Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix/"No Whisky for Jesus."
(dedicato: Pete Nalty)
No Whisky for Jesus, the Guy, whacked out, cross-legged, Pot-down, on the floor? His Gal, Magda, left long before with the "House-keeping" Gold? The Bar (Beer-Taverna?) cuts off his tab?
No Whisky for Jesus at the Festival tonight; every body's happy, laughter, directed at life's festival CRUX; nail left, nail right, hands and feet, RIFF-RAFF fed to the Lions; the People enjoin in "Line Dancing" to Infamy?
Civilization: Who won, who lost...under the SCREAM of Society's torch- light affected-moral-Jurisdiction? Fed to the Beasts, Crucifixion, hanging; or some gizmo: the Electric Chair?
NO WHISKY for JESUS, his Soul, last seen a the "Potters Field Saloon" ordering countless "Shots", Though penniless, his Spirit, his Mind, on Magda; his BODY, crucified - thinking of Magda - splayed on Calvary? Yet, alas, not HER but HIM?
He took a long time to die that night. Twisted & Turned, Rock & Roll-ered, re-inventing Scriptures and Wisdom of old?
"Mumbo-jumbo": so Judas told me?
No Whisky for Jesus; the morning after? He was SOOOO fricked up, looked like CRAP and quite dead; we carried his Ass to an adjacent "Heartbreak Motel" before MAGDA returned to check-UP on his "condition" and grab "Shekels", the gratuities, for his poems and a Night's worth of songs, and his Philosophy... of Common Sense, at the Pub? But we carried his Ass? We got him out of there.
No Whisky for Jesus; Poor sod. No Whisky, my Brother. No Whisky, : no more MORE, though your name now resounds throughout History?
c2017/march 16th/davedelacroix/LORD BORGO/Sciacca-Sicily.
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