Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix/ "Jackie.Blue!"...1 to....7
1) Don't walk away Renee
Don't walk away Renee, across the vast Schoolyard? Good at Games! Theatre crew! An apple for the Teacher? And that LOOK of Love U cannot disguise?
Don't walk away Renee, apple/robust, brunette/pantie-pumps, knee high, black stockings, Kapitano of the "Rounders" team, Artist, Biology-class? And NO sunshine when U-re gone, HOME, to do your Homework? Don't walk away Renee; don't ever leave that Schoolyard Cosmic ray... that leaves, WE Kids, anguished in yearning. Someone suggested, half/heartedly, a game of Cricket, or a get together at the Youth Club, Saturday Night>. ..Don-T walk away. Or, least don-t forget...to come back, soon, on your joyful day.
2) Fashionista Cross-hairs.
Crossroads, cross-lined, cross-eyed, cross-Gods, cross-thieves and ALL the paradox that determines; that CASTS the Iron, that IGNITES the "Pistole" of sublime Mercury; drugs, alcohol, a wistful cigarette up against BITCH-Non Smoker, financial tyranny, Yuncle Sam - male format? - MR JONES! : No smokeroni! (Gets his suits from CIA-Porta-San, Langley, Virginia!)
Whassit all-bout_
MIO? I get my Rags from the Salvation Army, my shirts from SEVERAL "Goodwill" outlets and my "UN-mention-ables"; my gal SUZIE goes to some Box Superstore called TARGET. In TRUMP AMERICA...it's hard to fart with discretion.
3) Anacreon, in heaven; we raise our glass to thee!
...I NEVER knew of any kind of IDIOCY that couldn't be cured by a bottle of Whisky, Bourbon, or Calvados? The IDIOTS (U know a few?) don't actually get any brighter but they DO become less or more "animated" which makes the suckers, the Idiots, less dull?... There's a shorter way of expressing this concept: "Whisky'll make a Blind Man...sing da Blues!"... GOD FORBID...
.....but if U go "Busking" on the Street.....
having dissuaded the usual, Klingon-riff-Raff from interfering with your busking-dynamic (piss on their shoes!);
And Whisky enhanced,
act drunk,
miss a chord or two,
do some acrobatics,
STRUM (Guitar?),
then appear to have fallen asleep: and the MONEY rolls in!....
I've done it a 1,000 times.
But singing, ye olde "Sounds of Silence"? FORGEDABOUTIT! Bloody Palookaville! Singing "Claudia gave it UP on a Saturday Nite!"? -the audience will get downright Spiritual, at which point, U open a Bank Account.... Back to the IDIOTS? These Dostoyevskies can only DROOL, rain or shine, akimbo-Cossack, on the sidewalk of their Minds, hands OUT, ever dreaming...of that Whisky so far away?
OH! Anacreon, in Heaven! We raise our glass to thee!!!!!
What are talking about> The IDIOT....
Clearly, I-m InsaNE.
4) Sweet Lenore
....If ONLY God (dat GUY!)
wasn't so God-less, no Division,
no PUBLIC discussion,
no BANNER for WAR,
no Control, no
"I'll love U for evermore!";
Then, sweet Lenore,
I could wish for U again:
Like a song, a canzone,
an Irish: "Tu Roo-lie.Lay!"
to sway this sad ol' World
on an Even-keel.
5) The Fly
...I don't know how it began? Something inside told me I didn't have long to live so I would take it in my stride, a Night, a day, for Another? -Buzzing around but never for long, as long as I didn't have that kind of stamina which emboldens SOME bugs, birds and diverse creatures for long endeavours; I flit and I flit? The main thing was to find a Home, albeit a territory, a space within-which I could out ride the ordained parameters of my existence. Love and Sex BARELY entered into it but , ONCE, a hazy afternoon, after lunching on a host's dead skin and other domestic detritus, I belched and farted, simultaneously, happy to witness Cockroaches running for cover with the breeze, and her name was "Figlia". We Enjoined, then she secreted 10,000 maggots in the nearest dumpster though, in all honesty, I never visited my spawn, fearing inherent cannibalism. After-all? -I?d already eaten my Mother's left foot. My BROTHERS!? -They de-voweled the rest! Total PONGO! But then, "C'est la Vie, no?" A matter of taste: ask ANY fly? Addiction, the word, covets, but doesn't cover the hard-wire-drive of a species heart?....And U are catching me, relaxed, over a Cognac, in the jet stream of an Havana Cigar. I bug my Human host, constantly, for his dead skin, where-as his New skin, I use for my toilet, to await its ripening, and ALL as time goes by? My existence is Decisive in that I irritate ALL whom I encounter until, a life cut short, in the scissored mandibles of the House Spider who - no doubt? - has her own story to tell?
Prior to my demise, I'd often heard that Golden expression: "...He/she/it ....wouldn't hurt a fly!"
-But it's not true. Neither do I know...how it ALL began?
6) In da Beat of da Nite
WILLARD B. Johannsen the 111, *White boy, outta Boston, attitude, on a Scolarship( fresh out of Greenville, North Carolina, car in-hock, waylaid at da DEPOT was arrested on "Suspicion" (at da DEPOT) by Deputy Sheriff Luther Washington for being a "God-damn-NON-black-nigger!" whilst waiting for the Stream liner, 5-oh-4 , North to Windy City (Chicago?).... DONE DEAL!? The local "Martin-Luther" had just bi'a /politically, "Crucified", backside of WALGREENS, off Django & Main (Streets) at the ALL-NITE KEBAB diner and had "identified" poor ol' Willard as: "Transient/cruisin' da Locale!" -under Blue Law.... Assisted by half-Nelson/wrestling hold'em, plus Police Baton pounding by Deputy-Sheriff Levine W. Van Buren, Johannesen's statement: "FUCK U!!!!" was taken down, the dynamics of the Case elucidated, Cell accommodation provided/awaiting Trial, all nice and tidy..... I guess U had to be there?....Paramedics on Call, late in arriving.
Could-a bin in Missouri. Could-a bin in Kansas. Arkansas, ALABAMBAM /thank U Man!, Tennessee, don-t/cha go bleed on me...whilst Angels whoopee/doo down in Mississippi, a choir, an anthem, a Quincey Jones... in the Beat of the Night.
7) SOUL-Kick!....
*Under Conscription........WHOOOO, OO Jackie/Blue!.....
c2017&davedelacroix&ourmanineurope..
