This is one of Jim's I like a lot...from Dry Water


(I)

Untrampled footsteps
Borderline dreams
Occasion for sinners
alive if it seems
given to wander
alone at the shore
wanton to whisper
I am no more
Am as my heart beats
live as I can
wanton to whisper
faraway sands

(II)

My weary westward wanderer
Faraway is as it seems
& so alone shall shelter
Come along unto my sails
as weary islands go
prosper merry as I went
I shall no more the sailor
Shall I ho the sailor

(III)

Where were you when I needed you?
Where indeed but in some sheltered
Sturdy heaven; wasted, broken
sadly broke & one thin thing to get us thru


My all time favourite fan poem from some bum I met on the internet.......I placed it on the grave in Pere Lachiase in 2006 (I also handed out about 50 odd copies to people) and 2007 (pic below) and plan to do it again next summer hopefully with the author who I owe several drinks to



4 JDM.

Mad America
hurt him into poetry
Mad America
would not get him
Portrait of the artist
as a young detainee



at the time of it's capture
no one knew he would be
the father of a great nation

getting out of town
free to run in a new wood

checks no cash
plastic people
what I have to show you
cannot be bought sold
traded or exchanged

'I'm lonely' he declared
in public often
to capacity facilities

and they attempted to
capture him again

far from home
one final attempt
he made a final entry

on it's cover he wrote
Paris Journal

Just to bump the thread up a bit as its worthy of attention...cmon peeps where is your fave Morrison witterings?

The walls screamed poetry disease & sex
an inner whine like a mad machine
dropped in a
cave of roaches
or rodents

Wilderness where I got my rather pompous Doors moniker from.
I like Wilderness

Actors must make us think
they're real
Our friends must not
make us think we're acting

They are, though, in slow
Time

My wild words
slip into fusion
& risk losing
the solid ground

So stranger, get
wilder still

Probe the Highlands

JAIL

The walls screamed poetry disease & sex
an inner whine like a mad machine
The Computer
faces of the men

The wall collage
reading matter

The Traders (dealers)

|
|
|
|
|
dropped in a
cave of roaches
or rodents

TALES OF THE AMERICAN NIGHT

was this one of jim's poems? Certainly putting his voice down isn't he.

Here are a few that I like:

From Awake:

Did you have a good life enough to base a movie upon?

and from "The Lords"

Bars bars the indoor pool. Our injured leader prone on the sweating tile. Chlorine on his breath and in his long hair. Lithe, although crippled, body of a middleweight contender. Near him the trusted journalist, confident. He liked men near him with a large sense of life. Most of the press were vultures descending on the scene for curious america aplomb. Cameras inside the coffin interviewing worms.

Dull lions prone on a watery beach.
The universe kneels at the swamp
to curiously eye its own raw
postures of decay
in the mirror of human consciousness.

Absent and peopled mirror, absorbent,
passive to whatever visits
and retains its interest.

Door to passage to the other side,
the soul frees itself in stride.

Turn mirrors to the wall
in the house of the new dead.

Paul that line is not from awake.
it is from THE MOVIE..

did you have a good world when you died,
enough to base a movie on?
**


my personal favorite of Morrison poetry are the poems contained in Wilderness volume one and two..and the Lords.
American Prayer is a masterpiece of poetry.
Jims books is something i read every day.
something i enjoy in more than any book i ve ever read.
reading him over and over again is just amuzing me and caughting my attention more and more.
since i started to read him, first time at the age of 13, he captivated my soul.

**********
THE OPENING OF THE TRUNK

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



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Moment of Freedom
as the prisoner
blinks in the sun
like a mole
from his hole

a child's 1st trip
away from home

That moment of Freedom



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LAmerica
Cold treatment of our empress
LAmerica
The Transient Universe
LAmerica
Instant communion and
communication
lamerica
emeralds in glass
lamerica
searchlights at twi-light
lamerica
stoned streets in the pale dawn
lamerica
robed in exile
lamerica
swift beat of a proud heart
lamerica
eyes like twenty
lamerica
swift dream
lamerica
frozen heart
lamerica
soldiers doom
lamerica
clouds & struggles
lamerica
Nighthawk
doomed from the start
lamerica
"That's how I met her,
lamerica
lonely and frozen
lamerica
& sullen, yes
lamerica
right from the start"

Then stop.
Go.
The wilderness between.
Go round the march.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

he enters stage:

Blood boots. Killer storm.
Fool's gold. God in a heaven.
Where is she?
Have you seen her?
Has anyone seen this girl?
snap shot (projected)
She's my sister.
Ladies & gentlemen:
please attend carefully to these words & events
It's your last chance, our last hope.
In this womb or tomb, we're free of the swarming streets.
The black fever which rages is safely out those doors
My friends & I come from
Far Arden w/ dances, &
new music
Everywhere followers accrue
to our procession.
Tales of Kings, gods, warriors
and lovers dangled like
jewels for your careless pleasure

I'm Me!
Can you dig it.
My meat is real.
My hands--how they move
balanced like lithe demons
My hair--so twined and writhing
The skin of my face--pinch the cheeks
My flaming sword tongue
spraying verbal fire-flys
I'm real.
I'm human
But I'm not an ordinary man
No No No



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What are you doing here?
What do you want?
Is it music?
We can play music.
But you want more.
You want something & someone new.
Am I right?
Of course I am.
You want ecstasy
Desire & dreams.
Things not exactly what they seem.
I lead you this way, he pulls that way.
I'm not singing to an imaginary girl.
I'm talking to you, my self.
Let's recreate the world.
The palace of conception is burning.

Look. See it burn.
Bask in the warm hot coals.

You're too young to be old
You don't need to be told
You want to see things as they are.
You know exactly what I do
Everything



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am a guide to the Labyrinth

Monarch of the protean towers
on this cool stone patio
above the iron mist
sunk in its own waste
breathing its own breath



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POWER

I can make the earth stop in
its tracks. I made the
blue cars go away.

I can make myself invisible or small.
I can become gigantic & reach the
farthest things. I can change
the course of nature.
I can place myself anywhere in
space or time.
I can summon the dead.
I can perceive events on other worlds,
in my deepest inner mind,
& in the minds of others.

I can

I am



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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 & memories
a call to worship, uniting
above all, a reversion,
a longing for family & the
safety magic of childhood



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The grand highway
is
crowded
w/
lovers
&
searchers
&
leavers
so
eager
to
please
&
forget.

Wilderness



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now is blessed
The rest
remembered



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A man rakes leaves into
a heap in his pard, a plie,
& leans on his rake &
burns them utterly.
The fragrance fills the forest
children pause & heed the
smell, which will become
nostalgia in several years



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sirens
Water
Rain & Thunder
Jet from the base
Hot searing insect cry
The frogs & crickets
Doors open & close
The smash of glass
The Soft Parade
An accident
Rustle of silk, nylon
Watering the dry grass
Fire
Bells
Rattlesnake, whistles, castanets
Lawn mower
Good Humor man
Skates & wagons
Bikes



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Where'd you learn about
Satan-out of a book
Love?-out of a box



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

night of sin (The Fall)
-1st sex, a feeling of having
done this same act in time before
O No, not again



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Between childhood, boyhood,
adolescence
& manhood (maturity) there
should be sharp lines drawn w/
Tests, deaths, feats, rites
stories, songs, & judgements


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Men who go out on ships
To escape sin & the mire of cities
watch the placenta of evening stars
from the deck, on their backs
& cross the equator
& perform rituals to exhume the dead
dangerous initiation
To mark passage to new levels

To feel on the verge of an exorcism
a rite of passage
To wait, or seek manhood
enlightenment in a gun

To kill childhood, innocence
in an instant



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LAMERICA

Trade-routes
guide lines
The Vikings & explorers
Discoverers
The unconscious

a map of the states
The veins of hiways
Beauty of a map
Hidden connections
Fast trampled forest

Madness in a whisper
neon crackle
The hiss of trees
A city growls

rich vast & sullen
like a slow monster
come to fat
& die



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE ANATOMY OF ROCK

The 1st electric wildness came
over the people
on sweet Friday.
Sweat was in the air.
The channel beamed,
token of power.
Incense brewed darkly.
Who could tell them that here
it would end?

One school bus crashed w/ a train.
This was the Crossroads.
Mercury stained.
I couldn't get out of my seat.
The road was littered
w/ dead jitterbugs.
Help,
we'll be late for class.

The secret flurry of rumor
marched over the yard &
pinned us unwittingly
Mt. fever.
A girl stripped naked on the
base of the flagpole.

In the restrooms all was cool
& silent
w/ the salt-green of latrines.
Blankets were needed.

Ropes fluttered.
Smiles flattered
& haunted.

Lockers pried open
& secrets discovered.

Ah sweet music.

Wild sounds in the night
Angel siren voices.
The baying of great hounds.
Cars screaming thru gears
& shrieks
on the wild road
Where the tires skip & slide
into dangerous curves.

Favorite corners.
Cheerleaders raped in summer
buildings.
Holding hands
& bopping toward Sunday.

Those lean sweet desperate hours.

Time searched the hallways
for a mind.
Hands kept time.
The climate altered like a
visible dance.

Night-time women.
Wondrous sacraments of doubt
Sprang sullen in bursts
of fear & guilt
in the womb's pit hole
below
The belt of the beast



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Worship w/ words, w/
sounds, hands, all
joyful playful &
obscene-in the insane
infant.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Old men worship w/ long
noses, old soulful eyes.
Young girls worship,
exotic, indian, w/ robes
who make us feel foolish
for acting w/ our eyes.
Lost in the vanity of the senses
which got us where we are.
Children worship but seldom
act at it. Who needs
temples & couches & T.V.

We can do it on a sunny
floor w/ friends & make
any sound or movement
that comes. Roll on our
backs screaming w/ mirth
glad in the guilt of our
madness. Better to be
cool in our worship &
gain the respect of the
ancient & wise wearing
those robes. They know
the secret of mind-change
reality.




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Have you ever seen God?"
-a mandala. A symmetrical angel.

Felt? yes. Fucking. The Sun.
Heard? Music. Voices.
Touched? an animal. your hand.
Tasted? Rare meat, corn, water,
& wine.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shrill demented sparrows bark
The sun into being. They rule
dawn's kingdom. The cars-
a rising chorus- Then
workmen's songs & hammers
The children of the schoolyard,
a hundred high voices,
complete the orchestration



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"In that year there was
an intense visitation
of energy.
I left school & went down
to the beach to live.
I slept on a roof
At night the moon became
a woman's face.
I met the Spirit of Music."



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An appearance of the devil
on a Venice canal.
Running, I saw a Satan
or Satyr, moving beside
me, a fleshy shadow
of my secret mind. Running,
Knowing.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day I left the beach

A hairy Satyr running
behind & a little to the
right.

In the holy solipsism
of the young

Now I can't walk thru a city
street w/out eying each
single pedestrian. I feel
their vibes thru my
skin, the hair on my neck
-it rises.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE FEAR
Eternal consciousness
in the Void
(makes trial and jail seem almost
friendly)

a Kiss in the Storm

(Madman at the wheel
gun at the neck
scape populous & arching
coolly)

A barn
a cabin attic

Your own face
stationary
in the mirrored window

fear of restroom's
Tragic cold
neon

I'm freezing

animals
dead

white wings of
rabbits

grey velvet deer

The Canyon

The car a craft
in wretched
SPACE

Sudden movements

& your past
to warm you
in Spiritless
Night

The Lonely HWY
Cold hiker

Afraid of wolves
& his own
Shadow



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Wolf,
Who lives under the rock
has invited me
to drink of his cool
Water.
Not to splash or bathe
But leave the sun
& know the dead desert
night
& the cold men
who play there.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a ha
Come on, now
luring the Traveler
Mighty Voyager
Curious, into its dark womb
The graves grinning
Indians of night
The eyes of night
Westward lurking
into the brothel, into the blood bath
into the Dream
The dark Dream of conquest
& Voyage
into night, Westward into Night



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LAMERICA

Clothed in sunlight
restled in waiting
dying of fever

Changed shapes of an empire
Starling invaders
Vast promissory notes of joy

Wanton, willful & passive
Married to doubt
Clothed in great warring monuments
of glory

How it has changed you
How slowly estranged you
Solely arranged you

Beg you for mercy



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Crossraods
a place where ghosts
reside to whisper into
the ears of travellers &
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.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Forest strong sandals
burnt geometry fingers
around a fire
reading history in blackened
books, charcoal silence
in moot splendor

Flame-tree
Sire, we met in Eden
The troubled time
we had
rustling in the night leaves
a sniper aimed at our window
a kitten mewing in the blasted
strong air
I must go see

-You've found your Voice,
friend, after all else
I recognize fast the
Strong sure tones of
a poet
was it a question
Search or of strangling?
I wonder
We never talked
But welcome here
to the camp fire
Share our meal
w/ us
& tell us of your life
& the hanging

-Well 1st I screamed
& I was a child again alive
Then nothing til the age
of 5

& then summers & the racetrack
I looked for a girl in
New Mexican
bars
& found jail
The prostitute looked out
her cell & saw
Fuck god scratched
on a leprous wall

-You're rambling boy
what of the rest
the jazz highway
he winks.

-I got picked up
& rode through the night

-did you see any buildings

-did I...
What was I doing
of course we danced plenty
She had nice sides
the cop hit me
Stop, I don't remember

-The logs are melting
we must move on
The fire's ending
we'll hear more
at the next altar

[musical interlude]

Trees
Train-death
The American Night
We went through 5 cords
of wood this winter

-he told me beautiful stories
& had the most beautiful visions
He was a truly religious man
at the end

-you know, I like you guys
god-damn!

(I saw this cat run out
of the ocean, one night,
and beat-off into a fire)

I'm going down to Mexico
To this border town I heard
about & I'm gonna buy
me a girl & bring her
back up here & marry her, it's
true. This guy told me.
A friend of his knew someone who

-You're too much



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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
Anything that you suggest
Anything to please her guest



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SIRENS

Midnight
criminal metabolism of guilt forest
Rattlesnakes whistles catcalls

Remove me from this hall of mirrors
This filthy glass

Are you her
Do you look like that
How could you be when
no one ever could


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Poet of the call-girl storm

She left a note on the bedroom door.
"If I'm out, bring me to."


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I dropped by to see you
late last night
But you were out
like a light
Your head was on the floor
& rats played pool w/ your eyes

Death is a good disguise
for late at night

Wrapping all its games in its calm garden

But what happens
when the guests return
& all unmask
& you are asked
to leave
for want of a smile

I'll still take you then
But I'm your friend


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ODE
NEW YORK MAIDENS

everyone has Their own magic

There is no death

so nothing matters

High Style

Flash & forgive me

high button shoes

clean arrangement

messy breeding

love's triumph

everlasting hope & fulfillment


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE AMERICAN NIGHT

for leather accrues
The miracle of the streets
The scents & somgs &
pollens of existence

Shiny blackness
so totally naked she was
Totally un-hung-up

We looked around
lights now on
To see our fellow travellers

*****
Jdm

I love American Prayer.

expecially this part;



O great creator of being
grant us one more hour to perform our art and perfect our lives
The moths and atheists are doubly divine and dying
We live, we die
and death not ends it
Journey we move into the Nightmare
Cling to life
Our passion'd flower
Cling to cunts and cocks
of despair
We got our final vision by clap
Columbus' groin got filled with green death
(I touched her thigh and death smiled)
We have assembled inside this ancient and insane theatre
To propagate our lust for life
and flee the swarming wisdom
of the streets

This is just jail for those who must
get up in the morning and fight for such
unusable standards
while weeping maidens
show-off penury and pout
ravings for a mad
staff

Between childhood, boyhood,
adolescence
& manhood (maturity) there
should be sharp lines drawn w/
Tests, deaths, feats, rites
stories, songs, & judgements


"In that year there was
an intense visitation
of energy.
I left school & went down
to the beach to live.
I slept on a roof
At night the moon became
a woman's face.
I met the Spirit of Music



The Wedding Dress

The bride-to-be lies in her bed
listening to
Festivities below
He steals her-in a dream.


Please Like Me

please like me
says the shrew
What can I do?
I love her.




And of course the whole American Prayer Album

-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.

From WILDERNESS.........................

I am a guide to the labyrinth
Come & see me
on the green hotel
Rm. 32
I will be there after 9:30 P.M.

I will show you the girl of the ghetto
I will show you the burning well
I will show you strange people
haunted, beast-like. on the
verge of evolution

___Fear The Lords who are
secret among us JDM/poet

uhhhh... maybe morrison write of best...i just think at SEVERE GARDEN part of an american player, but this is just my opinion

morrison was a true poet and living for that......

I want to tell you about Texas Radio and the big beat. It comes out of the Virginia Swamp cool and slow with a backbeat that's narrow and hard to master.
Some call it heavenly in it's brilliance, others, mean and rueful of the Western dream.
I love the friends I have gathered together on this thin raft....we have erected pyramids in honor of our escaping....for this is the land where the Pharoh died.
Children, the river contains specimens. The voices of singing women call out from the far shores "forget the night, live with us in forests of Azure". Meagerfood for souls forgot.
And I will tell you this...no eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn.
James Douglas Morrison/Poet

Wow.

Well. My favorite poem of his was about the resurrection of the dead,

and the last poem....


he ever wrote.



Huh.

Wow. That is a good one.


Her last name. Denise. Thpmson.

Or... something like that.


Amazing.