sweeps the Cities SEWERS! - a Song of sacrifice? - Certainly not the Man who wrote "Lucille!".

Pappa got a brand-new Razor. Pappa got a brand-new Bag. Pappa got everything he needs except the Kids he left behind & a noble LADY, thrown into No-Man's Land, yet a haunting Conscience; but what good is THAT for a sweet Gal named "Lucille."

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix; "The Ancient Mariner."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Ancient Mariner,"

...MAYBE IT WAS YOUTH'S "Agusto!" (passion)? Maybe it was our D.N.A. that launched us into this WILD WORLD, but, latter days, "Davy Jones Locker" a-chained to our backs? I don't much talk to Strangers anymore.

And maybe it's the ZODIAC, solar planets out of sync? An Astrolabe/Navigation miscalculation, too much Rum! But, probably, in MY case, failed love affairs in Port-O-Prince or Bristol fashion: S-why I don't much talk to Strangers anymore. (Especially women from Swansea!)

ONCE! A Brother above all brothers! I was valiant & sailed the seven seas. But now marooned on the lee shore in some foreign land where Strangers I don't heart-felt, welcome. What mortal castaway can absorb distance eternal? Robinson Crueso?

Like Ulysses at the end of Days; just who knows: TIME! That God of Gods! Implacable! Cares NOT for who or what was. And as for Strangers, I, being marooned, no longer hang out in portside bars & taverns. Bordellos, a distant memory. But I miss the chorus of a "Sea Shanty!"

...Now? My fingernails seem always dirty. I don't now shave but once a week. Every time I - these futuristic days - read a sincere Internet Post I crack up in laughter & wish U all calm seas?

And water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink/ ocean-current chased by metaphors: "Think!", "Gone down the SINK!" Or "the DEVIL'S DRAM/last whisky in the barrel!" A whirlpool of insight: John Donne/Poet: to search/advance an honest mind not to CAP with The Bard's, To BE or not to Be? - That Sea of Seas.

...I gotta Song IF THERE IS a Song. It takes a lifetime, rudderless, to know what IS COOL or what is downright wrong...Less said, yet without melancholy, I don't much talk to Strangers, my old Shipmates, anymore... This affidavit, signed by my own hand, who never ever received "the Black Spot", DAVY, an ancient mariner.

c.2026.Dave Delacroix.