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

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

...HAS ANYONE GOTTA (cigarette) FAG? I'm "jones-ing" for a tobacco "rollie". As ANYONE got a mean-assed SHOT of whisky to twirl around my tongue a-rolling? Does anyone still know the "Meaning of Life" to keep our living bullshit rocking & rolling? Can U "spring" for a bottle/cold beer? Maybe a sweet ride downtown before LIFE's glitter turns into a frown? That inevitable 11th hour Curtain hesitatingly ponders your design. Destiny, IN ESSE, has a life of its own.

Does anyone still BELIEVE in "Life-after-Death", some universal calling (HOWL!!!) or intertwine with planet Earth's JU-JU-Men, Imans, Priests, Monks, Budda's, Rabis? Does anyone - these days - blindly embark on a Roman Pilgrimage, visit with JU-JU-PAPPA, get an Easter foot-wash pedicure at the Vatican in the Year of the Dragon, the Year of the Unicorn, did either year ever exist? Religio-souvenir after-life Insurance-Crucifix tucked away in your lingerie drawer.

Or simply, do U just bury family fortunes gone-South automatically, "Ashes to Ashes-Funk to Funky" bury our Dead, kiss their Tomorrows "arrivederci", see U on the other side? Then invest -DA MONI-MONI-MONI", your inheritance, pick up a Gibson guitar, a Marshall amplifier, thrash out some BLUES & bore to death all your neighbors in a village (in Sicily?), or abroad, Montparnasse-France or Winchester-NY, cemeteries where, competing with Museums "infinity goes up on trial"/Bob Dylan-Zimmerman, Mans forever after?

Do NOT go gently into this (?) good living twilight. It can be prematurely as black as HADES, in this case: NO LAZY SUNSET, NO MOON DUDE! And Dog's a-barking! Cats chorus "MEOWW!!!" R U so quickly forgotten or is it a "mortal-crossover" U be dead & gone? As for your Demons, an Edvard Munch Oil Painting, a hollow SCREAM, your bloody past demons reappear, unrecognizable, that fond Stranger U used to be: "Has anyone got a fag? I'm "jones-ing" for a sweet memory...and a bottle of cold beer!"

c.2026. dave delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now-Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Weeping Willow."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Weeping Willow,"

...WHO TAUGHT THE WEEPING WILLOW how to CRY? Look no further. Whilst IN FACT my DAD invented the French-Dip-Soup (not a lot of people know that?) my OWN cultural-contribution: "THE POGO!" -a robotic dance now sweeping European DISCO floors; halcyon days? As for these notes of Creativity? U people don't even know the meaning of heartbreak, leastways what I tell passing strangers after reciting Keats' "The Eve of St. Agnes" before they FLY, never again to have known or met me? People can be so cruel.

The "weeping willow" of course, after post-decades of psychotherapy still prevails "avec" mega amounts of KLEENEX tissues; perhaps like Aspirin, an undiscovered "wonder drug", that "magic bullet", a wonder cure for All societies dysfunctional SNIVELLERS, Cross-dressers or people named Ralph? Admittedly, there is NO CURE for the common Cold 'cept - prevailing - an honorable suicide, and traditionally favored by failed Poets, Game Show hosts with TV low ratings, Stand-Up Comedians? No suicide-note Jokes: Body Bags Anonymous! Montparnasse cemetery: Charles Baudelaire. And alas: Some War-Crime pit. A BABI-YA. Or (Tom Waits growling:) "Out on the edge of Potters Field."

Weeping Willows, rabid Lotus blossoms, Oak Leaf village festivals, or a sudden flight of Swallows, Pigeon shit on your windowsill: WHAT medievalist symbols, or the cult of ISLAM do U embrace, that WANT of your NEED...to "black out" your Fear?... No personal renaissance, no personality "resorgimento" in sight? Yet DEGAS, French Impressionist painter, accidently - snoozing on his sunlit balcony - fair BLINDED, did not succumb, turned his talent to sculpting bronze figurines that make Art collectors sweat & scream & Swiss Banks vaults hording Nazis gold burst at the seams?

Meantime, poor old "Weeping" whoopsies resides in your Soul never likely to release U, that GIG U felt-forced to plant long ago. Poet Arthur Rimbaud. "A Season in Hell". A souvenir, reluctant to lose now infuses all your Tomorrows: A stretch-limousine, a taxi-fare. A dinner at the "Cafe de la Paix", "Maxime's!", which U can no longer afford. And that flower-glint, that spark in once, your childlike eyes now fade to dark.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our LAD in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Jack the Ripper!"

 Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "Jack the Ripper!"

(Scene: An Edwardian/Victorian drawing room, late 1800s/early 1900s, cluttered with heavy drapery, flock wallpaper, early (Selfies?) B/W photographs on fireplace mantel, overdressed family connections lately demised.)

(Fast FWD to the present day/same decor?)

..."JUST WHERE IS HENRY, the Butler?" -said I to Betty the chambermaid, these days called an "Au pair". She replied, nervously, "I think he's in the Butler's Buttery (?); I think, SIR, on his Cellphone?". "His phone? ...And have U seen HIDE NOR HAIR of my Horse Stable Lads, in particular with my Mare?" -"With your LADY-Sir?... In the East wing. They share the same Internet service. That CHAT thingy?"

"TIK-TOK? SPRINT?" -I asked. Betty, "I dunno Sir!". (She had a Brooklyn/N.Y.C dialect.) I tried to clarify the situ.: "Did the BUTLER, Henry ever order a Handsome Cab in the name of SHERLOCK HOLMES? -Possibly using the alias of a certain Dr. Watson?" (Betty:) "I'm-ed DUNOON if I say so Sir! Gypsies, Taxis, UBER?" -was BETTY'S, whispered response; a conspirator in a Police-cover-up of a unique "Crime of the Century", horses' hooves on cobble stones, now stretch limousines, nose-candy & Epstein debauchee-jamborees? EDGAR ALLEN POE'S: "Tell-Tale Heart": How could, I be sure?

Jack the Ripper? Sherlock whoosits? EVIL transcends EONS! I too smoke a pipe. A long "Churchwarden". In my case, tobacco laced with opium. (Old local chemist/discreet drug dealer). Sometimes I'm in a profound ZONE for hours. S-why I can get no sense out of Betty, nor she can get no sense out of me? Cutting her Lilly-laced throat or lowering her wages has long since been on my mind? Yet with the advent of LUDDITES, Trade Unions, though a hundred years later, for better or worse, one has to go with the Times?

"Oh Betty?" I asked, upon her departure from my "Book Room"; "Just WHERE IS JACK, I mean, Henry the Butler?". (Her fist in her tiny mouth:) "Likely, Sir, erasing past E-mails, old "Selfies" on his Cellphone.". She nervously babbled on: "Sir, yes! The ones of U & 'IM dressed in Victorian Frockcoats, that is to say, the B/W Fotos of U with your Doctor's bag?" (So, I sighed:) "Jolly good Betty. Here is a brand-new Credit Card. Go buy yourself a Mercedez-Benz or a long holiday in the sun."

c. dave delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize-small country by Mexico, Dave Delacroix:

 Our Man in Europe/Belize-lately/Dave Delacroix/Dave Delacroix:

"REQUIEM/ORATORIO!"

(It means "Shaddup/Die Young/Drink Up & BE somebody!)

"Requiem-Oratorio: When I Died."

...WHEN I DIED, THANKFULLY PENNILESS, mostly friendless, I'd squandered my last paycheck on whisky, betting on slow horses/fast women not to mention forgetting where I'd stashed my last 6-pack of beer? (The heartbreak!) My heir's inheritance (lol), a motley crew STILL cuss me to this day, even in HELL I hear their Banshee-wails/remorseful ghostly needy-cavernous echoes?  AHA!! They TOO R now dead but we don't share the same rooms. Reservations?  I got first dibs! I got to go to HELL first.

When I DIED, quiet affair, post sword fighting, Islamic-pirate-Corsairs gigs? And if those Muslims capture YOU!? Historically: It's all over now Baby Blue. However, Slavery is still (2026) a domestic pastime, immigrant kids from the Philippines, house servants within some Egyptian hell, the CULT of ISLAM, how do U DE-CULTIFY a zillion zealots? Your own crazy privileged daughter. Isn't that enough? = wotchagonnaDo?

...A World of WOES. (Brennus; in 390 BC, "Vae Victus!"): "Woe to the Vanquished!" - on his invasion/sack of Rome, or "Long John Silver/Treasure Island; "DEM DAT DIES'LL BE the Lucky ones!", yet eons later, Euro-patriots fighting those Genghis Khan-fast pony hordes, latter day Scientology or Druids' "Weeping Willow" Cults, we taught them how to BE confused, sometimes, historically, critically, we taught them how to die? (U had to BE there! /There's NO CRYING IN BASEBALL!) U frick THEM or THEY frick THEE? Better wish for a "home run" Babe Ruth!

When I DIED, NO PRISONERS. Easter Bunnies, festive trinkets tied up in a Bow. The reality? JACK PALANCE/movie: SHANE, puts on his gunslinger black gloves, shoots your teddy bear between the eyes, never thinks twice (it's alright) and AGAIN< no TAMBERLAINE, no CEASAR's holocaust in France & all life's partners in WAR, to this day prepared to dance. And in this grayish World do U (Poker-game) hold-Em or fold-Em. Do U protect your Own? Or step aside and get a stiff drink?

When I DIED, a good thing too! I took to my grave a forgotten tune which future Kids will never understand. WHO sings of Charlemagne, Alfred the Great or the Trojans at Thermopylae, some ancient surfing beach/Greek shore where birds in the woods at dusk still imitate the Trojans' death battle cries, an ALAMO, as WE TODAY, with guitar-voice SING OUT, trying to represent a record of Our Time, as we ALL like to think that we did some good, for better or worse, a nobodies-nobody...when I died. And like U, fair or foul, no favor, "Vae Victus" it's up to U.

c.dave delacroix. april. 2026,

 

Our Man in Europe, now residing in Belize, Dave Delacroix (David Michael Oxley -on Facebook): The Samauri's yesterday."

 Our Man in Europe/now in Belize/Dave Delacroix": "The Samauri's yesterday."

(Dedicato: Roger Armstrong, R.I.P.)

"The Samauri's yesterday."

...WHY IS IT WE R PRONE to look for Darkness when we, basking in the sunlight, a 'la once, from under a Mater's skirts furtively peep out? Allors!!! In the Mind's Eye, an epiphany/GOBSMACKED: Did HE who fricked the Lamb frick Thee!? And what's for Tea? Would U like it YIN or YANG?

GADZOOKS!!! To BE or NOT TO BE - the Marx Brothers make it seem SO easy like a Night at the Opera/DUCK SOUP - on the menu -  or those THREE STOOGES smacking rhythm on their knees; alas poor YORICK, ya look pretty silly, a grinning skull/graveyard backdrop, a Courtly Fool, this Life U left for WE?

How (WOW!) do I love thee, let me count the ways? G.P.S. gonna come in handy so my "Techie-Buds" say but WHERE DO all sorrows go a 'la "recherche du whoosits"? How is it we R compelled - genetically - to pander TO our memories, a "release" button disabled?

(Poet Rilke:) "Who, if I cried out"...winged frickers... ANGELS would hear be BAWL/call 1-800-I'm All fricked up!/We only use first names/phone or E-mail. At the TONE leave ya whoosits. We'll get back to U. (Don't worry. Be happy)

...We tilled the soil, but now no longer productive, almost (?) as if we have made PEACE yet it is a DESERT, this survival VICTORY of our latter-day needs, haunted (guilt-ridden?), that fearless youth who sailed the 7 Seas who loved & lost. Was there ANY HOPE that we would discover faraway Cathay, El Dorado or Ponce de Lyons Fountain of Youth? (Bit part in a Movie?)

And tomorrow & tomorrow. Tomorrow's eternal Tomorrow. Time's spinning web to un-seat Kings, tyrants, proud or brave, a monument for some famous jousting Knight or a renown Samauri's yesterday; a courtly lady laments in a Gothic Chapel or a Geisha maiden weeps by a Kyoto temple... as Tomorrow creeps upon our petty place.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "DEAD SOULS."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "DEAD SOULS." (Midnight-ravings/Whisky enhanced.)

(dedicato: Impoverished Children of the World)

"DEAD SOULS."

(1): ...WE R MARINE WEATHER, we R rain into shine, we R ever seeing, sometimes - given a voice - we R blind, blind on blind, instantly BLITZED, out of sight, an epileptics recovery from a profound FIT, post-frothing at the mouth not knowing.

Alas, there IS "no knowing". All the Heavens - like "California-Dreaming" -are leafy-brown & within your unique individuality: a Thought profound? -A "cafe au lait" at the SAVOY (London Hotel), The RITZ (Paris), Lady Diana Spencer's last pit-stop. Death on a Dime! (Mein Gott!)

"I LAUGHED! I thought I'd DIE! They'd bury me. Bury me? There'd be Worms! Worms? They'd TICKLE! Tickle? I'd laugh. I thought I'd die!" (But it ain't funny!) A mental in-continence on un-solid ground. A Rasputin in the sky? Pride's prejudice in the naked eye.

(2): ... Dead Souls. (Lady Diana?) A REGAL/Government "HIT JOB". Dead Souls. The ones we forget. Like GOGOL's novel, Dead Souls. We still count them as living currency and global-histories-holocausts, no worries, still culturally TAX DEDUCTIBLE to grease our tomorrows in the name of GOD, Patriotism or ROAR for our local football club.

Dead Souls. Rotted away & gone. THEY, who knew Winters, Sunshine, who cried or loved. Who marched for "freedom", who farmed the land, built citadels of industry; some, who sacrificed their lives for a valiant cause...who left a sweetheart behind to cry. Mothers against Drunk Drivers? Only Mammas really cry.

(3):... Who, brave enough, will Martyr for the Martyrs. Dead Souls. -Who paved the road U tread. Dead Souls. Do U honor? Give a thought? And at that inevitable "rendezvous" of Souls: DEAD, as they say, dead as a door nail, will U sing: "If I was a Carpenter & U were a Lady? Would U marry me anyway. Would U be my baby."...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/SPY-DUDE: 006-1/2, now in Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Paradise Cove."

 ...Our Man in Europe/Spy-Dude/now in Belize/DAVE DELACROIX/Cousin of Jim Rockford P.! : Phone ringing: "At the tone...Jim/DAVE, your cheque bounced at the Chinese Happy Laundry. They (the Chinese) R NOT happy despite their business Logo. U might wanna relocate outta: "PARADISE COVE!"

(dedicato: William Houston, Daniel Washburn-R.I.P., Paul Z. Zermeno, Dan W. Randolph & John Scace/Malibu-California)

..."Paradise Cove."

... I CONTRACTED ...BUT NEVER SIGNED any legal document unless I was blind drunk/a good idea for a latter-day Legal get-out-clause?... Anyways, I contracted THROAT CANCER probably from breathing the same air as U, surfing the waves at Malibu'-Californias' Surfrider point or some Gal, kissing in wild abandon, POINT DUME!!! It happens. Contracted. Or, who knows, in some Brothel or Busking/Guitar-jangle on a street by a Texas Oil Refinery Industrial zone. Maybe a brutal SUNBURNT day hitch-hiking through USA-Nevada's ATOMIC BOMB TESTING GROUND? Don't ask. A Mariachis highways are endless.... Paradise Cove?  We'll get to that....As for my UNIQUE - we R ALL unique for better or worse -  my medical-Situ-diagnosis, it called for CHEMO/RADIATION/ they politely call it "treatment", a medical application whence my frontal-hairless scalp appeared - we talking VIKING LOCKS-gone!!! - and out of nowhere, though semi/quite dignified as if I'd just fought a noble Duel yet the (Cancer) treatment was/IS exhaustive/Radio (Radio? No AM/FM) therapy strips U down to your "boxers"< WHEELED/stretcher into an M.R.I. DEATH TUBE probably designed by some young M.I.T. "Frank-En-Steen".... (Aside note: I was STILL/rollie cigarettes, chain smoking throughout this gig/Cancer Doctors frowned? What's THEIR problem!?)

...Where was I? The DEATH TUBE. The M.R.I. "Frank-und-Steen", Frau BLUCHER-whinnying horses! Or IGOR, actor Marty Feldman with bulging eyes/probably a Clinic Assistant, hospital smocks & face mask?? Perfect disguise! GREEN LIGHT/RED LIGHT! Like stale cheese on the cracker, those "bits & bobs" they never forewarn, they applied a HEATED TENNIS RACKET- RADIOFACE-MASK over my face, NO WARNING! ~~ and just in case things go wrong - a death mask, a souvenir - "Sorry. He's DEAD. Better call Jim Rockford. AND AT THE TONE ask 'bout his Chinatown un-paid laundry/DAVE DELACROIX. Dave Delacroix? -We never heard of him; and sometimes - Japanese? - "Syonara-babee!"

Paradise Cove in the afternoon. A Burger at the "Sandcastle" bar & grill. No-one'll think U ever go slink in there? ('Cept to use the phone?). Tacos, easy on the chilli sauce. That new long-legged British Maitre'D. put wise to keep my Creditors away from me. They can impound my Trailer, but THIS Taco/hot sauce belongs to ME!

...But BACK to the CANCER DEATH TUBE, strapped in, (PRE-Corpse) launched into potential psycho-eternity as they slide me IN, thinking of Film-Noir Movies, GILDA, LAURA, BELINDA, BLENDA! Again, with the Japanese! -was there a BLENDA? Was I IN ONE? Jeeze--eeze! Yet a MACHINE, the M.R.I. gizmo/Death Tube (free admission) instantly ROARS, Cyclic-ROARS! And even within the molded Tennis Racket DEATH MASK, U observe flickering lights - ROAR! ROAR! ROAR! - a monotonous soundtrack punctuated with an accompanying staccato "BEEP! BEEP!

This optic/aural experience - in the DEATH TUBE -  it CAN get a tad more complex a'la a Dave Brubeck (Genius Jazz dude: "TAKE FIVE!") as the M.R.I. machine then progresses into "Tripple-Bob: BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!" And U got nuttin' to DO 'cept lie back, and being a Music man, instinctively I tried repeatedly to identify a "rhythm", so I'd tapped my foot, left or right, which one I don't recall but the ever-hovering Marty Feldman - with bulging eyes - Clinical Assistants - the dude/s who'd strapped me down for this M.R.I. Death Tube - advised me - they mumbled through their face masks - in ESPERANTO (?) better I didn't "foot-dangle/twiggle my tootsise less the Cancer-Radio-Sputnik-RADAR-fotos didn't come out alright?" And in horror I asked:  -Aeroflot! -"was THIS Russian built!?"

...But it was the WAY their insidious demeanor, cloaked/masked, they looked down upon me like I was an almost fresh CADAVER out of an Auschwitz Death camp tube, conferring ..."Has he still gotta pulse? Somebody give him a poke?" ...Victims/Patients sometime have good reason to get suspicious. Anyhow. All alas is now well. My Cancer IS in remission whatever that means. I guess the 'treatment' scored a goal. I still get to bark & whine, for how long, that's in the hands of the Universal Ju-Ju-Man. But I AM OF THE OPINION that the M.R.I. Death Tube machine should be outfitted with an overhead JUKE BOX display feature to stare at - to distract U from its ROAR/BEEP-BEEP!... Essentially, with a selection of tunes to placate We Patients. Perhaps "The Sound of Music-Movie-soundtrack" for sensitive souls, IGGY POPS, "I am the Passenger". for ex-junkies, DONOVAN's "Try & Catch the wind." for your average Space Cadet, or Frank Zappa's "Cosmic debris."? ...The latter for Surfer-Cats from Paradise Cove, Malibu-California... Some Point "DUME ROOM BAR" illuminati. Probably like U & Me. "HEY THERE BROTHER!!!"...

c.2026, Dave Delacroix.