Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix, Portugal to Puerta Rica.

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix...Portugal to Puerto Rica.


OK SHIPMATES! We 2 weeks from HOME Port. SPREAD dem CHEEKS me darling, or if I-m not a Portugese or Cornish-Sea=faring Man, I-ll spend my LOVIN on ya ASS then sing, Brace the Mitzen, HOIST the Tregallen and sing Sea-farin songs, someday, some Jane Austin, putting side her Needlework...might BE to re=count. Ships Log. 1778. La Navidad. Galleon to his Majesty, Uncle PHIL, whatever, of Spain, Portugal, dominions of poor bastards in the Americas.

Oh Aye! Porto to Puerto! Jimmied like Jack-Rabbits. No Woman-shore on THEIR Privateers. Their SHIPS! No Northern sea=man gave it any mind. Portugal to Porto Rica. And everyone favours their own Rum!
How come they are ALL Portugese!!!. Punks who ...Tourist...harass OUR Blonde daughter.... OK. O.K. O.K. I gOT IT. All PORTUGESE TEENAGERS are inherently HOMOSEXUAL. That winky-bum=showing OUT thingy....
I know. Body-clingy fashion. Let=s hope Baggy 40-s, lightweight, tailored, for those Atlantic Brats, comes back, possibly, to haunt their insidious dreams. AS ANYONE BEEN TO A PORTUGESE DISCO lately.... Bunch a dudes....Oh My!....Habla Espaniole!!!!


c2019, davedelacroix,  …………………...hoots. fill in blank.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...MOBY DICK

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix... MOBY DICK.


Drink UP and BE SOMEBODY! Shut UP and DIE young, optionally. Kiss Me I-m IRISH, maybe not, this side of Waterloo. WHO DIED and put YOU in-charge! Leastways, nobody I know or respect. And AS for your WIFE, she makes a good breakfast. U should TRY it some time...on a Saturday night. And WHERE the frick were YOU, belligerent, STEAMING, singing songs of yore. The ONLY WOMAN I ever loved, back home or on some foreign shore...or, the Devil in Dixie, Southbound, like SO many Men before... OH! Well we go a-whalin, go seek out Moby Dick. And PERISH him as we perish ourselves, fates sticking post we stick. Hurrah me boys! Battle or Seige, now no longer a matter to me. I found an Island. And a carcass of a HEART, sits rotting with Me in the lee.


c2019, davedelacroix, cornwall, U.K.

Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix/ "DA MAX FACTORS!.

Our Man in Europe/dave delacroix/ "Da Max Factors!"


The "Max Factors" a bi-sexual band/all looked HETRO to me/2 gals inclusive? -from ARKANSAS, usa, showed up at the Hotel Dave (8 million bucks per nite/broken TV) , stayed for TWO days, got em' a GIG at Alex's BAR on San Giovanni, Piacenza-Centrale?.... They (Da Max Factors?) are trying to break into the MILANO fashion-scene, play their tunes ..and then get - eventually? . a kosher reception in Israeli-occupied-Hollywood?... So. Suddenly, the HOTEL "D" is a Kibutz: I hand out mops, brooms, dust pans and spare GIBSON guitar picks! (For cleaning their nails?)... The MAX FACTORS gig at Cafe "St. JO" goes well-unplugged -till upstairs neighbors start complaining ("Ya fricker's are interrupting re-runs of FRIENDS? -Nutting like VIRTUAL realationshionships, apparently? - but5 the MAX FACTORS are not to be discouraged. They all dress, incidentally, like Mutant-Teenage-Ninja-Turtles/emerald green on black spandex body vests.. and sport LANVIN No. 5. Naturally, I recline...in ze background...


c.201-sumpting, Feelin Groovy!
 

Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix, NO DIXIE!

Our Man in Europe, dave Delacroix....No DIXIE!


...Now when I woz a poor LAD chasing horning sheep on Fern Hill, bollocking the Earl of Whatever...
Now when I woz a poor gal, milk-maiding, buxom wench, singing songs, protecting my Maidenhead...
Now when I was a Dixie, Pixie, Whisk=N=ary, sucking the DEXIS, heavens-to Betsy!...everything, on the Farm...seemed SO calm!

c2019. davedelacroix.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...The SORRY People.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The SORRY People.




I MET bela Nadine, Nigerian-British at the Leo-Da Vinci, BnB in Paddington. She was an UBU Queen, I knew it at a glance. Firstly, at the BnB coffee center which she managed, she ADDRESSED me as SIR. Took me 2 seconds. WE were Dave and Nadine. And two weeks LATER, passing through London-Dodge-City, NADINE, in-charge of some brewski place, nearby. It don-t matter WHO or what U R, just come out Babee, say ME!, Nadine and Davey got da handle! Nadine and DD, artistes, who knows. Nadines and Dave, don-t matter bout each other what we know bout each other that WE DON'T KNOW. Nadine and Dave, Prince or Queen, what is meant to be, surrounded by, and in a SEA of BRITS saying, every 5 mnutes,  SORRY!....I fell off a Cliff! SORRY. I just robbed a BANK! Sorry. I just killed my Wife! Sorry! Did I OPEN the Beaujolais too soon! SORRY.... Yet, UN-cannily, never a peek-a-boo of a SORRY about the 20 bucks, borrowed last Tuesday, almost, beckoning or demanding...a SORRY from the innocent party.




c2019,davedelacroix, paddington station, london....sad ol U.K.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....From 5000 year old PAPYRUS...The EGYPTIAN

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix....From Ancient Papyrus....The Egyptian.




To Estaphalinka. WE will never meet again. Off to War. These stupid lines, uttered, spewed, orated in mildew. My life as a Scribe. Know it!.. Now, I-m a Soldier! We will never meet again on the banks of the river of life. This stupid life, my love, that floods, the passing, incumbant fears, father-mothers, wail in their passing. All things please Isis and RA....Please ensure our eternal devotion is transcribed by the Priests at the Temple of our City, Thebes. Let them KNOW of our love should I fall in battle against the enemies of our Pharoah. To YOU, Estaphalinka. How destiny, after death, in dreams, we pray to find a way and be as one. Salute to our Parents. Salute to our Love. Slute to our Pharoah, salute to ISIS,, to RA!




c2019, davedelacroix, old grammar school, with...etc.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... IN the HEAT, the RAIN.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... In the HEAT of RAIN...




In the heat of Rain...I call my Lawyer....
In the heat of Rain U took your MINK coat....In the heat of the Rain, NO Noel Coward, No Mrs Witherspoon daughters, no Flamingoes...on the Stage at THIS age.... in the HEAT of the Rain...
In te Heat of the RAIN , in THIS rain, tweed clothes, hunting-DO, agatha-murder-mysteries, wotchagonnaDO... with your Oxfords, OUT DAMN SHOE, or a pursed lip, a swing of your HIPS, dat Boog-A-loogie-SWING! in the heat of the rain....Sweet Jane...


I WANTED THE EGGS, not U, your Sister. Your Wealth, Your GIG, I wanted your EGGS as WE walk in the CROOKED garden, looking SO MURDEROUSLY cool, that U Purposed in the the death of OUR living endeavour.


The ONLY BITCH who hates MEN, probably, good reason, Angelica, black-tights-stockings,blonde-pussy-blonde hair, GONE-LESBO, the only Gal, like Judith. Between HER and Judas, you-d better give UP your Wealth! Jane! Jane! Put the Blayme on WHOSSIT!!!
So WE sing, Nastrovia-Rasputin! So we Sing, Methuselah! So we SING, Dr. Mabeuse, your Time is OVER, it-s time for U to sing a new Song...


In the Heat-Rain, bastards all-round. In the Heat-rain, I remain. Kisses on mah collar.




c2019, davedelacroix. Truro, old Grammar School, 1549. Sitting with Tim, Tamara, and Clem, the Labrador/.