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.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Exile on Main Street."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Exile on Main Street,"

...NUTTIN' DOIN' DOWN HERE... on the Main Street of YOUR MIND; no regrets - Edif Piaff's, La vie a Rose! -  A "pastiche"; sadly/morbidly dwelling on an "olde Lange syne", finding ourselves hanging out with the furballs, CATS! -by the swim-pool on the patio... dwelling on all the Heavens & Hells, we each leave behind? 

Throw in - the scene - an ice/fog machine/Devils in the Fog, thus enshrouded INTO THE MYSTIC, a Van Morrison song! Sound CARRIES in the fog and sometimes, your Minds whispers can be overheard! Equally, underwater, a sound, a panic? A razor tooth SHARK will circle! The ocean's main street is where they do their shopping!

...NUTTIN' DOIN' ...down on the Main Street of your Mind. Times, U remember, Times, U cannot recall. Some, U cherish. Some, U try to forget. A Quantum-Physic: U see what U see. But "Under the Volcano" (L.S.Lowry) there's a Yellowstone (mega-seismic-activity) ACTIVE, yet to spout. No-No! No need for Confession. Vocal flatulence don't count>

Nuttin' doin' down on Main Street. Bald, empty, deserted. S-where everyone's dreams come-a Courting!

c. 2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "DA CATS "ME-OWW!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "DA CATS "ME-OWW!"

...da CAT's "Me-OWW!" treads upon your Laptop (keys?), Feline Code, the Cat's PAW meaning nothing at all? Perhaps a PURR in da Nite, a squeal, a fright, your ruffled fur, yearning for comfort, a saucer of Cream. Outside in the rain, a thing U don't want or need.

...LIPSTICK on your collar...told a tale ON U & wotcha-gonna-DO? The Night has 1,000 eyes yet U persist & PURR just like a fool? Cats, PUSSY encroaches into the ghost of Life's machine, it oils the wheels of suspicion, jealousy, a Cat's PAW on PAW, an IAGO to destroy your faith in Desdemona's dream? 

Poor OTHELLO, marooned in - Iago's - prompt mistrust. The island of MALTA estranged in the Sea. So many DARES & DISPLAYS "a Tree grows in Brooklyn" before they chopped it down!

c. 2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Hollow Soul."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Hollow Soul."

(dedicato: Greg Hunter)

"The Hollow Soul."

...IN MY TIME I HAVE BEEN DIRECTED TO DWELL in the bowels of ancient history, Roman, Magna-Greco & as a child, played upon Anglo-Saxon battlefields. U would THINK, culturally, some of this "gleaning" might have rubbed off? -Yet, diluted by contemporary "education"; teachers, college PROFS they somehow "gilded the Lily" to re-varnish: The Charge of the Light Brigade/ZULU Wars, TRENCHES-W.W.1. where, pretty much our LADS got slaughtered, or the Admiralty, never mind U.K. "Codebreakers/ENIGMA" haplessly provided NAZI Codebreakers with Atlantic Convoy data over at Club-lunches & Gin & Tonics! (NO T.V. History Documentaries ON THAT!!!): 55,000 Merchant Seaman victims of Nazi U-Boats! Adolf Hitler: "Thanks U dumb-ass Tommies for your indiscreet weekly updates!"

But GOD was always on Our side?

...In My Time I have dined with - Celebs! - F. Scott Fitzgerald's: The BEST, better STILL, Dined & laughingly DASHED even with Chase-Manhattan Bank, Lloyds of London personnel, Movie Stars UP the WAZEE which makes perhaps YOUR OWN nano-transgressions look like "Pea-Knuckle!" -Leastways, it doesn't/didn't lead to a WAR or a sovereign nations' "Coupe de tete!"... Train wrecks, BI-PEDAL take a long time to die. And a HOLLOW SOUL, an inverted-stigmata, some evil-within, curdling.... (Where R we going with this?)

 -Bitterness? Disappointments? -Some blood-clot on the brain/"OUT DAMNED SPOT!?" (The Scottish Play?) Perhaps REVENGE-REGRETS, REVENGE-REGRETS! -WHO will rid us of this Conscience's pestilence that haunts our frail, flitting dreams, no longer valiant as in our Youth, toward the Valley of the "has-beens", Hollywood; our grave already in place... A "Sanctuary of Eternity" until some Dirt Pig bulldozers over/"This is a QUALITY LOT! Did U know...Errol Flynn or Tyronne Power's bones may be "in-turned" beneath your basement? Think of the equity!!!"

...In my time, I have been directed, accepted, flourished in the MEGA-confusion of Our Time. I owned several Vinyl record collections, & at some - poverty - point PAWNED, Guitars! And Guitars like girlfriends, stolen, lost, came & went? Property/Riches, I never cared too much for, just $$$ (the Yankee Dollar), life's benzine, easily addictive, foolishly reaching out for MORE, yet all the while - oblivious-of - dangling from Poetry's meat hook!!! A Devil's dance. A St. Walpurgis Night. It won't be our last. "Puppets on a String!" (Whatever happened to 1960s Songstress Sandie Shaw "sans" footwear?)

ANGELS ABOVE scream & BAT their wings in frustration; that YOU do not OBEY Time/Destiny's universal dictation. For just who R we? Some plankton, a virus on a semi-spherical globe, dancing, a 'la cyclidic-Moon-dance partner. - Frivolous Debutantes, Space-Dressy-Bessy! ("Can U hear me Major Tom!?) No Man is an Island only the bone marrow of a hollow Soul. Like Seamen coursed upon a hidden reef, we scream BLACK HORROR, Sharks' teeth or Lawyers devour the rest.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.