Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, in MEXICO; the Cancun Diaries, No. 33: The LOLLIPOP LADY.

 Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, in MEXICO; the CANCUN Diaries, No.33: The Lollipop Lady.

...WHEN ALL YOUR HIGHWAYS escape, SHUT DOWN, can-t see day for night; when BEACONS out, no signal-FWD how do U lie to yourself, arrogantly-blind, how do U GET to your Casa when all your last Boogie don-t make a Song?

When all your Love dispersed, that Gig U said was Yours, compounded-later in some existential Vital; the toothpaste on the teeth/face MIRROR with which U RAGE, day-s dawning? Reflections CLAW at your Tomorrow-s highway. Yo! No Prisoners. 

And the LOLLIPOP LADY, the Crossing Guard, helping School Kids across the street: Her Song for YOU?...

c.2021. davedelacroix, calle yalahan,cancun-mexico, 31 January.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix -in MEXICO; The Cancun Diaries, No.32: COCO-BONGO BEACH...

 

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix - In MEXICO: The CANCUN DIARIES, No. 32: Coco-Bongo Beach.

dedicato: Colin Smyth; Baron-Viscount of Pensylvania, USA.

....A LONG DAY to COCO-BONGO, a long day to MEXICO, what U decide. A Long Day to Coco-Bongo, surf-s UP but my Spirit don-t shine; Erotica! Machismo! Beach Babies, jive?

 It-s a long way to TIPPERARY or Coco-Bongo in your heart; a journey worthy of my boots, shoes, slippers or sandals, those OTHERSIDE footsteps we keep or secret  in the dark 

It-s a LONG WAY to make 100 Mexican PESOS make a statement, the Madre awaiting the Cancun-Red-Bus, shopping bags in tow, arriba a CASA, a long day Saturday night.

 She was sweating, bus top by the Cantina-pub-Patio. I had a bottle of COLD water. I gave it to her....Muchos gracias. She-s still awaiting the Red Bus but OPTS to bring me a CHOCO Bar! 

VIVA-MEXICO!... For the BAMBINOS I say: I present this MADRE with 100 Pesoes. "Por la Bambini. Por favor. Gracias for the Choco-bar!

A long day to Coco-Bongo beach, Cancun-Quintanno-Roo. A long day-s Coco-bongo Groove! As I, like HER barely have 2 Bucks to run together?

c.2021, davedelacroix, calle yalahan,cancun-mexico.

Our Man in Europe, MEXICO; The Cancun Diaries, No.31: The SORRY People.

Our Man in Europe, MEXICO; The Cancun Diaries, No.31:  The SORRY People. 

1.000 YEARS IT TAKES to say U R SORRY, that English repetative. U leave your UK house, miss the Neighbor: Sorry!, U get the LIMO, Bus, or hitch-hike to the Super-market; to the Driver, fellow Footpads, a SORRY. When U get IN the Supermarket that-s where the SORRY-RAPIDO kicks IN. Soup Aisle, Veggies, Frozen-stuff. DOUBLE-SORRY for requesting SMOKES or SERIOUS BOOZE!. Jeeze: So Sorry. Sorry, NO CASH! Fricking Credit Card! SORRY my accent doesnt come from your NECK of the WOODS, R We OK saying SORRY? A NATION of SORRY PEOPLE. God forbid EMBARRASSMENT; show some Intelligence, WIT or positive-dynamic the SORRY-PEOPLE got your HANDLE!  U R a Show-Off! ATTITUDE! NEEDS A COIME-UPPENCE! - keep the bastard down till he becomes ONE OF US...the Sorry People...and now in LOCKDOWN, Governed by their SORRY MASTERS...the WINTER of Sorry-s discontent: U KIDS!!!...No Snowball fighting! Otherwise U will be SORRY!.

c.davedelacroix. Jan. 2021. On the Beach in Cancun-Mexico.

OUR MAN in Europe/MEXICO: Dave Delacroix: The CANCUN DIARIES: No.31: IZ YAH BLU MAH BLU?

 

Our Man in Europe/MEXICO; Dave Delacroix: The Cancun Diaries: No.31: IZ YAH BLU MAH BLU...!!?

IS your BLUE my BLUE? Is your RAGE my RED too? Is your PURPLE, your indivisable; is your RED, does it come on through or weave TURQUOISE, a double-helix hue?

 Is your ENIGMATA, your spleen of Orange, Starlight, that horse-hair brush stroke, twirling pigment-linseed oil that elucidates your Madonna-s stark eye?  And I...I am a FAUN in your Vista-discontent!?

 Is THIS our blackest portrait, a candle-ghost, lost in historical context? And as for your BLUE, a Canvas of Hellesbore: Does it belong to me? You!? SCREAMS the Mandrake root!!!

 Is your Blue MY Blue, a thing to share OUTSIDE? Goddamn PEOPLE, in a Art Gallery, who pay admission and walk by, seeing US in eternity, and stare!!!

Is your Blue MY Blue; said the Painter to his Love.

c.2021, davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix/MEXICO: The Cancun Diaries, No.30: How do I kill your Love?

Our Man...Europe/ MEXICO, The Cancun Diaries, No.30: How do I kill your Love?

dedicato: Rodrey V.

How do I kill your Love, U who mock me with disdain? How do I PURGE U from my memory? Oh my Love; how do I evacuate Love-s war-zone, that bloody ground where-in my heart is laid? And just HOW, we arrive...?...Your Cosmetic glimmer! Swords, glisten: Mascara tubes/Max-Factor! How do I kill OUR Love, sans Canzone? Je suis despair!!! The Microphones are disconnected! How do I SHOUT Love, MY SOUL: How do I kill, kill, kill my OWN, perhaps in robes/gowns in which I alone can only be  BE-witched? Or the recherche of my Dreams? I wrestle this Night and all my Tomorrows; how do I kill this Love?

c.2021, davedelacroix. calle yalahan,cancun-mexico.

Our Man in Europe/MEXICO, dave delacroix: The Cancun Diaries, No. 29: Everybody-s got a Lonely room.

 Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix/MEXICO: The Cancun Diaries, No. 29: Everybody-s got a lonely Room.....

EVERBODY GOTTA LONELY ROOM, busted-Love, busted MONEY, everyone, say: a Love-Lost too soon. EVERYBODY! Everybody got a KISS, a souvenier, that thing on your finger, hanging on your WALL, in your Wardrobe; Yesterdays Rage! Everybody got a COME-UPPENCE: Critics abound! YOUR NYLONS! MY DICK! An INTRO to the Life we pick or choose in OUR alternative demeanour. Posters on a Teenage bedroom wall.

EVERYONE, the POPE, the Q-MOM gets to bawl: a la recherche du temps perdu. EVERYBODY! YOU! Like Miss-Lonely in Minnesota, every KID, Manchester-England, every BELA, YOUNG dude who fake their sad Haute-Coiture, PROMENADE, strut their STUFF, everybody got a Passage in their Heart, a genetic-papparazzi, your Kids, sometimes, fool U too soon. It-s what Kids DO! Or vis-a vis a FELLINI moment:. Do NOT despair. Everybody-s got a lonely ROOM. 

c.2021. davedelacroix. Cancun-Mexico.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...in MEXICO...The Cancun Diaries, No.27: All the Lonesome...

Our Man in Europe...In MEXICO...The Cancun Diaries, No.27: All the Lonesome. 

ALL THE LONESOME, the Losers, the deadbeats, the Homeless Wrecks, the forgotten WANNABEES, the Sad Saps who sleep on cold Parking Lot, Concrete stairways...Maybe U gotta sandwich, a Burrito, a PINT, and in your Pocket-book, a Super-market Discount Card which U can WAVE at Social Suspicion, get a seat on a Trolley, a repose in a warm Institution, the Library, City Hall on a cold Winter-s day -being a PART of the GIG, the City-s Metro Drum that BEATS, heart-pulse, IN-devisable from the STIGMA of Societies OUTSIDE and UN-belonging; As all the Lonesome. YO! There-s a PLACE for US. There-s a Place for Us. There-s a PLACE!, yet this Place for which we yearn is bereft of a Mirror-s reflection and all the Multitudes, a good Rabbi surmises, by human device, came too much too soon?

c.2021. davedelacroix. calle yalahan, cancun-mexico.

OUR MAN in EUROPE, dave delacroix...In MEXICO...The CANCUN DIARIES: No. 26: The CAW.

 Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...In MEXICO...The Cancun Diaries: No.26: THE CAW.

A Raven-s CAW in Adam-s RIB, An INFLICTION, no EVE could Spinster-spin, nor Witches, Vampires, Leprachauns, Gaelic-types, the creators of Country & Western Music singing of Pastures-past, Auld Lang Sigh, or the DEVILS DRAM, either-each way, everybody, miserably, gets to die .If there-s a Chorus: Go ahead and repeat it.

With a CLEAR Nose in L.A.-s Cocaine Smog, and a GAL who-d talk TWICE-a-Dozen. Or Hollywood Plantation Gangsters: Let-s DO a Movie!...Meantime, at the A>A>(Alchies Anon in Malibu), U R sure of HUGS to bloody-stake-your intuition, your Dick, your Vuvaloni; and the SALAD BAR is Free. Still. U get RAPED on the Salad Dressing. Ask any successful Movie Star...?...Pickles, French, 1,000 Islands.

A Raven-s CAW gets IN your Soul. That BUGGER U cannot quite pick OUT of you Intelligence. It worms, it festers...might have it-s own Surfboard...but when the GIG is YOU, the CAW, the Gig is done. And in your E-mails to sweet Sister Mary-Lou back in Missouri, a Vacuum Cleaner of HUM and latent despondency. The CAW comes through.

Happy Days!

c.2021, davedelacroix; happy in Cancun.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, IN MEXICO: The Cancun Diaries: No. 25: Quintana-Roo.

 Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, IN MEXICO: ALL THE SWEET SENORITAS in QUINTANO-ROO.....the early years.

All  the Tacos, the Burritoes, the fandango, dat EL CARRAMBA in the CANTINA; All the LIMBO, MAMBO, TANGO, MAH-RIMBO-Momma=WALTZ con Sombrero. ALL THE ALAMO, Musket-RE-LOADED: Bring it ON!

It-s always tough when U R in Love. And ALL the Sweet Gals who want your Sombrero; lucky MIO, I can afford one. But who CRIES for the Callabrero, Age-18, Romantico!?

All the Canzone-NACHOES that I can EAT. TITS! VULVA! Sea-Surf!-VULVA! Pity the QUINTARRO-ROO Sombrero, SMOTHERED, almost ISLAM, heart-broken Teen-age years, YUCATAN, married-OUT, a JACOS TAXI, En=DELAY! And all the YAKKA-MINI Habenreri CHILLIS: Do U Kiss MANANA or just bow out?...HEY BABEE: Just Blow it out?...Confused!

c.2021. dave delacroix.

Our Man In Europe, dave delacroix, IN MEXICO!...The Cancun Diaries, No:25: The UK TORY Party, 2021.

 Our Man in Europd, dave delacroix, in MEXICO!...The Cancun Diaries, No.25: The UK Tory Party, 2021.

....QUESTION!!! IT-S ONLY OBVIOUS twix U and Mio and BLUE; stuff in an an XMAS Stocking, Sexless, full of Joy. It-s ONLY the OBVARTO, Twitter, Text, distracted whilst U CRASH & BURN your Toyota, headwounds, screaming; man I didn-t MEAN TO FRICK YOUR cREDIT rATING, A silly weekend in the Shires, a WRECK, ask your Daughter! I brought trpple CONDOMS. Happy the Man who brings a VIRGIN home: Chocolate Addiction. An Antigone on your respectable doorstep. BRISTOL, LONDON, a Canterbury Tale.

c.2021, davedelacroix

Our Man in Europe...in MEXICO...dave delacroix: The Cancun Diaries, No. 25: By the Gringo-s Ranchero.

 

Our Man in Europe...in MEXICO...dave delacroix: The Cancun Diaries: No.25: By the Gringo-s Ranchero.

......WAS I Loved, SO loved, SO in Love and expecting nothing?  -Awaiting - WAITING - patience - Impatience, the SHOCK of Love, the shock of fear, REGRETS-do I cross my knees, hit the HEAD or hold-on=PEE LATER, a Laterism of a JOB INTERVIEW with the SENOR or the business-Matador without a SEX outcome option? WHO really cares!? I fake these questions with every Cognac. U do too! LOVE-S INTERVIEW!  Can-t we ALL just ejaculate then go on  home-read Dostoyevsky, a Crime, a Bhuddistic Suicide; is THAT not against Faith-s Tenets? Christ! I-m SO nervous bout my new DATE I may need to hit the Crapper! WHO amongst GOD-S heavenly JANITORS would hear me if I cried OUT. YO! FLUSH!  Lady Macbeth: BEAT IT DAMNED SPOT of prescience, of your TIK-TOK, of NOW, of disillusion. Do I get "hammered" or just fall off my barstool. Yet I must meet my Love. At the Gringo-s Gate. The Ranchero over which I have no control...heavens to Betsy!...and sing a song of love.

c.2021,dave delacroix. In thought and mighty Cancun-Mexico where-in my GIG is laid.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, in MEXICO, the Cancun Diaries, No. 24: South of the Border.

 

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, in MEXICO, the CANCUN DIARIES, No.24: South of the Border.

dedicato: Grande Amigo Vincent Manta.

It-s ALWAYS TOUGH, CHILLED, FRAGILE, distilled Soul. Talk Shows bout BEING ALONE; a Male Wreckage in every Bar, South of the border, EX-Pat, wearing a Lone Star like Gary Cooper. Mister-Wannabee. Maybe done some Jail Time, OAXACA, where he held a Captive Audience. French, Polish, Mexican drug fuck-ups incarcerated but SHARING jail time wishing he-d shut up, give the YANK a GAG, all awaiting for Visiting hour: a decent Burrito. Pick this Yankee Cockroach from your Tortilla. Even the Federales get to thinking of a Mercy Killing.

It-s always MEAGRE when the Music-RANCHERO don-t hit the Spot. Juanita, Anita, Margarita, your Sombrero, out of fandango!.And who-s to FAULT. U just grew OLD and your: "Ay carramba!!!", like a Cayote howling for a blue bayou, a heart-strum Guitar U never played resonates your incarcerated Soul. And NOW in a Cantina, waxing lyrical to anyone who-ll listen.

 Bad Yankees INFECT Latin-America. UP NORTH Americans COMPLAIN of Mexicans in the USA. Dual discrimination prevails. TEX-MEX or MEX-TEX?...I-m awaiting the lonesome CD. And OUT of Jail to WHOM do U plead: Your MOM, distant Cousins, your COKE dealer: he-s in L.A. worrying night and day about the quality of you Jailhouse Burrito.

It-s always TOUGH south of the Border, the Border U chose to cross.

c.dave delacroix, ourmanineurope. in mexico. cancun-diaries-24.

Our Man in Europe...IN MEXICO...dave delacroix: The CANCUN DIARIES, No: 23: CICERO (at the Bijou).

Our Man in Europe...IN MEXICO...dave delacroix: The CANCUN DIARIES, No. 23: CICERO (at the Bijou). 

AT THE BIJOU (Bar) BLUE MONDAY, a Glass or 2..of MODELO beer, like we do, in Cancun-City waiting for U.

At the BEE_JOU (bar-thingy), BLUES whoosits, Avenida Coba, traffic-JACOS! -racing by. Like a kiss for U; heading nowhere, of Mice and Men, the best laid plans.

At the BIJOU, "Si!" Another Modelo! Another Cantata: All Men become BOYS when they fall in Love. Latent Alcoh-Chain-smoking, avante-garde or SAD fashionistas! Gals too! Gals tante!

AT THE BIJOU, rumba-s Satanic guile in the rictus of Love-s despair; as all fools in love GRIND  Loves powdered crystalline as the music plays. HUGS. Selfies!

And only a FOOL will dance: CICERO, his Wisdom, his legalese hands NAILED, long ago,  to the Roman Senate door, HELPLESS in Love-s UN-reason ever after.

... At the Bijou. Surrounding a Lover-s mind. Again! Cicero-s hands, fingers, even in Death suggesting our perplexity...at the Bijou...our very own Pre-historic cavern, UN-discovered.

c.2021, dave delacroix.

Our Man in Europe...In MEXICO...dave delacroix: The Cancun Diaries, No. 22: The Road to Palenque.

 Our Man in Europe...In Mexico...dave delacroix. The CANCUN DIARIES, No. 22: The Road to Palenque.

dedicato: Lady Tania Botello.

A KISS TO PALENQUE, no Conquistador could know. No swagger, no RAPIER, no FANDANGO in this GEO-SLUMBER JUNGLE that horizons EL DORADO with every CORTEZ, a High-Rise HOTEL to dwarf history-s intrinsic divinity. But a KISS. A Yucatan shore breeze. A beach. A KISS TO PALENQUE: Who will bring the ROMANS-the ZERO, who invents MY MAYAN WHEEL whilst I, for U, predict the movement of the STARS! Nothing less. A kiss to Palenque; I leave my heart in Sacrifice, that double helix of contradiction which leaves the Gods in despair. Oh Babee! A kiss to Palenque, THEN, now, tomorrow...and WE in love, somehow, waxing lyrical: nowhere or shamed within our inter-cultural intimacy. Let-s set a Course and Sail, to Cathay, to India where Wise Men/Women understand our diversity!

c.2021, dave delacroix. calle yalahan, cancun-mexico.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, IN MEXICO: The Cancun Diaries: No: 21: WHO KILLED MY COOL!!!

 

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, IN MEXICO: The Cancun Diaries: No. 21: Who Killed my Cool!

DARK HORSES, STRANGE BIRDS infect your trans-migration. Teen Kids. Teen Gods! It-s tough enough scrounging money for Blow, JD, an occasional Line, Covid Jabs, like talking to  a non-jewish taxidermist who dosent suggest a kiss of life; a dead Racoon IS a dead Racoon. WHO KILLED MY COOL!!! Worst still, an IMAN. No one wants to go to his Iranian Business School. And if THAT dosent top it, LOCKDOWN U.K., "I gotta bone to pick wiv U", an expression as passe as last weeks Underpants that somehow skipped the Laundry. And no hope for FISCAL TYRANNY: the BBC, a.k.a: Israeli Occupied Territory, under the auspices of Politico-landed Grandees WHO R KILLING MY COOL! So we stumble over adjectives, theorem, resolution until dark horses, strange birds: PISS on my Threads. SOME, I saved UP for! We talking HUNGER!  In Bristol, Sheffield, Liverpool. WHO KILLED MY COOL!!! SINGING:  dice the Publico-Guillotine. A Nation-s RAZOR, with disdain, and beat the drum. Dark Horses, Strange Birds. A murder of Crows. 

c.2021, jan, dave delacroix, calle yalahan, cancun-mexico.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix ...now MEXICO...the CANCUN DIARIES, No. 20: Brave New World.

 

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, now MEXICO... the CANCUN DIARIES, No. 20: Brave New World.

WHEN ALL THE BOYS cried MARY, when all the boys cried MOMMA, when all the boys cried: what-s for SUPPER, maybe Aunts, Sisters, Neices, 3rd female Cousins, Matriarchs, bitches in your WILL and Madres... SUNK.... Finding a WW1 battlefield TRENCH that they could not invent out of jealousy, spite, disdain or vindictive, self-vindicated, an emotional insidious, a broken arrow. Virgo Intacta torn out! 

There-s ALWAYS a Helen of TROY. There-s always a fickle BOOGALOO! Men, lambs to the slaughter. Or shreiking daughters. RESPOND me-boys! WW1, 1914-18. Yet WOMAN did not instigate this Insanity.

Collective suicide OR these BOYS came home. Disabled. Unable to fornicate. Parked in some countryside out-of-the-way residence; Nursed remaining limbs, SHELL SHOCKED psychosis till they politely passed away... the future of WAR-s residue has not changed. Pick a NUMBER Servicemen. And these RESIDENCIES, these backwater Stately Homes AWAIT. And NOW it-s GIRLS and Boys. EXPECT, leastways, captured Girls, your Breasts to be fondled, sodomized by ARABS, TITS Sunny-side UP AFGHAN-style, can BE...the FEW, your "Finest Hour".............................................................When all the SCEAMING has done. Beyond WW1 MUSTARD GAS ATTACKS, Man unto MAN, Friend begets a DEVIL..Your GENERAL!!! And NO SELFIES you-d want; a BRAVE NEW WORLD ...a World around the next corner!...should U elect.

Who cries for the WW1 TIN HAT. Who, future traveller, passing by, will cry for You.

C.2021, dave delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, MEXICO: The CANCUN DIARIES, No. 19: Nearest and Dearest.

 

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, in MEXICO: The CANCUN DIARIES, No. 19: "Nearest and Dearest."

Hey Gal, why U running round with that COVID crowd. Hey Gal, the ONLY Woman I ever loved but I cannot protect U now, protect U from Yourself. 

HEY, Sweetie-Pie, dark nite streets U want to walk home alone. Hey BEJESUS! In dark places dark dead Souls, s-where they roam. And I KNOW U R the Queen of all U survey but NIGHTMARES exact their sardonic-rictus IMPRINT, leaving a Queen, a body bag, a Coroner, an abstract Medico, trying to paste U pretty for inspection by your nearest and dearest.

HEY BUGGALUGS1 u been on the road way too long. And when aging birds like me get too worrying: there comes a  Story, there comes a Song....

c.2021, davedelacroix. All the C.C.JUNG dudes!...

Our Man in Europe...now MEXICO, dave delacroix. The CANCUN DIARIES No. 18: 2020-s last hurrah!...sung-infantile!

OUR MAN in Europe, now MEXICO, dave delacroix , The CANCUN DIARIES No. 18: 2020-s last Hurrah!...Sung-Infantile.

dedicato: Baroness CARMEN from Estonia.

I twide to give U scumbags an Even Bwreak. The Pandemic was MY Idea. Slow the Smucks down. Half a chance to Clean-Up their Act. Hand out some SLAPs, maybe. Introduce some Cerebral Progress in the NOT GUARANTEED for more than 60 years-human CRANIUM. Those Under-used "little grey cells", hopefully distract  them from ridiculous idolatry, Stones, Statues, Incense Sticks, Bells chiming, either chanting in Circles or nodding to a Western Wall. And whirling Dervishes come to mind! 

Silly Me! I twide to divert Mortals from another peren-century slaughter. Napoleon. Hitler. Let Em BE I thought Unknowingly-Unthinking  but instead...I-d initiated Social Canibalism. And like a pestilence, a breeder, a Super-feeder. Millenia confounded. Doom and gloom.  An UNFUNKT! ...Yet WHAT is left is my Childish aspirations. And on THIS note of HOPE, perhaps I too forgot to share, infected by the COLLOSAL pandemic of GREED; it-s eloquence out-shinning diminutive Poetry, a genre, 2020, institutionalized or splayed in the cyber-space of the Dilletante! 

I twide to get these Cretins to RE-think, to Turnaround. My year-s Body-Count somehow no-longer inspired that collective anguish, horror, terror or fear! Maybe I dinner-belled the wrong Tattoo. I too have my faults. I am 2020. My Lifespan is 12 months. A short but whole  year. And now I join my Callendic ancestors. And "fare thee well" the wise, the fools, the indifferent, ALL somehow THIEVES clutching at my linear  footprint, a Fashion, YOUR trend, a universal vice. YO! Bon Chance 2021. as He-She gives me a pat on the back. Thanks me for my Service. "No worries!" And advances with the POWER of To be or Not to be. Yo! ENCORE-less! U got it!. My Time, spent, it-s over. "I did my best" I WAIL as HISTORY drags me screaming-kicking, gob-smacking, guilt whining, to join my myriad ancestors in the retirement dynamic of oblivion.

c.2021, 4.02, a.m. davedelacroix, Jan. 1st. Calle Yalahan. Cancun-Mexico.