Our Man in Europe/Belize, dave delacroix: The Trashman Cometh!

 Our Man in Europe/Belize, dave delacroix: The Trashman Cometh!

MONEY!? Rip your heart out. The KIDS R threadbare, MEDICAL go n STARE, the DENTIST in AUSHWITZ, Dr. Mengele -Healthcare....The TRASHMAN, a-come for U?....

....I always thought the J.F.K. assassination was highly UN-democratic, the failed Trump-one, a comedy of staged-errors (the Trashman's Off-day?), the Ides of March R clearly overrated whilst rabid Russki-blow-Hards please take note? DANGER thrives in having NO brain.

DEATH loves a Crowd, fools & funkers sing the loudest, a Wailers-tune, an EX-patriot's retreat, always superior, a sinew-conceit to gild the lily? Ceasars & Czars; limited mortality.

AH! WOE to the Vanquished! The Trashman cometh, Time racing, U racing Time. Kettle Drums BEAT the Trashman's tattoo. Out there in CANCER no one can hear U scream. The Trashman cometh, today, if not for me then for who?

Today, in Corozal-Belize, a bunch of lads, hanging, back of the Trash-Truck, whistling as they go, throwing plastic bags into their truck, not knowing what or where but ABOVE the Trashman knows.

MONEY!? Rip your heart out. The story, OUR story, is Greed...on which the Trashman always feeds.

c.2025, Dave Delacroix, poet at large.

our man in europe. dave delacroix, "The Great Boogaloo!"

Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix/The Great Boogaloo!

 ....no-one is safe, don't feel safe, that gig u found, no-one dances to the tune u sing, a background chorus resounds, no-one hollers your fate in the well, no-one screams that fate-befallen, no-one picks up your skirts, a laundry-bleached far away.

no-one writes your old fave tune or sings of your heroics in war n doom, no-one gonna pick up ya pieces or kiss your memory, that boogaloo, that was u. What is U, what IS u, por quoi?

no-one ever got -gone in their mind, a lost song, time long since, time after time, nobody Confucius, no body with half a brain will ever sing of your fame. a frail sinew. Eternity's SCREAM of silence.

no-one is safe from obscurity, that non-existential real estate of castles in the air, empires, or a code of ethics which dissolve in the hands of tomorrow's kids, yet their joy, resounding, echoes your despair? 

no-one is safe from the great boogaloo, the hat u wear, the shoes that wear your feet, no-one gets to meet n greet outside of the almighty, a busy icon, last heard, a-throng with riffraff, zealots, parasites n sycophants, whilst writing his own song, in perpetual utero.

c.2025, dd, giggin in czl, bz....we prevail.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix: "Kings & Crowns."

 Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix: "Kings & Crowns."

...ALL OUR YESTERDAYS, our Lifes regrets.... YOURS! -my own too; that brain-SWARM in your 11th hour to haunt, that hunts U down to - lol - dusty death? Macbeth (Scottish Gig/male-lead) a dude, maybe, arguably, never had it so good?...

Blood & GUTS, NO concealed weapons, NO Non-smoking, no Cafe=Klatch, no being NICE to bloody foreigners - outside of a decent CURRY - getting "loaded" and if U have a Dog why bark yourself? ("Fly Fleance - to Starbucks U Pussy!) WOKE fuckers stripped of their "shorties"? "KARENS up a tree?

Yup. All our gigs gone down. Yesterdays-tomorrows memories, that swirling Martini UP or any way IS the only way, your liver (Suicide note: "Farewell cruel World!) don't count; we don't mention the "L" word, in certain circles (cultural snobbery), wotchagonnaDO? 

Who SINGS of Yesterday, Francois Villion, some Poet, HOMER! (Don't forget Him!) Dante comes to mind too or rag-tail BOB MARLEY who will, sublimely, ease U into that long term room? King s & Crowns how mighty We fall...but JOY to the World; Nuff-said.

c.2025. dave the rave. belize-corozal.

our man in europe/belize, "The BLEED!"

our lad in europe/belize, "The Bleed!"

 no need to hook, 

no blow, no cook

the world in which we bleed

no sweet romance

u fucking prance

a world, s-where we bleed

u got ya blood

u own our soul,

but we don't care anymore

Singing: Death & Taxes U Sweetheart?

Please stick it UP YA ASS!

I aint Bleeding for U no more!

no need to look, catch my book,

we aint there any more

gotta GAL I wanna score, etc.

check ya Book

U outta luck: GO BLEED!!!

I aint Giggin for ya Gig no more!

c.2025 dd, whoosits.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, dave delacroix: "RIMBAUD A'la Carte!"

Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix: "Rimbaud A'la Carte!"

(dedicato: Steven Johnson)

"RIMBAUD A'la Carte!"

 ...(Singing:) Wine & Cheese, maybe some groovy prosciutto

wine & cheese, 

a decent Chianti or Bordeaux

can we groove again

Bela, mademoiselle, tonight?

Wine & cheese, perhaps

a bouillabaisse, a candlelight

a dinner in Cassis

by the bay?

Wine & cheese 

a Rimbaud poem comes

to mind,

birds wings fly, soundless,

my love resounds!

Wine & cheese,

Cheri, sing my Baudelaire

hail Apollinaire,

oysters in Normandy

a le recherche!

c.2025 davedelacroix. (always keep sentimental poem real short)

Our Man in Europe/Belize/Meso-America, Dave Delacroix: "NIGHT TRAIN!"

Our Man in Europe. Dave Delacroix, "Night Train!"

(dedicato, U.K. fellow rockstar, Marc Pierson)

 ..../WHOA! Who knows the pop song hook-line of ya Soul? -that CHORUS-orchestration turning ya Balls (Test-Tackles), that - in pain/soprano - sings out your Tomorrow or Yesterdays-gilded in gold OR that Silver of your Lifes-song, a song of U?

Who KNOWS the dynamic, that sleet & snow, dem battles U won or lost, GIGS, your days in Hell, a tragedy resting in a corner, a mantel, a Winter wear, somehow a kiss of Life, still to savor natures concubine, the YOU? The Fan's ROAR or a lonely dressing room? (Sweet-Lordy!)

Who knows your HOOK, that Song, sinew, haunting the devil in your fate... as all our yesterdays, like ghosts, stalking, a conscience, a role in our Play? Cosmetics, a hairdo, a costume change, skipping a rental, that World Tour in your brain? (Stand-Up Comedians, R they happier?)

WHOA! St. Crispins Day! An Agincourt!  A Night Train, your Life? .... let the "Te Deum" be sung. The Night Train "Arriba" always on time. Welsh Harps, Guitar Six-string complainers or weekend Rockstars, alas can never...warble...compensate? The Night Train is finite - tough break -but your song-belongs?

c.davedelacroix, 2025.

our man in europe/belize, dave delacroix, ...lonely the hunter.

 our lad in europe/belize, dave delacroix, lonely the hunter

dedicato, greg perez.

lonely the hunter

 his love alone in its own

 heart, lonely, hunting

 that yesterday, without a tomorrow.

lonely the sinew that coils a souvenir,

habitue of your reminiscence

fates after-thought

lonely is those pigtails, go frick ya-self kid,

the brat on gods shelf,

heavens hit or miss, the hunter.

lonely is your super-dome

the lonely fills just what u own,

as the lonely will come to u,

millions, a roar of silence

to confound your footprints in the sand.

lonely is the hunter

lonesome love alone in its own heart

that jaded prism, a rainbow,

nothing ends or starts,

a guitar strums, crows caw

the hunter's heart, screaming blood raw.

c.2025, dd copyright stuff, davidmichaeloxley.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/BELIZE, Dave Delacroix, a.k.a. David Michael Oxley (after-life FB existence)>"The SONGSTA-IL MARIARCHI!" (A hot cup of Joe!)

 Our Man in BOOGALOO, dave delacroix, "The Song Guy/IL Mariachi, still on Patrol-2025."

"IL MAESTRO-MARIACHI!" (A Hot Cup of Joe!)

.,...Lifestyles of the destitute & IN-famous... where to GET ON UP is to get on DOWN, where your mattress is cardboard, a guitar case for a pillow, where your Gal is the NAME of just another "RE-al California" Monastary/Nunnery/Transgender/hospitale for Social Fuck-Ups  and your Mariachi's reputation resounds in Tavern's, Bars from hell, some busy-bodies Clown goes "BOO!!!" - where iconic DIVAS love Ya till rich-pappas say "NEIN!" whilst their "Mommies" eye U with (great) sexual expectations, kids & Fan's, siblings RECITE your latest Poem/Canzone: Kids of course, U/WE always get along, poetry's Minestrone and moonlit nights, sunset dreams, the rhymes U have found, a dance in some Strangers mind, the "WHISTLER" fucker in the wind; a SOAP, TV media show,  a "Tempesta-Amore", Lifestyles of the destitute & In-famous: "WotchagonnaDO?" Like a Song for Ever more: The loneliness of a Mariachi, some LIFE twix Casa Mexicano, a long Texas (?) highway, this heaven on earth, that grand illusion. IL Mariachi plucks his tune, leaving your desert Soul, cold, alone, hitch-hiking to a roadhouse in the morning for bacon, toast, eggs over easy like Hamlet, Shakespear's Prince of Denmark or YOU... for a hot cup of Joe!

c. 2024, dave delacroix./david michael oxley. 

OUR MAN in EURIOPE, Dave Delacroix, (BELIZE Person): "My Fave Lullaby."

 

Our LAD in EUROPE/Belize, Dave Delacroix: "My Fave Lullaby."

(dedicato: Lady Caroline.)

...My fave Lullaby, I keep for U, my favorite nighttime song, a star, a moon, I save only for U, when the world-asleep, my fave, for your sleep's dreams, a tune.

My fave-Song, kept in my heart, composed for so long, beginnings I forget. a song of nowhere, a song going nowhere all around in my heart, around and around, classics do!

My fave lullaby, my favorite Child, that burnished concept, defying the wild of a day's eternity, a lingering kiss, now gone, alas remiss, yet tomorrow's lullaby, a song for U.

c. DD. Copyrights stuff. 2025.

OUR DAVE in EUROPE/BELIZE, dave delacroix/david michael oxley esq.: "PINOT NOIR!"

 

Our LAD in Europe/Belize, dave delavroix/david michael oxley esq.: "PINOT NOIR!"

(dedicato: Lady Caroline)

Do I love U? 

Of course.

 Do U need me?

 Absolutely!

 Will U still want me when I'm 64? 

Pinot Noir?

 Will U kiss me?...Evermore?

 No need to ask!

 Pinot Noir!

 Will U bring flowers to my Grave?

 I know the Florist, no worries! 

Yo. But how can I be sure?

 Pinot Noir!

....We kiss for ever more!

c.dave delacroix, feb. 2025

OUR MAN in EUROPE, dave delacroix; "A Murder of Blues."

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix: "A Murder of Blues."

 Dark-dangst-nite! Red shoes, torn red dress, alley stinking of piss, one hand clapping, a SMACK of a kiss and SCARS don't fade; Love, HEARTS, a stolen Guitar resounds, a haunting to throng dreams that REFUSE to FWD to leave U in Silence, the murder of U?

Dark, dangst, and night-eyebrows that curl like Cats-Arch, ready to die or pounce, a reckless highway, a Grindhouse TruckStop, that whore-ish moment, by choice, we all choose, yet lament, plights sorrow, a conscious SILENCE, that silence, the murder of your Blues.

Dark, dangest night, a lily in a Pre-Raphaelite, sublime in time, UN-without, a harvest for WHA!? GODS dancing. Puppet Masters prancing. Illusory Icons, Imans, Rabis, Priests savoring your fall; a GYPSY tune, perhaps, quite Pagan, yet still ....a murder of Blues.

c.feb, 2025. Dave copright stuff. Got cancer.

Our Dave in Europe/Belize, Dave Delacroix; "Last Tea Bag to Avalon."

Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix, "Last Tea Bag to Avalon." 

lonesome, whadya expect, dr Charles declining patient Helene's-caress, her hubby, L.A. patrolman, rocky, in the b/w, stalking the clinic, the homicide un-winds.

just who shot the victim, who witnessed the crime, just who had an alibi when the whoopsies went down and who stood to gain or lose faith deranged, who would the detective's peek-a-boo in this frame.

who was da man, who was the gal. and the other frail, or was it handbags at 40 paces, an whose bank account left sitting to rank; times like these, u suspect the one sitting behind u.

it maybe your wife, your dysfunctional kid or his twisted sister, they all got a lisp. the plumber, the ghost of a milkman, that handyman john, whistling, smiling the last tea bag to Avalon

a-come tumbling down, family & friends in a purview-loop, no one could devise, HOLLYWOOD-conceptualize, a maverick-drive-by, out-of-Pasadena, a punk, who simply let bullets fly. A chronic Non-smoker!

c.2025. dave delacroix. 

OUR MAN in EUROPE/BELIZE, Dave Delacroix/David Michael Oxley Esq.: "BEL-AIR BLUES!"

Our Dude in Europe/Dave Delacroix: "Bel-Air/Beverly Hills Blues."

(dedicato: Malibu Swimm-Pool Tsar: John Scace)

Where have all the Critters gone, long time passing? Where have all the bushy-tailed varmints gone, long time ago? SHOT DEM BUGGERS everyone, see dem hanging on my lumber hall, more trophies to accrue, a Vivisect a/guy who stuffs dead varmints decorates my East wing! All Non-Smokers.

Where have all the trees begone, long time passing? Where's the bloody Trees, long gone, out of your World? Dem TREES, blocking my Sea-view and my Septic Tank & Swimming Pool; Charity Kids Swim-Pool Day, for BEL-AIR & Beverley Hills. Does the Landscaper/Pool Guy have a "Green Card"?

Where have all my NEIGHBORS gone, long time passing? Neighbors, where did WE go, short-yesterday? Got a gig, killed off a gig, lost all my money, WANDA ran off with her "Tennis-Pro", to "Vermouth" (probably VERMONT!) -s-where I begat this protest-songeroni, a morning barbers shave, maybe I still don't know?

c.2025. davedelacroix/oxley. copyright stuff.

Our Man in Europe/Belize, Dave delacroix/David Michael Oxley Esq.: "Sublime da Nite!"

OUr Dude in Europe/Belize, Dave Delacroix/BELIZE, "Sublime da Nite..." 

Sublime the Night that capture your Kiss? Sublime, any-which-way, but not hit & miss, that ELECTRIC to shock & Soul to wretch the Devil from your Soul, to face the DEMON-within who'll sing song, who'll let you IN then charge U admission, read U your Rights, hand U a Condom, say: "Do it right!"?

Sublime the Night that CATS your twilight, who PURRS your downfall, who fixes your Shawl; wear THIS, trust me. U'll look divine. And IN the morning, lose my number. U'll be fine. Can ANYBODY best a Shrine? Cleopatra's kiss, a tragedy?

Sublime the Night, eloquence Un-bound that echoes, re-sounds, EGO, tra-la-la; a Delphi, monumental, Virginity on a spree or incense-sticks to perfume the kicks, Regazzi-tricks, a forest of Olive trees to oil History's wheels, sublime is the Night, that Kiss.

c. 2025/Copywright stuff.

OUR MAN in Europe/Dave Delacroix (now in Belize speakin Mandarin): "Kit Marlowe!" (English Poet-1500s)

 

OUR BLOKE in Europe, Dave Delacroix: "Kit Marlowe Blues!!"

(dedicato: Sir John Waller. bart.)

Come live with me & be My Gig, that insecure. diabolical, that God-damned frenzy, that racing MENU, a cacophony of weekend rage, in-explicable, that dictates bad Mondays or sends them off to evermore!?

Come live with me & be my Gig, play a drum, bass guitar, be grounded to keep my feet/ head OFF the concert floor where imagination reigned, where sovereign dreams faltered, a Kit Marlowe swordplay?

Come live with me & BE: A role, a Play, a Gig, together, to inter-twine, in sinew, that cup of Vino to succor, an accounting, a whistles-echo... to savor the splendor of our ways?

Come LIVE, a YOU, ME intrinsic. ("I'm on Facebook!) Kit Marlowe & the Prince of Thieves! Resolved in Tavern-duels/death, the murky tidal-Thames, Poet & Poetry washed away.

c.2025.; dave....copyright stuff.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/BELIZE, Dave Delacroix/David Michael Oxley Esq.: "Home-Sweet-Home!"

 Our Man in Europe/Belize, Dave Delacroix, a.k.a. David Michael Oxley: "Home Sweet Home!"

(Dedicato: Rene at Corozal-Belize Tiki Bar: "Natural Mystic")

BARRACK ROOM Songsters, 6-String Complainers, Weekend Rockstars (Yoko's in tow), "Poetics" who MELT Narcissus-sotto-voce or protagonists with NON-musical agendas, as Roadies, self-promoted or male menopause bank clerks, to squirrel a tune, the Songbirds/Karaoke Blues, the YOKOS who deposed their DUDES! The sons OF "talents", daughters fresh out of Virgin Row, the neighbors "afeared" composer who drank his Dime, that HOBO icon in the local bar, dressed in NOIR who never left Brooklyn but (sigh): Highway Songs, the Breeze?...ALL THESE caricatures, WANNABEES I have MET in TOWN, in County, in Countrries, in this WORLD,  in Sun, Heat, Tropics, Blizzards, Winter-frigid, in the WET. Still? Despite the "clutter" that SONG of SONGS keeps THIS sad sap in the Magic, the genre, MUSIC -God's GIFT, decade after decade S-where I belong: Home-sweet-home! A craft to Horne till the day I die.

c. 2025, davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe/Belize, dave delacroix: "Mojave Blues."

 

Our Dude in Europe/belize, dave delacroix: "Mojave Blue."

Last Mile Sign before U can Masturbate, Food, Gas & Lodgings, no water for miles? Barstow, or RENO, no gambling nor sexuality till maybe Carson City, people DIE of Boredom, desert drive or Lake Tahoe after a while? S-where Big Franks Kid faked his kidnapping, s-where lots a HOODS, on the make, now reside? A Last Mile sign, Mojave, the USA's oblique, for Fools & Funkers; death loves a Crowd. Werewolves: Don't stray off the Path!

Last Stage-post for a Cowboy Hat, Stetsons, Tony LAMAS (boots), take Em all. Bad Songwriters, (The Eagles?) the desert's full of Em, Hollywood's (?) in awe. A ring-a-round a Poesy, welcome to the land of Immigrant-Dozy, yet a flower grows-somehow in all this scattered, desert crowd to attract Las Vegas Hoodlums; s-why, plots abound in un-marked mounds.

WITCHES! WIZARDS, the freaks U'd SHOOT if your kids brought them home? The kid-Devils from down the Street, later HOBOS bumming "Change", last desert MILE to never go likewise the "Sartorial-Elegante" in a tailored attire, adopting Shakespeare, a lofty beguile who "full throttle" sings of misfortune, "Oh woe, FRICK, sez me!", U crumble, "Alas, poor me?" too!? Last signs of self-pity. A "45 & a Spade?" No problem. Problem solved. Mojave Blues.

Last Mile, I-15, Las Vegas to L.A. the "Old highway '66" parallels your drive; a ghost yard of drive-ins, motels, gas stations, bordellos, DIVES-Cantinas to remind a SOUL of Eras gone by, wrecks of old Cadillacs, Pontiacs, Buicks PRE-mustang days, rat-pack songs, Miss KAY STARR singing: "Wheel of Fortune!", a last mile YO! in the stinking desert heat, Mojaves kiss and the ghosts that U may meet.

c.2025. davedelacroix.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/BELIZE, dave Delacroix: "Cathy come Home!"

 

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix/David Michael Oxley Esq.: "Cathy come home!"

CATHY COME HOME, from a b/w world, away from OUTSIDE, Neuveux-Noir film, Beatles bands, heavy-metal, Punk and beyond? A kind of loving for "groups/bands" with sub-intellectual ("Smoke on da Water/Stairway to whossis") dynamics though - musically - their RAH may pulse your umbilical, BONGO-Soul/Social-wrangle, the Wind cries whatsa-name or Janie's gotta gun? -perspective without impunity, Lanvin No.6, green Mohican, RAGE, a Saturday-late, Tyger-Tyger in the night?

CATHY come home; DON'T! Yet YODEL if U must, tap-dance to UN-beaten-BEATS, zap the world with your BOOGALOO or teared-waterfall your THRUSH into the world's mouth, let lesser dynamics GARGLE and then: SHOUT!!! The symmetry? Night? Rearrange! Leather or Lace. A Stiletto or a Glock 9mm? (Yet still Film-Noir?)

CATHY, UN-forgotten, left home now long ago. U make your bed where U sleep, not much here in Pasadena but still a home, a Life's "Canvasarai", a voyage to hell & back; no-one KNOW the Holy Trinity, a Girl, pregnant, a Child, a God above nor who clean-sweeps Destiny, the Man-in-the-Moon, or inherent, Love's first kiss? Full Moon's light to shine a path?

CATHY come Ho me! Greek-Roman Gods rumble SKIES across Man's blight of Righteousness, torn twix an ICON, a MANTRA, the benevolence in a mother's eyes. BE-DEVILLED, who counts Wisdom in our misery, a family, a domestic, WE of millions, as tropic bugs bite into our:

"Dadda? I married a Chinese Man!"

"Does he speak Cantonese, Mandarin?"

"No Pops. Graduated-NYU. He was born in Brooklyn!"

c.davedelacroix, corozal, belize, 2025.

Our Man in Europe/Belize: Dave Delacroix: "Come back little Sheba!"

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix: "Come back little Sheba!" 

(dedicato: your first love!)

COME BACK little SHEBA, come home, tell me your adventures, Bohemians, did they paint your portrait, a sculpture in the piazza, dedicate a poem, divine, to capture round or square, Love's promise in a frieze, iced on the cusp of tomorrow or the DARK-sequence within us, WE, a devilled-egg upon a spoon to poison-banquet of the eye, cafe-biscuit, tea & cream, that moisture, liquorice, a song to ring: Come back little Sheba, a price above rubies, elders, mere mortals. at your feet.

c.davedelacroix. jan 2025

OUR MAN in EUROPE, Dave Delacroix, Dave Delacroix: "The CAT didn't get fed!"

 

Our Man in Europe/Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The CAT didn't get fed!"

HAPPY-HAPPY! The day U DIDN'T AWAKE, the Cat didn't get fed, the Utility bill didn't get paid, Gardener, House-maid threw up their hands sayin: "Lazy Bastard! Must-a tied one on?" BUSH-MAN with Machete: "Does he want these Palm Trees Haircut?" The Girlfriend arrives needing an extra $20: "YOU! (the above) Have U seen his ASS!?" 2nd Feral Cat looking for a hand-out along with POOL GUY, Plumber & sundry Rockstars. Eventually Accountants & LAWYERS get "concerned" plus NEIGHBORS - having always EYED your GIG - fence-perusing, your Lawn-Mower, Power-washer up for grabs, the House-keepers daughter already, checking out your wardrobe, her Beau, a Chef, raiding your kitchen spice-rack and almost "En que!", distant relatives, now finding the AIRFARE descending on your TROPICAL COMPOUND to ransack your "bits & bobs", paperwork, "knicks & knacks", guitars & trombones, UN-used Condoms/whatever they can find and (uncannily- pre-alerted) REAL ESTATE parasites who KNOW U R DEAD before U R DEAD, ready to GOUGE your estates LIVING SOUL yet love fails, remiss, sad, a lone clarinet, maybe a wind-swept flute: The Cat didn't get fed!? WOTCHAGONNADO!? No worries. U R....U got it!

c.dave delacroix, jan, 2025.

OUR MAN in Europe, Dave Delacroix, "The Lullaby."

 Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix, "The Lullaby."

...the lullaby, that rocking, the sway, in the WOMB never leaves a subconscious too soon, lingers on to compose a poem, song, or rage or hate but DOES prevail in the cold light of Life to wither, despair, or leadership, make WAR or gathers wisdom, a sinew, tentacle to compose or decide, a spirit in its ICE or HEAT to burn the dynamic which pronounced, worthy of surrounds honored or threatened, likely too a lions cub abandoned, grounded, hungered, a thirst for Tomorrow's meat, night or day beyond that womb-lullaby, paws pat in anticipation: STRIKE! A Violin-Quartet, Mandolin, a cold Guitar at an "auto da fe" or genetic-origami to be-devil no intelligence-fathomed: "OLE!" that lullaby residing in your Soul. Wicked brew this song of songs, driving Mans nature to oblivion, destitute, again, to be re-born in the lullaby, SOUL, but more likely, pander to pander for cognac, caviar, who will bake your bread?

c.davedelacroix, corozal, belize.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "CAMINO REALE" (2025!)

Our dude in Europe, now Belize, dave Delacroix/David Michael Oxley: "Camino-Reale!" (TRUMP-2025)

...do u know the way to san jose my love, my jose, my love, dead n gone, Spanish guitar, night-wrung with his tenor, never betrayed me, jose, my love.

do u know the way to san jose, Camino reale, his footprints no longer in the sand, but his spirit-fandango, flamencos in birds swarms, dolphins dancing ashore.

i am a lowly maid in a gringoes grande hacienda, i scrape & clean. no-one notices me. i thrive in the laundry room with my dreams.

do u know the way to california, land of dreams. walls not bridges now kill my tomorrow.

c.2025, dave delacroix/david michael oxley, corozal, belize

OUR MAN in EUROPE, BELIZE: Dave Delacroix: "Soliloquy on Love!"....

Our Man in Europe/Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Soliloquy on Love."....NB: THIS "SOLLIE" should be read OUT LOUD whilst wearing PIRATE COSTUMES, the orator making SWEEPING-theatrical gestures, preferably, reasonably intoxicated. Vivaldi (?) background music maybe?

(dedicato: mi amorato Bela "C".)

"Soliloquy on Love."

..... there were summers before u were born, a kiss too, sweetness failing a poets pen, no ink or gauche brushed paint canvas to devour the magic in moment=aspic, thru crystal eye nor glint, flash, sunlight dazzle to waltz man's mind:  a sway, pedestrian, or darkness feared into light, nightmare awakening, then glad relief, a smile, a summer faced, not knowing how or kindle, man to babe returned in Loves temple's ceiling, dome  or walls ordained in faith, iconic, chanted TO, worshipped, a mindless-debutue to be later struck down, smeared, tread to ruin, powder, dust, relic, relic, memory, memory. Love's HATE, beyond compass soars, a world no more! No mortal dies before he, she has met these goals as SUMMERS own Memory, summers-before a great Lady, my love, alas, a Summer gone. Her heart entwined with mine, she now laid to rest. Whilst Knights, Kings, gracious Queens too! Lovers, starved! No Merlin-wizard can decipher mortality's rhyme, nor satisfy, nor fix: "Allor's, mes amis!" there were summers before WE began. A kiss, maybe many, but certainly more than one or two!

c.davedelacroix/davidmichaeloxley/corozal-belize, jan 2025.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/BELIZE; Dave Delacroix: "Wake Up Little SUZI!"

OUR MAN in EUROPE/BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "Wake Up Little Suzi!" 

When your FINGERS look like Chicken wings

your MIND, someone put in a Blenda

your HEART, a Kid Spit-balled in a Bronx-gutter

your MEMORY, lonesome, a C&W Song

bout lovin a HORSE or

some Gal in Oklahome,

West of (Beyond the Law)

ENID! (Beyond GOD!)

Meeting SUZI?  ("WAKE UP!!!)

...to KNOW U have LOVED & LIVED!...

And now SHE (Suzi?) lies in her silver crypt

in Tennessee, Kentucky, in BOWS & RAMBOS

her kisses, promises

of all that could BE

her dying Suitors, a BANJO serenade... 

And a funeral pyre, your LAST 

"Guy Fawkes!"

to hurry her ONWARD to God's, MOSH-PIT

of Guitars; SUZI-dancing above your heads

"TITS-FLASHING!"

veins, blood-sinew & all,

a CORPSE above shrinking hands

that "Air-Guitar", resounding ROAR

(banket screams of horror!)

her Soul, the rictus of DEATH, 

Edgar Alan Poe, Me-thinks? -wretched, now domicile, 

a mousehole in Memories eternities hall; 

"Wake Up Little Suzi!"?

Not for the meek & tremble!

c.dave delacroix, corozal, belize.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/BELIZE, Dave Delacroix, "The Year of the Snake."

 OUR MAN in EUROPE, Dave Delacroix, "The Year of the Snake."

WHO KNOWS your Love, that kick FOOT-pedal that drives U to disaster, LEARNING or despair? In Movies?  Fritz Lang, Kurosaka, Fellini, Ingmar Bergman, Truffaut, Kid with the latest "Selfie"? My latest daydream!!?

Who knows your Love, in Japan CHINA, bloody Europe awash with UN-requited tales that cry "Mercy!" The year of the Snake, crawl, slither, pucker-up? Isolde-Abelard lost in dust. Romeo, Oh Romeo lend me your Cellphone!?

Who knows your Love, LOVE: that Stalker-emotion with a Sculptor's knife to carve the wrinkles on your brow? Brainwashed with Scriptures, Quaran's, Buddhistic religious chants make ROBOTS of us All! HAFIZ (Persia's Shakespeare-Poet), will Islam's zealots let his verses flow again?

Who SINGS of Loves residue that rests in your Soul to fester regrets, all the things that made U whole? CLASS_SYSTEM, India or England, Cricket, playing "the Game", Social repression? The RING U gave, did U get it back?

Who knew your LOVE on 42nd St., New York whoosis, Love's Song. When the new-year ball dropped, the YEAR of the SNAKE. 2025. HOPES kisses, time after time. Souls ROIL in tombs & graves, voices hoarse yet cannot be heard. A pre-paid dance: the year, LAMIA, within us the snake!

c.davedelacroix/david michael oxley, jan. corozal belize.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/BELIZE, Dave Delacroix (a.k.a. David Michael Oxley): "The Art of Blue."

Our Man in Europe/Belize, Dave Delacroix (a.k.a. David Michael Oxley -on Fb) : "The Art of Blue."

(dedicato: Daniel Valezquez Art... outta San Ignazio-Belize)

The Art of Blue.

...BEFORE THE before "after a fashion", Tomorrows Post-Tomorrow, that Guaglianone-inspiring Soul, inverted, to raise dead sparks, bursting-AFIRE! The Art of Blue.

Who wields brush strokes, ETCHINGS, Destiny, who Dance-Commander, the Art of Noise? We R not dead, we THRIVE: U kissed, U composed, a Song? Heart-broken. The Art of Blue!

Adoring the Adorable, an aftermath-after, In-between lightning-thunder, the fear in children's faces, your creative PRISM, a Caravaggio, ashes not stars, the Art of Blue in hue?

Premature: Heralds, trumpet-blast! "My Lord, the battle won, the day is yours!" WHO conjures our Fears, the Man-in-the-Moon, tears to HUZZAHS; a Song-eternal: Alive. A pulse. The Art of Blue.

c. davedelacroix, corozal, belize, jan, 2025.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "The Art of Joy."

 

Our Man in Europe Dave Delacroix: "The Art of Joy."

....The secret life of Soldier & Bela, dancing the morning, garden-romps, climbing Palms, creating new games, RE-inventing the Art of Joy? A legacy, HISTORY, of symmetry, post William Blake's "Tyger-Tyger!", post Pharaonic hieroglyphics, all our yesterdays, a Cleopatra's pussy kiss? Priests, Buddas, Imans, Rabies, Ju-JU Men? Or that wispy "high-5" tail/nano-hypnotism prevails? -in the secret world of Soldier & Bela, sunrise in the garden, focus -any which way, enveloped? BAD CATS! BAD CATS! WotchagonnaDO when they come for U!?

A secret life, Soldier, Bela, Me, U? Swarmed (?) in mystery, snow in sunshine, unexpected, a tropical breeze, an urgence to confound THOUGHT, a feline sneeze? "Blood will Out!", Mans aches, all pain to cease on the cusp of an idea, conceptual: the Art of Joy, an ephemeral, a sinew, the red BATMAN phone, not in the sky, in your Soul, "RING! -RING!" (This is Jim Rockford on da whoopsies) that mood, that groove, that (remembered) "kiss & tell"; BAD CATS! BAD CATS! Call 1-800 Suicide-Ward, spill the misery, Heinz Baked Beans, no secret after all.

Whose secret life? Secret!? -Gypsy-Rose-Madame on Ventura/Woodman/Sherman Oaks, under the over-pass, does a daily $10 Special. All U need to know bout the next 20 minutes! ($10 poorer!), a Cleopatra-Crystal Ball -all shawled over - a Lava lamp, 3 at least in mellow lighting, SIX CATS to PURR U into penury, yet beyond this Mystic BOOGALOO, incense-sticks notwithstanding, your inner enigma LIPS pucker to emulate Soldier & Bela dancing in the garden, not ONE Credit Card between Em!!! Madame-Whossis owns a Villa in 29 Palms next to Bob Hopes'!

"Tyger-Tyger! Bloody Night. Fish N Chips, Smoke Em if U got Em! Soldier & Bela, Cats at night; eyes become iris NEEDLES to ferret out lies from truth, dark into light, the Art of Joy awaits the sunrise, their Joy's reward. A secret life to PURR into life the comfort/joy they bring. Angels smile over our confusion: "NO PURRING PLEASE!"

c.2025, dave delacroox, corozal, BZ.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/now BELIZE; Dave Delacroix/a.k.a, david michael oxley (WANTED in only 6 Countries for telling jokes): "The Grande Illusion."

OUR MAN in EUROPE/now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix/a.k.a. david michael oxley (WANTED in only 6 countries for telling jokes): "The Grand Illusion." (lamb dressed as mutton)

 ...lamb dressed as mutton, mutton for wine we sing our (cancer) survivors song, a death, twix birth n NOW, health, drunken n good cheer to echo-herald for all our kids-become to lighten their fears. HUZZAH -me Lads! Song of Songs. AVANTE!!! The Grande Whoosits!

..."Anacreon" in heaven we raise our glass to thee, to salute all our follies, the men we thought we'd be, as for that pretty dress, le je nais cest quoi, that bewitching banshee, lamb for mutton, a soldier's song, Society,

which pictorial, Cricket-match NO HINT of War's disability, the crippled -survived, hide-a-way rural mansions, row on row, of face-burnt, one-legged youths, dormitory beds, row on row still dreaming of Francine, Adele, my LOVE! Where did she go? She never writes. WW1, WW2, Today!

A Medal for Mutton, an award for a lamb, dead Gogol Souls; COUNT EM!!! Any Messiah, ALLAH, bereft of tears, bewildered, why lamb murders mutton, beer or wine, songs to sing IN our own time, by a GOD, in Sha-allah, but mostly DA MONEY, Man's History: Narcissus, a mirror of greed, EGO beyond caricature! As lamb...

...lamb dressed as mutton, mutton for wine, we sing our survivors-song, twix birth n NOW, health, drunken n good cheer to echo-HERALD for all our kids to lighten their years. Song of Songs. The eternal cigarette, medicinal WHISKY, or heaven on earth: The grand illusion.

 Unseen power behind the power U see steering the Trireme, oar by oar, we DO row. ANECREON!? We prevail, drink & think of us as we of thee!

c.2025.davedelacroix. cancer-thingy improving. might make aged 70. whoa.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix (a.k.a. david michael oxley esq.): "The Mariachi!" (Bandolero)

 Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix: The Mariachi!

(Dedicato: Jason Eklund/Bandolero-his CDs on Utube)

The Mariachi!

The STAB, the POKE, the GIG, the stroke, the hug, the KISS, the digital MISS, that wish, YOUR INNER that goes, not beyond a laptop/phone message, a SMILE, Chanel No.5, a memory in psycho-whoosits, may as well be AROMA-Cat food?

That LAMB CHOP, succulent in a photo, steaming FRIED-VEG, carrots and all, the thoughts U get, masturbating-frantically, when U try to remember, like birds coated in an Oil Tankers shipwreck, stuck in some seashore hell? Lament!?

The Wishbone, XMAS dinner, the blood of ANY Martyr U care to choose on a Cross, big "X", T-Bone crucifix, fashions change, the dialogue-weary, the outright desperation of AGE, from golden times, when a Dime was a Dime, songs-sung, lauded Mariachi, guitar, sombrero, smiling disappears?

O-LORDY, encore on Encores will the applause never end, the Plays debate of the Plays DEBATE before Act 111 is over, the costumes disrobed, the fevered brow, wan, the flower, BUBBLY popped! The adulations, crowd, the Fife, Drum-Timbrel, a Mariachi, out on his alley-ear? 

A LIMOSINE to carry a DREAM some place and ALL "groovies", Society's fleeting embrace; a torn WISDOM upon a face, dressed in Yesterday's rags, icons-tinsel, lines, cosmetics, souvenirs of mountebanck, Mariachi, engulfed by the highways once commanded?

Laid low the fervent Lover/Knight, subdued the Soldiers of the Night. Song begets Songs to wrench-sense from dark to light! A Mariachi to sing your tune? NET, radio, Vinyl, Jukebox, an echo, the whisky-dram from the next, cheap-ass motel room ...soundtracks your destiny.

c.davedelacroix, jan 2025/corozal-belize.

OUR MAN in EUROPE, Davew Delacroix. "Corner of your Heart."

OUR MAN in EUROPE/Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Corner of your Heart." 

(dedicato: Loic de Vauvert-Guillard/fellow Poet)

STUCK AT THE AIRPORT, Bureaucratic Fucks slither your Soul, I.D. Poverty, chased, Life's guilt ON THE RUN, A corner of your Heart. A Paper WALL, but Tyrants, NAZIS, roles change with afternoon-Tea. Life's WUNDER-BRA, NO tits at all!

DESTITUTE, living under a highway bridge in SEWERS neath LAS VEGAS glitter, in Paris, the "Streets of London" where-ere U, YES YOU!!!..Your literary domain, in vain, hookers & rogues, U gotta corner, someplace, shelter, food, David Copperfield: I was BORN! Heart's CORNER: despair?

STUCK at an airport-IMMIGRATION, a barrier, Life/STUNTED,  or Life's Food Stamps-if lucky, a queue for SOUP-GIGs, hand-outs, that broken GUITAR the Street Busker sings your plight, Songs-UN-thought TO DEVIL!!!? TOMORROW wrings its hands in RAGE; that corner of your Heart, You.

c.davedelacroix, jan.2025, corozal-belize.