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

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

...THE LONG & BINDING ROAD won't let me go. One drink with U & one more for the road? 

Times tentacles get tighter even though now I get slow; it's not that I cannot resist, fight, nor be bold? -Just another aspect of a Soul getting old.

REMEMBER Spring? U trippin' da Light Fandango? What songs did U sing? Nowadays, can U even mimic the Tango?

The long & binding road... won't ever let me go. Time's Venus Flytrap has ME in its jaws!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "No Man is an Island." (Après Elizabethan Poet John Donne.)

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "No Man is an Island." (Après Elizabethan Poet John Donne.)

...NO MAN IS AN ISLAND, no GAL, ovaries included is a complete archipelago. No freedom-fighter nor discontent rabid MOB is invulnerable, usurped by DEVILS who will piss on your noble rug?

No Man is an Island, no nobles, princess, Queen Penelope surrounded by WANNABEES/parasites who fail to string Ulysses' bow? Fate dictates, nightly her tapestry-unravelling?

No man is an island nor having sailed the seven seas, profitless in voyages of exploration, Love's OYSTER bereft of its enchanted pearl U will - unlikely - never see.

No man is an island. Trade winds ponder the mind. "LAND-HO!" -the crows-nest holler! Yet the riches of CATHAY U foolishly left behind.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "ACHILLES' HEEL!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "ACHILLES' HEEL!"

...IT'S ONLY LOVE'S FIRST WOUND, Nature's Achilles Heel, an INCUBUS, under your skin which determines your Heart's TATTOO to linger ever-after?

It's only Love's first BOOGALOO, till your final date with eternity; no-one is IMMUNE, no "Sheer-Luck" detective can decipher, postmortem corpse delicta?

It's ONLY Love's first wound, the unnecessary baggage of a refugee, a Spring rains "sigh" (?), that moment, palpitating when FOR Love U R prepared to die, a fool in love not knowing just why?

The GODS, out of our control, unaccountably, shoot an arrow in the air & just where it falls, head or heels, no gyro, its target, unpredictable! -nor forget or forgive the drumbeat of Histories repercussions.

c. 2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Sword of Damocles."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Sword of Damocles."

...HOPE NOBODY SHOOTS ME - a 'la Great Gatsby - in my swimming pool? It'll totally screw-up - blood-spouting! -  the Pool's "P-H" level, the Pool-Guy'll give me HELL: Wotchagonna-DO? Post-mortems rarely prove anything 'cept the obvious. ("WE GOTTA FLOATER!!!)

...Hope nobody fixers it so I get MINCED in the gears of a combine-harvester, in IOWA (why not? Farmers, AMISH, if I'm not mistaken the gentlest State in the U.S.A/Jack Kerouac noted: "The prettiest Gals live in DES-MOINE!?" Still? Hitch-hiking w/Guitar IN Iowa wasn't the easiest State to get a ride? Too many Crime Shows on their Social media?

...HEROES, like U & I prefer to die on D-Day-Normandy, or attacking (Revolutionary France) the BASTILLE or with Prez-ROOSERVELT, storming San-Jaun Hill! Yup! But when your NUMBER'S UP U just get on UP, get a Medal or just flop like a sack of coal! (There's no shame in DAT!) But then, alas, how would U know?

...Hope NOBODY w/a black heart - they come in Spades! - some ejected Vixen who paid for the bullet, founded upon a trail of NEZ PERCE tears, a trail of YEARS, a trail of broken hearts and @ the END of the road...ME-hitting the local produce market, for HER w/accomplices, to interrupt my needy shopping?...

1) Tea-Bags.

2) Dishwash Soap.

3) VODKA!

4) Milk.

5) Olive Oil.

6) BEER!

7) Meat/Spaghetti sauce.

8) Lemon Juice/Worcester sauce/Bloody Mary mix.

9) Coffee? NO! I got it.

...NOPE! HOPE NOBODY, like the sword of Damocles bothers to trifle with my destiny? They'll find me willing & able to PISS on their revenge-EXISTENTIALISM; meantime? I'm diving into my "own-personal-Jesus", my swimming pool. "HOOP-LA!" to the demons in their Souls!

c. 2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The BARD upon the Stage!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The BARD upon the Stage."

(dedicato: Sir John Waller, English Poet (1917-1995).

...WHISPER! WHISPER! The ENGLISH cultural/education School Choir: Where Heroes, sometimes fear to tread, NO "O sole Mio!!!" -God forbids! Farewell Achilles, AJAX too! Stick ya NECK OUT: U GET WACKED!!!, no denying. The Plebians will somehow hunt/grind U down? -mean time, collectively rousing a CHORUS of "Jerusalem", by William Blake, England's most - un-fashionable - greatest pre-modern-day Poet?... 

...A parallax society, in England, Nobility, Kings & Queens, in Italy, the Papacy, or faraway in a mud hut in FIGI, the Headsman, the JU-JU-MAN; nobody can remember how it started. Like in THEATRE! "Hamlet", asking universal questions upon a public stage.

...Where HEROES fear to tread; modern inter-net PIRATES, post Public School boys rip off the Stock Market daily for a PORSCHE or the Regal Pussy with a double-jointed name? Ezra Pound, Poet, your buddy, Sir John, I believe touched upon this subject?

...Where HEROES fear to tread, the famed theatrical bound of London's Shaftesbury Avenue, once saluted, HONOURED! -for dignity, altruism, now, perhaps usurps by Bollywood, Hollywood, we no longer see the woods for the trees as if ALL the World caught a Cold & all WE do is SNEEZE! And as for the common cold? -We still have yet to find a cure. The BARD, arms a-waving. Heroes in clover. A WHISPER! Alas "poor Yorick". His jests we can no longer hear.

C.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

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

 Our <an in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "RED SHOES!"

...U R TIRED, HIJAB-CLOAKED of your Culture's-"dictatorial"; me too! Wearing a THONG, they sneer/try to prohibit ME from promenading down Main St. or wandering in the Bazaar? My butt cheeks sneer at their every glance en- route to Sunday Chapel or an Iman's call to brainwashing prayer, (Singing: All things bright & wonderful...) People R way too gullible, leastways sensitive? Think of L.A. Valley Girls with serious fashion "Issues!" (Personally, I never DO! Happy in my Thong.)

But just where R my Red Shoes, the ones my heart was destined to dance with? - a Lady sings...

...U HAVE TIRED of the LIMBO, that frenetic MAMBO, U have finally tired of the Love that Loved U?  (Some Loser!) And IN your twilight, perhaps a sparkle of magic, the kind: A Jack-in-da-Box yet IN your eyes it's tragic? -allowing for HIJAB-CLOAKED sighting? (No-one KNOWS where your heart lays>) A bi-pod cloak like a sack of coal. An Iman's, Ju-Ju-Man's distain for your feminine humanity.

But where R my Red Shoes, the ones my heart was destined to dance with? - a Lady sings...

U R TIRED, HIJAB-CLOAKED! Refugees VOTE with their FEET. Biblically, Judith cut off Holofernes head, Jacque-Louis-DAVID's famous painting, the Death of Marat? -She wacked him in the bathtub! I think Lucezua Borgia got a bad rap. She was too busy being pampered to be worried about where her attendants had stored her red shoes?

...WE R ALL EXHAUSTED/TIRED of the redundant dictates of "little men", the Rabis, Imans, Bhudas, Ju-Ju-Men, Orthodox, Non-Orthodox who EQUALLY do a fine line in pointy hats & fine tailoring, pomp & circumstance, an institutionalized psychology to sustain societies banking/greed status quo? -Leaving U THUS. no Lady-razor, NO red shoes! But like U, we ain't done yet. A-MAH GONNA - till the day I die/hoping U do too -PUT ON DEM RED SHOES!!!

-And internationally, NO LONGER, hopefully, in times to come will a GIRL or LADY sing; "But where R my Red Shoes, nor GET circumcised or CUT OFF their CLITORIS, the RED SHOES, the one their HEART was destined to dance with?"

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "TAKE FIVE!" (Apres Dave Brubeck song)

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "TAKE FIVE!" (Apres Dave Brubeck song)

...THE SKY (CLOUD-THINGIES) WOZ driving North with the Handbrake ON which mirrored my mood, atop my Bloody Mary breakfast, a libation to no GODS in particular.

There's no rhyme nor reason 'cept a fading/diminishing echo of that past evening's Midnight Choir I enjoined with such gusto-annexed to having solved ALL the World's problems in YARDS of Ale & with ONE (or three?) a good Whisky's GULP?

HENCE! The Mind's "handbrake" (hangover?) whence common-sense attempts to reclaim its rightful though fragile domain? Sometimes-SERIOUS! Priestly Confessions, expensive Psychotherapy: "Smoke Em if Ya got Em!!!"

...So! Who, the Fool? Who, the Clown? Or the KING, that universal compound seated above us all; a witness, eternal, to TWO Galaxies-colliding, a "tempo dia Muertos" awaiting Dave Brubeck's "Take-5!" to send us ALL on our hapless way, yet once again? (Google tune & enjoy!)...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.