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.

Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "A Symphony of BLING!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "A Symphony of BLING!"

(...a composition beginning with an Overture followed by 3 Poetic Acts. U might want to ready some bread & cheese/some Vino; it's not a blogpost "quickie")

"A Symphony of BLING! - Overture:"

...HAVE U EVER BEEN lonely, but not for someone else? Have U ever been lonely, that person, your inner self?

Have U ever put a Conch Shell up against your ear & heard the Oceans waves... of that pounding heart wavering inside of your fear?

Have U ever sprung walking in Loves silver light and all of youth's mischief in which we delight? Send your Love to Tomorrow to keep that Love bright; have U ever been lonely for your Soul in the night.

"A Symphony of BLING! - ACT 1:"

...PRIDE IN POVERTY, POVERTY in Pride & just which GOD (the usual heavenly suspects/the Pope/Allah/Bhudia/ODIN) decides OR what galactic constellation predicts/forecasts your slide/demise? -A monster, a JU-JU MAN or VAMPIRE to suck SAP from your Nietzschean "will-to- power" that now languor's upon a tree branch, a COUGAR, too exasperated to paw or snarl?

Devils in the fog haunt your regrets, a Commerce-lost, a Love bereft of all passion, a reincarnation undiscovered, a Chrysalis abandoned, Societies predators ever ready to chip away at yesterday's dreams? And all the Kings horsemen & all the Kings Men could not put U back together again? (S'what I heard?) -GOSSIP can BE a merciless sword!

HOW goes your Night, your plight; do U DO or DIE? -Candles flicker. A cold wind blows & thematic, "Ou's sans les Neige, dan tan?" -OR that foreign country from which no-one returns? Do U HEADLONG RAM into Tomorrow's brightness or swerve off course into your own personal oblivion? (Existentialist nerves-of-steel R guilt-edge-stocks, I hear, these days?) Rimbaud's "a Season in Hell" is ever on stand-by for your Icarian descending?

"A Symphony of BLING! -Act 2:"

...I AM NOT A FOOL but a TOOL of fools; a Mariachi, a Minstrel to back-play Nostradamus's Prophecies. My ballads R the stuff of deep waters that can swallow a child-like mind, a Pied-Piper of Hamelin who can make barren your town, worse than the PLAGUE, your children-GONE! -inflicting a life-long bereavement a 'la the Mask of Red Death, to eradicate the tribal - generations of  - poison from the Middle East who feud to this day?

I am not a Fool, but a Tool of Fools. I am HAFIZ!  A pre-ISLAM Poet. A Court Jester, that "official Fool" who speaks TRUE whence Courtiers, Government Ministers (perhaps Angels too?) where they fear to tread; a commonplace "Goodnite", do we mere mortals actually RAGE against that living LIGHT until it's too late? (Your death is not in Babylon. Why should it be so? U can ride like the wind! Samara isn't going anywhere.)

I am not a Fool, yet a King of Folly, a Poet, a Songster, an "APP" (Internet?) who can "A.I." U into an artificial tomorrow where-in you SOUL upswings/vanishes or transforms into the IRIS of a Cyclops eye where-in all your yesterday's come home to repose. (It's kind of depressing, I know, Happy endings? If U get one, just holla, so's we know.)

A Symphony of BLING: Act 3:

...CAST AN EYE ON the boat's wake in which U sail, an oceanic trail soon to disappear like your Bellas, your taverns, that hullabaloo & all the aspirations, the merriment of Youth.

Cast an eye on the songs U sing, the tales, the stories, your spectacular BLING? Did HE who blinged U, or was it an afterthought, a lost diamond reset in a ring? Do tell!!! Your moment of Bling!?

Cast a lonely eye, a tale to be told: "Go tell the Spartans!" or some patriotic half-assed song? As for your EYE, can U still see...that Warrior, that wise man, that LOVER, happenstance, fortune/destiny harbored U into the lee.

A Symphony of BLING: ENCORE!

Have U ever been, but not for someone else? Have U ever been lonely for that person, your inner self? Have U ever placed a Conch Shell up upon your Ear & heard the Ocean's swell of that pounding heart inside your life-long fear?

Have U ever sprung walking in Love's silver light & all Youth's mischief in which we delight; send your love to Tomorrow to keep that light bright. ENCORE! Have U ever been lonely for the Soul of your Night...? A Symphony of Bling? A gift, that electric glint which sparkles in your eyes.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "A Whiter shade of Blue."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize-by Mexico/Dave Delacroix" "A Whiter shade of Blue."

MY OWN MOGLIDIANI PAINTING, with Chinese eyes, perpetual SMIRK, a Balalaika-background in the fog/mist, that Pharaonic Egyptian mascara-image that SCREWS into your mind? Worse still, as if you culled Love-in-paint, a Moglidiani, somebody, your girl or a picture of U? -MOGGY? He died aged 37.

THUS HANGS - MOGGIE PORTRAIT - a "selfie" of your mischief, your Past, long since at Societies, "Let's burn her at the stake?" -though no-one's quite guilty, nobody's quite a whiter shade of blue: Isolated! As if I wake up without U. I wake reverent in sandals. Sometimes I got no shoes? Nobody gonna ever wash my feet? Like a...

...Like a Modigliani, an oil painting on the wall, a canvas without a frame, a Concept-oblivious, a "SELFIE" un-constrained, exhibited/pinned like a butterfly & as for the weak-at-heart I may as well, artistically be hung for a (stolen) sheep as a lamb; mutton is mutton -U cook it long enough? Or U paste oil paint on a canvas?

Who's the MAN who sharpens the revolution Guillotine & who curdles the Witches' brew, 9x9, thrice by thrice, Lord Cawldwder, soon to be king, a bloodied legacy spurred on by the witch of witches, probably your wife? (Lady Macbeth?) That ZIG-ZAG-U or a whiter shade of blue? Or Fate? No-one gets not to glad-hand their doom?

It's a long way to Tipperary (Old WW.1 Song) & the cemetery of crosses of the dead, row on row? When all hope gone, yet a whiter shade of blue as I nod to my 2 striped-tiger cats? It's not my fault but we have no cat-treats today; it's just a whiter shade of blue. And as for Russki-Modigliani? Was he in fact a Bolshevik or Italian? I'll leave that up to U. 

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A BIGGER SPLASH!!!"

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A Bigger Splash!"

(Après David Hochny's famous Painting/A Bigger Splash.)

"A Bigger Splash!"

...The MISFITS, THE CHILDREN playing in your garden whacking imagination to new heights or like imagined Dolphins in your swimming pool/SPLISH-SPLASH devour your twilight hour?

It's only the Lonely in their bleakest hour who perceives the universal angst of TIME, a multitude of bewigged lawyers who can ensure U Innocence is a Crime?

GO then to thy sticking post passed Ambition, Greed & Fear where-as your Soul burns on the Witches' Stake in that fading spectacle of your memory, as a Child; splish-splash! How did U become a Cow?

A RAGE unfinished. A dynamic screaming to unfold. A MISFIT. A CHILD, playing in your garden, whacking imagination, an exile from your cloud. A bigger splash in utero. PAINTED! A kiss without a smile.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

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

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix Esquire: "Singapore Bling!"

...NEW YORK CITY (hitherto referred to as N.Y.C) KIDS can't make it thru - there IS no - silent night; SIRENS -SUPER-CRAPPIT-FRAG-A-LIPSTICK...in the super-economy package, wailing every 7 minutes/I counted! In N.Y.C. silence don't count! -The BRONX/BROOKLYN/QUEENS neighbors having an "anti-pasta" dispute, Romeo & Juliet down on the sidewalk (where the sidewalk ends), their CABBIE asking "Who's gonna pay the fare?" -Some prime location Panhandler always ready to change (your) any large $-bill? -Rupees, Shekels, 3-Bob Irish pound notes, no problem!

...Whilst MOMBASA (Kenya) kids stand & stare as some MASAAI-banditos (with a Junker) drive window smash into an INDU Jewelry store but their aging Sedan-doors, constrained by the zig-zag netting, metal security window fence? A smash & grab. What could go wrong? Trapped in their Junker/auto. The crowd gathers. The Mombasa COPS will show up IF U send them a private LIMO or free vouchers for Police uniform dry-cleaning?

Singapore-Sling! Shanghai-Bling! "A'la recherche" the songs we used to sing? -The N.Y.C. kids or the madding-crowd Mombasa-stare & every day we pretend WE R not there? There's THAT. And we let it go! A Shanghai-Bling, like a Singapore-sling. Gimmie a Whisky & Soda cause sometime times LIFE ain't what it OUGHTA!!!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Hi'Folks. If U have a mind to, U can sign on as a FOLLOWER on this BLOG. U don't necessarily have to read each POST; I ain't no Stalker; but Blog-wise it'll make me look good/semi-popular.  This is a FREE GIG. And thank U.

Our Man in Europe, now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "LITTLE-Old BI-POLAR ME!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Li'll old bi-polar Me."

(Singing:) Don't sing of your sorrows, Blues-TURRETZ-repartee.

Don't mull over your olden wine, don't "achoo!" when U sneeze? (Just snivel?)

Don't look for an Alibi, your collapsing facade, every time U wheeze!

...& ever guilty-as-charged? -Li'll old bi-polar Me.

I may get to shouting...for no reason at all? I may get U confounded

like in a U.K. football hooligan brawl?

U MAY get be-dazzled but mostly appalled when U witness -a-foot!

Li'll old bi-polar Me.

There's a Ballad here somewhere, some Angst-KAREN on patrol,

a someone unlikely, someone not quite whole? WE WING every morrow,

our yesterdays, all gone to seed? So, forgive me my friends> "Lill old bi-polar 

Me."

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man (SPY) in Europe. Now Belize. Dave Delacroix: "MY OWN PERSONAL FUNERAL/SELFIE!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/ Dave Delacroix: "My Own Personal Funeral-Selfie!".

(après Wordworth Poem, "I wondered/wandered as a white-fluffy-thingy in the sky..." & that POP SONG "Personal JESUS" /JOHNNY CASH VERSION).

"My Own Personal Funeral-SELFIE!"

...AT YOUR OWN PERSONAL FUNERERAL WERE U CONVEYED in a HEARST? Did U go BENTLY, DAIMLER, or did U swing "savoir-faire" on by, go ROLLS-ROYCE, or corpse-conveyed in a Porche-hatchback, Maserati -suggesting some life-long flair, or humbly, a Triumph Spitfire indicating, "THE FEW", (Air war/Battle of Britain-1940:) 

U were not there, yet your parachute corpse- spreadeagled on that speeding Auto hood, perhaps ghostly-screaming (Mamma-MaMia!!!) for MERCY...: The opposing driver, probably French, Spanish, Italian, they ALL drive like maniacs, cultural Matadors who drive-fandango, who consider modern traffic like a bullfight (OLE!) Cellphone-GLUED? -no clue? Still? YOU ARE DEAD.

 (To continue:) Then did your Edgar Allen Poe's GOTHIC dynamic survive the funeral drive? (They reluctantly, yearning for "après-funeral" - Cakes & Ale, tried to keep it slow?) Your wives/gals/mistresses were instructed: Low Key! (Somehow, didn't quite work out: WAILING! /Sandwiches-"Au-d'oeuvre après" parking your dead ass in a Montparnasse cemetery.) Sometimes, like on the Internet, Paswords/protocol, they disappear in memory/forgot OUT!!?

Did U CANOE/steer your SUPER-YAUCHT into that fatal ocean squall that takes NO PRISONERS, that SQUAWK-SQUAWK of a lady's menstruation, a Period-Spot, "OUT-DAMNED," said Lady Macbeth wishing her breasts cavort, turned into vinegar in a 1970s cheap-ass SLASHER-MOVIE, better still, a Chateaux-Margaux, vintage 1972 that no-one can afford?

Do we VIKINGS get launched, burnt-buried at sea, or have we DUG our own shallow grave where DEATH MEETS our fate, to be buried with your SURFING Longboard or high on mountain slopes, clutching-SKIES, or in government, the Castles U built; the Crusades against the ISLAM INFIDELS, the books that we write. Who curries our Tomorrow?... No worries. Our Songs, no need for Nostradamus, are predictably dead & gone.

Making JOKES at Funerals apparently R not cool. U bury the DUDE; U bury the FOOL. Alas poor YORICK. He'd be the FIRST DANNISH cool cat to change - via Shakespear's play Hamlet - the Cemetery-ritual rules!!! How-now!? How Now!? Or a DIVA'S swansong. A classic Soliloquy. An imagined flight of Angels. Some on the situ. (CNN-NEWS report: "On da Ground"!? -where else would they be?) with a Video-recorder: Here lies A LIFE, loved-Un-loved, for better or worse: Just another skull in the dirt. "R.S.V.P.".

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.