Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "Who GODS da GODZ!?"
...THE VAMPIRE AT YOUR THROAT that never let's go suckles your final "Mon-bots", swallows, deep-throats... that concept of twilight, night and day, then acrobats your tomorrows, boo-ga-loo like it has no WHA!? ...a flood of memories, shadowing past good deeds until they SWELL into the Borscht of a life-long Revolution. People died. Maybe. Nobody, no-longer hugs. Anti-SMOKING FASCISTS roam the streets, cafes, restaurants, poolrooms like NAZIS with impunity!
THE VAMPIRE KISS, succulating your naked, vulnerable -blood-pulses into a Strangers World-Kharma to be lost in translation, in TRANSLATION ever-more. HISTORY? Yours? Mine? The KIDS on the Street? .....History's Umbilical screaming within its ecstasy, a universal hunger, the PILL for the rabid-divine, licking-chops, one last candle: "WHO Gods the Gods!? And THE VAMPIRE...at your throat. Where else? Simulation, lip-smacking, pretending to KISS? WHO PAYS his/her $$$ BILS and in the clear light of dawn, a "GO-FUND-ME" for a coffin; Allah, Jesu, Budda and their crews... Coin to count.
NIGHT FALLS like a CHARCOAL. Mahler music or that frick from SWEDEN, outlived the lot, slow, lumber some, a soundtracks blood-oozing from yesteryear veins, yesterday's wounds, WOLFSBANE fragments now on display in an OSLO or STOCKHOLM Museum. Debelius? Delirious-Dobee-DO! You can pay an admission fee. There's a Snack BAR too where once love, hate, violence, love & peace once prevailed; catch an Eddie-MUNCH painting on...ON your way out.
c.2024. belize. dave delacroix, 33 chemoes. still yakkin.
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