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.