Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...Lebanon-Malibu-CHER!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....Lebanon-Malibu-CHER!




Poor Kid, poor  Cellphone, poor kid, poor SAX. Poor kid, not a thought, new dress, immigrant-menstruating, blood on her clothes.
Poor kid, poor INTERNET. Poor HUGS, far and few between. Poor TENT, dysentery, whilst the MASTERS OF WAR decide who RULES the land from where she was born!
DECISIONS! DECISIONS! Do I go to the PUTIN Prom, The TRUMP Prom, the ASSAD Prom, the ISIS Prom, or ANY general MIDDLE EASTern RACIST prom. It-s so hard to decide....and my wardrobe is LIMITED....just WHAT....CHER, in Hollywood, please help...what should I wear! Some Satin cloth and, Yes! Jade beads from Afghanistan, blessed by the Iman who was killed in the last shelling....




c2019,davedelacroix,sciacca-sicily.....Cher is a COOL Lady, folks. Just poking at Hollywood!

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... U and ME both!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... U and ME both.




Milk, bread, butter, T.P., Cornflakes, Coffee and Beans. U and ME both! Cheese, Prosciuto, Lemon Juice, carrots, SHROOMS, an Onion, x6 Cornettos, U and ME both. DO YOU REMEMBER, a POTATO, BATH NIGHT-SATURDAY NIGHT...or the joy outside of the Lower-East-Side to Brighton Beach, Italians, Jews, Negroes, Gentiles, boys running like happy swarms, girls, bespackle, pre-bikini....U and Me both. Kid-joy!!!


Kindergarten, School, College, University! Dances with Wolves of Learning, Yale, Harvard, Cornelle, we are poor little lambs who-ve masturbated too long, became POLLACK, WARHOL, Jasper J., iconic in our obscurity....last heard, no Jew in Hollywood could make a dime outta ME...or my Photography. Yo! U and me both. Ventura Boulevard, not stuck for a Bar!


A 6 pack, a FIFTH,Congressional, of old FASHION, spare the acidic Lime. YO MOMMA in the USA rust-belt will tie the laces of your shoes, no Blues, but an invitation...U and Me both. What PISSY GOD UN-ravels, takes care of the FASHION POLICE and leaves our Souls, mostly vanquished, bewildered, inarticulate, for ALL our Classical education...YOUR debonair, MY resolution, pin stripes and print dresses, u and me both. U and me both, borrowing Overcoats, dress ties. THAT Jacket=SWAP!...Make the pretty girls go YO! U and Me both!..U and ME both! U and Me both, some days.




c2019,feb, vicola la marca, scicca, sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....How many miles to Babylon...

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... How many miles to Babylon...




dedicato. Caroline.




How many miles to Babylon
3 score and 10
Can I get there by candlelight
yes, and back again


How deep is your love,
deeper than the deepest sea
Yes, as deep
as what U mean to me


How many miles to Babylon
3 score and 10
Can I get there by candlelight
yes, and back again.


How many vows must I take
to KNOW your love
only One, my love, to God
and that-s enough.


How many miles to Babylon
3 score and 10
Can I get there by candlelight
yes, and back again....




c2019, davedelacroix, vicola la marca, Sciacca-sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...THE NAKED CRUDE...Nudi no Crudi.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... The Naked Crude....Nudi no Crudi...soundtrack, Faure-s requiem.


dedicato. Martina.








NO NAKED Crude, no Nudi di Crudi, this night, a kink in Love-s armour, a Sunset in-sight, THIS side of BOOGIE, where Angels fear to tread, an empty room, a vacuum, no note, nobody LOVED, to left...


THIS SIDE of the Angelic PENIS and TITS, the Gal U missed or the HORROR U hit somewhere over the WHASSIT in a Micro-SELFIE-genre that bewails your garnered Wisdom, butter-bread trails to tempt the next Lewis Carol-s Alicia, now a full blown HOT BABE sex-doll fantasy!
HUBBA-Man or HUBBA Gal! Pity the Hunter with Wolves on his trail!


Where are the Springs of Yester-day-year, AYE! Where R they! Coiled in the hologram of your Memory. Shrapnel. Like the KYPER belt. Orbiting.
Nobody-s left. Nobody-s Wisdom. History. A carpet of Souls, AGES reaching, to patch your Living-Whole, Nudi or Crudi.


Ring-a -ring-a Roses, a pocket full of poesies, Atishoo! Atishoo! We All fall down! Songs abound but Un-ravel like Insalata-Napoli!


NO NAKED Crude, my sweet. No Nudi e Crudi this night, a kink in Love-s armour, a Sunset In-sight, this side of Boogie where Angels fear to tread, an empty room, a vacuum, no note, nobody Loved, to left... or maybe, at last, to  right.
Like POMPEII graffiti. My kisses. The next exotic Moon, when we meet in our Naked Crude. Until then...under Versuvio.




c.2019. davedelacroix. Murphys Pub. Sciacca-Sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...EGO in Mah Dick!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... EGO in Mah Dick!




decicato. ALL U Non Smokers, Political Correct Scumbags, future Guards of Nazis Concentration Kamps!!!




Jammin Song with Sicilian Guys and Gals, jest folla,


EGO....


Ego in mah TITS
Gotta EGO in mah TITS,
don't know how to....wobble, throb,
many more ABJECTIVES,
but mah TITS juess go like THIS


Yo-yo-yo!


Gotta an EGO in my PRICK
....Electric Guitar...
We don't KNOW what its for,
it jumps to the Left
it jumps to the LOFT,
if U touch it,
IT FALLS OFF
an Ego, how bout dat!


Yo-yo-yo!


Got an EGO in mah Dick
Got an Ego in mah Dick,
A throbbing in mah TITS,
an EGO, wotchagonna-DO!!!
DO BOUT DAT!!!!!..




c2019,davedelacroix, rock a billy tune out of da blu...Sciacca-sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.....The EGO is DEAD!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... The EGO is DEAD....part 2.




When the EGO died, Hitler Ruled the World, pissy Austrian from some shithole. When the EGO died, Cryogenics brought STALIN back to LIFE to tremble a NATION, lacking a Caesarian SENSE of ASSASINATION. When the EGO died NAPOLEON won, ||Julius, yeah|! DAT GUY! Killed a MILL! pre=emptd Hitler, as an ARTIST, murderer, U SMUCKS! Or did Donald Trump become a TAP DANCER, border for border, does it matter anyway, I mean, deep down inside....for U.


When EGO, Anno-whassit, died, GANDHI, or actors, so many, ORSON Welles, John Wayne, celluloid icons, OLD FRIENDS, HOLLYWOOD, asta la vista-babe, mostly guys. WHO in the ORDER of the ANGELS will cry for LOUELLA PARSONS...who probably had a Puppy, a Giggolo, who knows...writing scripture-invective until her last acidic breath...Ahah!


When the EGO died I think I wasn't IN California, most-like Karlsruhr, Germany, playing guitar on a Winter-s Stasse. Recently deported from the USA...by default-too Intelligent...I wondered lonely as a cloud. Not all bad. Where there IS an ending, sometimes...there IS a new beginning, a song I-ve been singing FOR these now 63 years.




The EGO id DEAD! Long Live the EGO!!!....WOT U GOT!!!!!






c2019,davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.... WHEN EGO is Dead...Part 1.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... When EGO is DEAD. Part 1.




old saxon manuscript,


...the of EGO
,,,y invaded
...day got laid,
....astways the Greeks.


The following, translated from BEOWULF...


Fuck Me AGNES...a Saint.


The rest is Medaevil Gobble-di-gook
so....Scholars Privelige, we translated,
including,
the forgotten text of Vasco da Gama
who left it with his FI-FI, Allonzia, in Florida
searchin for da fountain of YOUTH.


EGO.


Nothing North Of EGO
Nothing South to be Done!
NOBODY got LAID!
Leastways, da GEEKS!
EVERYONE sang Happy MAY-POLE
things went to HELL
in a hand-basket!...IL CONQUISTADORE!!!




c2019, davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...Until I get to England....

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....UN-till I get to England...




UN-till I get to England I can CAROUSE, wear a ST. GEORGE or a DRAGON VANQUISHED, 3 LIONS RAMPANT, a TATOO. Until I get to England, the TE DEUM, I sing in proud recherché du tempe perdu, CRESSY, AGINCOURT, the Liberation of NAZIS PARIS,  stuff like DAT, this I can sing or THINK, a badge I can wear with Pride. My Fathers.
UN-till I get to BREXIT England, either END UP in the Houses of PARLIAMENT or  the House of CORRECTIONS, in diver-s HANDS, SMUGGLERS, or Yorkshire MINERS!
The House of CORRECTIONS, PRISON, in this present BREXIT Political climate, seems the more INTELLIGENT choice!


c2019,dave. February. Movin to UK in late April. Expecting absolutely NO Welcome except from my Italiano Amici who reside in Surrey Quays, London.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....Francois Villion Boogie.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....Francois Villion Boogie.






....SINGING....


Where are the Streets of yesteryear
 in clouded memory,
 yet poignant, my eyes BLINK,
 the window of lucidity, focus, imagination.


Ou sans LES RUE d-antan
 like a fading APPLAUSE,
 re-vitalized BY THE GODS,
 the Theatre-s TOP-most=audience TIERS....Bravo!
...who EVER wonder at a Stranieri,
 a Lime-light, a Gas-lit, a Spectro-LASER light,
 a-lit she DANCED, she \SANG,
 we ROARED and she bowed...


Where are the streets of my YESTERDAY,
 Deborah, RAN THE sowing-shop.
 Fix my Zipper, or hem my Pantaloon,
 a dollar or two, a Pop!
. Gwendal, Missus Gwendal to YOU,
 fix your SHOES,
 her daughter baked Beef-Potato Pies.
 And Doc Meyer who CURED Man,
Woman and beast
 until he lost sight in his own eyes.


u sans les Boulevard de JOY
that whiskers TIME-s ephiphany
and cuts it to MAN to BOY
or cuddles GIRL into WOMAN
and Spring becomes a joy,
the march of TIME,
a BAUDELAIRE, invitation
a voyage....








c2019,davedelacroix.....Vicola la Marca, Sciacca-Sicily.

OUR man in EURope, dave delacroix.... TOM HORN and DALTON TRUMBLO...

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.....TOM HORN and DALTON TRUMBO.




Canzone! A SONG!






Grand Junction, COLORADO
is da PLACE for MIO,
HUBBA=HUBBA,


those PRICKS
U live there
will KILL
your KIDS Knees, education,
a BROKEN-mental SOUL,
A ROMAN HOLIDAY,
founded on your ROCKY MOUNTAIN shore.


Babies, babies, look into my eyes.


O come ON Colorado, Tom Horn
and DOC. HOLIDAY.
Just where THEYwere wrong,
forgive their SONG
in a Last Chance Canyon
or some sweet Arroyee.
New Boys will sing...a Legend!


Babies, babies,  look into my eyes...
THIS is NOT how they FEEL
THIS IS HOW they THINK,


No pace on the Prairie
NO place in Hollywood.
WHERE do U look for a TREE
in a forest where U DO NOT belong.


Tom Horn, Dalton Trumbo, maybe YOU,
this time...


c2019,davedelacroix, in Sciacca-sicily con vino

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....Barry Island.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.....Barry Island.




THERE was once an old Woman from SWANSEA, a Sailor-s Song, or ANACREON or the Devil, UNCLE NICK who sucked your dreams asleep, ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ .  And then curdled your Concept, until the TIP of your NON-Smoking irritation, knickers, petticoats....




THERE WAS once a Venom of ISIS, UN-curled, a Tongue. It-s in YOUR MOUTH, a POISON!
SPIT! Let it go South.  Or SING IN ANACREON in Heaven! we sing our song to thee! in this bitter conception OF OUR DAY, what was ONCE!


THERE was once an Ol Gal from Cardiff,....beats ME ...whilst they R always WELSH,
LONGSHANKS, maybe, HENRY -3 ...beating UP VECCHIO-BRITS, poet Dylan Thomas or singers,  Shirley Bassey or Tom Jones, ARTISTS!...whilst Kings of England or...PWOOF!... Princes of Wales.... and all the tales of Royalty, a tapestry of SOMEBODY-s Boog-ga-loo ...Citadels to Castles to RUINS....now absorbed in a Poet-s song...


When I was 12 and my gal was 13, I, from Yorkshire, she came from Cross Keys in a Welsh Mining Valley. I wore my Swimming Trunks, SHE wore some full tummy swimming gizmo. We sat on the beach in South Wales, Barry Island, watched ships sail up and down the Bristol channel ....and never had a thought for Evermore.




c2019,feb,sciacca-sicily.dave Delacroix, Lord Borgo.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....Fat Magot.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.....Fat Magot.




dedicato. Sylvia....in Frieburg.




Fat Magot slapped me across the face in the bordello, said she-d, as a  KID, she-d  been RAPED, 16 or so. American brat in ENGLAND where there are NO distinct CIVIL RIGHTS just vague LEGALITIES, the COPS....BOBBIES....to DETECTIVES.....to the PUBLIC PROSECUTOR....forwards to a COURT of JUSTICE.....Solicitous-BARRISTERS....who make their MONEY, apparently, by hanging out at the WIG and PEN, old Judge Jeffries HANGING HOUSE on Fleet Street, crowded with Social Cartoons who make LEGAL killings in PINK GINS and WIG-Fressieur recommendations....the HEARTBREAK!  The DICKENSIAN HORROR!!!....Old Etonian IN-sodomites, poor bastards! Stuff they breathe.


Fat Margot slapped me across the face at Clapham Junction Station....it-s in England....and Justice for All...IF your PAPPA is a British Barrister it is YOUR DUTY to ......U know the rest. Sodomized by conscientiousness, the cultural -English, embarrassed sneeze.


FAT MAGOT. Ou sans les neige dantan. For your SOUL...Where are the snows of Yesteryear. Except for a ROYAL PARDON my Dear, doubtless your INJURY will prevail, sullied, like a GAME of CRICKET where RAIN stopped PLAY.


FAT MAGOT!!!


Recently I saw FAT MAGOT. She strums a BANJO. with two growing KIDS. AENEAS and HELENA. Picnic basket. Sitting on a Cornwall beach. A SMILE, humming, singing,  playing a little Guitar. Once in a while this Family picks out some target rocket, a tide arriving, throwing a rock at a point UN-seen.




c2019,davedelacroix,our man in Europe.






c2019, davedelacroix,Palermo, sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....DAX for your MURPHY...

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....DAX for your MURPHY...




Dax for ya Murphy, London town, or Kentish town, LONDON-city!
Dax for your Geraldine, kiss sweet Maureen.


SEAN O-Casey, shadow, GUN-MAN, a REPUBLICAN,
bodies, Martyrs and a Pint of Stout!
Rory Gallagher Lead Guitar....somehow!!!.


Dax for the Emerald Isle where NOW I sing Celtic songs. Where
now I sing, I sing-I belong.




c2019, davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....UN-true!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....UN-true!


Where the HELL was I when the Graf Zeppellin crashed in Lakewood, New Jersey. Where the HELL was I at the fall of TROY. When, WHERE was I when  Bernie Madoff made OFF with Zillions in a Ponzi scheme, or at the FALL of the ROMAN EMPIRE, where, just where was MIO, writing Love songs at your feet...
Where the HELL was I when Ol- JESU was Crucified, the TITANIC sunk, HITLER got his Start, old King HARRY VIII slaughtered his Wives! I got NO ALIBI, only a dark Sonnet corner to call my Own. Only THIS which now rings UN-true.


c.2019,dave Delacroix,cafe porta Palermo, Sciacca-sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.... SOBER Number Blues!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....Sober Number Blues.


SOBER is da loneliest Number, sub-zero logic, without a care. SOBER is da Loneliest GAL who U meet along the WAY who either affronts your disposition or spends years UN-knitting your integral dynamic, your Wife! SOBER is dat Dude, a Yellow Canary...tweet-tweet-tweet...PIECES OF EIGHT!!!...who harmonizes your IN-volution. There-s NO Hope for the creative INNER-vanquished who just DO and DIE. I-ve Counselled SOooooo many COUPLES on this Count, advising, better be a Duke as an EARL. Nobody listens! I always recommend that Immortal song by Blind Bill Houston. U-SOO BLING, U SO BLIND. Never seems to get any of them ANYWHERE. Still, I pick up the 50 bucks Consultation fee!
SOBER Number Blues....No worries. Drink UP and BE Somebody!!!


c.2019,davedelacroix, Café SKandiglia, con Maestro Angelo e Ragazzi, February, Sunday night.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....NO Tears at the Carnivale.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....No Tears at the Carnivale.

dedicato. Bob Marley.


UP at Il Porte-Citta, up at the Notting Hill Gate,
along IPANIMA, Koln, Mainz, in our daze,
up in our Season, WINTER is gone,
the boys already cutting a Maypole,
what-s done, Winter is done.

I don-t want NO TEARS
at the Carnivale.
I don-t want NO TEARS
at the Carnivale.
I don-t want no tears, no tragedia.
No tears, no fears, just You!

Police-man dances SOCA
the reggae ladies smile
Babushka Salutation
a Gendarme Salute,
or kisses in Verona,
this boy sharp as paint
graffiti imagination
to make it work!

I don-t want NO TEARS
at the CARNIVALE.
I don-t want NO TEARS
at the Carnivale.
I don-t want no tears, just a good year,
just laughter and good times
with U.


c2019, davedelacroix, Sciacca-sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Notre Noir avec Notre Dame..

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... Notre noir avec Notre Dame. ..Our Night with Our Lady.




SHOOT me down!!! Pitch=past-pitch, GRIEF, lost Soul, rive gauche. Evette. Promised her a miracle. Said I would return, come back covered in GLORY or not to come back at all. And SO the story goes how a young man loved a Maid, never to return ...for our lady of the night.


RUN me through. YES!!! Use that Sabre. All my Uniforms are threadbare. My Credentials, gone with the Wind.. of my endeavours! Adventures course thru my veins, good endings, disasters, Up-swells, perhaps an Oasis of generosity flung in my path, yet a le rechereche du temps perdu,  my lady of that night, a Francois Villion posey.


BRING DOWN the curtain, exhale the anthemic choir. Tear down the Cathedral of my existence, let no man nor woman inquire into this song, nor go tell the Spartans, no nobility that ferments in God-s history for my Lady, my Lady of the Night... whose face, in memorium, now nurses me into evermore.




c2019, febru, 16,sciacca=sicili, annodominispiritasanctu.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....Too Many Yokos.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... Too Many YOKOS.


...late nite sketch.




dedicato. William Houston....Blind Bill, Count Danube, Prince of Bohemia.






Too Many Yokos
in the Houses of Parliament.
Too Many Yokos
in der Bundestag.
Too many Yokos
in JAPAN-NOT!!!!


Too many Yokos
 in my Band!


Too Many Yokos
Suit and Tie
fixing mah ZIPPER,
foreskin-smile


Molto Fascista
reportin my Style
too many YOKOS
John Lennon guile.


Too many YOKOS
A ZIG-ZAG Man
MEE-HOW, China-Man,
Hello, yer-self!


Too many YOKOS,
I plug in mah GUITAR
and I-ll make it LOUD!!!
ONO! ONO! ONO!


You step to da left
U step someplace Right


Too many YOKOS in this Band!














c2019,davedelacroix. Murphys Pub, Sciacca-sicily.

Our Man in Europe, davedelacroix....ALL the Shakaterroes were Valiant.

Our  Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... ALL the....SCIACCA-SICILY..... Shakaterroes were Valiant.




The Sciacca-Sicily fishing fleet was OUT. Tough GIG for MOMS, Wives, sons and daughters. Pappa is out on the WILD SEA. Bar Roma, Charlie-s Bar, down at the harbor-PORTA, Vanessa polishes the biciheri. Everyone= vecchio family, in Sciacca has a Man or boy out there. Just ONE of those SICILIANO Situs. Like getting a Shave at Lemmy Amedoes barbershop, a vino with Stefano or Vittorio at Café Porta Palermo, or NIGHTIME, a dark Guinness at Antonios Murphys bar. Just a SHADOW of a Gig....until the Fleet comes home. Until the fishing fleet comes home. A SALUTE.... Everyone knows!...And All the Shakaterroes R Valiant!






c2019,davedelacroix,sciacca-sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....No Secreto...

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... NO Secreto!


It-s NO SECRET, nothing to say
No secret, brother-s brother-s in Arms,
no secret, our Love left behind,
no secret, her Canzone, a POETESS, in kind.


It-s NO Secret
her dresses swirl like the Sun
no secret, she has won.
AMORE dancers
the kids take the stage
Carnivale, 2019
I-m showin my Age


It-s no Secret
I still love U, it-s dat thang, dat U DO!


It-s no secret in Montavi
or that secret, bela Gonzago!


It-s no secret. No Borgia Guerra!
It-s no secret. Amore....




c2019,davedelacroix, Sciacca-sicillia.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....IN Viaggio...On the Road.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....IN Viaggio...On the Road.






CAN I get switched ON
GAZ flowin
a Landline, Inter-net, ELECTRIC,
conto-costa, how much
does it cost-sanguine, twine


CAN I GET some Space
not that U would Notice,
a local PUB,
a Social Despair...


Can I CLOSE my door-when alone,
can I shut out the World, THE ROAR
in your sweet town.
mi amica,
no Lover can know,


Can I discover your Cosmos,
maybe in your town,
anonymous
I will walk free, again,
some SHIRLEY BASSEY
bearing her Soul!


DO I FORGET the new Gal
I meet that didn-t know
in your sweet town,
repeating a viaggio, amore....


Can I get some space, unto U.








c2019,davedelacroix, ourmanineurope.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....By Pluto-s Door.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... By Pluto-s Door.


dedicato. Anna V., Turku, Finland.




By Pluto-s Gate, buggered, we stagger, dark, dank, lookin for a shave, armpits hello-goodbyes utter a RADIUM flash of Tyger-T, burning bright, stinking universal symmetry.
By Pluto-s door we hesitate, the groin of existence yet to permeate around a Goddess Astarte temple where angels fear to tread. A Cloaxa Maxima!
A Last gasp! Last Text! A last kiss in suffocation! Just WHO amongst my most worthy brethren could save me from Pluto-s gaping jaws!
By Pluto-s gate, I disappear. The door, the Eternity. The You. This time I sing.






c2019,davedelacroix.Yup! Should-a practized dat Banjo!!!

Our Man in Europe. dave delacroix...AUTOBAHN

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....AUTOBAHN




The DING AM RING, social club, Koln, Cologne, West Germany, everyone skinny, Deutsche-Affluent, relaxing of OUR Ich Leiber Dich, daughters of an economic POWER-HOUSE, she Mercedes through, G-4 Jet. Heil Hitler! She sucks my foreskin, users Pink toilet paper when she  Comes, yet HE, her husband, the AUTOBAHN,  masturbates, frantically....and his Carribean-holiday Condoms end UP on a Pacific Turtles Nose in the RHEIN ....that OCEAN twix Hamburg, Bremen, Koln, Koblenz, Mainz and TRAFFICS Ludwigshafen, Mannheim, citadels of Music..... polluted in Bayern, Bavaria, coastal to Austria where the DING am RING, AUSFAHT, next train to oblivion looking for a...or the NEXT collective Politic Rally....begins.


Just HAD to take off my outer shirt for my Deutsche KIN and Pals. Been a long-since and a long-since, and a long since, somehow. An Autobahn. Sorry bout Westfalen, re. the river Rhein. That DING am Ring always takes me back to U. Let me TUNE my Guitar.




c2019,davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....Monte Carlo.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....Monte Carlo.




Toughest place to ever BUSK with a Guitar is in MONTE CARLO outside THE CASINO. Hoodlums wear Tuxedos, UMA-UMA with the Mafioso and in addition to smashing your brittle Spanish Guitar and piccolo TAMBOURINE to pieces, WILL, legally and  CAN slash your Vocal chords, left to right, sometimes, right to left....Ambidextrous sons=bitches!!! Capitalism will always resort to its last minute SWITCHBLADE. Ask any Banker, East of Omaha, Nebraska, whenever U ask for a dire Loan!...


c2019,davedelacroix,sciacca,sicily.

Our Man iin Europe, dave delacroix....WHEN the Town got Respectable.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....WHEN the Town got Respectable.


When the town got respectable ALL them GALS from the Bordello established their Civil Rights! 200 years later it-s a tough Gig to Smoke a cigarette, never=mind a CIGAR in a Bar-Saloon!


c2019,davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.....BLUE SKIES.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.....Blue Skies.




BLUE SKIES, nuttin but BLU SKIES, something, BLUE Skies. Something blue.... BLUE DAYZ Something Blue Ways, a  Summer of Swallows, bereft UN-tuned!...Now U rattle and roll like INVISIBLE Skeleton, ghosting this Side of Life. And all alone, a jugular pain, is it Misery, an Ex-wife or a Dice! YOOOOOOO Blu NIGHTS! Blue Nights! Some AVALON in your sights! Singing, Dew nights! That KID you came from...ad infinitum, Professor!




c2019,davedelacroix,LORD BORGO.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....Guest Missing...

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....Guest Missing.


dedicato. KOLN. Pitcher!!!




Guest missing
in an Evening Dress
Guest missing
Tuxedo and Tie
Guest absent
a Strauss Waltz
Coochie-kiytchen
said, blood on the tracks,
Agatha Christie
said, MURDER
some place
on Baker Street.


Hang the DEVIL
hang on high,
Polk on high
Kiss the Heroine,
strangle the Poet
wax the DIVINITY
what makes People Whole
unto your tears.


Mistress MISSING
Suspicion,
She just killed, CULLED
her own
INVICTUS,
war-paint, mascara,
the GAL
she ever been!




c2019,davedelacroix,sciacca,sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, Gieves and Hawkes...

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....Geives and Hawkes, TAILORS.












SINGING all my sweet ladies, Francois in Poetic care...WHO count me Sanctuary, in this Winter-s Air....BREATHE in this place where NO Low Life go there....


GUEST MISSING, dollar=short,wedding-happening, nobody Morte yet like like Agatha Christie and the Thief of Tin=me, your Wallet, your daughter, bloodied, murdered, gone to misery. Dick Turpin, who HUNG!!!... or Kim Philby, OR the Queen-s Trait  tor Uncle... The bounder who wore tailor-s Gieves and Hawkes, Saville Row...Francois! Lookin good, looking good, tailor-made!


SINGING all my my sweet Ladies, Rodean, whatever. bringing YOUR SPOTTY YOUTH BOY friends from Marlborough or Harrow, sucking the National Geographic Cock, UN-hook the Louvre window blinds of your....OUR......Virginity.


SCUMBAGS ABOUND!!!!!










c2018,davedelacroix,sciacca,sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, Mademoiselle!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....Mademoiselle!


Madamesoille ISABELA I could NOT outright yet to BE, SHOT DOWN in the 1914-18 Great WAR or better still, a 40 year Veteran of the ROCK and POP WARS that rage to this day, post Fellini, Truffaut, Chabrol!....Chaa!-Chaka-Cha!! Mademoiselle!
Bonjourngnio, Senorita, in some River PO valley fields, alleuri, my body lies 1914-16., my Uniform of Pride withers like me.
\Mademoisele, my Babee, in some far-flowering field, my body lies 1914 to 1918. As for that Patriotica, UN-clean, UN-devout, UN-cultured, UN-cut....the Scythe of WAR cut down, just a CIVILIZED-sanctioned KILLER, rat-atat-tat....despair! Despair! Who, but GOD, can cast a shadow on our tomorrows!!!


Mademoiselle Isabela, Madamsollie Isalbala. Madamesoirbella to night.davedelacroix, Sciacca,sicily.2019.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.....MAMMA told Me....

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....Mamma told me....


dedicato Guisey D.


Mamma told me there-d be DAYS like this, when the BELLA said ....Step into my room, pass on the Champagne, just GIT SUM! Or the day I went BANKRUPT, or when LIFE lost its meaning, when I gambled my Last-5 in Las Vegas, when, aimless, I wandered across the Continental United States, when I didn-t SEE the Light. Oh! Oh! Oh!..Mamma told me, Au munchen tagen!

Mamma told me there-d be DAYZ like daze, dozy, uncomprehending, no Dawn Patrol, no Surf! And I, through my dreamy-kid eyes, subconsciously registered an EPIPHANY to later rage my soul which now life-rafts me through this ocean... of my maturity-s despair. MAMMA always said there-d be Days like this.

c2019,feb.davedelacroix,Cafe Porta Palermo,sciacca-sicily.