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.