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

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "(Marlon) Brando on Brando!"

...(COMMERCIAL) BRAND NAMES on BRAND NAMES, maybe a LOGO, a Cadbury's music-Advertisement: ",,,Everyone's a Fruit & Nutcase" (Chocolate) "avec" Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake" soundtrack where-with U instinctively understand like a Texas Longhorn steer, once burnt, never forgotten, your HIDE/BRAIN once branded; Edith Piaf's song: "No regrets", a song U'll never ever ask a D.J. to play? (Less U. R. a Masochist.) But ya gotta move ON!

Still. A life-long TATTOO, a brand on brand, an Expressionists/Cubist/IMPRESSIONIST imprint/design U. R. NOT supposed to understand nor question its validity: "It's SRICTLY FROM COMMERCIAL!" (Frank ZAPPA) So U. just GO OUT & BUY the Gig! (Probably by the Case!)...

Yet if only U knew of that Industrial/Commercial "Street-Fight!" it took for an "O.K. CORAL SHOOTOUT" for that BRAND to get - Media - elected? It's always that Scottish Play which should never be named (MACBETH!), perhaps a FORCE OF EVIL; Richard III?

...He WAS a Yorkshire Man after all; "Shine out fair Sun!?" Probably was good playing Tennis, certainly Cricket? And History? Always a FARCE! No-one since records when, for his Court he hired musicians/Bands to play Medieval Cover Tunes? Even the DEVIL, we suppose has some lightest moments? Murder by necessity but keep the Plebes happy?

A BRAND on BRAND, Media, daily assailed. Some IMAGO-profound, some GONE, the Mind's wind? Whence scared memories quickly secreted to an abandoned attic room; that ignored BIC Razor, BRUT After-shave (for Men who don't have to TRY SO HARD) or Shampoo, or Gieves & Hawkes (Saville Row) or the MEN'S WAREHOUSE, OFF da PEG; yet it all comes down to "U": BUY! BUY! BYE!.. Cash or Credit?

Marlon Brando, Movie: On da Waterfront! -"I could-a bin a Contender, Charlie!"...But regrets they get U No-where! And as for the rich, the poor, thieves, devils or saints, our last-deathbed mortal words are NOT for our loved ones but some Media JINGLE we have been too much exposed? -"SIGNAL (Toothpaste!) PROTECTING! SIGNAL-CLEANING! FIGHTING TOOTH DECAY BY BRUSHING EVERYDAY!"

The DEAD don't, contrary to public opinion DO NOT immediately expire but carry with them a Media Jukebox of MEDIA VERBAGE into eternity which we can only suppose...chuckle the bones of the Devils or Angels awaiting? And, lastly, with all sincerity; wise or fool? The Contender? U & Me! And like MARLON BRANDON, "On the Waterfront" nevertheless show OUR OWN TRUR GRIT, facing Eternity: Will - it's in our Nature! - come out Swinging!

(F.Y.I. It rapidly came to my attention on posting THIS (Brando on Brando) that the latest fashion of FOLKS EXPIRING/DYING uttering: "I could-a bin a Contender! But not addressed to Marlon Brando's "Charlie". Sometimes it was to their loved one, and in one case the Donkey a carried his commerce-load faithfully, workday by day. But mostly, some Gal his wife had never heard of!...The Ladies? Contenders-ALL! They always knew how to keep a Secret!!!)

...And I SALUTE everyone of them!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

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

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The D train."

(après Bob Dylan lyric "up all night on the - New York City - D-train. )

"The D-Train."

...LOTTA STRESS IN THE WORLD, lotta nuttin' meaning nuttin' coming outta everyone's cowboy mouth! There's a lotta bravado, self-proclaiming, PATRIOTS, full of Twist & Shout!

 And there's a lotta ANXIETY, a lotta refugee-squeeze, a zillion of NEEDY who can't figure out: "Lend me a Dime if U please?"

Gotta a moment in CRISIS, could BE U or Me. Got nowhere to turn to. It's dark but it's clean. RICKY, don't U lose my Number! But when U need it U R never there! And these Pop songs, these "biscuits" only worthy, like a 1,000-yard stare.

Lotta STRESS just breathing on the "D" train every night. Will I see U tomorrow, like a bad penny, U just might...I ride the "D" train, downtown over to Coney Island. It's Winter, everything is closed. A shuttered Fun-fair. Just where do I go?

c. 2026. Dave Delacroix. (D.D. aficionados can listen to my Song: THIS TRAIN/Dave Delacroix on Utube/enjoy)

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Into the POOL!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Into the POOL!"

(dedicato: Elizabeth Grant.)

"Into the Pool."

...WE DIVE, WE SWIM UNDERWATER, our charcoal silhouette/shadow in sunlight upon that swimming pool blue? -Breaststrokes, like out-sized Bullfrogs, occasionally treading water, like riding a bicycle. And presently - underwater, "bubble-silencio" - DEVOID of all memory for a minute or 2? I sometimes wonder if in this INSTANT karmic Amnesia, for Me, affects U too? 

-And with face-down, eyes wide open in this "splish-splash" choral; a childhood, a memory, a Kids first delight! A cheeky SMILE? Why is it we elect, like a lightning bolt in our minds, wreck less, we don't give a heck! To DIE INSIDE full knowing Safety is at hand at a hand reach away, or that kiss-"Goodnite!", that illusion, the promise of Tomorrow! ~ Does she/he love U 2? (Hand me dat towel, Honey? I gotta go to da Loo!)

And we dive into the Pool, we're nobody's fool, yet full knowing, we dive into the Pool, a sanctuary, an "Oubliette", a medieval castle's dungeon of TORTURE to brainwash captives. Yet WE now seek out our OWN Nothingness... As only a charcoal, a penciled enigma, for some moments, without anxiety, a frolic, our nano-shadow in the Sun, and for what it's worth: U KNOW where U can stick your views!  (GEE! I'm looking FWD to dat SWIM!!!)... BBQ & BREWSKIES! Y-all have a good time!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "The Lazy Eye!"

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

...THERE'S SOMETHING - I WAS BORN WITH - in my EYE; a SPECK, a flaw that I can't get out/rectify. It worries my mind. A life-long handicap which sometimes U R apt to hide. Chain smoking & galoshes of beer & Scotch Whisky do their best to compensate. 

(My old MOM used to say: "All Artists R renown for having bad eyesight!?")

All MAN wears unspeakable shadows in the penury-pit of their unforgiving Souls. U should hear just HALF of these cretins, kneel-side by their mattress, nightly, begging a fictious Allah, Buda or GOD looking for redemption for enjoying brutal Internet Porn! -The pastimes of Priests, Imans, Rabbis & Politicians! Possibly, your favorite Uncle? (We tremble!!!).

My own story? I have "Canvasari" (an Arabian wagon train) across deserts & lands and as for the 7-SEAS, I faced mortality but survived, and in retrospect, sometimes, one wished one had died...but that speck in my EYE, my proscribed "Lazy Eye" would always urge me forward, despite this incumbent to somehow SEE.

...I witnessed, firsthand, POVERTY, the "badlands!", saw tragedy, degradation laid at my own front door & the HORROR of Man versus Man; I never ever VOTED. Like a Coward or a Refugee, I always voted with my feet?

There's SOMETHING in my EYE or in my mind. A legacy of something from the Past, something half buried, perhaps in my flawed Eye? ODYESSUS, post Trojan War just trying to get home? Such is a half blind man, no Smartphone, no G.P.S, adrift on an ocean's breeze. The Sun always rises. Maybe/It SHOULD be our GOD...Leastways, even thru my Lazy Eye, I perceive, it always arrives at dawn with a sense of glee!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Wish U were HERE!!!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Wish U were HERE!"

...LIVING WITHIN (?) THE ABSTRACT, "Artificial-Intelligence", the Internet, treading these "nouveau" VIA SACRE paving stones directing our "QUO VADIS!?" beyond Existentialism...I TEXT the Gal whose bed I share & SHE, between her voluminous E-Mails, head resting on the adjacent pillow, finds the time to texts back to me! There R no erotic mumbles, "sub-rosa".

Out there in Psyber-space she's quite forthcoming. Personal data, almost a Confessional! -The kind of info, decades ago, a school gal would only record in a secret Diary! Thoughts/Dreams/Fears/Wishes/BIO-details, that birthmark on her inner-left thigh? Makes U wonder: Feeling physically rejected/ I MURDER her/her face smashed in with her Smartphone/Detectives can identify her corpse/No.1 SUSPECT: Look no further! It's SO hard to be an ignored Sex Symbol! (Questions on a Postcard PURR-LEEZE!)

We GO on vacation of course - on HER Smartphone - never needing to get out of bed. SHE orders ALL our "needy stuff"; her female necessities, groceries, her acrophobic medicines & for Me, Scotch Whisky, Smokes & Beer! Pornhub? I can get on my own Laptop; so long has she don't cut off my WI-FI.

One time she LEFT ME! Buzzed off to Davos-Switzerland at the height of Summer to physically En-join with some seasonal-out-of-work Stud-SKI-Instructor... Strangely, I felt "A.I" devastated! I mean? Who ya gonna call? "SORRY! GHOST-BUSTERS R OUT OF THE OFFICE! PLEASE - at the tone - LEAVE A WHOOSITS!!!" (My dilemma marooned in an Internet Cloud? Yours would too! (MEIN GOTT!!!)

Anyhow, where was I?... A.W.O.L., she then flooded me (from Davos-Switzerland) with a myriad (?) of Texts/E-mails, re. Ski-Stud, how "rough Sex was not remotely comparable to the Comfort-Grooming she was acquainted with ON-LINE! She also mentioned there wasn't much SNOW (height of Summer) and a 'la, in Postcard communications of long decades ago omitted the classic postscript: "Wish U were here!"

Despite feeling/being temporarily abandoned I - texting back - commiserated yet couldn't resist likening her experience - outside Our Coupled REALITY - to Los Angeles, the LA BREA Tar Pits! -Where millennia of pre-historic creatures, great & small, sinking in that tar-pit mire, doomed/ensnared being eaten alive by predators who themselves suffer the same fate: "Would U get your teeth off my left foot!?" Somehow, yet to be produced, a latter-day Neo-Film Noir?

IMAGINE!!! Awesome. Awful. Macabre! Quicksand/TAR/mud with no escape! Critters, Mammals with NO Laptops, Smartphones - Reptile-Speak! - 911-999-Emergency! "I'm being eaten alive!?...And I have some ISSUES which I'll tell U about IF U get me out of HERE!"...But, alas, out THERE in psyber-space, UP there in the APP=CLOUD it's unlikely in the Global traffic no-one will remember - MINE, or for THAT matter - YOUR NAME/never mind your ISSUES!... And who can bear, yup! -wish U were here/were U ever? -To be forgotten: I guess we - in reality - were just never there.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix" "Love in the Afternoon."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Love in the Afternoon."

...WHEN OUR DICKS (Penis) fail - non-erect/nor gettin' a stiff-one - fail to rise to the occasion for your "charms", Vulva, a COUGAR, long past her youthful Sell-Date; when the thrift of - limited - imagination what tricks do YOU resort to: Working the streets on New York City's 7th Avenue. (Maybe 9th.?)

...When U R ELEVATED, high heel shoes, hair dye - gone Blonde? - fashionista! - rock U gently! And your Ovaries, like crumbling CEMENT refuse to give plenty; but then, U R UP against OLD GREY MEN whose personal hygiene passes for a Devil in an Armani (suit) with an open checkbook but rarely for YOU: It's no wonder U get to SWOON over memories of love in the afternoon.

Nothing ain't nothing 'cept something to lose. And a youthful tomorrow's chattel brand on your bloom. Yet a gift/bouquet (anonymous!) of flowers will pick up your groove like a memory of Love in the afternoon...A time when LOVE...perhaps it came too soon?

KEEP-ON your Cosmetics, keep on your Fire! Keep on your longing & all U desire: Throughout the night, hold yourself tight! Love's magic will still come, vivacious in Blue!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "When Victory comes!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "When Victory comes."

(dedicato: John Scace.)

"When Victory comes."

...WHEN VICTORY COMES U won't care if U know it. When Victory comes U'll be all wrapped up & warm. When VICTORY comes, a-sea or on land. When Victory comes it's likely someone hovering around, who wants to steal your Fire, a Usurper, just show Em da door!

When Victory comes its kind-a cute, the recognition. That illusion of grandeur, FAME, that elusive goal just - always - beyond your grasp? Like Ponce de Lyon in search of the Fountain of Youth; died in Florida, a Myriad of Gerontius Condos now bulldozed/cement his remains.

When Victory comes, erstwhile & sadly, U R saddled with regrets & all the bridges U burnt, your swansong epithet now wrapped around a linguini supper fork; there's Vino of course, there's a smile, music plays, camaraderie, old Loves text "Hello!" But when Victory comes, inside, no getting away from it: U feel quite raw.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.