Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "DEATH of an EGOTIST!"

 Our Man In Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Death of an Egotist!"

...AT THE FUNREAL no-one was really surprised when, a few gravestones afar, dressed in mourning. he showed up at his own funeral - sans microphone - so he couldn't KARIOKI himself into the grave? 

The Edwardian Frock coat I'd bequeathed him in my WILL - Yes. I was, spiritually - at this somber event also. And feeling equally DEAD as a door nail, supposing "door nails" R an issue, having a rust-free guaranteed gig, or a Life accustomed to funerals -blah-blah? 

It isn't customary - at a Funeral - to "break wind" (FART!) but when the bloke in da BOX/COFFIN semi-explodes, wotchagonnaDO!? The SMELL is contained of course but the cheap-ass coffin acts like a recording Studio-vocal Sound Booth. A tad muffled but still auditable and pretty LOUD!

 No getting away from it.  Everybody, his mourners & nearby passes-by got his final (?) sentiment. 

He was already partially soiled over. Still, no-one graveside wasn't quite sure what to do. Was he alive or dead? They'd buried him with a guitar & a bottle of Whisky. Should they DIG HIM UP or let him drink, sing a song or 2 and/or" SOD IT!" just let him lie in his bed; "Isn't he supposed to be dead?" ...A fevered-cemetery discussion ensued!

SOME YOKO mourners beat it/got the Frick outta there! (Spooky or Complex? In a hurry to secure his wealth?)

I, for One, was on the ground, DOGGO, legs akimbo, laughing my ass off! Was my DEAD BRO Beethoven, Rimbaud (French wizard Poet), Ezra Pound, Dylan Thomas (having a last joke?) It's hard to pin it down. The funerals' SOLEMNITY made the "situ" COCO-the CLOWN. Then it started to rain, the "denouement" of the final scene when an Egotist meets his Maker.

At the FUNREAL, in my mind, no-one was surprised whence, a respectable distance away a misty image in the fog & air, I SWEAR!... we conjured our departed's presence bearing a withered smile, yet still a smile; that son-of-a-bitch making his final bow.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A Whiter Pale of U."

 A Whiter Pale of U.

We flipped the Light-Whoosits, did the POGO on the floor, after Curry & Chips I got sick, so I called MEDICARE?

 They said find Sixteen (16) Vestal Virgins, 2 aspirin & call me in the morning No worries". I could hear - on the pre-recorded phone response the slamming of the door!

 So, being a Carpenter I built a BOX-6 feet long but thought about those 16 GALS, maybe, I might still get some "Amour"?

Of note, I never-ever get Sea-sick? I never-ever went to sea. But there's always a LADY to wreck your heart. some bounders to steal a MAID'S TOO 

is what it means -WAILING...to U & Me. In retrospect, pathetic. It's tough to let it be: A shipwrecked Heart. A double-helix of UN-knowing swarms!!!

Antidote? Forget drugs. Stick with the VINO. (Write a bloody song!)

So, being a Carpenter, I THEN built TWO 6-foot-long BOXES (just in case), stuck'em on a big shelf just in case I wouldn't be alone (U never know). 16 Virgins in TWO BOXES was gonna be a bit of a squeeze, but Love conquers all! (Who writes this shit!?)

We TRIPPED, we FLIPPED the light-fandango, we POGO'D cross the floor. We were looking for OUR "Inner-YOU", a yearning for something more. You're eyes sad and blue, your face a whiter shade of U. This Song I give to U. A whiter shade, a que.

(Singing:) "If I was a Carpenter & U were a Lady? Would U marry me anyway? Would U be my Lady..."

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Wings of a Dove."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Wings of a Dove."

(dedicato: Sylvie @ "Alter-Simon" tavern, Freiburg, Germany.)

"The Wings of a Dove."

...WE'RE ALL OUT OF ICE CREAM, we're all out of Love, we're all out of BISCUITS, the wings of a dove -that briefly flutters ABOVE our wants & needs, a crisis, those "Handbags" at 20 paces in a tavern or on Main Street. (No Prisoners!!!) WARS ain't over till we begin to Think; yet...

...Gelato/Ice Cream, a smear on your mouth, yet the sweetest KISS when life seems to go South? (Sonorous CELLO plays...) And then! The ICEMAN COMETH!!?

SUICIDE NOTES' forensics rarely exhibit traces of Ice Cream, a Coroner's confounding; not as if the dynamic of suicide calls for a "knees-up-Mother Brown". Where-as Journalists - gossip-columnists insinuate the ice cream/tragic-romantic aspect - SWING-SWANG-SWING! - but always leave out the BISCUITS; milk & Cookies exiled to a faraway land...Maybe a mention in the "back pages". Sushi & Salad absolutely VERBOTEN! 

Did the Ice Cream delivery boy get reprimanded, hounded back to Minnesota, later to be vindicated 'cos his bicycle had a puncture PLUS he was occasionally epileptic?... (Letter from his doctor)'

The Ice Cream DELIVERY was TWO DAYS LATE. A Celebrity couple in the hands of FATE! WotchagonnaDO?  "JISATSU!" -Japanese for: "this toothpaste ain't working out." As for DESTINY'S plan? HOOP-LA!!! Hollywood is FULL of "Ass-beans", they got no other place to go.

SINGING: We're all out of ice cream, we're all out of Love. And where R the BISCUITS!? (Munchie-Munchie! PECK! PECK!) The wings of a Dove. The wings of the Dove, which briefly flutters ABOVE our wants & needs, all in all a spectrum of a weekend's eternity. YUP! For now, I'll pass on dessert.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix. November-Corozal-Belize-Ave.-temp-86 degrees-F. Might need to put on a floral T-shirt. Pass me a Beer!!!

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "California Dreaming!"

 

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "California Dreaming!

... (singing:) ...ALL THE WHISKY'S GONE

(All the Whisky's Gone!)

And the Sky is PLAID

(And the sky is plaid!)

I went for walk

(I went for a walk)

to find a BAR & Wail!

(to find Bar & wail!)

.....If I didn't tell her

(if I didn't tell her)

She'd BITCH ME OUT ALL DAY!?

(so the Story goes?)

California-Dreaming.

(California-dreaming)

Tomorrow's Yesterday.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "A glimpse of glory."

 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize. Dave Delacroix: "A glimpse of glory."

A GLIMPSE OF GLORY, a spark in your mind, that cyclone-fixation-unexpected guest! That glimpse of Glory that sustains your winde festers WITHIN to fever your .... your Dinner engagements, your "happy hour", or slumming it with the gang on London's Fulham or Kings Road. There's no accounting for taste.

A touch of Glory on a battlefield. Does anyone VISIT - ON a battlefield! - (Russo-Ukraine), take a "Selfie", describe how U feel? E-mailing: "I was hunted by DRONES in the Trenches/Please subscribe to my website? ($50 please?) ...Make it quick!!!"

A touch of Glory (MUSIC VIDEO) riding the BIGGEST OCEAN WAVE, pretty much suicide for U Dumb-Ass Surf-Knaves? I had three Stunt-doubles, poor bastards - BIG WEDNESDAY! - all wiped out & died. We gave their parents some money. Their Village/Families had a big party/said "them Laya bouts> best thing they ever done!? ALOHA!"

A touch of Glory. Who'd wanna go there? Look into the labyrinth to see Death's stare? Who can in the darkness, the SHADOW, that SHUN, to see the Man or the Woman U have become? ($2 Margaritas every Tuesday happy hour.) Well, CHOICES! An' wotchagonnaDO?

 A touch of Glory. An Icarus flight. An Alexander the Great. But maybe best ...Hollywood or bust? A Kid with a Guitar? Just playing on the street.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The D. Train!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The D. Train!"

(dedicato: Alan Kessler/buddy from McSorley's Old Ale House, Greenwich Village, New York City.)

"The D. Train!"

WHISKY IN THE JAR-O, MY GOD how swift that stuff goes fast! Poetic Summer Love-affairs, alas, never last. Crusades or foreign travels, Internet-"INFLUENCES" -usually dying too soon - never had a clue- Churches, Piazzas, tourist sights. The Eiffel Tower isn't new.

Whisky in my JAR-O, Pernod in my soup. Kisses gone forever. Romance a Yesterday. Wearing Dead Mans clothes, too soon I'll give away. A sixpence song or 2?...

Whisky in my JAR-O, a smile upon my face, a lifetime of failed WISDOM, it's mine to give away. Did U ever meet Paddy, Suzie, Claudia or Loraine; no worries - in your Life - it'll come 'round again.

Whisky in the JAR-O, a Burgundy to taste, the finest cuisine, let everybody feast. The Sun - that GOD - it always rises, or that Coney Island dawn where once I had the BEST BLOODY MARY/Celery stick which carried me all the way back to Manhattan on the "D" Train!?

Whisky in the JAR-O; it'll tell a tale on U. 

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "BOW-WOW!"

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix" "BOW_WOW!"

Daddy won't buy me a BOW-WOW; Daddy won't buy me a whoosists. I had a little Cat & I'm very fond of that, but I'd rather have that WOOFIE-Tail!

Daddy won't make me spaghetti. Daddy won't make me some Pasta. He says: VERBOTEN, linguini-minestrone, I DON'T CARE if it's yesterday's macaroni, but I still want a BOW-WOW-WOW!

Daddy, obviously not a MICHELIN Chef (the mysteries of frying an egg or cooking pasta?) never brought me a BOW-WOW. (Makes ya wonder?)

 And I was very fond - the CAT - of THAT till I - Vietnamese street market - saw the disabled BOW-WOWS for EATING in a cage!!!!???

Daddy don't U buy me a BOW-WOW. Let's forget this for NOW-NOW. I got a little Cat & I'm very fond of that, still there's a BOW-WOW in my dreams.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize: "Penny Lane."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize: "Penny Lane."

(dedicato: Cathy/Liverpool F.C. fan.)

"PENNY LANE."

WHO GETS LOST on memory lane? Some Space Cadet? Someone U know? Who gets stalked in a graveyard, that romance U forgot or forgave?

 Who shadows your shadows, who got lost on Penny Lane, someone U could have saved?

(Gimmie a whisky!) 

WHO gets lost in MEMORY STREET to sting U before your grave? Who can haunt U... in Paris or Rome or SINGAPORE, in old SIAM, that global wax-of-works

to spin the spokes of Tomorrow's "feng-sui"?

U tell me where all Love has gone. And we'll go walk together in Liverpool down a street called Penny Lane.

c.2025. dave delacroix.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Make it Blue!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix" "Make it Blue."

(Song, foot-tapping/up-tempo)

...MAKE IT BLUE! MAKE it blue. I love U. Let's make it blue. Let's make it blue. Bring me my whisky bring me your blues; we'll strap on a guitar or 2. And make it blue like we used to do.

 Bring me your "crisis", we'll make it blue. Bring me your sunshine, we'll make sure its U. Bring me some whisky, your Credit Cards too. We'll have some fun. U know Me. (AHAH!!) My old TUX-EE-A-DORE, put your red dress on!

(Baritone:) We'll throw our cares onto the fire, our troubles into the sea. (Ladies-singing:) Bring me your COMEDIA, a "Stand-Up" just for U & just for little Ol' Me. (Tra-la-la!) & "Dobbie-Dobbie-twee-twee-twee!" That feeling we R free?

Bring me some whisky, your "one-liners" of GOLD. Bring your "le je ne c'est quoi?", that style U brew. Not forgetting!!! -Yesterday's GLORY - Don't forget the whisky! - bring me your AURA & bring me love. Make it blue. Let's make it Love.

Let's make a Paris-rendezvous. I'll see U soon. We'll make it blue. Let's make it sunshine, make it groove-moody, make it like we used to do.

Make it blue. Make it Blue. Make it blue.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "A gambit of Light."

 Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "A gambit of Light."

...The CAT IN THE SHADE, doin' nuttin' sitting in the shade. Ain't purring. Just doing her JOB: Genetics of Memory. Still. That CAT in the shade, wotchagonnado? INTERVIEW?...

Obviously, U CAN'T ask about QUEEN CLEO/Egyptian gal, Julius Ceasar's/Marc Anthony's squeeze. DID she actually - smart gal - commit suicide or piss-off to the SUDAN, maybe another plan? Somebody later go N' try to Sue!? (Is ALIMONY on the table U brutal Roman fucks!?)

(I think I SAW HER years later. Market place, Lebanon. She was wearing blue. Handbags at 20 paces. Old Courtiers she didn't want to know.)

The CAT in the SHADE has witnessed good & evil ALL MEN have made. S-why she gets to PURR. A gambit of light. That spinal retina that cuts out the light. As for the PURR -I'm not there. maybe the CAT will tell U if Cleo's still there.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "The Day of our Night."

 

Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "The Day of our Night." 

THE DAY OF OUR NIGHT that comes all too soon. No Guinivere, no Eloise, and no Brigadoon to bagpipe you're passing nor ferry cross U O-er the river Styx? And no coins on your eyes, no whisky on your lips.

 That day of your night no Nightingale sings. Divested of your glory your Hummingbird wings that solvent bestowed, yet a swallow's flight, now a murder of crows, night eternal. (DANG!!!)

The day of our night, the kernel of our mortal plight. The jagged THROAT CANCER that steals all my might. Wishful thinking at the 11th hour, a last great aspire? No KISSES for sure!

 Yet no rage nor distemper for that day of my night. Multitudes, some in battle, some in PEACE now all un-raveled in resistance distemper? 

 A dismember. Yet an echo. Acclaimed? Or a joke! All worries like DEBTS - mine? -  U can put EM in the Post. Guitars & souvenirs of all MY Yesterday's reign. A sound & the fury - Upstairs/Downstairs - we might meet again. (Ya never know?)

The day of our night. Tomorrow>day after? Maybe tomorrow looks like rain? (I hate to be pessimistic...) Sunday BBQ coming up. Guess I'll wear me olde Tuxedo!

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "Yankee Gal!"

 Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "Yankee Gal."

"YANKEE GAL!"

That Yankee Gal, probably from PHILLY or New York City, mornings, she hits the ground running, runs rings round around Me. Always second guesses my epiphanies, gotta LAW-SUIT for my ideas, & dresses to the "nine-o-pins" knows what to order when we dine.

That Yankee Gal got a chauffeur always on hand. In London, Paris or Rome, a Matre'd at hand to tell me which knife or fork, Claret or Burgundy to drink? Sometimes I think my Yankee Gal tells me what to think.

My Yankee Gal as bright as paint decorates my Soul. One day I know she'll move on OUT and be someone else's Scout! It's no tragedy, it's no despair. My Yankee-brilliant Gal. I'm glad that U were there.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Calvary on your Crucifix." ...in 3 parts, naturally.

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Calvary on your Crucifix."...in 3 parts, naturally.

(dedicato: For Albdem Forte! on the occasion of the birth of his BELIZIAN SON "AZEILLE"!

'The Calvary in your Crucifix" (1 to 3)

PART 1) 

"BLOODY MARY!"

SOMEBODY GOT NOBODY on a Saturday night including "O sole Mio." An eclipse of the moon? Somebody out there u know too well, out there living in hell. 

Somebody got Nobody, no Christmas (Tiny Tim?) -alone with their isolation, a soliloquy of despair, guilty of nuttin just not knowing HOW TO BE THERE? Poverty's 1,000-yard stare!

Somebody got Nobody, no Christmas tree. Why NOT GO VISIT, a cigar or box of candy, remind them they R finally free? Leastways BE a REFUGEE! U can Vote with ya feet?

MUDLARKS on the riverbanks of the TIBER, THAMES or SEINE. It doesn't cost much KINDNESS-Cheri to say "Bonjour!" again: Somebody gets LONELY on a Saturday-Blue? Better hope it don't come, "ALLORE!", "mon Dieu!" to U?

-WORCESTER-Sauce, VODKA of course. Tomato-juice, lemon juice, black pepper, oregano, cilantro, an hour later your hangover will feel much better or maybe much worse. "Com-se-com-ca!/Ce sera-sera!/whatever. Drink up and Be SOMEBODY!"

Sing a Song of Sixpence. A pocket full of Rye. 4 X 20 Blackbirds baked in a Pie! Yet SOME KID, girl OR boy GOT NOBODY on a Saturday night. Where's our god dammed moon? Where's our god dammed plight? No kisses on Calvary on Friday or a Saturday night.

YUP! It's a little bit lonesome. Boys shave or just look groovy. BELAS, bitchin leather-MINI or floral silk skirt "en-suite"? We launch our passion INTO the unpredictable human Seven Seas? To love or die, a BLOODY MARY s-what we might drink. A Calvary moment for YOU & for me. 

Somebody got Ya Christmas. No XMAS night Gift-bag spangled!!! No "LONELY HEARTS" no souvenir to wipe. No cuddle in your soul. SOMEBODY got NODBODY. Nobody got a song. I wish that I was with U too. We might just get along.

c.2025. dave delacroix.

PART 2:  "The LIGHT of the MOON!" (DICKENS: FAGIN & Bill Sykes Song.)

"SHUT UP KIDS: Don't ask too many questions bout where we begin? & or WHERE DO WE START in a pregnant fart, a song of hope & glory! Drink ya GIN! (Mammy-depart!)

Shut-up kids, GIMMIE A'BREAK, I can't find my Whisky, where'd MOTHER hide it? I love her-I hate her, the only ONE I'd stop a Bullet for; but!!! There R times!!!? (Too late now.) Mommy Dearest?

Shut UP U KIDS & drink ya GIN. Breakfast ain't till tomorrow. Porridge of course. Then get out here. Go Shoplifting/Credit Card FRAUDING and bring me some ICON, some Silverware to reflect the light of the moon or a day in the Sun.

SHUT_UP KIDS! Better gimmie some of dat Gin! Just don't tell ya "MA!" -After working all day, laundering neighbors' clothes, maybe Whisky in the JARO? And in the light of the moon where YOU & ME maybe come too soon, an epiphany. Yet ya Mamma-gone. She ain't here! 

Did U brush your teeth, did U Shower today, were u more honest than yesterday? Did u run-rampant in stolen clothes? Do U a Ballerina, do U become Lawyer or a Copper! What's to become of us ALL under the light of the moon...?

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

PART 3:  "GOIN' SOUTH!"

Goin' South, going South...with sweet Louise. Goin' South! -I'm her Squeeze. And no way of knowing with sweet Louise. Goin' South. A Summers breeze.

Goin' South? Written in the stars. Goin' South. S-who we R. Always "G.S>" S-ats who we R.

Goin' South, bacon & eggs. A side of buttered toast, ketchup U-bet! ...MARTINIS at "happy hour", an Olive for Louise! Her hairstyle-delightful in the fair sunlight. (WotchagonnaDO?)

Goin' South, going nowhere; a compass all-awry. Ask me in a couple of whiskies? I'll tell U where I'm bound. Goin' South. Goin' South? S-where I need to BE? Goin' South, Louise & Me. Our needing to be free.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

(HIDDEN TRAX:) PART 4: "The Walls of Jericho."

(dedicato: boys & gals presently engaged in the RUSSO-UKRAINE war.)

..."The Walls of Jericho."

Where does your CASUALTY go? That INNER-U. Do U leave an arm or a leg over barbed wire in WW1 rotten trenches?

 Thank GOD we weren't there. Who'd wanna go? ROW on ROW. Corpses & Corpses...killed in the mud for WHA!!!?

Where does your casualty lie? in some Seigfried Sassoon Poem, a ragged-survivors heart, some kick-ass wonder, never got passed START, a minuet, a prance, a lace dressed maiden who beckoned U into the dark, albeit a butcher's broil/cannon-fodder stark?

When did your Casualty die? Did U kill the thing U loved or horrified by what U saw? Did U want to hide your face when ordered to shoot by the walls of Jericho a fellow COWARD in the face?

And when U come home? Eye-contact? Forgeddabout it! And never answer the ringing of the telephone!

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "The SIREN in the DARK."

I Our Man in Europe, now Belize: "The SIREN in the DARK." (1 to 3)

1)... "NO MORE A'ROVING!"

...Don't need a tailored SUIT anymore (living in da tropics) from "Gieves & Hawkes" on Saville Row nor a "Turnbull & Asser" bowtie, cravat or silk shirt, wardrobe-debonaire. 

Don't need a night at the SAVOY (London Hotel) or to wine & dine at the CAFE ROYALE. And absolutely I do NOT need an L.A. LIMO, don't need that bore. As for Hollywood & Vine? (I'd rather go to Church!?)

Don't need Deauville, Monte-Carlo nor Rome. Don't need "adventure" a SAFARI, climb the Himalayas or paddle UP the ORINOCO for that Eldorado no-one ever finds? 

Ponce de Lyon searching for the "Fountain of Youth"?  (St. Augustine-F.L.A.) It's in your back pocket as U travel along. Nobody told him. "Shmuck!?"

...And now, guess I don't need that Italian COUNTESS though she paid all my bills. Nor backstabbing friends who'll meet their own just ends.

 SO! NO MORE WE'LL GO A'ROVING, a song we get to sing. All songs, like all our Yesterdays resound in a hollow ring. (THE BELLS! THE BELLS!) Going DEAF/bored yet!?

...U'll BAGPIPE (I'll Bagpipe too!) or WHISTLE, our last defense. Whisky & laughter? I recommend. Put on ya Tartan. Ya Highland fling. Rave a CEILIDH. We'll dance & sing.

...Don't need your kisses, don't need your Hollywood FAME. Don't need that sickly sweetness all over again. And as for Life's folly, fools-thieves & clowns. Don't need to meet EM all over again. (Unless they owe me money?)

There's always that. The TRAP! "Hmm! We R fools after all." My Credit rating is positively Agatha Christie!

Meantime I don't WANNA remember. Too many regrets which haunt my sleep. U try to forget a kiss on a pillow, a memento- souvenir. The stuff over Hellenic Wars have been fought. U fill in the blanks of OUR OWN crisis. No more a 'roving. We sing!!! My Bela-My sweet. 

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

2)... "THE PHONEY!"

...In ASPIC, an ECLIPSE IN DECEMBER, like an "Up-Side-Downsize Cake". the one your Mommy made U many years ago. Ya-kind'a viewed it with suspicion but ate it any way; it looked like a rusted COLLISEUM where no bloodshed took place... like too many aspirins in the morning or a triple Cognac late at night; a "film Noir" in your Song. That dead Lady in the Lake. (Hunger prevailed!) Wonder how she met her fate?

In ASPIC, a SOLAR ECLIPSE in December, the MOON refused to shine. That KISS U expected... but always lets U down. Those Sunrise-Sunsets, nature's Carnivals swirl in the mirror of your eye. There IS no U.V. protection twix truth & when U LIE.

In aspic AN ELCLIPSE in December, the Winter of your discontent, , a PANDA MOON, a Yin & Whoosits staring U in the face; do U put on a disguise, run for cover, borrow money from ME to get out of town? It's ALWAYS tough when U don't conjure tomorrow's shopping list. But Tomorrow is Tomorrow's game!

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

3)... (Happy Song:) "The HIGHWAY on the WIRE."

......WE'RE ALWAYS DOOMED, we're always DOOMED in the afternoon, U got my Spoon? Well, did  get yours too? No worries. We're always doomed. (Sonorous Orchestration)

And that PRETTY LADY in the printed-flirting dress, can I get an "introduction"? "Countess-Whoosits?" It's... a miracle PASSION survives. "Who if I cried out!?" (Rainer-Maria Rilke/German scribbler) DOTS & COMMAS prevail.

We're always DRESSED-TO-THE-NINES & yet we swoon too soon. We're always SEMI-DOOMED when LOVE bursts our balloon?

1960s. Dusty rooms. Fumbles under dresses. "U WILL be gentle?", "Las Vegas-Weekend?", "No Honey." she says, " I was thinking about TEXAS, South-Fork Ranch, Your $$$s & a sweet-heart retirement! My PUSSY well spent!"

...Maybe a Caracalla, a Gitano dance might alleviate your Soul or some Mississippi Blues to split your spleen yet find just WHAT!?...I AIN'T NO FOOLIN, 'Bin WITCHATA-LINESMAN". The highway on the Wire. Out there in Palookaville! Some SIREN in the dark.

(Full CHORUS:)  "Tra-la-la."

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our BLOKE n Europe/now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "KIMONO!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/floating on a Sampan outta Hong Kong wearing cheap-ass mascara: "KIMONO!"

(dedicato: Outta RESPECT for the Cool Kids in Singapore, Hong Kong & China- hugs & blessings!)

"KIMONO!"

KIMONO! ~...Have U ever been lonely, have U ever been blue? Have U ever been lonesome, it's up to U. Do U ever go back to the Rice-family-pack. Polish your shoes? And out of the city, goodbye to Shanghai, goodbye to what U knew.

 And IN the CITY what U gonna do? And what good is your Kimono; why not just give it away, sometimes we sing these songs every other day?

Have U ever been lonesome. Some Gal on the street. A Tokyo landscape. Some kid on the street. The KIMONO U pawned long ago. The Song in your heart. The song in your Soul sings for ever more. (Don't lose faith!!!)

 It's tough being lonesome. The Devils U meet. But like a refugee U still got feet? There's some Kid on the corner, maybe COOL; don't cost nothing to say "Hello!"? (Flip a Dime?)

(Singing:) KIMONO! KIMONO! Come back to Me! Where is our destiny? Please set us free. Kimono-Kimona, I sing our song. And with our BITS & BOBS we might just get along.

 Kimono=Kimona, I remember so well when I thought the World was a drinking well. But now?...

Kimono-Kimona. Gotta a smile on my face. Nobody really knows US. WE really got no face. People pass us by. Like U I'm a face in the crowd. Kimono-Kimona. I just say (in Mandarin:) "MEE-HOW!". A face in the crowd.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "The Day of the Misfits!"

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize: "The DAY of the MISFITS!"

...SO WE DECIEDED to ROB a BANK. S-where they KEEP DA MONEY. Seemed like a good idea at the time. We'd already tried BLACKMAIL, but the Internet went South & we couldn't remember anyone's E-mail/address. Names? Who can remember names? The last Geisha U kissed. "WON TON SUE?" And "STICK EM UP!" on N.Y.C. 5th Avenue? Fashionista-Bitches just slapped us in the FACE!  (I was at my wits end?)  But BACK to the big-Kohona, the BANK JOB... Mandatory of course we should (Humphry Bogart/Casablanca) wear belted gabardines, serious Fedoras in the middle of July, every second guy in Ray bans, a third with a painted-on scar, again with mandatory SNEER & no vocabulary. Identical WATER PISTOLS of course, only ONE that if triggered produced the British flag, we were all set to go, Curly, Larry & Moe; back up were the MARX BROTHERS, recent inductees to our gang, Jewish & broke & OUR GANG, a bunch of neighborhood penniless ghetto KIDS to drive us away in the "get-a-way" Van. I believe "Stymie" was the designated driver? FILM NOIR never had a better smile? After a breakfast of bacon & eggs, 2 or 3 shot of Nightrain (fortified red wine gut) I gathered the TROOPS and was ready to BOOGALOO! We all hit the "D-Train outta Coney Island, separated in different train cars -for camouflage. Bernie Madoff's Lipstick high-rise on Manhattan's whoosits street. THIS GUY was LOADED! We'd "Stick him up!!!" I DID forget my Homburg hat. Yet what could go wrong?...

c.2025. dave delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "TIPPERARY!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "TIPPERARY!"

...I NEVER CRIED for my Pizza, no Pizza ever cried for Me? I sailed to Cathay, but Cathay never sailed to me. I never wailed seeing the edge of the world, the state of California was enough. And I never sang of Allah, Budda, or Jesus but I guess those guys sang for me.

I rarely had an original Thought, lord knows we plagiarize as we breathe. Shakespeare or the Bible, recently outsold by "The Da Vinci Code" (?) Quotations/contradictions, will they ever cease? And PIZZAS come & Pizzas go. Who makes Em better, who made them FIRST! The Chinese or Italians? Yet another GULLIVER'S TRAVELS reason to go to war.

It's a long way to Tipperary but MY heart's right there.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man who no longer lives in Denver, Dave Delacroix: "The Big "MEEOW!"

 Our Man who no longer lives in Denver, Dave Delacroix: "The Big "MEEOW!"

(Singing:) It takes SIXTEEN CATS & wad-a-ya get; another "Meow!" & deeper in debt; ah said JEEZE why R we three/crucified hanging here -Curly, Larry & Moe, let's go cracker-barrel at the County store.

It takes 16 CATS: "MEOWS!" -galore! Another day purring on some stranger's mat. Ah-said, U some kind of SIAMEEZE? He/She/transgender say, AMAH jest purring - in Mandarin - for what I can get! AH I SAID, U gotta be from Shanghai? -Nope. (?)... Silence ensued.

...At which point feline conversation dissolves into bible-bashing, Jehovah-Witness, Scientology, a lotta purring, scratching, licking fur-balls - ones who got Em, looking hungry, furtive or spasmodically chasing Geckos by the swim-pool. Did I mention basking in the sun, occasional incestuous sex? (YO! It's OK. We got neutered!) Absolutely NO mention of Franz Kafka, Dostoyevsky, Camus or Knut Hansun. Lotta purring though. A David Hockney painting "sans" splash.

It takes 16 CATS an' wad-a-ya-get, No Jesus, no faith, no TAX RELIEF. U can wander LONELY as a cloud but U'd better not STEP OUTSIDE of the BIG MEEOW!

(There R 65 more verses to this song where the above actually makes sense but I figure I'd spare ya.)

c.2025. Dave Delacroix: "MEE-HOW!!" (Cantonese for "Hello!")

Our DUDE in Europe/SPY versus SPY, Dave Delacroix (a.k.a.David Michael Oxley on Facebook): "THE BARK!!!"

 Our Man in Europe, SPY versus SPY, Dave Delacroix (a.k.a. David Michael Oxley on Facebook): "THE BARK!!!"

"The Bark!" (Apres Edvard Munch's painting: "The Scream.")

.... WHY HAVE A DOG and BARK YOURSELF or get with child a mandrake root? No need to SCREAM or Peacock-feather-display less U R going TO a Rave.

As for "have U ever seen the rain?", a monsoon that threatens your earthly sense of security; a MASS of folks never DO like Voting for some Clod or Tyrant they've never met or knew. S-why the World's gone askew. "JEEZE! I never MET the Guy. I was just following Orders!!!?"

It's hard to masturbate in the public eye but SOME (Politicians) DO & get away with it but there's "a HARD RAIN'S gonna fall" and inevitably on their Worldly-Roulette wheel - for a time - will spin your needy gear. Put your Dime on red or black? An obvious GAME is a-foot! But no-one cares or on mind-vacation.  Postcards from Nazis Death Camps - wish u were here - yesteryear?

Why have a Doggie & bark yourself? Because sometimes in our urgency, it's what we do. Who wants to get off the couch? Dogs ain't barking!...

"Whad-ya-say Soldier!?" The World's gone to Hell in a handbag.  And AS for the "Mystery of the Dog in the night?" "SILVER BLAZE!" Sherlock Holmes knew it. Gotta feeling someday U might too.... As for the DOG?... it didn't bark. 

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "5 ROADS to CAIRO!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "5 Roads to Cairo!"

1)... No SOCKS today!

...NO SOCKS TODAY, the rain has gone away, bloody MONSOON-"arrivederci", it's back to Shorts & Sandals! The tropics (Belize) we can mostly handle! BUT NO SOCKS today, the LEVIS/slacks back in some cupboard, a glass of (cheap ass) Spumante THE SUN is back...

...we weathered the STORM, (mid 80-degrees/BRRR!) coconuts spit firing off Palms (trees), now families, the KIDS racket in the (swimming) pool, we're back to an every day. I SAY! No SOCKS today, getting past November rain. A Whisky & Soda will do me just fine, shaken-not-blurred, my name is BOND. Dave Bond. Licensed to CHILL. (Poolside half naked!). Bikini-belladonnas saunter swan-like...

There's always danger in a tropic Paradise? The CROCS (not sandals) lurk in the bayou, Snakies & BUGS can chomp, squeeze, devour an entire nuclear family (2.5 kids) in 20 minutes/little time to write a farewell - "all is lost!" - farewell note? "Where's 9-year-old ROSA!!?...No-one knows." "No worries. She'll (?) turn up."

But NO SOCKS TODAY! "Shorties, Bermuda-Pants! Tropic "fashione di oggi!" Let's fire up the BBQ & let the time drift away. On this dock of the bay. No Socks today. Could it BE any other way?

"NO MILK TODAY my Love has gone away... No milk today..."

2)...Have U ever been lonely?

Have U ever been lonely have U ever been BLUE, have U ever gone FRANTIC for your Wife, Kids, or just U? Have U ever gone ballistic, Life's - ahah! - outrageous fortune on the ship U R Captain, it fell off a flat world when U - advised - thought it was round.

So, here's a CIGAR, some CAVIAR, a bottle of CHAMPAGNE but mostly, a needy bowl of Minestrone, a hitchhikers' warmth to carry U through that desolate Kansas-State rain? Have U ever promised a "SUN-DOWNER" a house or a home, a Tomorrow, a future, a brilliant career? Sometimes we do.

LOST & LOST we know it in every song we compose. A solo GIG ain't worth the cost but we do it anyway?

Have U ever been lonely, a hug from a friend, a false wall of security that U can defend? Have U ever sang SOLO in "concert-fright" & gave it your best shot to an audience's delight. And a "mea-culpa", though a "coupe de grace" to remind U that U participate, a world filled with Honor &... Disgrace?

Have U ever been lonely have U ever been Blue? So, decide my dear. It's up to U.

3)...DEVIL in a PORK PIE HAT!

ZE DEVIL in a Pork Pie Hat -Urban SWARMI, almost sober, under rehearsed, like most sleight-of-hand, believers row-on-row; any (Non-Smoking) government will CUFF-U & charge U as a belligerent-innocent bystander? U got NO Rights; your cheap ass Lawyer might be WACKED for being a bright spark?

That Devil in a Pok Pie hat, everybody's CIVIL RIGHTS, your friend in whose hands BRASS justice labyrinths & where all ALTRUISM fails, a guillotine awaits but never mind. The ignorant & poor will erect a shrine. It'll probably look like U.

4)...Devil in a Pork Pie Hat -Part 2!

Devil in a Pork Pie Hat, a WIZRD through the bottle of a Whisky glass, given an hour or 2 to steal your insights, steal your FIRE or didn't U know the "familiar", your CAT? He purrs but knows when to leave your lap. As LOVE, confounded, PURRING R synonymous. Ask any VET.

Devils always "Arriba-sensa-minestrone" in the fog of your distracted BOOGALOO, "shoeless", worn off your feet? That Devil in a Pork Pit Hat. That Devil's emerald, the green-eyed symbol of ENVY/JEALOSY above my Anglo-Turkish door.

5)...5 Roads to Cairo.

Songs & SCRIBBLES of Life's riddles keeps a mattress warm. Belles & Bellas, rockin-boudoirs never did anyone no harm. Drunken poetry, miles & miles to take it where U go but no-one knows the fractures in your soul.

KICKS & punches on the Saloon floor, attitudes & racist-oriental that identify deficient cerebral souls U meet. And yet U MEET them every day, some of granite, mostly of clay whilst guitar busking on the street, a night within a night some say but MUSIC prevails!...

(Singing:) And all the Federales say, the N.Y.P.D, the L.A.P.D., or the I.C.E./USA-Gestapo: "He's nobody we know. We just let him get away... outta kindness I suppose."

Songs & Scribbles, a voice in the dark, a consciousness, some kind of spark, who's to say what your Fascist Neighbor will say: "J'ACCUSE!" or "WOT LARKS!!!" 

Oddly, there R 5 roads to Cairo. The Marrakesh Express is one. CONCORDE never flew there. But nobody told me. I just roadside stuck my thumb out & got a ride!

c.2025. dave delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "No man is an Island."

 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "No Man is an Island."

(dedicato: "the Usual Suspects.)

...GOE, tell it on da mountain, go tell it O-er the deep blue sea, go tell it in Times-labyrinth, go tell it to History.

Go tell it to our MEMORIES that haunt us night by night. That whisper within your dreams, a restless-restless night.

 AND GO SING it on a mountain, go sing it on the Plain and if don't FIGURE... you'd better live your life all over again.

 Yup! GOE sing your melancholy, go sanguine in your wine, a mystery, only a fool (Oh boy!) get to live twice.

....My name is BOND, Dave-frickin-Bond/licensed to CHILL, mostly ailing? My BABES, an "all-sorts-licorice" in a spangled-paper box but, luckily, I never got the POX, there's that! (Ya gotta wonder!?)

GOE catch me a falling star mandrake root, tell me where all past years R, Poet John Donne in St. Paul's cathedral. Short guy, life like statue but, I guess tall for Elizabethan times? Dodged the PLAGUE. Sang of his AGUE. His poetic legacy wails?

As for me & U worried about "influencer-issues" via internet exposure, spotty small tit kids' tellin ya bout the Pantheon (Rome), the Parthenon (Greece), the Coliseum (Rome), the tower of London, etc. THEIR miserable travel epiphany - on a BUDGET - who'd wanna GOE? Maybe Poet John Donne, resuscitated would wail "No man is an island!" and leave it at that? (Wanna makes U stay the frick Home?)

(John Donne orig:) "GOE & catch a falling star, get with child a mandrake root & tell me where all past year's R or who cleft the Devils foot? -Teach me to hear mermaids singing or to stave off envies stinging and find what winde serves to advance an honest mind."

....GOE! But of course! Go West young Man!!! Yes GO! Go tell it on the mountain, go tell it O-er the deep blue sea! Go THROTTLE-CHOKE Time's labyrinth, go tell it my friend for your chosen History.

...Last I heard? No Man is a whoosits! Ya gotta, and SHOULD wonder... Post Shakespeare, John Donne got himself a HIT SONG, ya think?

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in a BALOON, dave Delacroix, "A TRINITY of Mood!"

 Our Man in Europe/Dave Delacroix/now Belize: "A Trinity of Mood."

1)... My FAVORITE BLINGS!" (Apres le chanson: The Sound of Music movie.)

(Singing:) SMOKIN & DRINKING, cussing & stinking, days of not shaving & slovenly behavior, cheating at CARDS, pissing in my back yard; these R a few of my favorite things? These R a few of my fave bling's?

Rocking & Rolling (generally abusive), tomorrow's a blast, yesterday's forgotten-those days never last; promisers-promisers tied up in strings, just a few points of note, my favorite bling's? Bling's like kisses sometimes leave a sting?

(REFRAIN:) MY GIG is almost OVER!!!-And there's no encore!!! I'm feeling sad & blue, so I simply remember my favorite things, maybe I'll get over U?

Love IS frenetic when she IS THERE but sadly missed when she goes away? That Song of Songs which Rights all the Wrongs. Boogaloo-baby! Have U ever been wrong?

I simply remember my favorite things & then I pour myself a whisky & soda, and then I don't feel SOOO bad.

Smokin n' drinking. Smokin & drinking... A' wotchagonnaDO!?

c.dave delacroix. 

2)... L.A. STORY.

"O.K. DELACROIX!" said Sgt. O'Nalty (L.A.P.D.) "We've got U DUN for rights on the "Wolfgang=Burg-Stein" jewelry heist on PICO/MELROSE last Tuesday 

(most jewelry heists R on Fridays! Took us by surprise.), but flagellant-masturbation - in our detective opinion - a dead cert decoy for your gang of jewel thieves/BATMAN MASKS!? Touche!! -whilst U offered candy to the jewelry store staff, kissing the salesgirls and bullying the obvious FAIRY/Jewish nephew of the jewel store owner?

"YO! Call the D.A. I wanna make a clean breast of things."

"U-kidding?"

"Not on your nelly O'Nalty!"

"Do U know the way to Santa-Fe?

(The Song?)

"Of course, I think I do."

"And when did cross dressing started?"

"When I got my first Barbie Doll. U ever played with one?"

""In Taffeta or Silk?"

"A dish towel?"

"Jaded?"

"Of course. U wouldn't. Would U?"

"We'll get back to that later." ("AHEM!!!")

" But we can't nail down -excuse the expression - of your/the date of Public-Genital-exhibition, after-all what R a few jewelry store barbules versus indecent boogaloo?"

"It started on a long-distant phone call from Nancy Olson, buddy of that EPSTEIN fella. I believe he was connected to BRIT aristocracy?"

""UH!?"

"Best forward BRO from 1940s Film Noir to 2025 when INSIDIOUS NEWS goes down. And YUP! I wanna plea bargain!".... ("An can I gets some fresh Pajamas?").

c.davedelacroix. 2025.

3)... ASYLUM!

DO U MAGIC whatever it is? Do U MAGIC your magic, a bullet-kiss? Do U fling-far your inner eternity, your legacy, do U SYMPTOM tomorrows sniffles, the common cold, the plague, the Agues of yesterday's fears? Does that kernel of innate insanity, an ulterior fester, God knows how darkness grows, an ABRACADABRA, the rabbit from a hat. Somehow it always turns out, sadly to be a RAT. Some Iman, Priest, some Rabbi, some fucker in a funny hat who wants to slice off your Penis-foreskin? JUST WHO R these Psycho-fricks!!!?

So, sing your wailing, sing your Song, your GIG as IZ - get with it - is kind 'a short. YOUR life, a piss in the OCEAN like a retreat to an Asylum...... After-all we R fragile. When the World catches up with U, Morphine no good. Booze-worthless. S-when U need your INNER-MAGIC, forget the GLAMOR, diamonds for YOU R not forever! Maybe just smoke a "doobie?"

...The BEAT of the SUN. The beat of your heart, the sun-blast reflected stare, the hurt in your eyes, the beat of your magic-mambo, the beat of your mambo guile... OH!! It's HOY!!! Belize in November, the 5th./Guy Fawkes night, in the tower of London, who screamed under torture whence the Queen's sadists practiced their art/a bodies ligaments stretched to their extreme?

How DO lonely hearts wander lonely as a cloud? Whence-GOES your SOUL when death says "Hello?" To shuffle OFF Shakespeare's "mortal-whoosits"; a bitch (?)

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our BLOKE in Europe, dave delacroix:"There goes my Moon."

 

Our Man in Europe/Dave Delacroix: "There goes my Moon."

(dedicato: Carol Aniello)

There goes my Moon, there goes my moon. There goes my song, she skips along. An umbrella, in the rain. I'm too late to do the HOLLIES-60s Umbrella song refrain; there goes my Moon, it comes too soon.

 And in old Shanghai, sittin on a "Junk" with a bowl of rice just who will sing my song when, righteously we all-WAIL at DESTINY for all the reasons wrong or WHY??? Mans WAR-LIKE/GREED prevails. When do WE set sail!? (Somebody needs to dive deep for the anchor so we can get along?)

...And U can SWING ya "YO-YO" upside down and all your childhood TOYS: Stick 'Em in your mouth!!! Conker's/ Pebbles, a bikini on the rocks. The tide comes in or out. And yesterday is South.

There goes my MOON. There goes my Moon.  Something I cannot kiss. There goes my Moon. The one I never, mostly miss? She nursers her breasts in a coverlet waiting her while, she might stoop to vanquish, I still love my Moon. There goes my Moon. Loved. Yet I lost too soon.

c.dave delacroix. 2025

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix; "BANZAI! -the SHOUT!"

 Our Buddy in Europe/now sunny Belize, lounging by ze pool, DAVE DELACROIX: "BANZAI! - The SHOUT!"

...A blackout to eternity, a blackout to the past, a kiss before dying, U wish?

A SCREAM before "the SHOUT!!!" A bug screen to block your fears; or a whisper in your inner ear/a Witches brew from a Scottish play put IN the pot all that U may.... alas, yet will never prophesize your tomorrow's dismal fate.

A worried man, a worried song to whittle as YOU lay. A fond romance in memory, where, overseas does she now lay?

   A BLACKLIST. those stubborn memories (Reiner Maria Rilke phantoms!) why do they insist to reappear to rake the consciousness of the tranquility, a pacific "Nuclear-WAR" morning's fear? Or your Lady, a kiss and being kissed behind your back?

(Shakespear/King Lear:) BLOW! BLOW! u winds, u victims: HURRICACANE U Victors; your yesterdays in a "Still" to percolate...Tomorrows' fate to do it all over again.

BANZAI! BANZAI! BANZAI!

...But what for?

A blackout for eternity. a blackout to the past/keep DREAMING!!!, A kiss for the Kids who died. Americans & Japanese, young folks, we walk in their shadows.

c. dave delacroix.  Our dude here for U.

Our Man in Europe/Dave Delacroix; "Cyclops-introspective."

Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix, "Cyclops-Introspective.".

THAT THING IN YOUR EYE, that irritation which by morning will bleed onto your cheek, might be a "Guilt", might be a freak; ya never know Nature's throw-a-way, a Planet-COMET to destroy all we know, the NYC skyline, the ruins of Rome, piss off your cats & dogs, obliterate your home? 

That thing in your EYE, an UN-Seeing Gig that riddles your Mind, yet a light in the fog, borne by irritation, a ragtime tune where fun-foot-dangling don't quite make the grade, white, yellow, black man whose SCIENTIST gonna come UP with a hand of Spades or Natures Old Man? -Moses, Allah, the local JU-JU-Man. oR the old gal in the village who will bandage your wound. "I've heard it said!?" Some SOULS can be saved?...

There's a lotta WISDOM out there. It just doesn't come in the ECCONOMY size.

That THING, that grit in your EYE your Momma wipes away gently with a towel. People/tribes in other towns/villages got their own elixirs and they DO wanna help out., what to DO with a GRIT in your eye?

Suffer-suffer old men sing. No worries we sail into eternity. We leave that catechu IN your eye.  Neither blind nor seeing. That thing in your eye. A CYCLOPS witness. A Ulysses & his buddies passing by.

c.2025. dave delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/Dave Delacroix: "A taste of Life.

Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "A taste of Life." 

Take your Mayonnaise, take your Mayonnaise, take your phone. Take AI, stick it UP your spout and leave me alone. Take your Mayonnaise home, my Gal and Me, cool as can be, take your salad cream and stick it up in your scream, your Intel dream doesn't mean NOTHING to my Babe & Me.

So, dance your dance, go talk Chinese, a RUSSKIE or Tartare meat on a saddle, we'll eat it rare. And take your Escuerzo-/snails, sup your Boule et Bais, Boris Stroganoff, or Pho Man Chez? Go take your Irish stew, alone with Wine, Rum, Vodka, Scotch on da rocks? Go smoke it/ rot it in your SOCKS!

Take the BREW U think U can chew which MOMMA made when U were once new. Hold ON to those memories, your Spring-golden years. A taste of Life. Big EARS & proud bearing; nutting wrong with that an old-time radio show. Can U remember the old Soap/cleaning product-commercial singing tunes? "DAZZ! will make your Toilet JAZZ!?"

Buuuuut YEARS later: Take your mayonnaise, take your sour cream. Lies & truths shoveled into your brain by Media, Governments, GOSSIP, social fears, where is the haunting GHOST of yesteryear to pronounce a moment true? As for life's TRUTH that now tastes like sawdust in your mouth. "Crackling-Rose/U saw-born Woman" (Neil Diamond song) or that RODEO Star buckin-broncos that man U used to be. Or that Rattlesnake roundup that never was? (Still a mystery to me?)

Mayonnaise on a double take-out Cheeseburger from an Arizona or Texas highway truck stop, Tucumcari or just West of San Antonio, ask me, times past if the ketchup tastes the same?

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "DEATH by proxy!"

 Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "Death by proxy!"

...Death BY proxy! Who'd a 'guessed? The King, the Queen IN your life, the Court Jester, a Jack of Knaves to slice your intelligence at your knees OR Gypsy-Rose-Lee, a limerick bout a gal from Swansea (Wales), a mysterious Jewess with no fear of HELL, a Rebecca to Ivanhoe: Fortunes to tell?

Death by proxy, a "rag and bone man" scouring slums, collecting people's scraps year after year; mostly rubbish, throw-a-ways, pots & pans, sometimes a DIAMOND falls into his hands, a genius magnet?

OH!! Who cries for the beauty, away from satanic mills, now mind-bending "AI" communion, Bitcoin, where is that daisy field, bluebells in the forests, in the woods, nature's fragile shield to shade tomorrow's eye, enforced to see the narrow horror of Tomorrow?

Death by Proxy, friends/people come & go, a CULLING so the next "school-class" can come & grow. Clouds on clouds in different form to enhance each generation to their norm. A song or 2 to hum?

Death by whoopsies. Fate will never hand U the key. Soldiers falling to your left & right. My valor has no wounds. Why is it not Me? And YES! (Singing:) "It's a long, long way to Tipperary but my heart's right there!" A death in any which way I lose. U'd better take it!

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Nothingness, Dave Delacroix: "A Life in Proxy."

 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A Life in Proxy."

A LIFE in PROXY, the Man who was never there, indivisible, a masked man, some Cat who, unknowing was BOOGALOO, someplace-upstairs? WOTCHAGONNADO when U don't feel U EXIST, U drink the wine, U eat the ham & cheese, yet all TASTE crumbles into nothingness?

People/friends travel far & wide where YOU have lived before & died, never spoken-of, but your inner-silence, quietly sliced? YET THEY adventure, fall in love, get married, squirt out some brats, age, DIE, come & go and all the while sunrise-sunset, the bestiality of existence rackets the coffin of your inner-meaning, to what purpose only some SOLAR Ironmonger knows?

A LIFE of PROXY, a SHILL of a Man, an over-seeing intense cyclops-telescope/obscure of Life's CHAOS! The World's stupidity, Insanity, GREED, Pathos; who marries the debutante, who marries that "charming man/turning out he's a pervert", his father, an old Battle of Britain SPITFIRE pilot; throws the teacup, unexpectedly cross the dining room table.

WHO'S NOT THERE!!!..Who's not anywhere? That Universal question, BEING-UN-BEING, your dance alas has begun! Meantime? A Life of PROXY. And there's Whisky IN the JAR!!! And on your journey a Hamlet in the back seat of your car...trusting as U travel along....A LIFE in PROXY. A'la the loser who sings this Song.

c. dave  delacroix. november. age 70 & groovin.

Our Man in Europe/HEAD-CASE, Dave Delacroix Esq./"Into the Mystic!"

 Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "Into the Mystic!"

DO NOT ARROGANCE, acrobat-somnambulist, high-wire act, a sleight of hand, into the Mystic. It isn't worth it! Many have tried, many have died thru fright, WAR, battles, suicide, despair.

 Do NOT go "robust" INTO THE Mystic which will cut U down, slice your Soul, leastways sever the lipstick from your mouth or strip clean or swipe the mascara from your eyes, your suggestion of a living truth, a decision, a paint stroke, an existential living tooth?

Into the MYSTIC rarely anyone goes. That subconscious place of SHADOWS; a HELL to Mine, digging for Diamonds/GOLD or whatever catches Greeds-Eye, out of sight of neighbors, SPY versus SPY? Do not, arrogant, a POKER-GAME dead Mans hand put all your cards on the table in the MYSTIC land.

Do NOT flamboyance spread your wings too soon, Icarus in the Sun, Sisyphus- a Rolling Stone & in mediocrity, your grave has already been dug.

c.2025, Dave Delacroix: Remember, remember the 5th of November, Guy Fawkes & his tortured to death band of Brothers! Tried to BLOW UP the Houses of Parliament/still a reasonable idea? (Bonfire Night!). Refugees VOTE with their feet. Better that for a horizon of freedom. The MYSTIC for which we yearn for. The simplicity at our feet?

Our Man in Europe, now Belelize, Dave Delacroix, a.k.a. David Michael Oxley on Facebook: "I never sang of..."

Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "I never SANG a Song in no particular order..."

(Posting this TWICE cos Laptop fricking Nuts!)

...I never SANG for LORRAINE who lugged my prize Epiphone/Gibson Guitar from the USA in a heavy guitar case all the way from Denver-Colorado to Corozal-Belize. I never SANG/w-guitar, patio-concertina to sweet-Lorraine yet whose long-legged FOTO graces my bookshelves twix Raymond Chandler/ Connan-Doyles "Sherlock" books, a Lady worthy of infinite mystery, that music in our souls?

I never SANG for Greg Perez, a latter-day CONQUISTADOR who conquered (Culinary) France/see his food-U-tube Posts, Mexico, USA/St. Louis-Restaurants, BELIZE (he sold me my VILLA)....Whining 'bout having no strings he brought me - cross Mexican border - a fine Spanish Acoustic!

I never SANG, maybe in SONG but not in BLOG-POST, sadly, UN-forgivable of Caroline, a backbone/cultural-lifeline whose brought JOY to ALL she knew despite JUDAS'S along the way, yet "WE!" the happy "FEW", happy to "SPITFIRE" and make her tomorrows her happy horizons?

I never SANG - too much - of the rogues, banshees, ragamuffins I met along the way nr the Farmers, Families, the cool Cats out THERE; these journey PASTELS, works in OIL, GUACHE on a skyscape that color Life's highway

And the TORCHERS (Dancing Gals), the 2-TONE Hollywood Screechers/Scoundrels who'll rivet a Virgins Soul, that 6-String Guitar complainer, singing his soul into a hole; where does it begin, where does it forget its misery, where does it end? Something about the wind?

The cognoscenti, life's axel to an intellectual furnace, a spirit's eternal COUGH albeit what makes a frog jump from rock to rock?

I never SANG for the Samaritans whom, incidentally, historically helped US AL.L on our way; altruists, PETERBILT TRUCK DRIVERS, my hitch-hiking - USA - way, 50,000 miles, life-stoned-shared. WHERE NOW R those Boys AND GIRLS and do we equally REMBERED!?

I never SANG, maybe sometimes I did of the STRANGER - invisible - who helped me along the way, that Navajo blanket/warm at night - that wisp-prairie Missouri breeze - that Montana, no fingerprints, I never really sang of California except when I was wasted on a drunken whisky bar floor. Does ANYONE remember just WHO they ever where?

c.2025. dave delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix; "Why YELL at the Moon!?"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "WHY YELL at the Moon?"

...Why yell at the moon? Why NOT!!! S'what it's there for!... I get asked this question - in Mandarin - a lot, sometimes in ITALIANO (?), Arabic too? But especially from my neighbors who - nighttime - trying to get some sleep? (sad saps!) Bad neighbor.

Why HOWL at the Moon? Because it's there/WOTCHAGONNADO? It's just U, the NIGHT, that frickin Moon staring U right back, handbags at 20 pacers plus no-one gets SHOT, no-one gets arrested, no court case, no VICTIM but somehow there's always some "peekaboo", 

some un-satisfied "vagina", some non-smoking-WOKE Matilda ready to rectify the Feng-Shay? And as for being accused of being a basket case", a menace to society all because someone just wants to howl at the Moon?

HOWL at the Moon! Howl at the Moon! It's never too soon but don't leave your HOWL too late. That universal chemistry will invade your fate.

Why YELL at the Moon, Saturn or MARS, symbols orbiting all we R. Why yell at the Moon, sheild our eyes from the SUN. Why sleep at night? Because we must.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Dude in Europe/WASTREL/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "My favorite First Lady!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "My First Lady."

BARBARA B., ROSLYN C...  MICHELE O'B. And all those GALS who stood by their MAN in the USA Presidential HOT seat? ...

My OWN favorite LADY in MY life, names lost to history who nurtured my soul, as port after storm, sleep after toil, and death - within their breasts - doth greatly please? (Chancer!) Memories-SCREAM!!!

MY favorite FIRST LADY enfolded in my heart, buried DEEP within and without the MEN WE R., whose song we sing for ever more. Her name might be "Happy-Song!", Evette, Anita, Claudia or Suzie?

It doesn't matter if U buried her in the mud of your Past. Old betrayals/Sins/Conscience cast long shadows? But YOUR first lady, that spring in her eye, her light of foot, a new life to savor; do U often think of her, hoping U might think SHE thinks of U. 

My first lady lies. Her ashes belong to me & swirl in my mind. Eternal as it should be. Barbara B., Roslyn C., Michele O'B., and all the ladies in histories shadows, we SALUTE and now stand in victory!

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Hollywood/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "MAKE IT BLUE!!!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Make it Blue!"

(dedicato: ALL Migrants, World-wide. Looking for a SAFE & better life.)

"Make it Blue!"

...IF WE R DOWN to the WIRE don't worry my love; boogaloo-boogaloo we'll make it blue. IF the SUN don't shine, I'll abracadabra, pluck a rose from out of your ear & make it blue maybe a Carnation? 

 If storm clouds appear "lookin-bastarda!" I'LL rugby-kick ',em off to the Moon, if the bills pile up we'll fuel the BBQ and make our world go blue.

If we REFUGEE but the KIDS got fed, we stand together, TRUE! Like Australian-Sundowners, ne'er without a home, our GRIT will see us through; every cloud they say has a silver lining, but in our darkest hour, R. WE BLUE?

R. We Blue? R. we blue? I love U too. R. we blue. Yes, Sir WE R Blue. Let's make it Blue. A song for U.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

OUR MAN in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "JAMES BOND!" (Licensed to Chill!)

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "James Bond!" (Licensed to CHILL!)

...IS MY BOND (James) YOUR Bond? At the casino table, Monte-Carlo, OR is he some now worn-out BUM, tattered tuxedo, positively 4th. St., N.Y.C. hustling for pocket change?

Is MY Bond YOUR Bond, suave-dude, flying helicopters, that "espionage-interceptor" shooting down "evil Spies" (probably Russkies) or S.P.E.C.T.R.E. devils?

Or is he some kind of "Ethics-Mandarin", a British-Grandee, fell afoul of changing times, culled-downsized from the British Secret (sic) service, established home of Pedophiles, bum-bandits from Eton/Cambridge, certainly no refuge of altruism.

Is your BOND, his fingernails CLAWING at the Cult of ROYALTY'S- disintegration (Future looking bleak), a Commander of the British Naval Empire now busking, playing Banjo on foreign shores?

Where R the CAMERAS, the Hollywood hullabaloo? Did a cultural-NEMESIS GHOST finally "WOKE!", and out of Time's confusion come along & say: "BAHOOOO!!!! Mr. Bond?"

IS MY BOND YOUR BOND, a Tuxedo-wreck, wheel-chaired in a nursing home with trophies wall to wall, mounted: GOLDFINGER & All. Frame pictures of Codex, theatrical twists! Now all to deflect "dementia's" fist.

"My name is Bond. James Bond. Now licensed to chill." The legend grows...

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Raising KANE!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix Esq.: "Raising KANE!"

(Song:) ...A NIGHTIME - GOING DOWNTOWN - in my brain. A nighttime - going downtown - on a train! A nighttime - going downtown - in my brain.

(The horror! The horror! The horror!) RAISING KANE! Raising Kane!

...A splash of SUN in your moonlight - a SPARK of fear -expands your doom, year on year. /going downtown - to DROWNED, a Whisky bathtub FOR A CROWN just like raising KANE by any other name.

A nighttime - going downtown - in your SCREAM. A cyclone indifferent to your spleen? A downtown, that Night of nights; baby U'd better cuddle UP so tight!

Going downtown TONIGHT in mah brain. Baby, going downtown tonight -Raising KANE!

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, dave delacroix: "WISDOM-Circling!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Wisdom-Circling!"

...(Song:)...I just don't need People anymore. I just don't need the madding crowd no more. Old-International friends, I observe, inter-net, I rejoice by proxy, old LOVES ashes, but neither do we need them knocking at our door.

I just don't need the "rag n'tazz" the World in which we careened and ALL that JAZZ for which we all screamed? Now I walk a lonely Blues, not for everybody's Brogue or shoes like kissin' Yesterday "Goodbye!" Who cries for Tomorrow!? Who cries for Today!?

A "SALUTE!!!" I now just don't need your fantail in my face. There's fossil-evidence. Dental-DNA> proving nothing but Life's repetition. But a campfire SONG or 2 will change my tune: The GODZ never give up on our Spirit!

...I just don't need FOLKS anymore. The madding crowd, AWAY! AWAY! I indulge in memory as I sliver into the swimming pool to drink Wisdom's circling. A FADE like a fugitive that can never get away.

c.dave delacroix,

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix....Secret Agent Man with NO expense Account/please send pocket-change!..."TIME after TIME!!!"

 Our Man in Europe, now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "Time after Time!"

WHEN SOME STAR-CROSSED lovers in a Tuscan town, when GIACOMO CASANOVA licked his last-loved TITS, or Frederick, EMPEROR (sic) of Prussia lost his last battlefield, to be over-shadowed by lesser-U/Me, NAPOLEON on histories discriminating tree, CAESAR! GENGHKIS-KHAN! (Time after Time...

....(Did Tambourline -the tyrant christened the TAMBOURLINE/And would Bob Dylan have re-thought the song-title?) WHO THE HELL named the CYMBAL-CYMBAL! (Shringing of death/Executions!!! Mary Queen of Scots...on the execution block: "Could U go EASY on the Cymbals?"

Could these TYRANTS, even Nobles'' CATS just ever be satisfied with a "Duplex/running water/occasional hired Virgins? Just WHAT were their Mandarin needs?".... (BITCOIN!!!?)

WHEN ARROGANCE, insult, folly to SLAP into TIME'S-CLOCK-FACE!? The ONLY GOD U should never disgrace for it never forgets & YOU R REMEMBERED!!!...Mental masturbation won't get U off the hook! Time after Time. (Nice gear but there IS NO GET-OUT Boogie!!!)

I hired a SANPAN to take me down the Yellow River, didn't know just where it would send me, to Hong Kong, maybe as far as Singapore in my dreams? When your SOUL just needs a Plumber maybe go sail down a river yet it's probably too late, forgoes the garlic in your FIX, better still a kiss too late? Time after Time. A PRE-souvenir of Fate?

When U witness some Star-crossed Lovers outta a Tuscan PLAY, U had best pick up a Mandolin, strum, then CRY for your own histrionic Soul. (Time, ENCORE, after Time.). Maybe the Yellow River will take U home.  Confucius TOO, an open JURY, Time's "JUDGE & Jury". Fingers-crossed: Time after Time. A comedic "Clochemerle" of theatre, a seeping sinew within your invisible! The lipstick on your mirror!

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe. Dave Delacroix. "SONG!" (via John Donne.)

 

Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "SONG!" (via John Donne)

GOE U MUCKERS & find a falling Star, tell me what RABBI cut off your foreskin-whostits, DO these religio-butchers, legal, still prevail? -Islamic Witch-D0octors, cutting OFF young GRLS GENITALIA- BEASTIALITY!!! Let's take it TO THER PENIS-HOME!!!.... Burn their Hoburg Hat/their Talmud!!? 

GOE catch a falling Star, get with child a mandrake root, a KADDSH for Raechel, a price above rubies, were U EVER gonna give that Gal a break?

U wrankle-wrankle who U R, your wring your hands in pre-disdain, your life-ajar, no song, no joy, no logic to CLOY in a Gentile's World of nothingness.

GOE & find your shooting Star, it's always tough to find your GIG yet find what winde serves to an advance an honest mind.

c.dave delacroix. 2025.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacrix: " HITLER'S BUNKER!"

our dude in europe/now belizze, dave delacroix, "Hitler's Bunker."

(dedicat: 55 MILLION Souls/loved ones who perished/we DO NOT FORGET!!!)

 HITLER'S BUNKER, the fearless RUSSKIES at OUR door. Probably it would have bothered You too? . Stiff-Prussian guts, (In the Bunker we had Schapp's on tap.).

Medal'd/ we NAZIS, good idea at the time/ came along for disgraced WW-1- German pride? - clicking heels, yet now, but soonest -  "Alles VERBOTEN! /frickin NO SMOKING!!" (Always keep an eye! Never trust a man who doesn't DRINK.. & keep one eye on the non-smokers!)

 Yet NOW (wearing my Iron Cross in Hitlr's bunker) where is Claudia, Heidi, the children on my Bavarian farm? We WHIT, whining about our injuries/casualties but never speak of our harm?

 The Blitz over England, the destruction of Rotterdam, Stalingrad-A RUIN, Jew, Gypsies the "office-HEP-CATS" (USA-Music), as our MANICAL SERVANTS, recently promoted "Brown Shirt: Berlins KU-DAM? -Who finally, cannibalistic now taking refuge in the U-BHAN like MORLOCKS: HITLER (this AUSTRIAN CORPORAL) now orders its flooding to drown the lot?

HITLER's Bunker. Russian artillery pound overhead. But can WE ever KNOW our regimes VICTIMS dread? A firing squad, A Concentration camp. A Gas shower, no washing/cleaning. Nothing but GOD, Some kind of faith/ singing as many NAZIS victims sang, "The Marseillaise! "save our souls? But WE do not forget!?

No doubt in th Hitler's Bunker NO be-Medaled Nazis Officer had THIS in mind in the final hour of the Third Reich? Hitler shot himself and everyone immediately whipped out their cigarettes & started chain smoking !

(Better they had shot themselves!!!)

c.2025. Dave Delacroix,

Our Man in Europe/now Belize: Dave Delacroix: "PISS, Wine & Death!" (McSorley's!)

 PISS! WINE! & DEATH! (McSorley's!)...

Piss! Wine! & Death! The happy Sonority! Bitches in SKIRTS to flirt your penis infatuatedly, outside of your mental "College Campus" psyche-macaroni; what "curriculum" explains your student yearning?

 A boy, LATIN-Learnt, Priest hood on horizon, where "GONE yesterday's snows", (Francois Villon) or his Poet-English fellow in England, "Goe & find a falling star? (John Donne) A emotion-mechanics BEFORE Archimedes.... Greek guy who could " fixed your IN-door Plumbing-PLUS create World War 3, toys and all?

-Now lost, dead, genius shrouded in verse? And piss, wine & death not with-standing murder by a Roman soldier in Syracuse-Sicily. The equivalent of murdering Frank Loydd Wright, buying a newspaper on 5th. Ave., NYC., the EAR that Vincent van Gogh lost?

PISS! WINE! & DEATH! Old McSorley's' Pub in Manhattan, N.Y.C. (Astor, NYC subway Sta.) where we HOLLERED, WAILED, sang "Danny-Boy!"

 NO ladies' toilets till 1966, when GOTHAM tried to BE respectable/ had to build a "sit-down"/toilet for the - West Greenwich Village - "local Virgins" (?) The WOKE - Lady - NON-SMOKERS? -Predictable. The WHORES became 'town Criers"/all FUN went South.

But WE old Lads remember it well.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our MAN in EUROPE,/now Belize, Dave Delacroix/just turned 70 years-yound: "Last Train from YUMA! (Texas-Town)

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Last Train from YUMA!"

...Last train from YUMA, Texas-town, the DEVIL never sleeps awaiting life's-nature-defeat -culled by WAR, suicide or just outright exhaustion, a fate of fates for whom all awaits -begging for a GIG in Heaven, leastways-later a Kaddish?

Last train from YUMA, a Stock Market CRASH, MEN-BANKERS! -threw themselves out of high Rise, New York citadels of fragile wealth? SHAME on SHAME! -and their entitled daughters enrolled in elite finishing schools, the last train from Yuma kissed, reluctantly, then sent them South?

...NODOBY KNOWS just what they "say" -FRIGHT-LAUGHTER-FEAR-a Social "auto de fe"? (buried in Jazz, Swing, decades of Yesterday?), teenage-fashion, JIVE, Dat GROOVE that keeps WE a- searching for some horizon into our fragile future.

Last train from Yuma. No worries. The Conductor gave US ALL a Ticket! "DING-DONG" every railroad station we pass on by? There's a Mail-drop, an E-Mail. Some pathos in our journey "...and/SONG: "City of New Orleans": the grinding of our OWN automotive wheels! -REGISTERES the gristle in our bones

c.2025. dave delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Aged Mandarin."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The aged Mandarin.".

What SONG (CYMBAL!!!) to entrance a MANDARIN, a man at Court, a power! What tune to enhance a Courtesan (CYMBAL!!!)  she RULES without a tower.

 She bequeaths your goals, might-BE she saves your souls, silken splendor she endures & walks amongst/pays for your Kids to go to university. A MYSTIC prevails! (Don't forget!)

What SONG (CYMBAL!!!) in Shehzan or old Shanghai/got rid of "the gang of 4", and from a swarm of bicycles to a myriad of Hatch-back-polluting FORDS! The Forbidden City in danger of corroding? A CHINA of Tomorrow.

 We ALL got Cellphones, Internet, let the Politicians/Generals figure IT OUT but don't BOMMB-RAID on my House. I live by the "3-god-damnned-DAM!!!" (My family already GOT running water?)

Because my MOM lives there, her UN-married SISTER with a KID, we have a bag of rice & our kitchen is clean, Uncles sometimes - in their best clothes - come visit with rice wine & fruits - and there's a CYMBAL there and sometimes we pray to our Gods!

(CYMBAL! CYMBAL! CYMBAL!)

In this CHANGING WORLD, leave US alone. WotchagonnaDO?

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "YIN & YANG! -The Early Years!"

 Now, as I - a teenager - was sticking out my foreskin/DICK in the wind/lamenting a lost girlfriend - on a high hill away from prying eyes - once happy dancing on the "bough" and if anyone can tell me just what a "bough" IS or means.... this is where I run out of Words. Every Writer (I certainly) looks at their composition, and the composition - MEAN-EYED! -right back at U - just STARES? (Reach for the Whiskey!)

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "YIN & YANG! -The Early Years!"

(dedicato: Diane Striker/longtime resident in Hong Kong.)

It's called "Writers BLANK", a creative torpedo which on contact doesn't EXPLODE. There's no gravestone, no weathered marker, no "Doobie-Doo!" And "JA-Bitch!" An eternal labyrinth. It's universally UN-fair. Self-Pity walks in the door & U piss off your friends by the score. Heartbreak by a pen's comma" is a "Scottish Play" away! Inkwell-spill? Oh boy!!! A heart will tremble. (Maybe take a swipe at Main Street?).

Now, (all grown up) as I was walking, main street, SUITED, bowler hat on my head, swinging my sword albeit a jet-black umbrella, Regents St, -London or Trafalgar Square. A man of Position, vitality & zeal, a world, a MARKET of opportunity; to get a-head what's on offer, what's to STEAL! A mishmash of Deals, "bits & bobs", a house in the country, a Trophy wife? Yet the BLANK PAGE never goes away. That lingering doubt. In life's silence that Edvard Munch painting: SHOUT! So, a Napoleonic "retreat from Moscow" to rescue...of who U once were.

Now, AGED, retired on my estate in Corozal-Belize, as I was a "RAGGAMUFFIN", fell off the Doyly Carte-cake Tray... in some Savoy, Ritz Hotel which my credit card couldn't pay? I semi-implored Monsieur whoopsies to give me (a 'la Oscar Wilde) another day? Leastways I wasn't - Financial frivolities - outside of the slope. but my teenage love, a DICK can droop. A Writers BLANK, like Poe's "Tell-tale-Heart" never actually gets to leave U alone.

Hold that Thought. Just gotta an E-mail from Hong Kong!!!

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "GO TELL the SPARTANS!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Go tell the Spartans!"

TRAVELLER WHO PASS on by, our battlefields, our palatial ruins, destroyed ornate baths & gardens or a retreat cottage or barn in which where we thrived/survived, lived & died; a humble wedding and where we prayed to our Gods, a romance where young folks fell in love, where hopeful children danced, where we unfolded life's mysteries, told horror stories 'round a campfire on moonless nights? (Brutal stuff/raise the HAIRS on your Cats back?)

Where we conspired against Tyrants and wondered ALL desires, and friendships bonded or WERE betrayed & Clerks/Monks with pen & paper/frosted mitten hands notated all our past ways? Yet SHIPS  come sailing 'cross the seas, a "Sea-Peoples" to crush all that we Be, a song to be silenced, a poem to be erased, a Tyrants ignorance, an Intelligence-disgraced Yet ELECTRA-in the Morning, a St. Cecilia, or Joan of Arc, lone voices usurped by wolves, throughout the ages we still sing/echo their Song?

Stranger, Traveller, U who pass on by? Go tell the Spartans how we fought, lived & died. A Lyre or an electric guitar accompaniment, whatever your desire. Go tell the Spartans!!!

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "HEY JOLEEN! Under the Midnight Sun."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Hey JOLEEN! -Under the Midnight Sun."

Hey Joleen! Let's share our dreams, let's drink some Whiskey; where DO all our dreams just go? Let's cuddle-UP, get kind'a frisky under the midnight sun.

It's hard to shrink, today they call it "down-sizing"; I too have looked into that hole of a life in which U don't belong and where a man can lose his soul.

It's a "witch-a-way" World, nobody to teach U, U just want/gotta find your own Soul and the "slings & arrows" of outrageous fortune will steer U from your path of gold.

This ain't Natures grande-epiphany, nor no College degree, no parental guidance, no Royal decree just a lonesome Gig, U R on your own-KID! -to your zig-zag path TO your goal.

Hey Joleen! Let's share our dreams. Let's drink some Whiskey; where do all our dreams just go? Let's cuddle-UP, some Winters night, or frisky, we gonna RUMBLE! -under the midnight sun.

Hey Joleen! Joleen! Tonight, we'll have some fun! (Pass dat whiskey Babe/leastways save me some!?)

c.2025. Dave Delacroix. (Oct. 11th/one day into my 70th year.)

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Loch Lomand!"

 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Loch Lomond."

(dedicato: Pete/fellow Music Man in Corozal, now in Japan/2 Yorkshiremen)

"Loch Lomond."

Funny how the COVER (tune) takes the Crown over an original, be it Kate Bush, John Lennon or all the "COVER-orchestras" whose "Conductors" GLORY in the shadow of Beethoven, Bach, Chopin et.al.? 

Funny how that phonic Diamond, that Shakespear in aspic, every writer confesses or pleads "da 5th!" -sounds, & funny how, the kitchen maid becomes her DREAM, a Princess in the wings awaiting to be seen? (Golden slippers from the "Goodwill" store?)

Have U ever had a Dream? Have U ever rose above Life's Scream? Or does it seem like U? What's ONE Scream over another? The World is fractured with Screams? (S-what we do/maybe silently?) Painter Edvard Munch in Orlando-F.L.A.?

Funny how a joke can kill your friend, funny how political SMOKE will blind your Will? Funny how finally you find U lost your way? Thank God, as far as U know the Kids are, O.K.

All those twists & turns to turn U away from your Truth, catapult U from your Youth, so far away, now misted!

Funny how U dance the night away, best breeches! Funny how U jest & speeches. Funny late at night, a VAMPIRE, comes to bite your Conscious-NECK-bleeding!? (Who'da guessed?) A puncture in your wings?

Funny how eternal remorse. Daylight gone, just nights: "Flap-flap-flap" -Bats wings hanging UP-side down! (Flap-flap-flap.) A HAMMER-HORROR (cheap-ass Brit movie w/tits)  at your door.

 Inverted DISCO? And funny, on our death bed, all those Cats who gave a "Damned", we request they - coffin-lowered - they bellow OUT: "Oh Danny-Boy!" ("Mein Gott!!!)

If ya got an extra-Buck hire a Scottish PIPER (Lord knows they need the work?)....(Singing:) 

"If U & mah true love will ever meet again...And U'll take the high road, and I'll hitch-hike on the LOW road N' I'll see ya on the banks of Loch Lomond! For Mio & that GAL will never meet again - SCOTLAND/where else? -on the bonny banks of U know where!!!"

c.2025, dave delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix, (Espionage thingy/Sshhhh!): "The POOL GUY!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix, (Espionage-thingy/Sshhh!): "The Pool Guy."

(dedicato: John Scace, Malibu Pool Czar, & William Houston & Me/sometime Pool Guys in BEV-HILLS-BEL-AIR)

...."The Pool Guy."

He's never too early, he's never too late, he's da POOL MAN and your SWIMMING POOL can sometimes be your fate, in Los Angeles a hundred kids drowned every year.

A "body" of water, a patch of blue, it might not mean too much to U? . But for the Pool Man!?

With his faithful Assistant, Dave, Bill or Igor (with hump) he'll brighten up your Villa-Patio swim-pool WORLD, with advice/no worries, even run-off with your girl. The one with spots & money?

And he's Judge & Jury on Chlorine & Life. He has also been known to run off with your Wife! -if she has money? Chlorine tablets R getting more expensive so it's ALL ABOUT the lucre.

...COZ he's da POOL MAN, the pool dude. He'll pool-vacuum all your troubles away. YUP! He's the Pool bloke. Your very own Pool fella. Lucky bastard. The Kid who (?) gets away.

But just for the RECORD, and IF U needed a Lawyer in a hurry, he'd stand up for U; a PRIEST-confession (no worries) or that AWOL white-collared prick from St. Cardboard, he'd host the wedding & marry U too? (Rental Vicar rig?)

...COZ he's the Pool Man, Swimming Pool Tsar, the pool guy looking out for U.

(Don't forget to give the guy a TIP (TIP: to inspire premium service), Gasolene prices N'all?

The Rodney King -L.A. - RIOTS, the O.J.Simpson trial, TITO, the first tourist Astronaut, nothing stopped, he cleaned their Pools. Their POOLS were clean.

...He's never too early, he's never too late. He's the POOL MAN. (U can call: 1-800-I'm all fucked up!) Might be your Pool, awaiting, the POOL of your fate.

c.Dave Delacroix. 2025.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize: "The Wild Rover's lament."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Wild Rovers' lament."

(dedicato: Johnny Phelan.)

I WANNA COME HOME, I wanna come home, County Clare-Ireland is where I should be. The chickens in the garden, the salmon in the sea, the shotgun-fire, the pheasant for a feast. 

The bagpipes DRONING, the Ceili-hurrah, the gals skip-a-dancing, the Bravoes: Huzzah!"=Accordion-fiddle, a vocal TENOR! I want to come home. I want to come home, that fireside heat.

I want to come HOME, Mama's cooking the Herring, I wanna come home. Has nothing changed and tell me, LET HER KNOW, mistress GERALDINE is she still working on the next farm? Is she still un-attached?  Is she still fair? 

.... I'm wounded, so many soldiers here now dead but I'm coming on home from the American States civil wars. I'm coming back home. Betcha!-Murphy I'm coming on back! 

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize. Dave Delacroix. "Paradise is a lonely place."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Paradise is a lonely place."

PARADISE IS A LONELY PLACE; they frown on chain-smoking & it's sometimes hard to get a serious drink. Mondays/Tuesdays the bars R closed: WOTS DAT!!!? (My Sabath hangover) Seems like the Angels R blackmailing each other too 'bout who clipped their own wings against the edicts from above? (Wings?) I didn't know it was the fashion. Lilly-white? Some of EM gone Mohican, some of Em play Harp with a plectrum/standards (in Paradise) R flailing.

Paradise is a bloody lonely place. The FIRST - biblical - LADY EVE, total bitch, immediately set about hanging new curtains, carpets, redecorated the whole god-damned gig. (Dress code?) "WOKE" came down from Heaven! It's pitiful I know. Pussy-Power.  ON & OFF throughout history. Philodorus (Byzantium), Cleopatra (Egypt), Livia (Octavian's Mom), Catherine de Medici, Maggie Thatcher (who cancelled MY free milk for school kids/U.K./1960s), Israeli President,  Netanyahu's WIFE/thinks she's the Queen of Sheba, unlike Queen DIDO -who founded the "A/oo" (Carthaginian) empire!

Paradise is a lonely place. Beaches, palm trees, weather 90-degrees, no real dress code/fashion-sense, populated by bible-reading "rednecks" with the I.Q.s of prairie fenceposts? Maybe all the Cool Cats & rascals "went SOUTH".... As I "I wandered lonely as a cloud" or "I shot an arrow in the air" it fell to ground in HEAVEN, an over-populated retirement home of misfits... Ya don't know the MEANING of heartbreak! ...A word to the cognoscenti: Best not hurry to your grave. A message from one who finds himself already there.

c.2025. Dave Delacroix.