Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... EVERYBODY TRY to be Cool...George Floyd.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix...Everybody Try to be Cool...George Floyd.


Everybody TRYIN, everybody sighing, some CRYING, some-DOWNRIGHT MURDERED  and when U told, keep on Tryin, what-s the Use! How do you CLEANSE this Social Toilet Bowl and, to Re-use, what IS the Protocol! Do U Flush or do U Stink!...There-s Paper on the Side and THERE-IN lies the lack of Faith! A stinking door-s Cubicle left swinging! Purveyor of Forged Currency, George Floyd, FATALLY arrested....Who pays the Ferryman!

Freedom of Speech, Folks. I-m not lookin to debate this!


c.2020, May. davedelacroix, ourmanineurope.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Cummings-Gate!


CUMMINGS-GATE! We want to Dance around U
Cummings-Gate, when the BULL got OUT
but the COWS had to Stay Home!
CUMMINGS GATE, my Suit is at the Cleaners,
BIC RAZOR, a gotta 1-2-3 to get Me
out and be to Clean, and
nobody KNOWS my Paternal pain!
A bee-bop-a-loop-A!
CUMMINGS GATE. I-m at the Funerals
who is it MATE, guess its
EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!!!

c.2020, davedelacroix. La Guillotine!...Ladies...Let the Knitting Commence!

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Saturday Night and Friday Morning.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Saturday Night and Friday Morning.

...AS for any Truth U find...in dat bottomless well, as for any Wisdom U find, if U can get it, Get it and Go South, if U can get It , Get it, which way to the haberdashery, the saleswoman looks like a Transgender who just won the Lottery. Aint U a TAD suspicion, strumming your Ukele!
As for the UNcouth, BARF or order General Tsao. Long Island SUSHI, jeeze, dat-s U, captured on the Tarot Card!
I was a-wondrin when U-d call me. Always between Saturday Night and Friday Morning.

c.davedelacroix, may-moth, 2020.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The ALCHEMIST.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The Alchemist.


THE ALCHEMIST, thee ETERNAL WIZARD-DUDE, timeless-ABIDES since Soloman, Petrified Testaments, Exiles, a WHISPER on the wind that turns base metals into GOLD, or that illusive Liqueur of Immortality and NOW available on aisle 3 of your local Supermarket, do we frantically masturbate, gather at the Evangelist-Baptist-Tabernacle of J.C. or SCREAM!... Good Choir there I hear.

THE ALCHEMIST, that Hoodie-Medaevilist dude got a SPELL..Whoosh-whoosh! A Spell for THAT,
another for THIS, a fizzle. LORD-s Word! Feel it when U donate a $100 bill! And HOW LONG, remonstrates the Preacher, his dispair, yet cudgelled Genenetic Science and now Nowhere, a SINNER, a JUNKIE, now SEEN the Light, a long journey, a Stranger, Riches, increased frantic masturbation, certainly no Love! Gather Unto Me!!!

The ALCHEMIST squirrels around his Eternal laboratory, tutting at chemicals smelling like God-s death. Psychology, Economics, POLITICS, ALL are within his obscure-vacuumess realm...and there-s YOU believing Gold from base metals, Water into Wine, PEACE from War or that the Devil thwarted Mankind ....which conjoins with your Soul-s inner succubus. The one to whom, abed, you say Goodnight.


c.2020, may 24, davedelacroix, ourmanineurope.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix.. No.10 Downing St. LIMBO.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... No.10 Downing St. LIMBO.

B.J.  Wass-up!
Hancockle... Tired suckin DICK!
B.J. Hold dat thought. Donald on the Other line.
B.J. Wass Up!
Pretty Patel... How do I continue to keep the Press at bay, AGREEING with them
that EVERYTHING is a Good Idea!...
B.J. Suck em Off!
B>J> Wass-Up! I-m tryin loose mah Jam-Jams!
Reese-Moog...After LAST night, P.M., I got a sweat on M-self! I wouldnt have Thought! U were
Soooo Cuddly...Your HAIR, my Prince!
B.J.... WassUp. Keep it SHORT!
Cummings, here!... Ignore the Tabloids. I-m in Ibizia!


c.2020. our man in europe, dave delacroix, U.K. Citizen. 

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Who Pays the Ferryman...

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... Who Pays the Ferryman...


dedicato. Tourists.


Bachannalia without End. A Song of Songs. Feasting. That UN-ending Kiss. Who pays the Ferryman...Here in this Brothel where we ply our Trade.

WHO, if I cried out would run me down in his 54-Speedster, what Red-Flag Starting-Gal would, sensing DANGER,
 come in her Knickers-Here, in this Bordello where we ply our Trade! Step right UP!

Bachannalia without End, eternal THROMBOSIS, do U DO ME or do I DO U! Here!..in this Brothel, presently-virus-lacking Trade.

And the little BAMBI-s prance-meadow-thingy, no less or worse, flahgelants or EX-Anarchists who serve Tourists in Taormina, Mombasa, Coney Island or Brighton, these Brothels, this  trade applies, croak-reptile eyelids-open. A Season Swahmi!

A Bachannalia without End. A Song of Songs. Social Cannibalism with a Napkin. NO Goodwill to All Men. No Love, no Harmony, Music, no Yin, mostly our HUNGER, our fear of Tomorrow or  who PAYS the Ferryman, how DO we actualize Utopia here, here in this Brothel of Tourists, Strangers, where we ply our Trade...


c.2020. davedelacroix. the merry month of may, u.k.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The ART of Dying.

Our Man in Europe, dave delacroix... The ART of Dying.


dedicato. Marquis Jean Debatts.


SIBOKU, stick a blade, lower coronary. Gotta wear the correct Kimono-thingy. Look serious....Falling stone-drunk off the back end of a speeding SEMI-18-Wheeler, yet another option. Road=kill. Sacred. Dead is Dead. Upscale, the Waiter-Bell-boy hates ya guts! Cheap-ass Checkout! ...So do the Firemen-Ambulence lads and lasses who get to SWEEP U Up.
Can I buy U a Cocktail...
I just swept up a Dead Guy.
......did U find his WALLET...cos I-m broke...

AMTRAK Suicides, usually in a Jalopy. Train Engineer never AGAIN plays with his Toy Train Set. SUICIDE-BY-COP. Boys and Girls hand over their GUN, BADGE and Baby Blues and awonder, maybe get a Gig at the Hardware Store. Someplace quiet. THEY are dying too.
And the Casualties, the Ordinary-Walking-Wounded, the Regular DOOMED. Nothing changes. The ART of Dying, impossible to perfect.

To go, in BATTLE! To go with a ROAR! FREEDOM! To go with a SHOUT! Ya BASTARDS-you-ll never take me ALIVE! A Revolutionary! BOOM!!!... Better still...go with a Joke! Try not SHARING. On the OTHER hand...some JOKES last longer than Others!... But keep it YOU! It-s YOUR last GIG. Leastways U will be Loved. Joke-thingy...

Might wanna send flowers to immediate attendants and PAY in advance for Bedsheet Laundry expenses. A Toy or 2 for the local Kid-ragamuffins. Afterall, no sense in dying without a sense of Hope and for your BELA, a dying kiss. JEEZE! I-m ALREADY writing your Song!


c.2020. savedelacroix. cancer survivor. 64. Totally pissed-off!...lol.