Jim Morrison : Poetry

Áine on January 9th, 2008 filed in Random Poems
1 Comment »

The real synchronicity in today’s post is that all of those little bits and pieces were taken from over a dozen different web sites… and I copied them in random order, shuffled things around strictly based on length of each snippet… and none of it was planned to have come out the way it did on my profile… but if you put the YouTube video/audio playing in another tab, and just start reading today’s post from beginning to end… it could very well blow you away, like it did me.

None of these snippets, which I have read before in various places, ever really made that much sense to me… until I put them in this order right here on this profile late last night… and got a Whoa! reaction myself from it.

Interesting, no? I’m just not sure what to think about it all.

∞ Infinity ∞

… … … … … … … … …

Jim Morrison (December 8, 1943 - July 3, 1971) was the lead singer and lyricist of the rock band, The Doors. He was also an author of several poetry books. Lyrically, the Doors broke new ground in rock music, with Morrison’s complex, surrealist, allusive lyrics exploring themes of sex, mysticism, drugs, murder, madness and death.

Morrison moved to Paris in March 1971 with the intention of concentrating on his writing and quitting drinking. He died on 3 July, 1971, in his bathtub at the age of 27; many fans and biographers have speculated that the cause of death was a drug overdose, but the official report listed “heart failure” as the cause of death, although there was apparently no autopsy performed.

Audio: Riders on the Storm
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SMvfAYEaE8c

…

…

‘When the doors of perception are cleansed
Things will appear as they are:
Infinite.’

∞ William Blake

…

‘There are things known
and there are things unknown,
and in between are the doors.’

∞ Jim Morrison

…

Moment of inner freedom
when the mind is opened & the
infinite universe revealed
& the soul is left to wander
dazed & confus’d searching
here & there for teachers & friends.

…

People need Connectors
Writers, heroes, stars, leaders
To give life form.
A child’s sand boat facing
the sun.
Plastic soldiers in the miniature
dirt war. Forts.
Garage Rocket Ships

Ceremonies, theatre, dances
To reassert
Tribal needs and memories
a call to worship, uniting
above all, a reversion,
a longing for family and the
safety magic of childhood

…

A man rakes leaves into
a heap in his yard, a pile,
and leans on his rake and
burns them utterly.

The fragrance fills the forest
children pause and heed the
smell, which will become
nostalgia in several years.

…

An angel runs
Thru the sudden light
Thru the room
A ghost precedes us
A shadow follows us
And each time we stop
We fall

…

The Endless quest a vigil
of watchtowers and fortresses
against the sea and time.
Have they won? Perhaps.
They still stand and in
their silent rooms still wander
the souls of the dead,
who keep their watch on the living.
Soon enough we shall join them.
Soon enough we shall walk
the walls of time. We shall
miss nothing
except each other.

…

No one thought up being;
he who thinks he has
Step forward

…

The Crossroads
a place where ghosts
reside to whisper into
the ears of travelers &
interest them in their fate

Hitchhiker drinks:
“I call again on the dark
hidden gods of blood”

-Why do you call us?
You know our price. It
never changes. Death of
you will give you life
& free you from a vile
fate. But it is getting late.

-If I could see you again
& talk w/ you, & walk a
short while in your company,
& drink the heady brew
of your conversations,
I thought

-to rescue a soul already
ruined. To achieve respite.
To plunder green gold
on a pirate raid & bring
to camp the glory of old.

-As the capesman faces
poisoned horns & drinks
red victory; the soldier,
too, w/ his trophy, a
pierced helmet; & the
ledge-walker shuddering
his way into inward grace

-(laughter) Well, then. Would
you mock yourself?

-No.

-Soon our voices must become
one, or one must leave.

…

There was preserved

in her

The fresh miracle

of

surprise.

…

open

The Night is young
& full of rest
I can’t describe
the way she’s dress’d
She’ll pander to some strange
requests
A nything that you suggest
Anything to please her guest

…

AWAKE

Sha ke dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and
choose the sign of your day
The day’s divinity
First thing you see.
A vast radiant beach
in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it’s quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us.
Choose, they croon, the Ancient Ones
The time has come again
Choose now, they croon,
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake
Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
Everything is broken up and dances.

…

STONED IMMACULATE

I’ll tell you this…
No eternal reward will forgive us now
For wasting the dawn.

Back in those days
everything was simpler and more confused
One summer night, going to the pier

I ran into two young girls
The blonde one was called Freedom
The dark one, Enterprise
We talked and they told me this story

Now listen to this…
I’ll tell you about Texas radio and the big beat
Soft driven, slow and mad

Like some new language
Reaching your head with the cold,
sudden fury of a divine messenger

Let me tell you about heartache
and the loss of god

Wandering, wandering in hopeless night
Out here in the perimeter

there are no stars

Out here we is stoned

Immaculate.

…

THE HITCHHIKER

Thoughts in time and out of season
The Hitchhiker stood by the side of the road
And leveled his thumb
In the calm calculus of reason.

Hi. How you doin’?

I just got back into town,

L.A.

I was out in the desert for awhile

“Riders on the storm”

Yeah. In the middle of it

“Riders on the storm”

Right…

“Into this world we’re born”

Hey, listen, man, I really got a problem

“Into this world we’re thrown”

When I was out on the desert, ya know

“Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan”

I don’t know how to tell you

“Riders on the storm”

but, ah, I killed somebody

“There’s a killer on the road”

No…

“His brain is squirming like a toad”

It’s no big deal, ya know

I don’t think anybody will find out about it, but…

“take a long holiday”

just, ah…

“Let your children play”

this guy gave me a ride, and ah…

“If you give this man a ride”

started giving me a lot of trouble

“Sweet family will die”

and I just couldn’t take it, ya know

“Killer on the road”

And I wasted him

Yeah.

…

‘Death makes angels of us all
and gives us wings
where we had shoulders
smooth as ravens claws.’

- Jim Morrison

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