Our Man in Europe/now Belixe/Dave Delacroix: "SPLISH-SPLASH!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "SPLISH-SPLASH!"

,,,DO NOT GO "SPLISH-SPLASH" into your swimming pool, IF U HAVE ONE, into this Good Night? (Sinister music orchestration!) Maybe a baby Crocodile ducked in overnight? Or a Literary Critic? (So best call the Pool Guy.) VACUUM! VACUUM! VACUUM!

Do not go BUY a Tavern's "Ragazzi's" their last rounds, supposing U have the Ducats, at the 11th hour, then opt to stagger home alone? Wanna be a Target!? Or recite, arms flailing, "DAS CAPITAL", Karl Marx? Another reason to get drunkard/Mugged. ISLAMIC THUGS R everywhere; bored too of grooming/ raping our Christian Children?

Do not promise "eternal love" to some GAL U cannot finance nor sustain (HAFIZ, PERSIAN POET/Pre-ISLAM fanatics, he writes:) "Do not play with a Tiger's Cubs nor rob a Woman of her illusions!" (A cone of Ice Cream on a hot day IS an option.) U don't need an Iman's call to know which way the wind blows? C'Mon! Highland BAGPIPERS!!! Blow their Iman-Minarets hollering's away!!!

Do not (Edvard Munch Painter:) SCREAM for a role in a Hollyweird B-Movie: "Faster-Pussycat-Run!" (Sans-Muslim-Fashion-HIJABS!) or to try out as a TRAFFIC COP in MUMBAI; trust me. U'll get run down without a Hindu thought? (A gridlock of sacred cows or tuskless ELEPHANTS is a reprieve?) Luckily, DECESASED, U don't get cited with a traffic violation. Or in Shah-Allah!

Do not worry 'bout your destiny, DEATH'S RIDER in Babylon - U SAW! - he will still greet U in Samara! There's no shirking your Tomorrow. Biblically, Death rides a Pale horse or an M1A1 TANK! Perhaps, "in esse", and I too burnt all my bridges, but my bridges - no retreat! - burnt for me? And across the river, what now does Death itself need? A coin for the Ferryman?

Do not go gently - SPLISH-SPLASH! - into your "own personal Jesus/your own personal SWIMMING POOL"...if U have one, a NO-GO into your "Goodnight"? ... Another Universe awaits which, yet we STILL cannot comprehend. An origami of the mind: Icons, Scriptures, chants to fill empty Souls; the Argonauts in search of a Golden Fleece?

 97 Virgins, the last I heard was the reward for Islam Suicide bombers under 18? ...In MY Christian/West European culture finding JUST ONE (Virgin?) was considered "pretty groovy" & U got to stalk away in your LEVIS & - goddammit! - write a Song!!!

 Popular songs, a.k.a.: BISCUITS: "Stairway to Heaven", "I wanna hold your hand" which of late we still knaw on till the big sleep. And of late, MEGA-TRON, Taylor Swift, aping, projecting feeling a 'la Minerva (Goddess of Poetry) like a whiter shade of pale. The Dumbing down, not only of America, Western Europe, but dumbing down divides us all; just WHO (Rainer Maria Rilke/German Poet writes:) "Who in the order of ANGELS will save us?"

But I digress: (Whilst listening to Barry Manilowe's pop song: "Her name was Lola. She was a showgirl, at the hottest spot north of Havana, at the COCA"...ad-nauseum)

MEANWHILE:  SPLISH-SPLASH, perhaps I thought I was Errol Flynn, cutting a swashbuckling movie dash, once upon a time when I dived - SPLISH-SPLASHED - into that Swimming Pool... There HAD to be FUN, somehow, someplace, with SOMEONE; the ripples in the swimming pool, now predictably ERASED! But NO REGRETS - well, SOME! but rest assured, I like U... will someday be replaced by voices, like ourselves who'll - Splish-Splash! - also sing to the moon.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Give Me 5!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Gimmie 5!!!" (Après classic song: "Bie Mir Bist du Schoen/My Dear Mister Shane.)

"GIVE ME 5!!!"

Gimmie-5, sweetheart. Gimmie 5 to START for whad-I-got to say to U; please gimmie 5!!!

Gimmie-5, my Love, I woz late for our Date. A friend (long lost) came, by surprise, a tumbleweed moment into town?

Gimmie-5 my dove? She didn't mean anything to me? But the apple never falls far from that damned biblical-EDEN apple tree?

...And it's really not my name (Or Mr. & Mrs. Smith) on that MOTEL register; gimmie-5 & I'll explain!

Gimmie-5! (Sweetheart) Gimmie-5 YOUR HEART! A yesterday's affair: Gimmie-5 & I'll explain!

(Singing:) ...I say now Bela-Bela, U know I love U. There AIN'T NUTTIN I wouldn't-DO-for YA!... 

Alas! (Pant-pant!) The night is long that never finds the day, but it's WITH U I want to stay? Gimmie-5!

 Gimmie-5 just to start? Whad-a-ya got to say? Gimmie-5! I KNOW that I am not worthy; but if U please? Just give me FIVE!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. (WE R always guilty as Sin!)

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The ICE WALL!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The ICE WALL!"

...YOU R ONLY LONESOME WHEN U DIE, but mostly, absolutely LONELY when U R alive. Funny how that works? Ask anyone. But not a Soul confesses. (Beatles song: All the lonely people.)

U, actually, R quite FRIGID; new clothes, new auto, new-whatever, dancing gaily, pretending TO BE for the sake of Societies' needs? (A Life-survival-necessities of: WOTCHAGONNA-DO!?) Saturday Night & Sunday Morning?

...There IS no TO BE or NOT to "whoosits" (Hamlet's problem.). We wear costumes, talk-hipster/always one eye on the $$$! & like thieves we rob our own Souls. It's the easy way out. Better THAT than face the ICE WALL of nothingness, the Universe.

(Singing:) Mary-Mary, quite contrary. How does your garden grow? -With Silver bells & cockle shells, despite being absolutely STONED, somehow all in a row! Whilst she's getting KNOCKED UP by the assistant Gardner: Poetry in motion!

Still. For the rest of us? It's ONLY lonesome when U die. It's only lonesome when U expire "sans" a Cellphone. No digital communication & that inner terror of feeling alone. Ask anyone! And good luck, if U have a real friend...beyond the Ice Wall...who'll listen to your Confession!

(Gotta feeling, surgically connected to your "handy" U might be put "on HOLD!"/Musak-playing...)

The ICE WALL!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix/a.k.a. David Michael Oxley on Facebook: "TEST-TACKLES!!!"

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/a.k.a David Michael Oxley on Facebook: "TEST-TACKLES!"

(dedicato: Brian Pavlic.)

"Test-Tackles!"

...DON'T FRY BACON in the NUDIE or U might gonna catch a SPARK nor forget to wear an L.A.P.D. (L.A. Cops) Velcro-Bullet Proof vest, specifically, wrapped around - ham-strung - your TEST-TACKLES!

DON'T - first Date? - kiss her on the mouth. That last second/the PIMPLE on her lips/U noticed before closing your eyes; just what was her last date, now sucking U way down South?

...But it's only a Samba, a LIMBO-MAMMA. U take your chances, some romantico G.P.S. Remember what your Mommie said: "Better a cup of Cocoa & a good night's sleep, better that than a night on the town!"?

(No-one will EVER learn of course:) 

Don't fry Bacon in the Nudie. Your TEST-TACKLES, pretty much is all ya got!...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Pontius Pilot."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Pontius Pilot." 

(Après the 1960s PROCOL HAREM hit song, "A whiter shade of pale".)

"Pontius Pilot."

...WE SKIPPED/TRIPPED (jumped out a 3rd storey window whilst on LSD/Acid?) the light fandango, did the "POGO/The TOASTER" across the floor? I was feeling kind of homesick. The crowd roared out: "Migrants go home!" (This was in Manchester/1970s/I was from Sheffield.) I was ONE of 16 Vestal-Virgins -wearing a Chicken's "Parsons Nose". And it's SO HARD, despite everything, to be a Sex Symbol as U & I both know.

...But that's ALL IT WAAASSS, a play on words, a propaganda short & sweet. Nobody ever gets to WIN in Love or that Hollyweird sordid grasp for Fame when U try to make your Name? And FAME sea-sick don't get U a PASS; fake death? That's just lame. (The Lombardo's divorce still racking up the credits!)

She said there IS no Reason, on Facebook where we met? Neighbors/Internet Door-to-door & I soon realized what an Un-holy bore she was? So, I DID a "Pontius Pilot", I'm not sure which airline I flew for & executed my sinful ablutions & sent them down the LOO?... Sometime even an IDIOT has to do what he has to do?

But that's ALL IT WAASSS! - The Play's, the thing? A match to burn, the Conscience of a King? A voyage-Romance, passing ships in the night, a passion play, a propaganda, a story, short & sweet!

...NOBODY in "Hollyweird" ever saw their ASS for Ducats. Too busy hunting down their own immortality. That friendless, ruthless destiny, ignorant; already got one foot in the grave! And now OLDER, wiser, I now dance, skip-trip/DO DAH TOASTER! -across some parquet floor. And yes, it's SO hard to be a Sex Symbol as U & I both know...

...This OBSESSION with washing my HANDS however is becoming "Hollyweird"! -I may need to seek out an equally crazy Therapist!!!...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

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

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

...PAPPA GOT A BRAND-NEW razor. Pappa got a brand-new GIG. But the tufts of his greying beard, last seen, he gotta a SMILE just like in his YOUTH.

Pappa got a brand-new BAG, goes by the name of "BANJO!". He plays it night & day. Even the neighbors R complaining! My younger siblings, like "Mummers" (silent actors) in a play? Wondring-bout their tomorrow! Destiny's illusive face?

Pappa got a new brown bag. Pappa got a new LIFE! (he) Buzzed off to Chicago, became a hipster MUSIC-MAN, & we never got wind of him since, till - in the PRESS - he had a hit song: "Lucille!" (My mother's name...)

Pappa got a brand-new Razor. Pappa got a brand-new GIG; where-as I now see my aging Momma, slaving in our local South Arkansas brick laundry building, fading, like our clothes & rags she washes daily, day by day to keep on having to think.

I hear it's the SAME via the town's Library-public Internet service IN ENGLAND, Europe, faraway? A family abandoned for some fickle "Rock & Roll" fame? A Man with a plan, a Guitar, THUNDERBIRD auto and a pocket comb?

But "in ONUS" just who stays behind? Who to stand, Sons & Daughters, by their planted seed? Not to mention who KEEPS your town, your Village-green; who sweeps the Cities SEWERS! - a Song of sacrifice? - Certainly not the Man who wrote "Lucille!".

Pappa got a brand-new Razor. Pappa got a brand-new Bag. Pappa got everything he needs except the Kids he left behind & a noble LADY, thrown into No-Man's Land, yet a haunting Conscience; but what good is THAT for a sweet Gal named "Lucille."

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix; "The Ancient Mariner."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Ancient Mariner,"

...MAYBE IT WAS YOUTH'S "Agusto!" (passion)? Maybe it was our D.N.A. that launched us into this WILD WORLD, but, latter days, "Davy Jones Locker" a-chained to our backs? I don't much talk to Strangers anymore.

And maybe it's the ZODIAC, solar planets out of sync? An Astrolabe/Navigation miscalculation, too much Rum! But, probably, in MY case, failed love affairs in Port-O-Prince or Bristol fashion: S-why I don't much talk to Strangers anymore. (Especially women from Swansea!)

ONCE! A Brother above all brothers! I was valiant & sailed the seven seas. But now marooned on the lee shore in some foreign land where Strangers I don't heart-felt, welcome. What mortal castaway can absorb distance eternal? Robinson Crueso?

Like Ulysses at the end of Days; just who knows: TIME! That God of Gods! Implacable! Cares NOT for who or what was. And as for Strangers, I, being marooned, no longer hang out in portside bars & taverns. Bordellos, a distant memory. But I miss the chorus of a "Sea Shanty!"

...Now? My fingernails seem always dirty. I don't now shave but once a week. Every time I - these futuristic days - read a sincere Internet Post I crack up in laughter & wish U all calm seas?

And water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink/ ocean-current chased by metaphors: "Think!", "Gone down the SINK!" Or "the DEVIL'S DRAM/last whisky in the barrel!" A whirlpool of insight: John Donne/Poet: to search/advance an honest mind not to CAP with The Bard's, To BE or not to Be? - That Sea of Seas.

...I gotta Song IF THERE IS a Song. It takes a lifetime, rudderless, to know what IS COOL or what is downright wrong...Less said, yet without melancholy, I don't much talk to Strangers, my old Shipmates, anymore... This affidavit, signed by my own hand, who never ever received "the Black Spot", DAVY, an ancient mariner.

c.2026.Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Whistler!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Whistler!"

...I PAINTED - WATERCOLOURS - MY SHADOW, my silhouette, an optical imago on the turquoise/blued bed of my swimming pool, octagonal sunlight reflections & that my subterranean EYES, wide open, I saw there... two people, the previous evening, a suicide pact/the Pool Guy, late for his pool cleaning Gig & I (my morning swim) dove in anyway, not being of a superstitious or nervous disposition. ...Now the DEAD have been removed. COPS, Ambulances, flashing light stuff. I never live, co-habit or SWIM with Corpses; leastways in my own Swimming Pool? Would YOU? -No need to respond.

Too little, too late, a 'la that DAZZLE, an epiphany to those close at hand? My other Chateaux-Pelican Guest Villa guests scattered like Baptists at a non-alcoholic wake, those of ISLAMIC faith, tired of bouncing their forehead - 5 times a day/pointing to MECCA - wherever the frick THAT is! -on the Villa's gravel forecourt did the same thing"? I HAVE heard some Hotel horror stories, B&B nightmares but TWO STIFFS in the swimming pool - Guinness record? - gotta award a blue ribbon, YA THINK?

...Like a WHISTLER in the wind, a Song now sung, now gone with the wind & every morning U brush your teeth and yes, U need to shave.

I painted my shadow, my silhouette, an optical imago on the turquoise/blued bed of my swimming pool; octagonal-sunlight reflections dance before my eyes as I saw before me, EYES WIDE OPEN, I saw my own self there!

I still paint in Watercolors & whistle whilst I work. But close friends have observed my paintings' have a tint of grey.

c.2o26, Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Queen of Belize!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Queen of Belize."

...WHEN YOUR DAY IS DONE, when your GLORY DAYS have disappeared, do NOT despair. WITHIN your Treasure of memories, joys & sorrows, that suitcase of experience which U launched - as we sometimes do - like a message in a bottle - launched into the bay of Corozal?

When your Day is done, your ovalis, depleted, menopause, your beauty fading, suitors no longer E-Mail/Facebook messages dried up? Your Grand Children dragging your skirts to the floor but that SAMBA in your Soul, never gonna let U go? (And the Kids R OK!)

When your Holly-weird sense of fashion boardwalk fame IS OVER, do U fade or DO U FLAME into that majestic Lady whose ROBES U were destined to wear... New Shades, new shimmy-shammy dress/I can still TANGO with the best? "WATCH-ME!!!"

When they DAY is done, yet sometimes NIGHT, a comfort zone, suggests, my Lady, U might have won! As for TEARS; no need. A Life. Not always a breeze. A salute...for the Queen of Belize.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. /Decication/cognoscenti/not necessary.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The DA-VINCI CODE DECIPHERED!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The DA VINCI CODE DECIPHERED!"

...IT'S NOT ALL BAD BEING the Town Drunk though one DOES get to be a tad infamous for raising a few eyebrows especially amongst the communities, church-going Spinsters?

It's not ALL bad yet occasionally getting "pilloried" in the village-green "Stocks", getting pelted with rotten fruit & Veg, by respected citizens-"Les Mistons!", drug dealing kids in need of a de-tox reality spell to unleash their inner (lactating?) confusion?

It's not ALL bad being the Town Drunk. For One, I have open access to the keys of my own "drunk tank" jailhouse Cell (Andy Griffith's show), no reservation required! -where I can sleep-off the Nights "load" & not get yelled at by "she who must be obeyed" at HOME, quietly a-waiting like a Black Widow Spider, and in her previous Life (Reincarnation?) U gotta wonder? God know why I married her or she, ME!

It's not ALL bad, overqualified, Town Drunk specifications - YES; I just checked IN to see what condition my condition was IN? And? Yes! AND! -I once educated the locals how to effortlessly grind GRAIN. "Use Mommy Nature!" I said, holding my wet thumb into the breeze, the WIND: "It's called a Windmill!" I might have added, "Get cracking!"? -THAT didn't go down well...

...My designs for a helicopter, Submarines, Satellites, and especially a HOT AIR BALOON (Zeppelins), lord KNOWS, folks round here R full of it? Anyhow, my ideas were cursory considered, judged quite ridiculous & deemed insane/I was un-employable, so I graduated to the high office of Town Drunk: Where U now find me, painting landscapes, writing poetry, TWIX LIBATIONS thus I execute my life. "O sole mio?" not a bit of it. Mostly, with wine, I have a good time!

As for the future, when I'm dead & assuredly GONE? I hope someone will say a prayer, a Kaddish for me? A legacy OF existence. The Town Drunk who walked amongst Ye & attempted to discover Mommy-Nature's divinity; a purpose for ALL, above the treadmill of your chosen indenture or the swings & arrows of outrageous fortune!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

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

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Papillion!" (Après Dylan Thomas.)

...DO NOT GO BENTLEY into dat ROLLS-ROYCE night! The Old Boy Club/Class system will not invite U into their "high-hat" cannibalism, Conservative Grandees; baby, U don't have a chance a 'la Thomas Hardy's "Jude the Obscure".

Do not go DAIMLER though U rage, RAGE against a tempest of social disadvantage or write what U SCREAM! Better U fire up an old Spitfire/M.G. Afterall, your Gal is happy, hair blowing in the wind in the passenger seat, in love; what more could U need?

Do not go Bently into that Rolls-Royce night; elegant cufflinks, Tie pins, a diamond - just the one - earring? Worth nothing when U R a corpse. And don't advertise, Crematoria-personnel/grave robbers abound!

...I saw, actually, in my travels, many times a Gal. White dress. Fancy free. Faint heart never won fair maiden. But I never in fact met her, situ., on crowded trains, some German "fuss ganger zone" whilst busking/poor boy, strumming my guitar? I never busied up to her, happy, just to be a witness of her gay delight. Needless to say, to this day SHE still Butterflies, an eternal IMAGIO in my mind.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Gatsby's afternoon."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Great Gatsby's afternoon."

...REGARDING HOUSE GUEST KAREN: "I'm offended by your Political Views, in addition, your body odor, post swimming pool, U stink of chlorine & U R NOT wearing Chanel No. Whoosits. It's insufferable!!!" (This was prior to GATSBY getting SHOT! -as per F. Scot-Fitzgerald's novel, semi portrayed in David Hockney's painting: A BIGGER SPLASH!))

(Back to House Guest KAREN:) "I'm offended by your lack of acknowledgment of my frail dynamic, my wishes & whims! Don't U understand what I'm going thru!? MEIN GOTT! I COULD be ovulating!?"

(She goes on:) "I'm also SERIOUSLY offended by..." this is followed by a TOME of listed complaints as the Great Gatsby, prior to being assassinated, doing his best to slouch by the swimming pool on a tropical, Saturday night, is - thank God/ calls herself TALLULAH, a "FLAPPER-going on COUGAR", is when she leaves.

(Wotchagonna-DO?) House guests R always welcome/old saying: After a few days, the place smells like fish. And the sweetest moment, hopefully, good humoredly, is WHEN they leave:

 A day in the Life of the Great Gatsby before some lunatic took his life. Or so the alternative story goes! Gotta figure it was an absorbent, busy day? Pity how it played out... like a shadow in the Sun...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "North by North-West!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/small country by Mexico/Dave Delacroix: "North by North-West!"

(dedicato: Mah-Babee, Carol Aniello & QUEEN NADIA, Chicagoan & Mayoress of Ranchito, Belize.)

"North by North-West!"

MAH BABEE DONE GONE BACK to the U.S. of A., but alas, (Song by Dave van Ronk/1960s/covered by Bob Dylan:) "Baby let me follow U down." due to (Donald Trump) Immigration VISA complications, I cannot do! And I DO BELIEVE that DONALD for new-baby Christenings is of now as un-popular as ADOLF!!! (Go figure.) HITLER of course never requested his likeness added to Mount Rushmore though his moustache might have aided Carey Grant's cliff-hanger in the HITCHCOCK movie, "North by Northwest"! But I digress...

...MAH BABEE DONE GONE (today) back to "the home of the brave & the land - aha! - of the Free". But I cannot follow her. Actually...er...the fact IS I in-advertently over-stayed my Tourist-Visitor's VISA by 27 YEARS (I assure U/purely a clerical over-sight on my part) all the while, recording several CD's, playing Gigs, festivals, Roadhouses, cafes & Bars, appearing on T.V. shows, busking on the street and I DID make it back to Europe once or twice and rarely - hitch-hiking w/guitar - had problems with America's "finest" (Cops!)  though I DID get thrown into the "drunk tank" (overnight stay) once in a while (Denver, Jacksonville-Fla., Nashville-Tennessee, Delacroix-Mississippi comes to mind?) but those "Barney Fife's", airport Immigration "Wooden-Tops", Raleigh-Carolina, recently Computerized, had my "drunk tank" BIO done to rights: Third time USA re-entry, DENIED...And I SO HATE negativity? But I digress...

MAH BABEE DONE GONE BACK to "Trump-Land", for a while & (aged 70!) I'm sad & lonely though I'm THINKING - North by North-West - she's gonna be back here - in BELIZE - real soon!... I LOVE the opening soundtrack of that Movie by the way? North by Northwest?... But once again...I digress...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix/on Facebook: David Michael Oxley. See Y-all on Campus!

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Yesterdays Ghosts!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Yesterdays Ghosts!"

...JUST WHO/WHERE R THEY our yesterday's Ghosts who nightly haunt our dreams; what uncanny-diabolic, a river of regrets (?) flood our latter-day waking schemes? (I AM NO IAGO!!!) A Confession?

Just WHO R these ghosts of yesterday. We have robbed, flinched & indirectly murdered OR romantically " A BOUNDER" but why should we be hounded; certainly, not sent to the GUILLOTINE!?U didn't get her pregnant?

UNCANNY lies the map of a Man's MIND, it's twists & turns, its eclectic sinew that resolves: an altruistic or moral conflicted bind? Where & HOW yesterday's Ghosts fester, un-afraid to worry a Soul to the marrow, (Un-spoken/Mac-somebody by Shakespeare) a Scottish Play!

"OUT! OUT! DAMMED SPOT! My TITS MILK turns to GALL -Vinegar!" (Early T.V. Murderer's confession/Law & Boredom series etc. never used. Pity!)

And THERE we lie, awake at night. Not enough SHEEP to count & keep saying: "Not Guilty." In this supernatural existence.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Midnite Lady!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Midnite Lady!"

...I DON'T GOT NO MIDNITE LADY anymore; late at night she doesn't answer my calls: her REAL boyfriend is sometimes always at home? (HE, answers the phone!?)

I don't got NO "Witchy Way Woman" (Eagles-song:), these days, she don't answer her phone; not necessarily a heartbreaker: her lipstick on my pillow! (Her scent still fills my room?)

I don't got no Midnite Lady anymore but YEARS before, I was a Champagne-toast in a taciturn Love but then she became a Ghost? (A twilight of loneliness can usurp a Soul?) "Tra-la-la!" -Who she loves/where she runs?

She was a Midnite Lady, a Moths flight into My light, a sexual existentialist that dissolved in our night. A Midnite Lady no longer in sight. My Midnite Lady. My Lady of the Night!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Where our GLORY lies..."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Where our Glory lies!"

...EMANCIPATED KIDS, we Used to call them Rock & Rollers, BLUES MEN PUNK GALS, MOHICAN HAIRCUTS!! Punk Rockers! London! Trafalgar Square! But now? IN PERSIA/IRAN/AFGHANISTAN why would U even to bother to VACUUM/SAVE EM? What HAS their Geographical/Cultural SEWER become/"By the Rivers of Babylon, where we sat down?" ...Gold, Frankincense or Mer? A hidden shrine of Zarathustra!? Where the DIGNITY of Girls & WOMAN R CUT DOWN!!!

HIJABS wear SPIES, SPIES wear HIJABS! Wotchagonna-DO? And there was ME thinking "Cross-Dressing" began in the Bowery district, Manhattan, New York City or Weimar-Era Belin before the NAZIS started building Germany's Autobahns?

NO NATION can conquer a country, which, essentially in "Western European Terms" is a geographically CULTURAL INSANE ASSYLUM but their mountainous, on the GO Cuisine, chopped Lamb & Basmati rice is not to be dismissed? Cuisine or a national Football game will always reduce/dilute HATE & stop the bullets flying? (Middle East/Jews-Arabs/ conflict-thingy/funny how that works?)

Emancipated KIDS, aged 12, Emancipated HIJAB, whether they want to "infantile' get VIOLATED or not, don't play that ISLAMIC/Medievalist RAGA. It's a RAGA U don't or ever want to know! Your (girls) by an authorized (Islamic) Physician, will TEAR off your Clitoris so U will never feel a Woman's right to Nature Again.

RE-Reading the QUORAN, bestiality towards WOMEN I didn't note. ISLAM, at least in Western Countries; Get out of here before U feel our WRATH!....PAYBACK-Baby!!! (Sorry bout Dat!)

c. 2026. Dave Delacroix.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix/"THE BUSKER!" (Apres, Picasso's - Blue Period - Painting; The Guitarist.)

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/DAVE DELACROIX/ A.K.A. David Michael Oxley, age 70 on Facebook but still drinking like a Fish: "THE BUSKER/Street music-making MAN!"

(Apres PICASSO'S - BLUE PERIOD - painting, The Guitarist.)

"THE BUSKER!"

(dedicato to Sylvie in Freiburg/Germany.)

"The BUSKER!"

...HE'S NO GOOD WITHOUT A WOMAN, just the same without a WIFE! He's no good without a JOB, Saturday night, but he'll take that OPTION, go play Cards all night; it's nothing to him to shoot some Dice! Seroius callouses on his Guitar fingertips, no lipstick on his collar. His alibi.

HE'S NO GOOD without a BANJO making DUCATS on the street? And Hugs & kisses, smiles for everyone he's sure to meet? But HE'S "no good" without a WOMAN or he'd be living on the street! Old joke: Musician without a girlfriend? Homeless!!!

He's NO GOOD without a Woman, a symbol, Love's IDEAL on a plate? He never ever looks before he leaps into your life, into your heart. It takes a special -Machiavellian? - talent to conjure a tune which makes a fair Maidens Soul beat?...

There's an invisible/barely audible orchestration, a background serenity 'bout (Poet) Francois Villon in a den of thieves, "Fat Margot" or "This Brothel where we ply our trade.", or "Where ARE the snows of Yesteryear", "La Boulevard/Rue", a STREET MINDSET where anything, alas still goes?

.... But AS U know, he's no good, no good without a Woman. Playing a repetitive SONG after bloody same SONG, OUT THERE playing every Saturday night...A footfall/donating-public "fussganger"-zone constantly passing him by? -Yet some BELLA always in his mind. "Sans" Banjo, a broken Guitar, and in all weathers, rain or shine, sometimes the bleakest Winter cold - BLUE FINGERS ON STRINGS! -she, somehow is always on his mind...

c. 2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Mirror of History!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Mirror of History!"

...NEVER PUT IT IN WRITING, never - "Mein Gott!!!" chisel in stone, never feel too much loss when U R broken/past loves ALWAYS a-haunting: just carve her name - on a tree? - with Pride.

Never think U let her down or destroyed her illusions; maybe she too was reaching for something above U when in fact, within your own Life, past failed loves, you recovered in the round? Yet uncertain of this new love U have found?

And all the time, she too was always looking outside, but for you both, in retrospect, & a carnival of kiss-and-tell, joys & triumphs, rage/despair and all the chaos of LOVE IN THE AIR, yet with dignity, what little U have; carve her name with Pride.

In Love? Guilty IS Guilty, not one of us is innocent. We R all as guilty as SIN. Your reflection in the MIRROR belies everyone else's perception & GOD KNOWS what your Lovers see U AS, or they see IN U? (A Rockstar? The Band: "The Swinging Neanderthals"?)

Never put it in writing, never a hieroglyphic handprint on a prehistoric cave wall. Those pesky Archeologists/modern grave-robbers will try to make sense of your Life's Love! (He was a Hunter-Gatherer? /Probably tried having sex with a RHINO/S-how he lost his Test-Tackles/No Inter-net Porn back then.)

 THEY (Archeologists/Historians) will always overlook that tree in the forest, that personal Eden where pre-history's LOVE bloomed, then a kiss dismissed, a regret but later, a place of loneliness, a place in your heart where-in your Soul's divinity U carved her now forgotten...her name with Pride.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.  

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Catfish on the Bone!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Catfish on the Bone!"

(dedicato: Sarah B. Solo.)

"Catfish on the Bone."

(Singing:) DON'T LET THE COOL OF THE EVENING pass U by. Don't let the cool of the evening pass U by. Keep your eye on the prize, oh babee, U know the reason why? Don't let the cool of the evening pass U by.

Don't U ever go downtown-Memphis without Me. Don't U ever go downtown-Memphis without me. We'll go fishing, Arkansas-Green River: Cook Catfish on the bone! Don't U go down to Memphis, Tennessee, without me.

Don't let the Cool of the Evening pass U by. Don't let the Cool of the Evening pass U by. Keep your eye on the prize, cos' U-er the reason why, don't let the cool of the evening pass U by. Don't let the cool of the evening pass US by...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "...I've been around the World!"

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "...I've been around the World."

(Singing:)...BEEN AROUND THE BLOCK; U KNOW just WHAT-WHAT IS! U travelled the 7 Seas; U know a rogue wave's a-coming...when it's in your face? 

Been around the SCENE; thieves & (hippy-talking) gangsters, "de rigour" for Hollywood, wotchagonna-DO, your Life, an answer: IS IT? IS IT?

...Been around the World, I still can't find my Babee, Tropic of Cancer, a Capricorn lack of Mercy? See U on the Greyhound BUS, just where it takes us. Kansas City-Missouri is where we get dumped in a roadside, fast food lullaby.

Been around the BLOCK still going nowhere, veiled kisses & embrace, a hollow SOMEPLACE, an emptiness that resonates like a Cancer-benign, a parallax, a comfort that never lets U totally despair! 

c.2026. Dave Delacroix/Also known on FACEBOOK as "David Michael Oxley" (My Russian K.G.B. SPY name./No good now since I am now employed by the C.I.A/Facebook I.D. still good...I DO NOT wear a Triblby or a Mackintosh raincoat or speak COCKNEY like Actor Michael Caine, but IF I DID I would probably make more Money!)...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix (Double Agant!)

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "DEAD MEN don't darn their socks in the night."

 Our Man in Europe/now residing in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "DEAD MEN don't darn their socks in the night!"

...DEAD MEN DON'T darn their socks in the night! Dead men don't darn their own, or anybody else's socks in the night! -They just wallow in a casket of Bloody Mary breakfast-cocktail mix; easy on the tomato juice - too much, makes the Vodka go bad - a stick of celery, quite unnecessary especially if your Tom juice is replaced by a can of V-8! A splash of Lemon; Worcestershire (WHUSTER!) sauce but of course!

DEAD MEN don't masturbate, post-wake jamboree. Your personal "Lancelot" is the first thing to say "Sayonara!" It drops off. Whilst HAIR, supposing U weren't Telly Savalas or Yul Bryner (Actors/quite bald) & finger/toenails grow GANGBUSTERS in search of that heavenly pedicure or Holy manicure, respectfully at a "Salon-Ponce du Lyon" the fountain of lost Youth.

DEAD MEN are bereft of jokes, even professional Stand-Up Comedians! "Have U heard the joke about the dead guy? No? Me neither!"... Nuttin' funny bout death whether U (Russian K.G.B. assisted) fell out of 6-storey high window, slipped on a banana skin, got munched on by a Tiger shark or mashed in the gears of a combined-harvester!

Still... DEAD MEN of course R pretty picky bout their Wardrobe; Pin Stripes or PLAID they STILL show up at St. Peter's gate trying not to look too needy. But like Father Mckenzie (Beatles song/All the Lonely People) Dead Men never get to darn their socks or anyone else's in that eternal night.

...Funny how that works?..

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

OUR MAN in EUROPE/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Twilight Zone."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Twilight Zone."

...OUR OWN PERSONAL TWILIGHT zone! (Reach out & touch me!) ... Sometimes I wonder...I'm Bi-polar and apparently have "ADDO" (attention deficit disorder?) "ADDO!?". Anyways, sometimes I wonder - like we do - R. U. really there? (R.U. THERE!) a 'la a prism in aspic; got to wonder if I'm there/here too? Is there anybody there: No. 9, No.9, No 9!? (Ringo Star).

THOUGHT-cachets trouble the mind when U. R. feeding the cats or just trying to un-wind from being a witness to this World of troubles; that legitimacy of mind in dire need of a good attorney? Altruism or the moral high ground doesn't stand a chance twix Neo-Fascism or Islamic zealots. At some point REASON weakens, U oil & polish your M16 & gotta come out fighting. Don't doubt it! "Peace in our Time" is an illusion.

Sometimes I wonder if WRONG might just be RIGHT, Port-Starboard, Day is Crystal-night, a leering fright, a kiss-hello, a kiss-goodbye in our OWN personal twilight zone: REACH OUT!!! And touch me...Less we forget, all our Soldier boys who came/sacrificed before.

Is there anybody there? LONDON CALLING: No.9, No.9, No.9! The Twilight Zone. (Ringo Star).

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Village Idiot!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Village Idiot!"

...IT AIN'T ALL BAD BEING the "Village Idiot". The Medieval locals douse U with their excrement (Shit!) or pelt U with rotten fruit, arraying U in the village scaffold-stocks, whilst free to roam their kids hound U like it's "open season" on ALL aspects of humanity that confound or fail to conform? There's "V.I." or an OUTSIDER in everyone. Some hide it; some spit in the wind? And "Woe to the Vanquished!", but U can't KILL what the dumb masses fail to understand? "V.I."s DO disturb! 

It's NOT the worst fate to be considered, the town drunk or the Village Idiot? Show some intelligence -U get summoned/invited to the Royal Court...to BE a King's "Fool"! U get to be Liverpool F.C./Manchester United, top of the League! An appointment, a Village Idiots HOLY GRAIL, that gig of gigs where it's koshered to utter absurdities that is rewarded with Cakes & Ale, no fear of reprimand or that pesky AXE, your vocal-flippant treason- nor London-Tower-on-the-Hill execution!

Being an official buffoon is not the worst of fates. It's not ALL bad delivering that light-prism of a Frank Zappa poem/tune (Cosmic Debris?) And yes, people will talk, thus your legend is secure: "Alas poor Yorick! That Clown from Shakespeare's Hamlet. And less we forget the legendary misfit who haunted the bell tower of Paris's Notre Dame! No cakes & ale, sometimes, historically, a persecution song. Whilst up above, the ANGELS (should they actually exist:) DO the "Hokey-Koike" & dance with U in your Village Idiot mist.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix-Esquire: "BABY-DOLL!!!"

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "BABY-DOLL!"

...BABY! I DIDN'T "diss" U. I was brain-naked, out-clothed/out-classed; no Milano-psycho, no Yakuza-kamikaze! I was ELECTRIC, in a place no-one else can understand. Whether I'd crash in Dubai or Pakistan, my cerebral debris, scattered/littered across the Sahara: A HAFIZ Persian Poet poem? A Love Prophet, quite simply, gone emotional "fiddle-E-Dee!" (It happens!)

BABY! I didn't DISS U. On the road to Damascus! I was a-la BLUES BROTHERS on a Mission from God: S-hard to explain? -A Guitar player/Mariachi looking for that lost chord...& on a 12 string (guitar) U need 3 competent Rockstar ROADIES to assist/several dedicated GROUPIES, optional! Supergroup/famous Bands; Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Black Sabath, cultural predators leave wakes of broken souls? Rolling Stones DO in fact gather moss. It's just never reported!

BABY! I didn't DISS U. I broke my ankle (drunk as usual), the LIMO ran out of gas, an old buddy arrived from out of town, I needed to PAWN my "Gibson Les Paul", my sister got arrested at the Barracuda Club (London). I had to fly over there & bail her out? Stupidity, never short of consequences! The SEVEN WONDERS of who we R" Greed, Envy, Jealousy", just 3 out of 7 to name?

BABEE! (An after thought) I was just slouching down main street, Joplin-Missouri minding my own abstract business. Actually, I was getting my "load on" in some lonesome C/W Bar composing all my excuses 'bout just WHERE WE could/should-a been, but knowing OURSELVES, better we'd reach out for the stars! And now we live with our illusions or get saturated in LOW PLACES, acting out, some private Idaho SOOO faraway from where we belong.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "A Place in the Sun."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "A Place in the Sun."

(dedicato: Le Marquis, Jean De'Bats.)

"A Place in the Sun."

...A PLACE IN THE SUN, a dimmed/Raybans-sunglasses/polluted sky or some vellum-bright, the one that burnt (Impressionist Painter) DEGAS's eyes/irises enforcing a 2nd career of miniature bronze sculptures of Ballerinas-immobile yet in their epoch majesty...

A place in the Sun... what issue, what dynamic carves your destiny, like Icarus soaring but with wings of WAX, a predestined "Skyfall" (James Bond movie?) or Sisyphus, another Greek legend/the Greeks/historically OWN the franchise! Sisyphus, silly man, the original (Beatles song:) "Nowhere Man", UP-Hill! forever to labor: Keep your eye on the ball: GRAVITY is All! Rolling stones?

A place in the Sun, a maelstrom-Heart, alas, finding nothing at all except a one-way ticket to Palookaville, possibly to foster an epic monologue, "To Bleed or not to Bleed, that is the question!", an abstract epiphany a-waiting until U R "done & dusted". That tumbleweed moment when the saloon piano dude quits playing & flies-a-buzzing, circling round the ceiling fan...drop dead to the floor!

A place in the Sun. A battle un-won! Faint heart never won, never won fair maiden. There's actually NO NEED to go out and MURDER some-one? (Monty Clift movie?)  Jesus!!! A place in the Sun? No worries, Kids. DO NOT DISPAIR!!! There's always Whisky in the JAR-O!!! And as dark as the inside of a Texas-Steers BUTT on a moonless night, it's no crime to come out fighting...for your own personal-Jesus, the right to stand up & ZORRO your Life into the Light. ...A place, a kind of Loving, for YOU...your place in the Sun.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix (Also in his "undercover" name, David Michael Oxley - old family name on Facebook): "Les Belles de Paris!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix/A.K.A. David Michael Oxley on Facebook: "Les Belles du Paris!" (Après poem by Francois Villon/1400s-dude.)

"Les Belles de Paris!"

...DEM GALS LOVE THEIR finery, their semi-concealed tattoos. They manage their lives like a corporation; do their own Taxes too! They Witter like ONLY Parisians do, an un-necessary flamboyance - an "eclair", in point, of all the Gals in the world? They OUT-TALK the lot! And, in my view, yours too (?), they got me stymied!

DEM GALS SURE have a good time? It doesn't matter if I'm there or not, they have that "joi de vie!". They R always planning a frolic or 2. (They hid my Tuxedo!) Where does that leave U or Me, happily confused, a tad outside yet, foolishly feeling blue? (WOTCHAGONNA-DO!?)

(Singing:) "TRA-LA-LA!" Ad-infinitum: The Paris Gals out-talk the lot! Dem Paris Gals out-talk the lot!...What's a poor GARCON to do?

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Sargasso Sea."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Sargasso Sea."

...WHEN THE WATER, GONE, DRIED UP, Oil prices plummeted, then, the SWIMMING POOL, the swim-pool owners thought they'd got this GIG-failed? A David Hockney canvas. An"A.I." Aquifer!!! A retro-Impressionist oil painting-smudge for your mind?

  When the Water dried up, the Champagne floated on an Ecco-illusion suggesting that those who owned swimming pools - would be alright.

When the Water dried up the MINISTRY (There's always a Ministry/there's always a MOLE, a Cabinet of Incompetence, a LEAK!) some "Gieves & Hawkes" tailored bureaucrat, 

...some sodomite (Eton Prep. school 0r Cambridge University deluge personality, robotically elected to the Houses of Parliament, a true Patriot: Patriotism? (Doctor Johnson!) The last refuge of a Scoundrel! -at some time, will always piss his pants.

When the WATER, gone, get thirsty. That READ (RED!!!) MARK MARKING by your Tutor in your schoolbook rule? When the snow fails to flood the rivers, to belch the ocean & and delivers your Sargasso Sea.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/8,000 miles east of Paris-France/Dave Delacroix: "Mlle (Mademoiselle)Maupin!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/8,000 miles East o0f Paris-France/Dave Delacroix: "Mlle Maupin!"

...Mlle Maupin? MY HEART IS BROKEN; a "Grisette" or famous courtesan? Mlle-Maupin U swirl through my society but when U leave, "Le Monde Fini!"

Mlle-Maupin? -historically, a famous O'Murphy who caught the eye of a French King, Mlle-Maupin, writer Theo Gautier captured your glory long after Casanova sent U to the palace of Versailles.

Mlle-Maupin, breasts naked, waving the tricolor on histories barricades. A Papillion, a flight above us all. Le Guillotine, never too far away.

 Mlle-Maupin, but now down on the Paris Metro: "Avez vous un-Franc?" But don't say goodbye, Mlle-Maupin: Your song-immortal! Mlle-Maupin? Don't go away.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize-next to Mexico/Dave Delacroix: "Night of the Cougars!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize-next to Mexico/Dave Delacroix: "Night of the Cougars!"

(dedicato: Leonardo Giannone)

"The Night of the Cougars!"

...NIGHT OF THE COUGARS, not a Gigolo in sight, just an incessant PURR, a Boy Scout Code -to "BE PREPARED", AC/DC, to freak out any Girl Guide/Uniformed of course! The "dress-code" of Martyrs has always been, historically debated; Rags, bejeweled. Un-frocked, De-Tux-ified (The Great Gatsby in his swimming pool?), the Knights-Templars! -who barely had time to bury their gold?

NO full moon, no Moon at all. (Bloody Werewolves - howling - abound!) That "Deutsche-Schwartzwald Forest Dating Agency", those mandatory neck "love-bites" schmoozing, a nod to Celtic RUENS (Nordic-Gaelic-Symbolic lingo) to piss off the Apostles who we believe, long since incinerated, crucified - latest news broadcast - outdated had gone, perhaps deservedly, to eternal slumber?

The Night of the Cougars, Black Friday, the 13th. And beware the Ides of March. (Funny old month/half-assed Winter/barely Spring), Nature's carrion call, domestic pets ever alert whence Banshees stir from their caves & Wizards-vibrant conjure incense & curse to mock logic & prey upon superstition, legend, myth and the ignorant darkness of the fragility of lesser minds: The Night of the Cougars! And yes! The dogs R barking!!!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now residing in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Where Termites fear to tread."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Where Termites fear to tread."

(dedicato: Claudine.)

"Where Termites fear to tread."

...DID U EVER KNOW NOTHING, ever confess, KNOW NOTHING at all? -No-one to talk to, clutching at straws? Did U EVER have NOWHERE, no place to go; Poets show U the signposts (to nowhere) then conveniently, skip away.

Did U EVER have Ambition then climb that hill? Do U ever question, alone, & U sit there still? And to peek back at the Valley, a comfort warm, was there ever a choice? Yet the schoolyard girls/boys rejoice, echoes-chorus in your mind: Cold Comfort Farm. A dynamic, but not exactly U?

(Refrain:) Where Termites fear to tread. Where drunken Angels at the tavern sing OF our mortal whiles & who's to say what rights or wrongs, Love Rape, brutality, sired, delivered our own singular song?

Did U ever know Nothing, nothing at all? No-one to talk to, clutching at straws? Did U ever have nowhere, no place to go; Poets (Dem BANDIDOES!) will always skip away: Or that Song of Songs, a divine embrace, and, sometimes, a place where we belong.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Man on the Eifel Tower!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Man on the Eifel Tower!"

.... THE EIFEL TOWER & ME, feeling small? YUP! Inspector Maigret hot on my trail -but I was feeling guilty, everyone in PARIS somehow feels guilty over Baudelaire, or the duel twix Verlaine & Rimbaud not to mention "the Man in the Iron Mask"?

(Relax! The latter idiot was compensated!)

The Eifel Tower & Mio, an antiquated icon/imagio who, film-noir-over-shadows/a STILLETO-skyline pierces our Coen Bros. majestic Manhattan music backdrop; did anyone ever get out of the BOWERY, New York's "Hell's Kitchen" maimed or leastways, escaped with a walking stick? (Health-Care-thingy.)

...Generation after generation, now Tourist after Tourists, money layered upon money, folks just living the best they can... "CBGB's/Beirut Cafe?" N.Y.C.

"Dans Paris!" Immortalized by Degas, Renoir & associate Absinthe-aficionados (Pour quoi?): How does it go atop with only a creaking clutch of words, seminal-worthless in the eyes of our franchised World, that casino "one-armed-bandit", infinity favors fortune! (Craps, Roulette, 21!)

Like the man atop the Eifel Tower who perhaps NEVER but must decide to thrive or jump & die. The kids down on the ground: "Mama, I just saw a man die!?" -"HUSH. Wipe your nose. Keep walking along..."

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix/a.k.a. David Michael Oxley on Facebook: "She got BLING!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix/a.k.a. David Michael Oxley -on Facebook: "SHE got BLING!"

(dedicato: Carol Aniello.)

"She got Bling!"

(Song:) SHE GOT BLING! Everybody says so? She got Bling. I DO believe so....SOooo happy U R mine, your Bling in my mind. She's got Bling; the World is her Oyster.

She got Bling, the people adore her. She got Bling; all thru the night? She got Bling. The boys scramble for her attentions! So happy in Time. So happy she's mine...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now residing in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Silence of the Lambs!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix/ a.k.a. David Michael Oxley -on Facebook: "The Silence of the Lambs!"

"OH-SIRIUS!" (Internet public Q & A. lifestyle APP). Maybe there's One for broken hearts? "OH-SIRIUS! Where do lonely hearts inter-network-sad-saps like me go? -But GOD-FORBIDS, whoever THAT CLOWN IS; whotchagoona-DO if U want to tear off your HIJAB? (98 Lashes!!!?) or condemn Sharia-Insane-Law? 

"OH Sirius!  can U direct me; who should I contact/synthetic BIRD-CALLS or indirectly connect with some Pakistani HACKER (why R they - it seems - ALL Islamic/Pakistanis) who'll also seduce me for my bank account number, strip me clean/later to locally GROOM my - sex slave - teenage daughter? What KERNAL of EVIL groomed THEM in the first place? (Islam? Or just ground dirt greed?)

"OH! SIRIUS!" Do my Internet questions/innocent requests expose me/my Kids to ISLAM-TERROR, the cultural decline of (Even Cricket!!!) the destruction of cultural-International Trust; historically, when any which way, philosophically, was just "life's WICKETS" just WAS!? Or this "OWWZAT era of Western complacency?

"OH-SIRIUS, Internet/Computer/A.I. Maybe OUT THERE an APP for Broken Hearts; some careless Gals, out there on a lonely Saturday night on a British street. Un-afraid, in anticipation of the Spring of Life that THEY should expect to greet? 2026-OPEN SEASON on a mini-skirt blonde or brunette who night ventures into a Pakistani-Islamist night! (Muslim-Open Season on our Lady Fashionistas!)

...I HAVE a few IRANIANS, well-educated buddies, both, in their college years, penalized for not adhering to strict Muslim Laws who found a gig in Western Europe finally. But I will never understand WHY they don't raise their voices against the MEDAEVILISM in their own Country where GIRLS R deprived Education/civil emancipation? Why does that not matter? To THEM!!!

ENGLAND, under the threat of NAZIS/TYRANNY, we built a SPITFIRE/fought back!!! Islam, now invasive in Europe as now abandoned the MIDDLE EAST SEWER they made? Now we have ISLAM, 250,000 U.K. girls/WOMEN assaulted. (I guess the Pakistanis got bored with Cricket?). My Muslim friends. Reticent. (???). SHAME!!! It's NO LONGER a game of polite Cricket. Like letting HITLER rule the World. Your Silence is your SHAME: -The Silence of the Lambs! 

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

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

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

...DO U "DO-DA-DOOBIE" in the morning? Do U "do-da-doobie" at night? OR...do U do-dah Bossa Nova, under the moon? Or, at midday; make the Sun go crazy!

Do U Mambo, Jumambi, Ju-Ju-karma? Do U LIMBO under the sky? Do U intestate-kamikaze, that inner spasm, just never wondering why.

Do U cleanse your Soul, a cerebral Tsunami, to feel that U R sometimes worthy, sometimes whole? Is it necessary to go shopping to get out of this groove;

1) Bambu/cigarette papers.

2) Case of Milk.

3) Tobacco.

4) VINO!

5) Bug Spray.

6) Chutney, to garnish Samosas.

...And Uncle Tom Cobbly & all!

Do U DO-BE-DOOBIE in the morning, at your laptop or on the street?  A Jumambi. A VOODOO! That worm in the bud/the turning of your screw. Would anyone understand except, maybe, some stranger U have yet to meet. That yeast in the air to ferment/focus on all, alas, we still feel is missing.

OK!!! Back to shopping:

1) A Pink inflatable Giraffe! (Life size)

2) A 45-foot Yacht!

3) Solar powered LEAR JET.

4) Unlimited supply of Madras Curry powder!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Ode on Indolence."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Ode on Indolence." (Après poem by John Keats.)

...A-MAH BIN WORKING ON MAH tropical (Belize) morning chorus-bird calls: "Coo-whoosits/CAW-CAW/Swoop=SWOP, Crack-a-fricking too!!!"; also catching up on my foot-dangling & trimming my MULLET (hairstyle). This doesn't leave me a lot of time for "indolence".

...I've been busy, managing/delegating in monosyllables to Rosa, Villa-housekeeping, Gerry, swimming pool maintenance & new kid on Campus, Kendrick, our Chateaux-Pelican Guest Villa compound landscaping dude which does not leave me a lot of time for "indolence".

I'm even getting complaints for my absenteeism @ my Corozal-Belize local bar, the "Natural Mystic"! ..."Where's U bin? How de doody?" etc. fully knowing they're blasting out (song) Van Morrison's "Into the Mystic"/one of my faves. And WOTCHAGONNA-DO, flip-flops instead of (Irish?) Brogues. Out here in the tropics, not a lot of time for "indolence".

Predictably, folks like me get a lot of Hate-Mail. They don't see what WE see, back-to-back bicyclists on a sandy street/we call it GRIDLOCK or standing at a Belize bus stop, sharing with a BZ Matriarch loaded down with groceries/we call that OVER CROWDING & if there's tumbleweeds blowing around the local mini market aisles, ya KNOW ya getting chiseled; alas, "indolence doesn't stand a chance! 

I've been -so-so working on my tropical bird calls, catching up on my foot-dangling & trimming my Mullet, and righteously, I'm sure you'll agree. Indolence is a MOOD-THINGY that needs to get a hold of me! But maybe not yet. I'll get back to U!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "...At the Gringo Bar!"

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "...At the Gringo Bar!"

(dedicato: Rene Jr/Rene Snr @ the Natural Mystic Pub, Corozal-Belize.)

"...At the Gringo Bar!"

...AT THE GRINGO BAR WE only talk to the Bartender, we never confess (Why should we?) or to our Priests; we only spill the Beans to fellow drunks, hitchhikers, highway encounters, never-likely to confide in Lovers-close. (E-Mail is SO passe?) "I left my heart in San Diego; holler back?"

We only talk "facia-a-facia" to Strangers, hoping it will "OUT-WASH/RINSE" our Conscience/GUILT (?), that "sang-froid", (OKLAHOMA WINTER), cold, the rot that resides in our Souls; Gold, Mir & Frankincense; a Curry where all myths, religion, redundant theology BOOGALOOS in your mind? -Keep those drinks a-coming!!!

We only converse, eloquent, raw-thirst, as our HUNGER becomes a DUST BOWL, ashes to ashes/funk to funky, nothing left, that ECCO-Holocaust, whence Kids once wallpapered their sad-Shack bedrooms with Newspapers, made dresses out of patterned flour sack cloth, devout in their FAMINE, no Banjo on Campus/no Charlie Chaplin in sight?

As with the Gringo Bar. No grapes, no wrath! Just a hopeless sojourn. A lame Crusade, a transmigration, Knights-Templars, Black Fridy (13th). A BUDWEISER NEON flickers. A Natural Mystic that labyrinthine's U into your own personal oubliette! At the Gringo Bar; a sad final retreat, for so many, a forgetting: (HAPPY-HAPPY!!!).

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "ROMEO on CAMPUS!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Romeo on Campus!"

(It's a Song/Music-thing.)

....NO REASON TO get lonely, no reason to just get PHONEY! It ain't no crime...to fall in love.

No reason, no vivid adventure; wotchagonna-DO: (fill in the .......blanks!)

...NO SENSE, no sensibility, no way of looking, U sometimes SEE the world upside down?

No reason TO get lonely. Ask me? -The World's way too phony. But like your average SAD-SAP (Just shoot me!) I'll fall in love at the drop of a hat!?

No reason to get lonely. No reason to BE PHONEY! It ain't no crime to fall in love.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in EUROPE/now residing in BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "BISCUITS on a PLATE! /THE RIDDLER!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Biscuits on a plate! /THE RIDDLER!"

...YOURS, THE MEMORY OF POP SONGS of cerebral-Biscuits, some trend-flavor of the (your) Times, that perfect Natures periodical epiphany, a flash of genius or sincere, (nobody forgets their youth time music golden oldies!) genuine inner genuflection which makes our passage through Time seem ultra real a 'la your first passion, a teen-age Crush so PROFOUND; a "Riddler", a "Ponce de Lyon" searching for that Fountain of Youth? (But in Florida? Why not Chicago or the outskirts of Torino-Italy!?)

There's a kick-in-the-ASS, that Cleopatra's ASP (Whoo!) who'll sting: Soul-bound! Not with-standing/Guillotine-threats, the howls of the Mob/the madding-crowd who chip away/altruism gone South which rattles your "inner-GIZMO" of your own personal (Idaho?) voyage to Treasure Island? "LAND AHOY!!!" (If Life was only that simple?) JIM HAWKINS: "Smart as Paint!"

BUT YOURS IS the Memory, your ghosts/regrets, a labyrinth of coils, the stuff of your inner eternity, that DRUM Tattoo, un-ceasing, marching U into that 11th hour, and promises-sworn, betrayed or forgotten, a Maverick in your Style? No magic carpet but maybe an Axminster, a comfortable rug? SEX!? Get it whilst U can. It's never too early, but sometimes ...it's too late!

But THERE'S the "Biscuit", a teeth-marked crumble/biscuit; perhaps a pre-destined suicide note never sent, some Apocrypha Bible book never published, the book of Judas, Mary Magdalene, almost forgotten yet recorded in Sanskrit, Sumerian, or Biro-penned on the back of some old Hippies Vinyl-L.P. to at last settle, perhaps on YOU or another's historical memory... That pesky RIDDLER, the mouse in the wainscotting, that turning of the screw. A dark cloud appears. A wedding ceremony. Vows & all: Whence U pronounce, - Oh what the hell? "I DO!"

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

OUR MAN in EUROPE/now residing in BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "The Sweats!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Sweats!"

(Song:) AH GOT DA SWEATS, I got the Sweats! Damned BUGS here in the Tropics; I got dah Sweats!

I got dah BATS! I got da Bats. Better call Doctor WHISKY; he knows just how to get rid of that!

I got the FEVER; AH GOT da Fever! That Peggy Lee Song; You KNOW she's been there, to sing that song?

I got the SWEATS, yup! I got da Sweats. Only mad dogs & Englishmen (Out in the midday sun) R prone to that!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Street."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Street."

...THE STREET GIVETH, THE STREET taketh away. Any Homeless person will tell U that...Got NO Babee anymore!

Boulevards, Strasser's, Via de Corso-ROMA, the grimy streets of London/its "Underground", the Paris METRO?

The Street giveth, the throngs, the People, future Lovers, the antagonists, the Francois Villon, Poets & thieves that U R sure to meet?

The Street GIVETH, the Street taketh away; THIS Mariachi, Minstrel, a Busker who strummed & sang his life away? Songs, compositions describing U, daily life, as U pass me by.

The Street giveth and the World BUTTERFLIES yet TIME ITSELF takes OUR song into nothingness. Time, weighed by its eternity, against-which our Song, in desperation, looks for a rhyme, dissolving as we sing.

The Street giveth. The Street taketh away, not WHOLE but in Life's chapters, existing, we must pay. "Where's mah goddamned Whisky!? Or O.K. I'll share my Tobacco/who scrounged the pizza?"

Even living under a bridge, living on the Street folks have their needs: On the Street!  & the Street giveth; anyone will tell U that...BUT! U got NO Babee anymore. Someone's got their no Babee anymore...On the Street.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Alongside the swimming pool...."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Alongside the Simming Pool!"

...ALONGSIDE THE SWIMMING POOL, on the patio where sloe-eyed Lobsters R never ever-EVER expecting to be boiled-alive, a 'la Christoper Isherwood's "The Berlin Diaries", RE: NAZI-PARTY (?) victims, Jews, Homosexuals, Gypsys or anyone resistant to GOOSE-STEPPING into an "Uber-Mensch" demi-monde-paradise?...

...where BOOKS R burnt & a fanatic Ideology/THEOLOGY (Present day ISLAM!) over rules all common sense in the name of some Icon, some man in the sky, his head covered, a robe or his babe in a HIJAB hardly likely to be attired for inter-planetary travel? (No Scriptures/Quran mention an airport Wheelie-Bag?)

Alongside the swimming pool in an illusory, David Hockney-painting blue, a fake gaiety, a colorized "Film Noir", images, symbols, a 'la SWATIKAS, history repeats it reptilian BOOGALOO! No-one believes it's coming. No one believes it can come down to U? (A Holocaust!!!?)

And the DEVIL makes work for retarded, idle hands, The BERLIN DIARIES, a hungry MOB'S hysteria, that curdle of social hysteria which, to this day, we fail to arrest or understand. The Middle East SEWER of Hate, 7 tribes (a Cumorah) of Hatfields & McCoy's, never to be at peace less a Pied Piper takes all their indoctrinated Kids away?

Alongside the swimming pool, on the patio, under tropic sun, remotely un-comprehending that RE-SURGENT FORCE of Medievalism despite benevolent great Muslim Matriarchs, Imans, Rabbis, Buddas, Priests who exhibit, preach harmony, yet now bland Islamic fanatics, VIRAL, groom, rape & assault our Western Christian Children!?

Alongside the swimming pool to bloody, to usurp then drain it dry where apathy, personal comfort, UN-caring prevails; is it NO WONDER we allow Tomorrows new TERROR to - historically - periodically reign? But, as with Nazis, Tamburlaine, Genghis Kan, Muslim invaders: JUSTICE for your inflicted INSANITY: The GUILLOTINE certainly awaits!

(TICK-TOCK! TICK-TOCK!) We Westerners can put up with a lot of CRAP! But U should know...(We don't take no Prisoners!). 

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Man who watched the Trains go by.: (A'pres novel by George Simenon.)

 Our Man in Europe/now in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Man who watched the Trains go by." (A'pres the Novel by French Writer, George Simenon.)

(Folkie tune:) "The Man who watched the Trains go by."

...I AIN'T TRAVELLING ANYMORE. I ain't a-roaming anymore. The TRAIN (See previous Blogpost) has left the Station; there's nobody on board? I ain't going nowhere, happily, for once & all

I ain't falling in Love again. I ain't the Man U'd ever want. My heart isn't broken, but my Soul is plum worn out? Chancers R I'll never fall in love again. I was never the dude U think I am, gone to seed, mostly whisky-sedated is where I am. AMORE, sadly, arrivederci! (Don't invite me to your -College-Graduation - PROMS!!!)

...I don't regret the Life I've chosen & I couldn't give a damned what people think? -No regrets, but that's not true, but REGRETS R worthless, a lock of hair, a mirror's reflective stare never, & U NEVER see yourself, YOUR actual U? But IF U do? Go buy a lottery ticket!

...I watch the Night Trains pass me by. A train-carriage-window-lit-chequer-board in transit, flying by. I'm now the Man who watches the Trains go by as our dreams, launched into an Icarian sky, unfailing, to crash on down. I watch the Night Trains pass me by...But still think of, there's always SOMEBODY, a "U!"?

I ain't DYING anymore. No-way JOSE! I ain't dying anymore! If LIVING is DYING, I'll leave it up to U. I survived MY Wars but know no Peace, so kick me to the sidewalk; And if U like I''ll make GOD my PEACE but THIS Old Rockstar ain't travelling anymore. AND BADDABOOM!!!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "THIS Train!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "THIS Train!" (For Music Video, see post's footnotes.)

...THIS TRAIN don't carry no passengers, this train! This Train don't carry no passengers, this train? This Train don't carry no passengers/but it might take U to the Other Side; this train don't carry no passengers: This Train!

(A well-a-well a well, -a-well-a well-a well!)

This Train don't need your sympathy, THIS Train! This train don't need your sympathy, this train? This Train don't need your sympathy, but it might fly U to the other Side? This train don't need your sympathy, this train.

(A well-a-well-a well: A ZAK-ZAK-ZAK!!!)

This Train don't carry no passengers, this Train. This Train don't carry no passengers, this Train? This Train don't carry no passengers; but it might fly U to the Other Side, this Train don't carry no passengers, this Train...

(Singing in French:) "C'mon sa'va et moi? C'mon sa'va c'est soir? C'mon sa'va, Em moi-dans le noir?" -This train don't carry no passengers, the Train:

(A well-a-well-a-well/A well-a well-a well!).

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. /This SONG posted/published on UTUBE-Music Video, specifically, the one with photo of a New Orleans tram car. Dave Delacroix. Enjoy!

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The O.A.Ps!" (U.K. Old age Pensioners.)

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The O.A. P's!" (U.K. Old Age Pensioners.)

(dedicato: fellow youngish-old dudes, Marc Pierson, Steve Johnson, Gordon Westeran & all the Lads & Lasses who have, in their time saved/served "Old Blighty".)

"The O.A. P's! (England's Old Aged Pensioners!)

"FREEZE BUDDY!!! HANDS UP AGAINST THE WALL! (Search him Sgt. Smith/My aging Uncle/Check him-see if this Islamist Immigrant got some anti-cultural-curriculum Ducats!!!) "WE ARE THE O.A. Ps!!!"" Show him your Pensioners FREE BUS PASS, flash your cut-price dental work; Corporal Nalty. Don't take NO SHIT!" "Spread Em Buddy!!!" (DAD's ARMY/British last frontier!): WE STAGGER FOR NOBODY!!!

"The O.A.P.'s!"

.... It's not EASY to live (EXIST!) on 70 British Pounds/some change/Free Bus Pass (2026) PER WEEK let alone for U.K. Pensioners with NO option for them to go Skiing (sans N.H.S. orthopedic designer Skies) in Switzerland or enjoy a flutter in a Monte Carlo Casino... attired in last year's moth-eaten tuxedo, rather, their best MOSS-BROS, off the peg 2 piece worsted suit? (My name's BOND?)

And it's pretty (remote) hard to spring/pay for, for a weekend with your Grand-Kids in Bridlington, Brighton, Margate or Scarborough-Fair not to mention to pay/fix your leaking roof? And cutting out Coupons, bargain sales, worried about your daughter who just came home back to stay, divorcing that clown she married who U didn't much like anyway?

It's a TAD difficult having paid a LIFETIME of TAXES so that the Royal Navy can build a new AIRCRAFT CARRIER, militarily out of date/space-age DRONES can knock it out? Britania RULES the waves, yet we veterans R now all at adrift? And in the Land of Hope & Glory, just fooled & led into a Lee? Just WHO is at the HELM of, what was once, our beloved Country?

"SHIP AHOY!!!" (Crow's Nest!) -The O.A.P. crew down here in the BILGE who cannot afford basic needs; food, heating, RENT, the necessities of English Life! "SHIP AHOY!!!" Rudderless! WE-SONS-OF-A-GUN! Who, like the UNKNOWN SOLDIER sacrificed, ignored, put in the shadows, a CULTURAL SHAME, we "paid-up" old folks, who linger until the day we die....

.... But still in our hearts/from Sheffield School Assembly we still sing: "ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS, marching AS to War! With the Cross of Jesus, going on before!"

c. June, 2026. D-DAY!!! Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Space Cadets!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Space Cadets!"

.... EVERYONE KNOWS IT'S WINDY/NOWHERE, the "Road to Rivergaro" (See ancient Blogpost), a BLUE MOON? I saw U on a sunbeam, a SICILIAN road, your Virginity was opulent, your brothers all carried Rifles? I hid amongst the grape vines & recited verses of DANTE with all my Soul, "SEDUCTION et ABANDAMATO, guilty, but what could my inner nature DO?

.... And after MONTHS we had a Child. 

Both of our Families dis-own our Marital feast, our magic, that epiphany of LOVE. what have we done? But fell in love? Uncle Antonio, sharpening a handy Stiletto grumbles-silencio, Pappa is OUTRAGED, Mamma still is protective, your 3 sisters give me/U the EVIL EYE...like Space Cadets...old, casual boyfriends don't look U in the eye. And the newly installed (Immigration ISLAM Green-Light Scum who now clutter our streets?) clearly, on a MUSLIM whim, all prepped to stone U to death?

The Town's average (remember, U R just an un-married pregnant, late teenage GIRL), in a community of - latter-day WOODSTOCK/LOVE & PEACE/1969 - observance-resigned, yet in effect, a societal benign social-TUMOR of thought & surrounded by Social SPACE CADETS, old & young, attempting to (Huh?) right your wrong on every side?

Everyone KNOWS it's windy. If U feel like an outcast, a Refugee? Remember. Refugees VOTE with their feet. In a WORLD where we all Outsiders meet. FAR from Cultural Fascist/Space Cadets: Coffee on the pot. Tea by the kettle. Beer on ice. Whisky in the JARO. And warmth by the fire; far from the madding crowd! We roam the World to find a place where we can live, as a family and to live in our OWN "Private Idaho".

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. (Fictional story but Societal Poem,)

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Bell, Book & Candlestick! /"Wish U were here!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Bell Book & Candlestick! /Wish U were here!"

DO NOT GO GENTLY into that good BLOKE; God-knows what U. R. gonna contract, nor (Lads!) that DESIREE, a Scorpion (?) with TITS to sting your TEST-TACKLES, a potential death-toll knoll? -Half drunk & as HORNY as hell; who's zooming who in the pit of sexual desire?

...Reading by moonlight, bell, book & candle, a hollow cry, (I should-a known better!?) -that - eternal - soliloquy-RE-SURFACED which Spittals in your face; a Pilgrim's Progress, a tale un-told. Even Poet CHAUCER would be be-wildered by your tale, leastways censor or review his Joke-Sack!

There's only, sometimes Glory, there's only your Song of inner Songs. Like a perfect murder: What could go wrong? There's only our desires-mischief, a Pilgrim's way to wrack & ruin, to crush a Love's competitor, a tavern-brawl a 'la Kit Marlowe, Elizabethan Poet & Spy, dagger-stabbed into literary eternity?

(BANSHEE CRIES!!!)

It's only the Bell, the (Shakespearian) "ALARUM!" some Book to re-read (Raymond Chandler?) or a Candle to light your way? -That LAST SUPPER (Why not THE LAST BRUNCH?) U enter UP to heaven or hell, to the Devil or the Angels, their delight, and YOU, a dysfunctional Pied Piper who took away the Kids but caused a Societal night? The Black Plague or a blood red river Nile? Foresight like Genius can get U hung!

Do not go BENTLEY, DAIMLER or ROLLS-ROYCE into this good night, opt for a VW-Volkswagen, something inconspicuous. A Mimi-Cooper, a Citroen CV7, a Piccolino FIAT, better still just hitch-hike? Those taciturn Gods R apt to - like USA-Immigration Control Robots - more likely to BUST, MUGG, or frick U over at N.Y.C. Ellis Island, Freedom's last turnstile! There IS no Home of the Brave. As for the Land of the Free? -Keep dreaming.

DESTINY decrees it's no longer COOL to "wander lonely as a cloud" There's always spite, jealousy or some Islamist FANATIC to shoot U down. And NO Bell, Book or Candle to protect or redeem your Soul. Vacation Postcards are "passe"; nobody these days, even Internet texting posts/writes: "Wish U were here!"

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

.

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

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

I AM NOT THE MAN U think I am. I am not that Dude, tuxedoed, clean-cut & groomed. I am not the hero in your story. I am not some Court Fool nor your stooge.

I'm not the Man in your alphabet nor Captain of treasure-laden ship returning from overseas. That Conquistador died long ago; the El Dorado of my dreams.

I'm not the Man, the kid most likely to succeed nor school class clown, nor Rugby star, just a Man who comes home late at night & wonders where the past years sleep.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "Something Blue."

 Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "Something Blue."

...I DON'T know U from EVE, a Nemesis, friend or foe or some Banshee, Witch, a LAMIA who can strangle me in reptilian coils? ...WE, lonesome hearts-vulnerability, rudderless Souls in a storm a-sea? So, make it fresh, make it Cool or maybe, if U can: Just make it Blue.

...WE have travelled SOOO far in this hemisphere, blind-on-blind yet kisses sweet, UN-knowing "a 'la" destiny, a universal sweep? Almost lost in Society's vacuum, re-surfacing UP for air? We gulp down Oxygen pretending all is Hunky-Dory! (Who came up with that one/David Bowie?) Alas, BIG-D is no longer there. (Ashes to ashes!).

Yet a forlorn "HUZZAH!". Sometimes a yawn. An exigency! A yearning, (My Japanese Girl!) to make it fresh, make it Cool, hoping we make it Blue. Something fresh, something NEW, something Cool, but all the time wishing for something Blue.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

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

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

(dedicato: Johan Perez)

"Raybans."

...GOT MAH MOJO WORKING, got my ancient/misty RAYBANS (Sunglasses), got Em at the "Goodwill" store. Borrowed this tuxedo from Crooner, Steven St. James, my "winklepicker" hand-made Italian shoes, a gift from Horst, my Deutch-drummer, Hildesheim band? 

My Music Producer (Serbian/he doesn't like publicity), his Credit Card - on loan - is worth about half a Song. Alas, Hollywood, that insidious community, always anticipates you going wrong.

GOTTA DREAM, had a dream, not that U'd notice or about OUR tomorrows, about Me & You, or that KICK in my solar plexus, that tangle, & gotta FEAR, nothing is true. Was it ever?

Gotta Blue Moon in my sunset, gotta boulevard in my Soul; the only scrap of evidential existentialism that U ever, ever own?  A Bridal gown moth-eaten in your closet? There IS of course, in the WILD-WORLD that gridlock-kamikaze, a perpetual origami that butterflies, an exotic pest that never leaves U alone. Do we cease to BE?

HAMELT, confused dude, outshone by a Cigar brand. Keep that in mind.

Got my ragged Raybans -a-nose, a-dangling, an antique "pince-nez", a PROM Night, half-assed groomed from head to toe and WITH LUCK this new love of mine, never ending. (I must try to elicit her name without appearing to have forgotten it?)

Nobody's perfect. NOBODY BUT YOU in your smart-set/pristine RAYBANS (Sunglasses), the STUFF of past-perfect U never ever needs to know. S'why I'm "putting on the Ritz just this - long-since - last time. Get hung for a sheep as a lamb in this our world of pettiness, cheap-ass nickels & dimes. Ya just CAN'T sweat the "small stuff"; it's ALL "pretty-petite!"

O.K>!!! RAYBANS ON! (I got my MOJO working:) Show time!

c. Dave Delacroix. 2026.....DEAR POST READER? If U feel inclined U might post your name on the BLOG as a "Follower". No scam. All free. It'll make me look good/popular, I suppose. Thank U.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Midnight Swim."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Midnight Swim."

...IN THE MIDNIGHT SWIM, a splish-splash in the swimming pool, subterranean, no need for AIR, your head DUCKED UNDER and your locks feel like ROPE in need of shampoo; but your loins feel so free, in the midnight swim S-where U need to be.

In the midnight SWIM, there's no War or Peace, just the RINSING of Life's memories, the live & deceased, the latter may they R.I.P. And breaststroke or crawl, duck paddle, whatever it takes to get out of the deep end: One or the other, just don't drown.

In the midnight swim where your nothingness is ALL, U float, gazing up at the stars & lactate in your Wonder, a shattered yet benign MIRROR, reflecting the Man or Woman U thought U could have been; perhaps a Partner awaiting, poolside, with a bathrobe? A midnight swim. In a dark pool. Just a midnight swim.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacoix: "My Favorite VAMP!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "My Favorite VAMP!"

...WE LIVE IN HOPE, IN HOPE we live. as we strut for Truth & FRET our hour upon the Stage singing idiotic songs of sound & fury, of Love & Loss, of WAR but namely of Peace?

 -To rebound DEM slings & arrows of outrageous fortune, PUNCH-BACK! A defiant Sentinel, that KID in your Soul who said, "Not One step back!!!" Youthful songs, U forget & never remember, never get back? (fickle filter of memory?)

As for my Babee, the one who left me behind? -She was a Vamp, a Hollywood- Silk-dressed VAMP, a "Moon-over Sunset-Boulevard" LAMIA, who left me un-twined. AND I wish I could travel her ways; to slither across/within her Universe but somehow, I found it perverse? I never understood her ways.

We live in Hope; in hope we live but when emotional coastal tides recede U just know where it's going. My favorite Vamp. She'll sail across the sea & find some other prospect who (sad sap) probably looked just like me? 

(But IN this crazy World, what's a lonely Gal to DO!!!?) An Evening dress & a sparking Purse. That BLING of ENTRANCE, a "savoir-faire" & her signature - fake - diamond ring. What "House of Mirth" to make HOPE sing, in hope, in hope, where we all live.

As for my Babee, now aged, faded, in some "pensione", an Ille de la Cite/Paris, enjoying a block of Brie, a Vin de table-Rouge. An ancient - techno - C.D. player, no Internet, a frigid labium, but still a HUM in her songs & wondering how life could have been?

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Battle of the Bands!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Battle of the Bands!"

...AS FOR THESE ORCHESTRA "cover bands" with intense-lunatic Baton-Dude--waving/arms akimbo, up & down, (surprised they don't execute summersaults!) or shoot (with blanks) the 1st Violinist or "mosh-pit" dive into the hood of the grand piano (screaming: STEINWAY or Death!) or post-gig get prosecuted for trying to sodomize the prettiest Celloist or the "petite-petite" virgins in the Woodwind section, male or female? Classical Orchestras must be rancid with incestuous sexuality?

As Marlene Deitrich sings: "Go see what the Boys in the back room will have & I'll have a drop of the same!"

Still, as we distill the kernel of Music's dynamic/composition in Time's test tube of infinity, yet Time marches on, generations of genius, come & gone; an Ode to Joy or a Saraband, Litz, Chopin, Satie kicked aside to the sidewalk, (too incidental); later, in Nature's wisdom, will periscope & expose the inimitable cacophony of Man's creativity. As now, a thousand Spirits presently reside in La Scala, the Paris Opera & London's Royal Albert Hall. But there will always BE a Vivaldi who peeks out & sneers: "I got ya Number!!!" Or a Paul McCartney who'll sink your gig with a Song like "Yesterday..." An oubliette. Like yesteryears "Battle of the Bands". 

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

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

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

ARE YOU DEAD? DID U DIE? That feeling when there's no other place to go? Do U wither or 'shoot-up" some succulence, an extra-ordinary substance (Cocaine?) to excite your Soul, or did U weather the MOOD's storm, searching for a lighthouse in a raging seas moonless night?

Do U panic in fright in anticipation of Tomorrow's MIGHT; a living shipwreck afoul of shoals, reefs, jagged rocks & WRECKERS, daggers-drawn, awaiting on a Cornish ragged shore to tear the wreck-survivor's "living daylights" out of your Soul?

WHO survives the living horror, that dankness neath ALL we can conceive yet never know? A funeral pyre of rotting seaweed, pebbles, scallop shells? Are U dead, still? Did U die? Like a floating island in the stream or survive like flotsam by some foreign shore where Loves Moon no longer shines?

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "I met my MILLION $ Baby at the 7-11!!!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "I met my Million $ Baby at the Five & Dime!"

...I MET MY MILLION $$$ BABY @ the (convenience store), the "7-11" on Ventura boulevard, L.A. or Rue de Madelaine, Paris, which is IN (not Texas) France? I was, either, which way, I was hitch-hiking of course, Guitar/clothes on my back, at a glance: no future? But "what the heck!?" 

-S-where I met my MILLION-DOLLAR BABY (there's been a few) at some desert Roadhouse, GAS/FOOD/MOTEL, a "film-noir" windswept $5.00 & dime. Lucky Dave, as long as I HAD led in my Pencil, guilty as charged, with a guitar, would (Deutsche-Poet) Reiner-Rilkes "Angels" deny me of my destiny? Catch-quick: A Song!?

I met my Million $ BABY at the FIVE & DIME. Cassis. Milan. Cologne. She was vivacious, pretty-pretty, with love-abandoned in the extra-economy size, that awesome YAW of emotion to usurp your soul, no access, no second thoughts? And THERE, U have it. A whirlwind of passion. They left me with a DIME to use next time.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The STARE!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The STARE!"

(Après Edvard Munch painting; The SCREAM.)

"The STARE!"

...ANYBODY STARED AT U LATELY? I hear it's "de riguer"/pedestrian-pastime in Mumbai-India? But do not despair, U R OK. No need to repair (whatever). Try to forget, REGRETS, no profit there, the closets in your mind, the past is past which U cannot unwind, those inner throngs that nightmare your sleep, future journeys in the Afterlife, destinations, assignations' which U cannot meet or greet, like Victory, or Logic snatched from a conception, the "lilies-in-the field" -SCYTHED to the root of our essential nothingness!

Do not despair. Do not try to repair. Like innate Marionettes we dangle in this universal, its abstract stare, and yes, I know. For Me & You: It's lonely out there. We'll crack a joke, fall in love (again) & mirror our forefather's plight. Yet UN-mirrored we R. Reflections-dazzle that shatter ...(fill in the blanks, kids)...and so, we "boogalgaloo" into this mood, sit still, be quiet & just stare. But wonder! STARE!!!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "PUTIN (Vladimir) putting on da RITZ!"

 Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "PUTIN on da RITZ!"

SONG: (Singing/Tea Room quartet playing après song, Putting on the Ritz.): 

Got no time, no place to go, no upwards, hit the TOPS, hey, look at Me? VLAD PUTIN on da RITZ.

Throw all threats, a tall high-rise, throw Em off, whose gonna care, no witnesses, (U weren't there!) I don't give a frick! I'm PUTIN at the Ritz!

...The old Russian STALIN Playbook is my Bible. I was a K.G.B. sneaky SPY to begin with?...

Dice with Me, U dice with death, don't hold your breath, I don't CARE, a 1.000-yard stare, don't U dare: I'm PUTIN-putting - watch out! - PUTIN on da Ritz!

...I may go down, in history, with Hitler, Genghis-Kan, or Tambaline, no timeline fixed, but I'm putting u IN MY GRIP.: COSSACKS-OUTLAWED!

(A-CHOO-CHOO-CHA-CHOO!)

...GOT NO PLACE TO GO, NO HEAVEN ABOVE, at THE top, DON'T PISS ME off!!!... (Fill in the blank?) PUTIN on da Ritz!

Now, got no place to go, no heaven above -I'm at the TOP! -PUTIN on da Ritz! (CHORUS): PUTIN on the ROCKS! Balalaikas-STING!!! -Putin on da Ritz!

c.2026: Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Entertaining Mr. Sloane!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Entertaining Mr. Sloane." (Après British 60's Playwright, JOE ORTON.)

"Entertaining Mister Sloane!" (An Origami for your Mind.)

HIDE & SEEK (a children's game/before the Internet), count to 100: I'm coming ready or not!  When ya MOM, busy, under her skirts ushered U outside & said "GO OUT & PLAY" -when "play" is what U did?

Or singing a Medieval protest song over a Queens/Royalties lavish spending, careless of civic responsibilities:  "London Bridge is falling down, London Bridge is falling down, my fair Lady!"

On a darker note (the Black Plague) singing: "Ring-a-ring a Roses, a pocket full of Poesies, Atishoo! Atishoo! -we All fall down."

Whilst HUMPTY-DUMPTY (the Grand Old Duke of York), he fell off the wall? And despite commanding 10,000 Men, all the Kings horses and all the Kings men could NOT put him back together again.

Are U going to Scarborough Fair? =Parsley, sage, rosemary & Tyme. Remember me to one who lives there; she once was a true love of mine.

It's not the leaving of Liverpool that GRIEVES me but me-darling when I think of thee! Whilst "the Stirling's in Sheffield on a Saturday Night": "There R few who face such hardships as We poor Grinders do."

So, YOU take the high road & I'll TAK the low road, but I'll be in Scotland before YA, but me & my true love will never meet again on the bonnie-bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

It's a long way to Tipperary; it's a long way to go. (To that Geraldine I know?) Goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square (with no G.P.S./"sans" bullet-proof vest/I'm a name on a WW1 town memorial) but My heart's right there!

...Goodbye Brendan & farewell Sean. Our time was short, our hopes-forlorn? But still I remember those days of gold, those green fields of France & the towns we loved so well & PETE'S gone back to Cavern Town.

And we'll all go together to pick wild mountain thyme, all across the blooming heather; will ye go Lassy-go?

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "A Symphony of BLING!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "A Symphony of BLING!"

(...a composition beginning with an Overture followed by 3 Poetic Acts. U might want to ready some bread & cheese/some Vino; it's not a blogpost "quickie")

"A Symphony of BLING! - Overture:"

...HAVE U EVER BEEN lonely, but not for someone else? Have U ever been lonely, that person, your inner self?

Have U ever put a Conch Shell up against your ear & heard the Oceans waves... of that pounding heart wavering inside of your fear?

Have U ever sprung walking in Loves silver light and all of youth's mischief in which we delight? Send your Love to Tomorrow to keep that Love bright; have U ever been lonely for your Soul in the night.

"A Symphony of BLING! - ACT 1:"

...PRIDE IN POVERTY, POVERTY in Pride & just which GOD (the usual heavenly suspects/the Pope/Allah/Bhudia/ODIN) decides OR what galactic constellation predicts/forecasts your slide/demise? -A monster, a JU-JU MAN or VAMPIRE to suck SAP from your Nietzschean "will-to- power" that now languor's upon a tree branch, a COUGAR, too exasperated to paw or snarl?

Devils in the fog haunt your regrets, a Commerce-lost, a Love bereft of all passion, a reincarnation undiscovered, a Chrysalis abandoned, Societies predators ever ready to chip away at yesterday's dreams? And all the Kings horsemen & all the Kings Men could not put U back together again? (S'what I heard?) -GOSSIP can BE a merciless sword!

HOW goes your Night, your plight; do U DO or DIE? -Candles flicker. A cold wind blows & thematic, "Ou's sans les Neige, dan tan?" -OR that foreign country from which no-one returns? Do U HEADLONG RAM into Tomorrow's brightness or swerve off course into your own personal oblivion? (Existentialist nerves-of-steel R guilt-edge-stocks, I hear, these days?) Rimbaud's "a Season in Hell" is ever on stand-by for your Icarian descending?

"A Symphony of BLING! -Act 2:"

...I AM NOT A FOOL but a TOOL of fools; a Mariachi, a Minstrel to back-play Nostradamus's Prophecies. My ballads R the stuff of deep waters that can swallow a child-like mind, a Pied-Piper of Hamelin who can make barren your town, worse than the PLAGUE, your children-GONE! -inflicting a life-long bereavement a 'la the Mask of Red Death, to eradicate the tribal - generations of  - poison from the Middle East who feud to this day?

I am not a Fool, but a Tool of Fools. I am HAFIZ!  A pre-ISLAM Poet. A Court Jester, that "official Fool" who speaks TRUE whence Courtiers, Government Ministers (perhaps Angels too?) where they fear to tread; a commonplace "Goodnite", do we mere mortals actually RAGE against that living LIGHT until it's too late? (Your death is not in Babylon. Why should it be so? U can ride like the wind! Samara isn't going anywhere.)

I am not a Fool, yet a King of Folly, a Poet, a Songster, an "APP" (Internet?) who can "A.I." U into an artificial tomorrow where-in you SOUL upswings/vanishes or transforms into the IRIS of a Cyclops eye where-in all your yesterday's come home to repose. (It's kind of depressing, I know, Happy endings? If U get one, just holla, so's we know.)

A Symphony of BLING: Act 3:

...CAST AN EYE ON the boat's wake in which U sail, an oceanic trail soon to disappear like your Bellas, your taverns, that hullabaloo & all the aspirations, the merriment of Youth.

Cast an eye on the songs U sing, the tales, the stories, your spectacular BLING? Did HE who blinged U, or was it an afterthought, a lost diamond reset in a ring? Do tell!!! Your moment of Bling!?

Cast a lonely eye, a tale to be told: "Go tell the Spartans!" or some patriotic half-assed song? As for your EYE, can U still see...that Warrior, that wise man, that LOVER, happenstance, fortune/destiny harbored U into the lee.

A Symphony of BLING: ENCORE!

Have U ever been, but not for someone else? Have U ever been lonely for that person, your inner self? Have U ever placed a Conch Shell up upon your Ear & heard the Ocean's swell of that pounding heart inside your life-long fear?

Have U ever sprung walking in Love's silver light & all Youth's mischief in which we delight; send your love to Tomorrow to keep that light bright. ENCORE! Have U ever been lonely for the Soul of your Night...? A Symphony of Bling? A gift, that electric glint which sparkles in your eyes.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "A Whiter shade of Blue."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize-by Mexico/Dave Delacroix" "A Whiter shade of Blue."

MY OWN MOGLIDIANI PAINTING, with Chinese eyes, perpetual SMIRK, a Balalaika-background in the fog/mist, that Pharaonic Egyptian mascara-image that SCREWS into your mind? Worse still, as if you culled Love-in-paint, a Moglidiani, somebody, your girl or a picture of U? -MOGGY? He died aged 37.

THUS HANGS - MOGGIE PORTRAIT - a "selfie" of your mischief, your Past, long since at Societies, "Let's burn her at the stake?" -though no-one's quite guilty, nobody's quite a whiter shade of blue: Isolated! As if I wake up without U. I wake reverent in sandals. Sometimes I got no shoes? Nobody gonna ever wash my feet? Like a...

...Like a Modigliani, an oil painting on the wall, a canvas without a frame, a Concept-oblivious, a "SELFIE" un-constrained, exhibited/pinned like a butterfly & as for the weak-at-heart I may as well, artistically be hung for a (stolen) sheep as a lamb; mutton is mutton -U cook it long enough? Or U paste oil paint on a canvas?

Who's the MAN who sharpens the revolution Guillotine & who curdles the Witches' brew, 9x9, thrice by thrice, Lord Cawldwder, soon to be king, a bloodied legacy spurred on by the witch of witches, probably your wife? (Lady Macbeth?) That ZIG-ZAG-U or a whiter shade of blue? Or Fate? No-one gets not to glad-hand their doom?

It's a long way to Tipperary (Old WW.1 Song) & the cemetery of crosses of the dead, row on row? When all hope gone, yet a whiter shade of blue as I nod to my 2 striped-tiger cats? It's not my fault but we have no cat-treats today; it's just a whiter shade of blue. And as for Russki-Modigliani? Was he in fact a Bolshevik or Italian? I'll leave that up to U. 

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A BIGGER SPLASH!!!"

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A Bigger Splash!"

(Après David Hochny's famous Painting/A Bigger Splash.)

"A Bigger Splash!"

...The MISFITS, THE CHILDREN playing in your garden whacking imagination to new heights or like imagined Dolphins in your swimming pool/SPLISH-SPLASH devour your twilight hour?

It's only the Lonely in their bleakest hour who perceives the universal angst of TIME, a multitude of bewigged lawyers who can ensure U Innocence is a Crime?

GO then to thy sticking post passed Ambition, Greed & Fear where-as your Soul burns on the Witches' Stake in that fading spectacle of your memory, as a Child; splish-splash! How did U become a Cow?

A RAGE unfinished. A dynamic screaming to unfold. A MISFIT. A CHILD, playing in your garden, whacking imagination, an exile from your cloud. A bigger splash in utero. PAINTED! A kiss without a smile.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Singapore Bling!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix Esquire: "Singapore Bling!"

...NEW YORK CITY (hitherto referred to as N.Y.C) KIDS can't make it thru - there IS no - silent night; SIRENS -SUPER-CRAPPIT-FRAG-A-LIPSTICK...in the super-economy package, wailing every 7 minutes/I counted! In N.Y.C. silence don't count! -The BRONX/BROOKLYN/QUEENS neighbors having an "anti-pasta" dispute, Romeo & Juliet down on the sidewalk (where the sidewalk ends), their CABBIE asking "Who's gonna pay the fare?" -Some prime location Panhandler always ready to change (your) any large $-bill? -Rupees, Shekels, 3-Bob Irish pound notes, no problem!

...Whilst MOMBASA (Kenya) kids stand & stare as some MASAAI-banditos (with a Junker) drive window smash into an INDU Jewelry store but their aging Sedan-doors, constrained by the zig-zag netting, metal security window fence? A smash & grab. What could go wrong? Trapped in their Junker/auto. The crowd gathers. The Mombasa COPS will show up IF U send them a private LIMO or free vouchers for Police uniform dry-cleaning?

Singapore-Sling! Shanghai-Bling! "A'la recherche" the songs we used to sing? -The N.Y.C. kids or the madding-crowd Mombasa-stare & every day we pretend WE R not there? There's THAT. And we let it go! A Shanghai-Bling, like a Singapore-sling. Gimmie a Whisky & Soda cause sometime times LIFE ain't what it OUGHTA!!!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Hi'Folks. If U have a mind to, U can sign on as a FOLLOWER on this BLOG. U don't necessarily have to read each POST; I ain't no Stalker; but Blog-wise it'll make me look good/semi-popular.  This is a FREE GIG. And thank U.

Our Man in Europe, now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "LITTLE-Old BI-POLAR ME!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Li'll old bi-polar Me."

(Singing:) Don't sing of your sorrows, Blues-TURRETZ-repartee.

Don't mull over your olden wine, don't "achoo!" when U sneeze? (Just snivel?)

Don't look for an Alibi, your collapsing facade, every time U wheeze!

...& ever guilty-as-charged? -Li'll old bi-polar Me.

I may get to shouting...for no reason at all? I may get U confounded

like in a U.K. football hooligan brawl?

U MAY get be-dazzled but mostly appalled when U witness -a-foot!

Li'll old bi-polar Me.

There's a Ballad here somewhere, some Angst-KAREN on patrol,

a someone unlikely, someone not quite whole? WE WING every morrow,

our yesterdays, all gone to seed? So, forgive me my friends> "Lill old bi-polar 

Me."

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man (SPY) in Europe. Now Belize. Dave Delacroix: "MY OWN PERSONAL FUNERAL/SELFIE!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/ Dave Delacroix: "My Own Personal Funeral-Selfie!".

(après Wordworth Poem, "I wondered/wandered as a white-fluffy-thingy in the sky..." & that POP SONG "Personal JESUS" /JOHNNY CASH VERSION).

"My Own Personal Funeral-SELFIE!"

...AT YOUR OWN PERSONAL FUNERERAL WERE U CONVEYED in a HEARST? Did U go BENTLY, DAIMLER, or did U swing "savoir-faire" on by, go ROLLS-ROYCE, or corpse-conveyed in a Porche-hatchback, Maserati -suggesting some life-long flair, or humbly, a Triumph Spitfire indicating, "THE FEW", (Air war/Battle of Britain-1940:) 

U were not there, yet your parachute corpse- spreadeagled on that speeding Auto hood, perhaps ghostly-screaming (Mamma-MaMia!!!) for MERCY...: The opposing driver, probably French, Spanish, Italian, they ALL drive like maniacs, cultural Matadors who drive-fandango, who consider modern traffic like a bullfight (OLE!) Cellphone-GLUED? -no clue? Still? YOU ARE DEAD.

 (To continue:) Then did your Edgar Allen Poe's GOTHIC dynamic survive the funeral drive? (They reluctantly, yearning for "après-funeral" - Cakes & Ale, tried to keep it slow?) Your wives/gals/mistresses were instructed: Low Key! (Somehow, didn't quite work out: WAILING! /Sandwiches-"Au-d'oeuvre après" parking your dead ass in a Montparnasse cemetery.) Sometimes, like on the Internet, Paswords/protocol, they disappear in memory/forgot OUT!!?

Did U CANOE/steer your SUPER-YAUCHT into that fatal ocean squall that takes NO PRISONERS, that SQUAWK-SQUAWK of a lady's menstruation, a Period-Spot, "OUT-DAMNED," said Lady Macbeth wishing her breasts cavort, turned into vinegar in a 1970s cheap-ass SLASHER-MOVIE, better still, a Chateaux-Margaux, vintage 1972 that no-one can afford?

Do we VIKINGS get launched, burnt-buried at sea, or have we DUG our own shallow grave where DEATH MEETS our fate, to be buried with your SURFING Longboard or high on mountain slopes, clutching-SKIES, or in government, the Castles U built; the Crusades against the ISLAM INFIDELS, the books that we write. Who curries our Tomorrow?... No worries. Our Songs, no need for Nostradamus, are predictably dead & gone.

Making JOKES at Funerals apparently R not cool. U bury the DUDE; U bury the FOOL. Alas poor YORICK. He'd be the FIRST DANNISH cool cat to change - via Shakespear's play Hamlet - the Cemetery-ritual rules!!! How-now!? How Now!? Or a DIVA'S swansong. A classic Soliloquy. An imagined flight of Angels. Some on the situ. (CNN-NEWS report: "On da Ground"!? -where else would they be?) with a Video-recorder: Here lies A LIFE, loved-Un-loved, for better or worse: Just another skull in the dirt. "R.S.V.P.".

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Bride wore Black."

 Our Man in Europe/now in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Bride wore Black."

(Après Francois Truffaut's tribute movie to Alfred Hitcock: The bride wore black.)

"The bride wore Black."

...THE BRIDE WORE BLACK, DEAD MAN'S hand (or mirror), the Pirates' BLACK SPOT! The Queen of Spades! An unlikely Roulette-spin-chance or CRAPS-TABLE that feast-promises SNAP, your gambling balls in a vice? A slip? A fall? To upturn the wrong stone? Fate or Destiny does NOT differentiate. To sit at the wrong Paris cafe table, or Strangers on a train? Mozart might have been socially obnoxious, but he could always compose under penury pressure but with billiards, he never failed to pot the black.

The bride wore Black, a French- New Wave -Truffaut cinematic REACTION as a playboy's sniper/balcony BULLET, overlooking a Wedding Party's church-steps, arrayed, was foolishly discharged, a lone shot outta no common-sense, it came outta nowhere, a Bridegroom SLAYED & like a Spider's 5 fingers of death, "a 'la" legendary WW2 Turkish master SPY, that double-agent: CICERO! (Still One finger left however, for retribution?) Black Friday? The 13th.? Some days, uncannily, historically seem accursed?

Avignon, Lyon, Bordeaux? A "film noir" version of the tragicomedy: CLOCHMERLE: But in this case...and the bride wore Black. A solidoid of revenge. 6 suspects accountable, their Fates now non-negotiable. One would "slip" off a high-rise balcony, the second poisoned, the assassin's devoted attention/auto-mechanic-training fixed the car-wreck; no survivors & the "usual suspects" under OTHER detective's glare? The bride in Black was indefatigable!

Just where was the last rogue who partook in the bridegroom's assassination? Why; in jail of course for fraud, misdemeanors... (The assassins' confession before the Guillotine, later successfully appealed as a "Serial Crimes of Passion"/LOL): "I got myself arrested/imprisoned & with a large prison-kitchen carving knife, delivering food to the cells, I asked him, like on my wedding day, "Do U feel lucky?" -and cut his head clean off!" Yup. The Bride in her Pride...wore black! And That's THAT!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Song of Roland."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Song of Roland."

(dedicato: Roland Alexander from Brit. Columbia/Canada.}

"The Song of Roland."

...SHE WORE A BLACK KIMONO, or her SARI glazed my eyes, or her Hungarian native costume danced in my mind? Her NAVEJO gentle attire "powwowed" into my lost soul as I traveled which would somehow - how 'bout U? - make me feel whole.

Crusades? That first mass-Tourists event (AD.800) "sans kodak camera", just swords, battle-axes, blood-thirsty in primordial foreign travel misery/no cheeseburgers/no cappuccinos on call. And WHO was I, a Crusader within a Crusade, a smock-faded Crucifix astride a valiant mount on my mission against the world's INFIDEL?

My journey, taken far & wide; a purpose, to this day, no-one can decide. And who am I, earthly-bloodied, to fall in love: Just a song of Roland who, loveless, with nothing to lose who elected to fight & die with brave men & true at "Rounsaville", after Thermopylae (Greek gig), histories 2nd Alamo.

She wore a black Kimono. When the Infidels mutilated my body, I saw her still. She wore a black Kimono!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.