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.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Bride wore Black."

 Our Man in Europe/now in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Bride wore Black."

(Après Francois Truffaut's tribute movie to Alfred Hitcock: The bride wore black.)

"The bride wore Black."

...THE BRIDE WORE BLACK, DEAD MAN'S hand (or mirror), the Pirates' BLACK SPOT! The Queen of Spades! An unlikely Roulette-spin-chance or CRAPS-TABLE that feast-promises SNAP, your gambling balls in a vice? A slip? A fall? To upturn the wrong stone? Fate or Destiny does NOT differentiate. To sit at the wrong Paris cafe table, or Strangers on a train? Mozart might have been socially obnoxious, but he could always compose under penury pressure but with billiards, he never failed to pot the black.

The bride wore Black, a French- New Wave -Truffaut cinematic REACTION as a playboy's sniper/balcony BULLET, overlooking a Wedding Party's church-steps, arrayed, was foolishly discharged, a lone shot outta no common-sense, it came outta nowhere, a Bridegroom SLAYED & like a Spider's 5 fingers of death, "a 'la" legendary WW2 Turkish master SPY, that double-agent: CICERO! (Still One finger left however, for retribution?) Black Friday? The 13th.? Some days, uncannily, historically seem accursed?

Avignon, Lyon, Bordeaux? A "film noir" version of the tragicomedy: CLOCHMERLE: But in this case...and the bride wore Black. A solidoid of revenge. 6 suspects accountable, their Fates now non-negotiable. One would "slip" off a high-rise balcony, the second poisoned, the assassin's devoted attention/auto-mechanic-training fixed the car-wreck; no survivors & the "usual suspects" under OTHER detective's glare? The bride in Black was indefatigable!

Just where was the last rogue who partook in the bridegroom's assassination? Why; in jail of course for fraud, misdemeanors... (The assassins' confession before the Guillotine, later successfully appealed as a "Serial Crimes of Passion"/LOL): "I got myself arrested/imprisoned & with a large prison-kitchen carving knife, delivering food to the cells, I asked him, like on my wedding day, "Do U feel lucky?" -and cut his head clean off!" Yup. The Bride in her Pride...wore black! And That's THAT!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Song of Roland."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Song of Roland."

(dedicato: Roland Alexander from Brit. Columbia/Canada.}

"The Song of Roland."

...SHE WORE A BLACK KIMONO, or her SARI glazed my eyes, or her Hungarian native costume danced in my mind? Her NAVEJO gentle attire "powwowed" into my lost soul as I traveled which would somehow - how 'bout U? - make me feel whole.

Crusades? That first mass-Tourists event (AD.800) "sans kodak camera", just swords, battle-axes, blood-thirsty in primordial foreign travel misery/no cheeseburgers/no cappuccinos on call. And WHO was I, a Crusader within a Crusade, a smock-faded Crucifix astride a valiant mount on my mission against the world's INFIDEL?

My journey, taken far & wide; a purpose, to this day, no-one can decide. And who am I, earthly-bloodied, to fall in love: Just a song of Roland who, loveless, with nothing to lose who elected to fight & die with brave men & true at "Rounsaville", after Thermopylae (Greek gig), histories 2nd Alamo.

She wore a black Kimono. When the Infidels mutilated my body, I saw her still. She wore a black Kimono!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now lounging in Belize/Dave Delacroix-a.k.a: David Michael Oxley on Facebook: "Yesterday's Gods."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Yesterday's Gods."

(Heavy-Metal-Poetry. Sorry folks.)

"Yesterday's Gods."

...FROM ZEUS TO GOD, from JUPITER TO JOVE, from Buddy Holly to David Bowie, from Madonna to Taylor Swift, from Jesus to Mohamed, from paycheck-to-paycheck, wotcha-gonna-DO? Times ARE hard. "The good old days never were." (Plato) It's SO hard to keep up with humanities mythical/spiritual/obsessive/historical Rock & Roll fashions upon which this flying rock/globe/this volcanic sponge (the EARTH) upon which we thrive (?), hurtling on its cyclonic dynamic through the universe, all pedal to the metal, accelerating - last clocked - at 18,000 miles per second, hoping (?) not getting a ticket for a D.U.I. from a local provincial COP/"Barney Fife goon"-assuming, PLANETS are TEA-TOTAL.

A Cadillac or Volkswagen, Sampan or Super-yacht? It's ALL atoms or "dark matter", an Artists paradise. We carpet the heavens. A comfort-canopy to allay our fears of NOTHINGNESS. And as for the "chaotica" of primaeval/Egyptian/Greek Mythology, a scratch on the paint job of your treasures, your Maserati-Auto?  Roman Poet OVID in his classic work: METAMORPHOSIS in God-style POETIC-PORN tells ALL: The Gods? Their gig is always about getting plundered, folks getting struck down, murder-"de rigeur", INCEST, women RAPED, all confused, but mostly within this chaos, the GODS having a jolly good time! -Which, alas is mirrored by WE mere mortals here below (Hollywood?) on a super-screen who - wisdom less - we (The Rocky Horror Show/Slasher-movies) still feel the need to SCREAM?

The harder they come... & Pride comes before a fall; the redundant "denouement" of Medievalism, Cults, ISLAM, mindlessly chanting in a Hijab or a Shawl. GOD WILLS IT!? -The Crusaders cried. And bloodied the streets of Jerusalem...And look above! The Night sky! VENUS, goddess of Love! U can see her every night. And, OH! Look. There's MARS! The red planet. The God of War. NEPTUNE, as blue as the Caribbean. And (by Jove!) there's JUPITER. Big guy. Apparently, HE is the vacuum cleaner of the solar systems comet/meteor detritus. All the night-skies cyclical dynamic on view of our universe &, perhaps, a glimpse of TIME.  Of eternity? Which begs the question a 'la the song by 1960s folk singer Sandy Denny: ""Where does the Time go?", a POKE, a pocket full of miracles which we yet abuse, un-controlled on this spongy-hurtling ORB, this Earth, mindlessly wondering... rudderless as we try to control our course on this ship of fools. Like Yesterday's Gods.

SO! Has anyone got any jokes?...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.