Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....3 Songs on a broken Guitar.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix..... 3 Songs on a Broken Guitar.




1....


What we have
become
U and Mio,
we sailed the 7even Seas
yet then we get
a breeze...


Do U need an Ice Cream< No.
I just need to know
where I am Going...I-ll
see U in the Morning...


2....


That Butterfly in your window,
that splattered, crashed the Glass
an broke your heart
and left it ALL in pieces
will never come back again.


The Butterfly in your window
that flew thru your Soul
so quickly, then disappeared,
a B-W, old photo,


an Inherent mystery
that TO this day
murmurs in mystery
which kills or shades
your next...Hello!




3....


It-s only in your Smile
this time
I will devour
your Lipstick kiss.
I found long ago
your epihany
on an Egyptian sarcophagus
with a river, the Nile,
slaves at your feet
and reeds bearing Moses
and a Pharaoh's ring.




c2019. dave delacroix

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.....Domani-Asperto!...Tomorrow we wait.

Our Man...in Europe, dave Delacroix.....Domani-Asperto!....Tomorrow we Wait.


THE PIAZZA, deserted
HOLLOW Streets
A kiss of Sun, an Arriverderci
like a race long since won,


an ECHO, disputed
by Ghosts of yester-year,
a solemn HUM,
a fond embrace,
a signal, a PULSE,
a photograph.


A table for 2,
an empty  glass,
a chair, an ashtray
lipstick-forgotten
cigarette butt!
A whisper of a breeze,
a SONG, we knew,
domani-asperto.
domani-asperto…




c2019, davedelacroix….last song in Sciacca-Sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...BUCK-WILD on a Saturday Afternoon.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....BUCK-WILD ...on a Saturday Afternoon.

AH got a BUCK to take me home
some PIECE of your MEAT
that found its way into Your Dynamic
a SUCCUBUS, your ZONE!....
an We-ll sing DIXIE!

Ah got ah DIME to SPEND
that KID without No End,
some Guitar-Lost-Cause,
a Highway Kid,
stuffed in a Foster home!
..an We-ll sing NEW YORK!

Ah gotta a Check to CASH,
a Slave Ship and A LASH
that beats the BLUES
out of your GUE
and THEN
Pretends to Ask!

I got a Kensington, London, SMILEY.
I-m ALL done with BANKSEY,
Q.E.2, your BREXIT boogaloo...SINGIN

Some Kid in L.A., MOSCOW,
Lebanon, Detroit-Michagan,
a Phillipino….without the Sun.
And ALL the days and Nights
we Run, just run.

I got a DIXIE, some kind of Greet.
A Jamboree. Some place we Meet.
I got a Parish. A Kiss-Goodbye.
I got the beauty in your eye...I got
the beauty in your eye.

c2019. davedelacroix, ourmanineurope.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....YESTERDAY aint Tomorrow....

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....YESTERDAY ain't Tomorrow....song 2, Who-d buy a Car!




Yesterday AIN'T Tomorrow
GOD has a Toothy smile
He-ll give U a WINK
once in a while
just to give U a HINT
or a Sign.


Some say LOVE is Nameless
N-doesn't have a Face...
IF SO, it-s in It-s KISS,
that shock, that SCAR
that Crimson on your face,


And Yesterday ain't Tomorrow,
it-s just a BAD Today
when I hear U say, Good Bye Babee
I count my Days
like SO many Maybe-s. Like
SO many Maybe-s.


A BELL is ringing, someplace
maybe not for U, and
GOD has a Toothy smile.
He-ll give U a WINK, a HINT,
once in a while a KICK!!!
S-what GOD does!....BASSO...
It-s WHAT God does!


Yesterday ain't Tomorrow
U-d better KNOW by now
an IF U DON'T the Devil will
and stick it.....FRANK ZAPPA....
up your SNOUT!.....BASSO....
Up your BOOGIE!


Yesterday AIN'T Tomorrow
It-s just a SAD Today
that Bell is ringing, someplace
at the Centre of your Maze....
BASSO...
this Song keeps rollin along!




….dedicato. Fabio Delio and Bella Alicia.




2... WHO-D BUY A CAR.


Who-d BUY a Car
Stink UP da World
GAZ the Child.
Who-d BUY a Car
a SONG
lost in the SMOG.


Who-d BUY a Car
kiss your NANO-future
Arriverderci!
ICEBERGS FLOATING
into
your Heated, Swimming pools!


WHO-D by a CAR
the OIL, the GREASE,
your SUCCUBUS
or latent greed
financed
by your reptilian INNER
INCUBUS.


Who-d BUY a CAR
when a Bicycle would do.
Who-d E-MAIL Me
when they could
on the Street, say YO!!!
and Greet...






c2019, davedellacroix, bar odeon, Sciacca-sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....Last BEER in Marburg...Germany.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix...Last Brewski in Marburg,  Germany.




Last Beer in MARBURG, lost-cold-weekend. Kids from Schwiesburg-ERONI, busked MUSIC on the STRASSA like Matadors! Had some FUN with Out-of-Town-KIDS from BRUNSWICK, cool side of BERLIN WALL...1976, ORANGE-AYRIAN-MOHICAN...Some INFLUENZA, Studenta, parked his ASS in our GIG, sayin, U FUCKERS, I am SICK, under my WINDOW, please do not JAM MUSIC, nor come back again. I got dah FLU... Everyone empathized. Then MOB-kicked him in his CEREBRAL, with WIT, passed the ASPIRIN and looted his Mind. Later, he played LEAD on BANJO!


Last BEER in MARBURG, my favourite TOWN. The CHINESE run the McDonald's, U order, and some Gook sez, SIT DOWN...we humble-bring your CHEESEBURGER, this IS the MARBURG...or INN of the SIXTH HAPPINESS....in Germany. Have U thought of leaving Town!
And ON the EDGE of town...pieces, houses, Villas...WW-2 LANCASTER BOMBER, destruction, that tried to get that AUSTRIAN Adolf Hitler ...OUT of U, perpetrated, the GOOK, the NIGGER, the FROG, the LIMEY, the POLLACK...names UN-ridden, FASCISTS, IDIOTS...in Marburg, Germany, ANY which way it comes around.  JEW, Muslim, Buddhist, Gentile, Fuckers abound....in Marburg.




c2019, davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... A Canterbury Tale.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... A Canterbury Tale.




dedicato. William Houston.




A Canterbury Tale.
A Canterbury DRUNK.
PILGRIMS!
A Canterbury Assassin,
Becket's head on a roll in the
Cathedral Nave,
bloodied by King Henry...


A Canterbury Tale
a Pilgrim, a sojourn,
our FEET, weary,
we need to wash them!
BISHOPS scurry,
Powell-Pressburger,
film-crews, b+W movies
Usurp History!


A Canterbury Tale
in ALL its Comedic-Gypsum
that crumbles in my
imagination
with Songs for Ever-more!
And a CHANT,
the KIDS, da Monks
who witnessed
or recount, this Insanity,


CHOIR long ago, NOW sing
 a Song  heard in a Tavern
or your FIRST kiss....remembered!
HERALDS!
Don't ASK! DONT TELL! A
Canterbury Tale.


Meanwhile, Chaucer-s HOLLYWOOD MONKS scurry, East and West
Come blow your Boog-a-loo!!!
Do YOU have a STORY
What IS your TRADE,
Scriveners decipher UN-destiny,
as U tread into Tomorrow.


NO SMOKING, by-the Way. DRUNK,
DRUGS a NO-NO!
That-s no Way
to tell a Canterbury Tale!.... So say. Anno domini, etc.,
falling smashed!!!






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


























look for the FISH in the SKY, in Flamborough Head, a village IN-land from the SEA.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... OLD WANDA!!!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix...  OLD WANDA!




I wondered LONELY as a Nigerian-Penis THROMBOSIS, in the mist, Under the MUSLIM Moon and ESPIED a young, VEILED Raggazza UN-masturbating at the sight of MORRIS-MEN, dancing in an English, Derbyshire Village= Countryside, hopping around and clacking Sticks! It was on SYRIAN T.V. Happy stuff.


I wondered LONESOME as a DUDE, some PAKISTANI-IMMIGRANT, no integration... HIRED A HIT-MAN to kill my daughter, a BRIDE, because she met...and fell in Love.Some Chinese Kid with Computer skills!  How DO I kill...the KILLERS of LOVE~MUSLIMS...My Daughter. Their Integration....Kissin White Boys! Kissin Black Boys! How do I TELL these CULTURAL MURDERERS!...Please GO away...


I wondered lonely as a CLOUD, an old Woman. Prone to Wine. A Sucker for a Tale... Yetunder my God-given-gaze, from where I belong, and from when I began. How DO I KILL this SAD Enemy.
Or rid it from my Shire!
.
Centuries of Mental Retardation, Ritual, and it-s INHERENT-UN-Rogue/Lack-lustre- MALE, a personification of a BILE that SMIRKS at Progress, to destroy an innocent Smile... FATHER! GRANDFATHER! Silent Mother-s...Your RAGS are in TATTERS, perhaps. IMANS look for their Bank accounts.... I Wonder lonely. I WANDA, like ALL of U, Lonely, IN SHA ALLAH, alone....


WANDA! U are never Solo.


I wonder, WANDER, disquiet, pre=requsisit, UN-believed, sometime YOUNG, now OLD Pussy-bag-a-bones on MY COCK-Suckin-KNEES, dressed in RAGS. I WANDA. My NAME is OLD WANDA. And I wondered lonely...as a frickin cloud.




c2019, davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...Arriverderci la Dolce Vita!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix...Arriverderci, la Dolce Vita!


Arriverderci, la Dolce Vita, is Killing Me.
I had to LEAVE, everything was
too beautiful for Mio!
I could NO-longer kiss U, the same.
Nothing ELSE is to blame!
Arriverderci, la Dolce Vita, Babee.


Arriverderci, Oyl di Olio,
Grappa, Mediterranio, Sicilia!
Arriverderci, la dolce vita,
 the Sun-kiss of your lips!
A Tarantella, hovers
between our hips,
and how Love, No! No! No!
Sedona E Abbandonato!


Arriverderci, la dolce vita
 is killing Me
I must GO, respect.
North or South
where a wild wind blows.
Arriverderci, mi amore, arriverderci
mi Caro. Arriverderci la dolce. Arriverderci
la dolce vita, oggi.




c2019, dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... AFTER the GIG...

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... AFTER da Gig.




Dedicato. Dave Woods. Lets go Weekend Camping in Edale, the Peak District.




., STRIKE-Fashion-ista, somehow IN-cognito..after dah gig, disturbance of Silence, BE-cool, no Cool, ragazzi-decisions, latent HUGS, cigarette smoke, stale Scotch Whisky, IN-divisive UN-like the Drummer-s-Gal who lugs out the AMP. No Truck. No Car. Taxi didn't show.
Gotta wipe down the Facial-Herpes Microphone kiss, SANITIZE and start spreadin da news. Some prick ORG-mented Internet VIRUS. Gonna BE Famous, 15 Minutes AGO. Do U Believe in ME like I Believe in U. A NANO-Byte THIS side of FAME!
WHOA!! But after the Gig. Sweaty, cramped. Loved. UN-loved. Does your SMOKING SECTION dash your DREAM, your Rock and WHASSIT, or just BILLOW in remote Pussy-fantasia, a LAMIA volution… before High Tea.
SWEAT COME SLOW.  Sweat come Slow.The Kids don't know. Excepting, after the GIG, the REPTILES with Guitars, WANNABEE Stars, NO IN-herent Poetry, FLOOD AS ANYONE to disc your Moment and STEAL your Fire, YO!
After the Gig. After your Gig.




c2019, davedelacroix

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....MALIBU, Hendersons for Fish!!!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix, MALIBU. HENDERSON'S for Fish!!!


SORRY I gave U, TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS to play with...in L.V, just outside of L.A. Sorry, my Medium-UP-Market Hotel Suite, accoutrements, didn't keep US alone..
U were OUT of Someplace, Phoenix, lotta Citties OFF I-15. Christopher Columbo Transatlantic, Inter-Continental Free, Highway, from Jacksonville, F.L.A. to ….
SORRY it was-nt IMPORTANT, a GIG upon a Ride. A Wishing Well, a game of ROULETTE, a song that just can-t Decide...an IMPORTANT thing for MEMORY, a still-echo from your Mid-West Past, and your TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLAR future is 20 Bucks too fast!
 On the C-C Highway to California, Babbee, it-s WHERE it lasts. There-s nothing else. Pacific Ocean. Hollywood. Deadbeat Movie Stars. Aging Rock Stars!  HAS-BEENS. Boiled CLAMS at HENDERSON'S for FISH on Pacific Coast Highway at the very END of Sunset Boulevard. Get lucky! A Moon over Sunset...B.L.V.D. Hitch-hiker, No Pity for the Homeless...Am I Sorry I gave U dah DREAM!.... Probably not. Let-s GO get some CLAMS!!!...and later, our Hollywood Dreams.




c2019, dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....BURY my Heart in CANOGA PARK.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix, BURY mah Heart in CANOGA PARK, L.A.


Bury my Heart in Canoga Park, babee, may as well. Things gone South in Topanga, Malibu, a myriad of DIIZY pests, mostly outta State Gold-diggers on a way trip to Intelligent, non 390 degrees who know how to SURF, lay Stone, put up your Villa Windows, Chauffeur your Car...
Bury my Heart in Canoga Park, this time, San Fernando Valley. Let-s Guitar-Strum up on Ventura Blvd at the Pickwick, or a  Motel or 2...on the STRIP where VALS congregate, Casa-Vera, a line of Cocaine, some place we cannot WIN in an L.A. of HAS-BEENS, bottom-feeders, non-invitations, porn-wallflowers, incestuous.
Bury my Heart in Canoga Park. Death in a swimming pool is an Incidental. What-s important is the insidious Cocktail U hold in your hand when they recover the dead slab of Cheese, her naked  STARLET body...recovered from the stilled jacuzzi.




c.2019. davedelacroix. bury my heart in C-Park.

LED ZEPPILIN Syndrome.




Ya NOT s-posed to copy a hit dynamic, a Song, Stairway to Heaven or steal someone else-s FIRE in a Guitar Store. TIME-WAS, or Moon over Sunset, Black Magic Woman, LOLA!.. nor bang up ya SISTA from across the Valley. No-one with a BRAIN would steal Dylan Thomas-s lines in London or in the Welsh Valleys.
Kissing Sally-free-an-Easy. Better NOT let her GOD, her father, catch U, fornicating in the sweet, sweet grass...where U lose your Soul.




c2019. davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Da Boogaloo!

The Boogaloo!




We cant do anything RIGHT
just how it IS
She does, SEZ dat
ME TOO
It-s a bust!


We CANT do da BOOGALOO,
Lord knows....best Intentions!
We SWING
not to YOUR Swing,
it-s a GLUE!


We cannot Fandanglo
the Fandango, we twist,
we SCREAM, pretty,
but not for U.


We Sing and SCRAWN
a Lullaby
that does NOT creep
into your Soul,


Oh! We are IN-able.
We Crooked
into our perfect oblivion
erstwhile, smiling at U.


c.2019. davedelacroix.

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

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... Note Dame.




Au revoir, my Lady, our Lady, Notre Dame,
au revoir my CERTAINTY
that Our passion comes thru.


Aur revoir my Babee
a Café Rendezvous des Amis,
where our love SEEMED so complete
and our Spirit, in-divisible.


Arriverderci, mi Amici, a bientot.
Domani, Maintenon, a bis-morgan,
maybe tomorrow, my CRY-ECHO
is a Murder of Crows or
 Villion-s Ou sans les neige, d-antan!


Angels rage! Gods rile at Stupidity!!!


Au revoir, my Lady, our Lady, Note Dame,
au revoir, in flames, a piece of my Soul.




c.2019. davedelacroix

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....SMOKING SECTION.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... Smoking Section.




After DA Gig
disturbance of Silencio,
fashion-decisions
IN-cognate
IN-divisive
UN-like the Music-kiss,
ENCORA-song, repativo!


Does your SMOKING SECTION
dash your DREAMS
or just billow
in remote Pussy!
A LAMIA volition
before High Tea, whilst


SWEAT comes SLOW
off an Elephants back
on the road...to Mandalay,
that ANAL Succubus
of Marlborough School, old Harrow
and old ETONIA!...




c.2019. davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.....How About U!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... How About U!


Its the first Date, mah Brain is Fried, today,
how about U...
Ecological-disaster, maybe
..U Chernobyl too!
My Vita-Storia, a catastrophe too,
and how about...
Bring U  to the dance, your History,
the World, your View...!


I see an ancient wedding ring,
a tear in your Eye.
A Prayer upon your lips,
a Mountain yet to climb.
UN-like my Groovy-Tune
SUNK in DA BLUES,
maybe we GO OUT,
 some nite,
catch the TIGER in the Eye!
what WE got to lose...
a Romantica, a DATE,
….how bout U! How about U....




c.2019. davedelacroix

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...A Brexit kind of Love.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... A BREXIT kind of Love.




ANY TIME U want to
U can turn me ON to,
name the date my Babee,
any time at ALL...
When I kiss your Sweet lips
nothing seems to matter
Chips and Fish in Batter,
I-m All Mushy Peas
when U call...
Wouldn-t U agree
Babee U and Me
we got a Brexit kind of Love...


If U say U want to
anytime U want to
Kiss-me-quick and leave me,
is that our Love, that-s ALL,
Gone are all my HIGH HOPES
and I get to wonder
 if not a Sparrow...
something ELSE shall fall!
Wouldn-t U agree
Babee U and Me,
we got a Brexit kind of Love,


…we got a Brexit kind of Love.




c.2019. davedelacroix. Vicola la Marca, Sciacca, Sicily.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, Captain-s Pleasure.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... Captain-s Pleasure!


Captain-s Pleasure.


WE were laid away, we were without Captain, the sails, like a flock of geese, flappin and hauntin. we were upside down, GALE BLOWING, no TILLER, All dependent on Man in the Sea.
WE were ALL despair, every Man, Jack, DUDES, Conscipts, Renegades, Negroes, fishing-last-minute, for a CLUE, a WONDER! We took a deep-sea dive, an 80 footer ROGUE-WAVE, said our Prayers, and by Daveys Jones bad Locker, RE-surfaced again!
We KISSED our SHIP, our Beads, whass-nots, our Tattos, our UN-TO-HEAVEN, already knew, we-d NEVER go to SEA gain, but DO. We were laid away in a Captains Pleasure. Of THAT, despite, of we are sure!...Pass the Bottle!


c2019,dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....The Barber of Sciacca!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix.... The Barber of Sciacca.




The Barber.




A Barber of Sciacca, Sicilia, son of a Barber got SENT to America, New York City, United States of America, where the streets were paved with GOLD, every Jewish Boys dream FOUND in Cohen musical compositions, ALL those kids in the LOWER EAST SIDE under the shadow of Battery Park, the fiscal ENGINE of lower Manhattan, Nero-economy.
or Piano-forte-SNIP-SNIP!
….Manhattan-Skyline.


Another Barber of Sciacca, Sicilia, son of a Barber. As a KID, WW2, my family, in SICILY,  like MOST families! ARMIES would break into our house and STEAL OUR FOOD. Retreating ARMIES, ADVANCING Armies. We had to BURY what little food we had. My Mamma. My Sistas. I was the MAN. POST-WAR....In the 60-s, thru a distant Uncle, I emigrated to NEW YORK. A Kid-Barber! Cogniscent of imment Starvation. Lean Minnestrone for my kid Sistas!


In NEW YORK I cut Hair there. Then I came back to SICILY to take care care of my Kids...and Theirs. My YO!!!...I signed away my Heritage in a Vino and a Song.
My brothers Calogero and Nicola. They still both have Farm-holdings here in Siciliy….My Barber Shop. A Rental. I don-t care. Another day as Usual....SNIP-SNIP!.....Sciacca, sicily...I have a beautiful WIFE and Kids. Respecto! I am the BARBER of Sicilia....mi Canzone, MY SONG!




c2019. davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.. Lloyds-s of London!. Banking.

OUR MAN in EUROPE, dave Delacroix... Lloyd-s of London. Banking.




Multi-International, multi  STRANIERI, at Ysidrio border, tryin to get to L.A., California... or INTO your PANTIES. Never before in the HISTORY as VIRGINITY been such a BIG DEAL, Muslim GALS Not-With-standing since last Saturday night in Paris or London. Jeeze! Dem Gals! Dey Soooo Good they make a Dead Man come!!!


Meantime, pretty Sunday, oh what can I DO for my Muslim boy...Suck his Cock. Make sure he feels RIGHTEOUS when he drives a Car-bomb into Women and Child!... And MIO-SHEBA,  the ARAB-begetter of Biblical Time-lapse Cerebral development     he curtain over my head, the fact that I am pregnant, absolves me, by UTERO, from complicit MURDER....in sha-allah….


A new COW that never knew HAFIZ, Persian Poet, or could CONCEIVE the hanging gardens of Babylon or in ancient times, the first lighted streets in urban-civilization of CORDOBA, Spain... We kind-a wondered at our own dynamic in histories sublime holograph, wished all our Camels would be fertile.


LA DOLCE VITA. Jeeze. I-m putting on WEIGHT> Gravitas, Attitude, Leakey-Butt-Syndrome, Bureau-Veritas-Lloyds=SWINE, an Institutionalized VEILED PUSSY. La Dolce Vita. Just zealots and IMANS  LOOKING for PUSSY and PUSSY looking back for DICK...at a CLICK!...before Ramadam. The UN-veiling of Allah...U R not worthy. Can I AVANTE, or confess, Green-for-Danger!...




c.2019 davedelacroix

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.... GOLAN HEIGHTS-Wansee Conference.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... GOLAN Heights/Wansee Conference...A Reggae SONG!!!


DON-t GET KNOCKED UP
I mean it Babee
His Saturday Nite SMILE
not worth your LIFE!
Don-t get knocked UP...
Don-t get Knocked-Up,
ya Daddy WANTS to U come
early, babe, cos I worry...


DON_t  U tangle UP in Blue
with some FOOL
or IF U DO,
please TELL ME!
Mamma-Pops got lots to DO
thinkin, ALL
we CAN for U,


No reggae swing, but NO RAEGGAE
that WE can-t sing!
SEE your extended Family,
black and white-tie
digging our Zion!....


repeat 1st verse




c2019,davedelacroix. No dreads. Living on Food Stamps.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...Apres-midi de un Poet....POET-s Afternoon.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... Apres-midi de un Poet... Poet-s Afternoon!


dedicato. Flavio.




The afternoon of the POET was mostly spent, spent MOSTLY in worry, VINO and buoyed with a capacity for MISS-understandings that would SINK a Moby-Dick!
Quite In-conceivable in a Bank Clerk or Shop Assistant UNLESS either one had recently KILLED their Spouse or entered into a scheme of BLACKMAIL entailing a lengthy GUILT-affair, , immoral too, a Double Indemnity-Ethicality, mostly for which, perpetrators are UN-prepared and ALL their Tomorrows...piccolini-Shakespeare...are dogged-shadowed by some MAIGRET or COLUMBO who, PIPE or CIGAR, could easily EEK a quick Murder Confession if ONLY they-d quit SMOKING during Interrogations! Serve up a Frappacino, maybe. Back-rub.
Frickin PEANUTS!
Un-like the POET...remember HIM!...in an Afternoon, en-raptured by that INNER-spectre of Love-s intended Doom! Under a Damoclesian Sword, drunk on Vin Rouge, YELLIN...before he got kicked out of the Café....ALLEZ FRANCE! Soccer-sportif-thingy. Yo! Something like that, apres-midi...


c2019, dave Delacroix. café porta Palermo, Sciacca-sicily. service-compris.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... SEVEN-ELEVEN!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... SEVEN-ELEVEN!




DO U WANT to eat me...take a Bite. I-m TOXIC, better-believe Me. U won-t SLEEP nites! Do U want to CHEW on mah CUD and have your Genitalia pounded into Wood. I am a FISH that can SWIM into your SOUL.
Do U want to BE a WICKER-MAN. Medium-fried! Would U like a CABBAGE=HED, on the side. DO U WANT ME  TO EAT U, UN-less U want to FREE-Me... Best catch as U Can, get the Hell outta  here!...Or take a BITE! Yum-Yum! THIS Diablo is Hungry!... Do U want to EAT ME....Take a Bite! OPEN, 24-7! Seven-Eleven...


c2019, dave Delacroix.....Life-s piccolini frustrations.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix/....Da ROE in da Salmon.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix..... Roe in da Salmon...BAD PROSE for a FILM NOIR.




Can a NEW York City SNOB, out-SNOB the U.K. LONDON Snob. Saville Roe, ASCOT Tie.
A Long Island Regatta, not HENLEY!...can out-DO!
Can the BOIS du Bologne OUT-DO, Hyde Park,... or for that matter, St James OR Regents Park  enhance a Spring-Sunday Carriage ride, Strawberries and Cream,  a gay Aree...Cheltenham Spa where hotels abound and IN-SITU the high-born love to fornicate. Mostly, Sundays  No Suicide Reservations-PUR-LEEZE, but maybe...in Long Island, more space,  a dweam!


Can a midnight stretch-MALIBU, California BUS get U to Point Dume.  Point Pleasant. Cross-Keys. CRUISIN. Some Party Favours Limousine!


A  NON-PAPARAZZI Blonde in Print dress, devil-may-care SWISH-hair. A Silk scarf she will never wear again. Hand going up her thigh. Split Bollinger bubbly. Cocaine, maybe not NOW...too many Ascots...gone Pacific Coast Highway. But back THEN a Snob, UN-fornicated, spread-eagled, wishing for a STEVE McQUEEN...  to pounce her bones in Paradise Cove.


Always the SPECTRE, that VICTORY, that inner-Kiss.  That THING, that UTERO, that GIG
which Euro-Aristos or Hollywood GRIZZLIES would talon from your groin, the Roe in the Salmon, WRENCHED from your Body, leaving your Spirit in despair.


Apperitivo Bela. Entrata. Bonguigno Senore! A Quixote dynamic, prevalent. See how the World smiles... Tilt at Windmills... or enjoy your Icarian steep, clean dive!




c2019, davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, new Song. Do not EAT mah Wabbit!

Our Man in Europe. Dave Delacroix, Canzone... DO NOT eat mah WABBIT!


dedicto. lemmy amedeo.




Butter, Latte, Bread, Toothpaste, BRIE, L. Juice, Gelatto, Beer. GaZ for the April heater, do not EAT ME Wabbit, SPITFIRES, circle IDEAS, son of a Preacher Man, GALS, LOOSE SISTA...of da Moon!
BAPTIST-BASTARDS. Let-s burn -em at dah STAKE. Least ways, USURP their Scientology ORG., Bank-accounts, websites, IN-UTERO-Psychotic-boog-a-loo...or just meet them at the ROSE and CROWN in some English-provincial GREEN DRAGON, or a PUB called, STICK IT UP YA ASS INN, or the ROSE and CROWN., Henry 2. The Hammer of the SCOTS! -drank here!....Do not EAT my Wabbit...Gotta SWORD, someplace, upstairs, featured in a BBC...Israeli Occupied Territory...TV LICENCE, 60 Bucks. A Television LICENCE, a Propaganda Kibbutz.Clown CLOWN, MI%, MI5, MI6....Suck the foreskin of your Parliament-Democracy. Tax-thingy, on your Car-wind-shield...so da Bobbies don't bust ya WOODEN-TOP-CITIZEN, non-football Hooligan-pedestrian-dynamic. Jaffa Oranges. Since I was a 1950-s Child.
Butter, Late, HOVIS, toothpaste, FEMALE hygiene products, CONDOMS, am occasional , PRONE to go ABROAD...making da WABBIT nervous...In ISRAEL, in CYPRUS, in PALESTINE, in ENGLAND, WALES, SCOTLAND too, hunger was paramount. Families HID or BURIED their FOOD....Do not eat me wabbit, U victor, for what we , sometimes, HAD to do.


Butter, Latte. Chickens in the yard. Kids...just play in-round! Before the BBC. Before U. Before your LICENCE. Before your CORPORATE-Speak...DO NOT eat ME Wabbit. ……*fill in da blank.


c.2018.davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Violins of Autumn.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... Violins of Autumn.


dedicato. U.




Yesterday, Tomorrow. TOMORROW, yesterday, SOMEHOW, some-way. UN-found! -Back in the days of Yore! It was nothing LESS than a Cry in the night, a wringing of a Soul, a TWILIGHT SCREAM...an Inigma, that brought U to a HISTORY-SEX need. A Traufaut, Les Mistons!...


THE WINDOW is OPEN, the AIR bears within....your POWER-poison, sounds, from faraway, a SPASM of Intellect, ICONIC. Your GODS!!!
I wander like a Cloud. I Sing like a Hurricane! Do I weep or sleep...in Montmartre. Is there power in your Yesterday-Tomorrow. Tomorrow-Yesterday. That FINAL PENIS that sticks it-s POWER into your breeze or that The Lamia-s feeding of Men, Argonauts, Siren-song, ears bleed! Greater Men have come before! Certainly, bigger Drinkers!


Oh save Us, DON-T save ME. A Quiz! An Origami! A Rive-Gauche Boogie! Between Yesterday and Tomorrow, like a Fool.  I-ll gladly fall IN-between… FATE-s next conquest-victim....as I sing my Song for U. Man! Woman! CHILD!!!


Yesterday-Tomorrow, Tomorrow-Yesterday. The Sun is high and the Violins of Autumn they do play.


c2019, davedelacroix.




c2019, davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... That Dude.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix...That Dude.




Fingernails, sharp, not manicured,
eyebrow, disdain
lip-salve, percolating
and ...that Dude
who catches your refrain
making dark into light...in your eye.


LIMBO, Esperanto-lingual,
some =Swahili, some JAZZ
high-life, UN-found
circling, lambada-boogie,
no costume. No figure
the Dolphins in the SEA. A Dauphin!!!


Main Street. Gotta-shop,
next window, a Face
or a GIG, inside,
always tough, a FLASHBACK
a Guitar chord, RE-sounding,
UN-twining your Day. an origami
and that Dude....your Love, a sweet passerby...




c.davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...A Jalopy of Dreams.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... Jalopy of Dreams.




dedicato. Andy, lead dude with WISHBONE ASH....U know.






After the GIG everything was Blue. It-s HARD to BOOG-A-LOO, people, around. L.A. Seattle. New York City, concert parasites. YO! YOU! EVIL-EVES! Groupies, and ALL they got is some VULVA for some juicy-Saturday night... don't do Nuttin for Dostoevsky, Gogol, EVEN STALIN on a St. Petersburg afternoon. No St. Pete-s Nevsky Prospect, DASS-your DANCER! Some inerrant PENIS-desire....back in the USSR! ...someplace.
Personally, I am NOT UN-towards their DYNAMIC, understanding the desperation of Anonymity!


ON POINT! Do we Masturbate FRANTICALLY, publicly, STRIP=MALL or DO a BREXIT-HEAVEN, yell for BILINGUAL-ORAL SEX to take place in Maidenhead, UK, in  Teresa Mays backyard...….does she HAVE ONE....or the Isle de Paris, Chateaux-Macron, TOMORROW-s morning, a WARNING. If U play with FIRE....fingers burnt! Who incinerates CULTURE by DE-fault!
An IMPRESSIONIST PAINTER!


After the GIG, we put down our GUITARS, worthless, NAMELESS, musicians in a Hollywood SWAMP, it-s who we are. Paul Z. on Lead Guitar, Blind Bill, from Texas, on Bass. L.A. Dayton on KIT, I poked a few song-concepts at the Hollywood-Kibbutz, to no avail.... It don-t matter. WHAT MATTERS.. excepting WE prevail.  Zachery, Bill, Dayton, Dave!  Stuff. Rock N Roll. Things with HONOUR...that U Do.


After the GIG, a change of Clothes. A new Girlfriend, it-s how it goes, this side of Nashville, Memphis, N.Y.C. that Life-s-groin KICK, that inherent....God U should GET IT...KICK, which, after the GIG, makes U a part of History...And after all is said and done....the  Equipment, Drum Kit, Bass, Electric Guitars, P.A. System, BLOODY LIGHTS....who stole the Microphones....lost in a stolen van.....at the Midnight Diner, I-5, South of Sacremento, 20 bucks to your name.....your life, boog-a-loo....GONE in a jalopy of Dreams.




c2019,davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...SHE TALKS too much!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... SHE TALKS too much!




She TALKS too much. Gave away my next BANK JOB, KIDNAPPING, STOCK-FRAUD, vacation plans...INCLUDING BLACKMAIL....like ANY CANARY, One Bird amongst Three, of 3 SUITORS, yearning for HER Love or SEX!


She TALKS too much, NO-OMERTA, bad=Siciliano, Silk rossi-headscarf, fishnet-heeled, swish print-dress, jade earrings, her demeanour, her smile and the MYSTERY of what-s-next! GOSSIP COLUMN-Sicily. Remember where U heard it FIRST!... PALERMO-CONFIDENTIAL. New Website! Hosted by...


She Talks too much. In NAPOLI her fate is sealed, yet here in Palermo-Sicily, fools are humoured. Her RAGES-wild, her TEMPESTURA-MEDITERRANEO, she sooths the SIROCCO, Vecchio-Capitanoes, a PAZZO-MONTANA!


She TALKS too much. A bi-pedal Callisto. A cantoni-tarrantello She rakes the SOULS of HISTORY, a living-LAMISTA, at once, the snake in the grass AND that bird of Paradise that will peck at your Soul...or the Love U bequeath till your dying day....




c2019, dave delacrocce.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....THAT BEER in Cheyenne!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....THAT BEER in Cheyenne...




That Beer in Cheyenne meant SO much more,
hanging out with the Railroaders, Kerouacs…


That Martini, where was that, Sand Diego, Hotel Coronado
or someplace, New Jersey, Widdah McShay, by Ashbury Park.
or McSorley-s, get off the Subway at ASTOR, Manhattan, NYC,


or a TWA,  a Continella airplane, LAST TYCOON,
fly-me-to=dah-MOON, GO-WEST, West Coast, Sullivans,
Chinatown, San Francisco... where I...found U. U floral dress. Me. Pea Coat.
Fisherman-s harbor. Woman on the Run! A Fugitive Dude!


That initial Cocktail, that FIRST KISS....your BUFFON...….OK. My hand-made Italian-Custom
FOOTWEAR. Bought Em off a Polish dude, down on his luck. 20 bucks! The pair.
 It-s hard to stagger-lee when your BABEE-s a Queen. A poor boy WILL shuffle!


 WE almost never met...SOME SAY....WE never DID!  WISDOM TOOK A POWDER!...But it-s a DISNEY-delight!...she leaves her card. MACEY-TYPIST-Agency ….after kickin Me in my butt!
We sail out of the FIRST FISHY Restaurant we can find  to the music backdrop of...Strangers in the Night...


An ARCH de TRIUMPH. A Marseillaise whatssit, a VINO
at MAZET, St. Germain des Pres! Or at A Café Rendezvous des Amis, a Montmartre,  a Salute, a bientot, c-mon ca va, ca va, mes amis…Maybe we are STILL in OAKLAND!


Somebody said I-d find U at Harry-s Bar in Venice. Place Sucks! Earnest Hemingway prices!
The Yellow Jackets tore down Fouquets.
Maybe we are STILL in Oakland...


If U and I hang around too long...we may be Candidates for Madame la Guillotine. I advise Macey, who-s FRENCH to go UNDERGROUND. Meantime, I head to the OLD SIMON in Freiburg, South Germany, by the Swiss-Basel border just in-case I need to open a Bank account. Something for a rainy day.


At FISHERMAN-S WHARF in San Francisco...Macey reassures Me. I-m OK. But...to STOP DREAMING. Here is where we are. In San Francisco. It-s OK. WE are OK. That BEER in Cheyenne. A story I wrote. A Story I wrote. And the places I-ve BEEN....A long, long time ago.




c2019, davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....Highway-Whiskey-My Sunday Afternoon.

Our Man in Europe. Dave Delacroix...Highway-whiskey-My Sunday Afternoon.




Highway Whiskey, NO Signpost, that kid who stared U in the EYE. Song out -Sing got! U, with your GUTS, that CRINGE, that UP-toward, Ya Preacher, who says, let it lay.
GOD DAMN If don't know, I killed the Laws of Salomon and who am I to say....


Highway WHISKEY, NO Signpost.  Banjo-Man, doin the best...I THINK I got it someplace, I think I got it SOMEWHERE, but there-s NO deciding....

Highway Whiskey, NO Signpost, no Indication. That Kid of your OWN, who back-stared into your FACE!
and re-affirmed Heaven and Hell....in Tomorrow-s reflection.


 JEEZE! Must I carry this anxiety alone or can I BOOG-A-LOO, make a PARTY, invite UUUUU....despairing, sometimes, chopping Carrots, onions, making a Coq au Vin and thinking....how can I CHEER my friends ….on a cold, UP-coming Spring day, my Sunday afternoon on a highway-Whiskey. No bloody Signpost. The smear of your kiss. No for better or worse.. A souvenier….Jon Donne. Poet. 1600-s.....Goe and catch a falling star....




c2019, dave Delacroix.