PROFILE: Jim Morrison

[Salem6]

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JIM MORRISON
1943 – 1971

FULL REAL NAME:
James Douglas Morrison

BIRTH DATE & PLACE:
December 8, 1943, Melbourne, Florida, USA

PERSONAL DATA (Height, weight, and coloring):
5'11", 145lbs., brown hair, blue-gray eyes

FAMILY INFO (Names of parents, brothers, and sisters):
Dead

HOME INFO (Where located and description):
Laurel Canyon, L.A. - nice at night

SCHOOLS ATTENDED:
St. Petersburg Junior College, Florida State Univ., UCLA

MARRIAGE INFO:
Single

INSTRUMENTS PLAYED/PART SUNG:
Lead voice

FAVORITE SINGING GROUPS:
Beach Boys, Kinks, Love

INDIVIDUAL SINGERS:
Sinatra, Presley

ACTOR/ACTRESS:
Jack Palance, Sarah Miles

TV SHOWS:
News

COLORS:
Turquoise

FOODS:
Meat

HOBBIES:
Horse races

SPORTS:
Swimming

WHAT LOOKED FOR IN A GIRL:
Hair, eyes, voice, walk

WHAT DO YOU LIKE TO DO ON A DATE?:
Talk

PLANS/AMBITIONS:
Make films

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You could say it's an accident that I was ideally suited for the work I am doing. It's the feeling of a bowstring being pulled back for 22 years and suddenly being let go. I am primarily an American, second, a Californian, third, a Los Angeles resident. I've always been attracted to ideas that were about revolt against authority. I like ideas about the breaking away or overthrowing of established order. I am interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos—especially activity that seems to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road toward freedom—external revolt is a way to bring about internal freedom. Rather than starting inside, I start outside—reach the mental through the physical. I am a Sagittarian—if astrology has anything to do with it—the Centaur—the Archer—the Hunt—But the main thing is that we are The Doors.

We are from the West. The whole thing is like an invitation to the West.

The sunset—This is the end
The night—The sea

The world we suggest is of a new wild west. A sensuous evil world. Strange and haunting, the path of the sun, you know? Toward the end. At least for our first album. We're all centered around the end of the zodiac. The Pacific—violence and peace—the way between young and the old.

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In 1981, Rolling Stone magazine printed a photograph of Jim Morrison on its cover with the title: "Jim Morrison - he's hot, he's sexy and he's dead". Jim Morrison became famous at the age of 23 with the group The Doors. He was a poet, a rebel, a rock singer, and a leader. He was also one of rock's sexiest stars. Three years later he was fat, an alcoholic, and lying dead in a hotel bath in Paris. But his death, in 1971, wasn't the end of the story.

Like James Dean and Marilyn Monroe, public interest in the star increased over the following years.
James Douglas Morrison was born in Melbourne (Florida) on December 8, 1943. His father was an officer in the US navy and was often away from home for long periods of time. Jim's relationship with his parents was strange and he often claimed they were dead. When he was four years old, he experienced what he later described as the most important moment of his life. The Morrison family were driving along a desert road and came upon a fatal road accident involving a truck carrying Native Americans. As they drove away, Jim claimed that one of them died and that his soul passed into his body. Many years later, Morrison sang about the experience in Peace Frog: "Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding/Ghosts crowd the child's fragile eggshell mind".

At school Jim had a constant need to show off and be the centre of attention. He took a course on crowd psychology and revolt at college where he wrote papers on obscure books, many of which his tutors had never heard of. Jim loved reading and found the name of the group the Doors in a William Blake quote that he found in an Aldous Huxley book - "If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it truly is, infinite".

After a brief period at the University of Los Angeles where he studied film, Morrison decided to become a singer. It was the combination of poet and rock singer that made Jim Morrison different from other rock singers of the time. The Doors reached the top of the US charts in the summer of 1967 with their second single Light My Fire. Six albums followed that included classic songs such as Riders On The Storm and L.A. Woman. The two themes that constantly appeared in Morrison's lyrics were sex and death.

The group's live performances were famous for the singer's outrageous behaviour on stage and his control over the audience (many concerts ended in riots). But in Miami in 1969, Jim Morrison suddenly turned against his audience. He abused them and then, according to some witnesses, exposed himself on stage; others testimoned there was no exposure . The doors couldn't find another concert for six months and Morrison was given an eight-month jail sentence although he died before serving it.

His friends at the time say that he tried to maintain the ecstatic state that he experienced on stage in his private life as well. Under the influence of drugs and alcohol he lived dangerously, playing matador with moving traffic, crashing cars, and provoking the police. His addiction to drugs and alcohol also changed his looks and caused his death while in Paris with his companion, Pamela Courson. A cocktail of alcohol and heroin was too much for his body and he died while having a bath.

There was no autopsy and Morrison was buried in Père Lachaise cemetery near the graves of Edith Piaf and Oscar Wilde. Over the following years, the grave was often visited by Doors fans who spread the rumour that Jim Morrison wasn't dead and had in fact disappeared to India or Africa.

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"Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain.
And all the children are insane,
Waiting for the summer rain."

After finishing sessions for a new album, L.A. WOMAN, Morrison escaped to Paris, where he hoped to follow literary career. He never came back from Paris. His first book, THE LORDS AND THE NEW CREATURES, was published by Simon and Schuster in 1971. It went into paperback after selling 15.000 in hardback. An earlier book, AN AMERICAN PRAYER, was privately printed in 1970, but not made widely available until 1978. On 3 July 1971 Morrison was found death in his bathtub. He had regurgitated a small amount of blood on the night of July 2, but claimed he felt fine. Recently had consulted a local doctor concerning a respitory problem.

STAR FISH GLUTTONY
Star fish gluttony
what are the word-forms
--for co(s)mic encounter
wedding flesh & mind
----in one body
(from The American Night, 1990)

Morrison was buried at Pére Lachaise cemetary in Paris, which houses remains of many famous artists, statesmen and legendaries from Edith Piaf to Oscar Wilde. In 1990 his graffitti-covered headstone was stolen.
His wife, Pamela Courson Morrison, died in Hollywood of heroin overdose on April 25, 1974. In 1979 Francis Ford Coppola used The Doors' performance of 'The End' in his Vietnam War film, Apocalypse Now, and in 1991 director Oliver Stone made the film biography The Doors, starring Val Kilmer.

WILDERNESS: THE LOST WRITINGS OF JIM MORRISON was published in 1989.
Poems and other fiction and non-fiction by Jim Morrison:
· An American Prayer, 1970 (poems)
· The Lords and the New Creatures, 1971 (poems)
· Jim Morrison collaborated on a screenplay with poet Michael McClure and directed the film A Feast of Friends. He had made films to accompany "Break on Through" and the 1968 single "The Unknown Soldier".
· Wilderness: The Lost Writings of Jim Morrison, 1989
· The American Night: The Writings of Jim Morrison, vol.1, 1990
· The American Night: The Writings of Jim Morrison, vol. 2, 1991
· Morrison is credited as the writer of The Story of the Doors in Words and Pictures








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[Salem6]

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American rock singer and rock lyric who achieved after his death a cult position among fans. Morrison wished to be accepted as a serious artist, and he published such collections of poetry as An American Prayer (1970) and The Lords and The New Creatures (1971).

The song lyrics Morrison wrote for The Doors much reflected the tensions of the time - drug culture, the antiwar movement, avant-garde art. With his early death Morrison has been seen as a voluntary victim of the destructive forces in pop culture. However, he was not ignorat about the consequences of fame and his position as an idol. Morrison once confessed that "We're more interested in the dark side of life, the evil thing, the night time."

"This is the end, beautiful friend.
It hurts to set you free,
But you'll never follow me.
The end of laughter and soft lies.
The end of nights we tried to die.
This is the... end."

Jim Morrison was born in Melbourne, Florida. His father was a US Navy admiral and the family moved accrording to his father's numerous postings. Morrison was early interested in literature, he excelled at school and he had an IQ of 149. Morrison studied theatre arts at the University of California. With his fellow student Ray Manzarek and John Densmore and Robbie Kriger he formed a group which was in 1965 christened The Doors.

The name was taken from Aldous Huxley's book on mescaline, The Doors of Perception, which quoted William Blake's poem (If the doors of perception were cleansed / All things would appear infinite). All the members of the band read much, not only Morrison.

Their first album, THE DOORS (1967), mixed performances from Bertold Brecht/Kurt Weil's 'Alabama Song (Whisky Bar)' to Willie Dixon's 'Back Door Man'. The lyrics Morrison wrote in 1965 dominated the first two Doors albums. The first single chart success came in July 1967 with 'Light My Fire'.

Between childhood, boyhood,
-------------adolescence
& manhood (maturity) there
should be sharp lines drawn w/
Tests, deaths, feasts, rites
stories, songs & judgements
(from Wilderness, 1988)

Like in the late 1950s when the beatniks tried to unite jazz and poetry, Morrison found from music a channel to project his poetry, and add to it a theatrical aspect. Thus improvising and unpredictableness was a part of the band's show on stage.



The mythical Lizard King, Morrison's alter ego, appeared first in the best-selling record WAITING FOR THE SUN (1968) in a poem that printed inside the record jacked. I was entitled "The Celebration of the Lizard King". Part of the lyrics were used in "Not to Touch the Earth" and the complete "Celebration" appeared on record ABSOLUTELY LIVE (1970).

Morrison's drinking, exhibitionistic performances, and drug-taking badly affected his singing and input at recordings. "Let's just say I was testing the bounds of reality. I was curious to see what would happen. That's all it was: just curiosity." (Morrison in Los Angeles, 1969) In Miami in 1969 the audience thought it saw Jim's "snake" - he was charged with exposing himself on stage, in full view of 10.000 people. The police did not arrest him on the spot, for fear that it would cause a riot. Next year Morrison was sentenced 8 months' hard labor and a $500 fine for 'profanity' and 'indecent exposure', but he remained free while the sentence was appealed against.

THE SOFT PARADE (1969) was received with mixed emotions but it had a hit single, 'Touch me'.
After Miami everything changed and Morrison put his leather pants in closet. "See me change," he sang. He grew a beard, started to take distance to his fans, and devote more time with projects outside the band. John Densmore has later told in an interview, that although he knew Jim well, there was so much about him that he could not find out. Possessed by his inner visions and urge to write and create music Morrison also had troubles to explain his aims.
"O great creator of being, grant us one more hour
to perform our art and perfect our lives."

In April 1970 MORRISON HOTEL hit the lists in the U.S. and England. It was hailed as a major comeback. One song on it, 'Queen of the Highway', was dedicated Morrison's wife, Pamela. On his 27th birthday, Morrison made the recordings at Elektra's LA studio of his poetry, which later formed the basis of AN AMERICAN PRAYER.

The Doors played their last concert with Morrison in New Orleans. It was a disaster - Morrison smashed the microphone into the stage, threw the stand into the crowd and slumped down.

[Salem6]

PROLOGUE
SELF-INTERVIEW
I think the interview is the new art form. I think the self-interview is the essence of creativity. Asking yourself questions and trying to find answers. The writer is just answering a series of unuttered questions.

It's similar to answering questions on a witness stand. It's that strange area where you try and pin down something that happened in the past and try honestly to remember what you were trying to do. It's a crucial mental exercise. An interview will often give you a chance to confront your mind with questions, which to me is what art is all about. An interview also gives you the chance to try and eliminate all of those space fillers . . . you should try to be explicit, accurate, to the point . . . no bulls hit. The interview form has antecedents in the confession box, debating and cross-examination. Once you say something, you can't really retract it. It's too late. It's a very existential moment.

I'm kind of hooked to the game of art and literature; my heroes are artists and writers.

I always wanted to write, but I always figured it'd be no good unless somehow the hand just took the pen and started moving without me really having anything to do with it. Like automatic writing. But it just never happened.

I wrote a few poems, of course. I think around the fifth or sixth grade I wrote a poem called "The Pony Express." That was the first I can remember. It was one of those ballad-type poems. I never could get it together though.

"Horse Latitudes" I wrote when I was in high school. I kept a lot of notebooks through high school and college, and then when I left school, for some dumb reason - maybe it was wise - I threw them all away . . . I wrote in those books night after night. B ut maybe if I'd never thrown them away, I'd never have written anything original - because they were mainly accumulations of things that I'd read or heard, like quotes from books. I think if I'd never gotten rid of them I'd never be free.

Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything, it just ticks off the possibilities. Opens all doors. You can walk through any one that suits you.

. . . and that's why poetry appeals to me so much - because it's so eternal. As long as there are people, they can remember words and combinations of words. Nothing else can survive a holocaust but poetry and songs. No one can remember an entire novel. No one can describe a film, a piece of sculpture, a painting, but so long as there are human beings, songs and poetry can continue.

If my poetry aims to achieve anything, It's to deliver people from the limited ways in which they see and feel.

Los Angles, 1969-71


The Opening of The Trunk

-Moment of inner freedom
when the mind is open & 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 & frozen
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 accure
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 & 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.
I know what you want.
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
it's 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 Connections
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 need & 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 yard, a pile,
& 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, & judgments



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 initiations
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 & explores
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 tires
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 then that here
it would end?

One school bus crashed w/ a train.
This was the Crossroads.
Mercury strained.
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 were 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 skid & slid
into dangerous curves.

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



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

[Salem6]

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



Shrill demented sparrows bard
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 the 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 & jail seem almost
friendly)

a Kiss in the Storm

(Madman at the wheel
gun at the neck
space 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 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
Westward luring
into the brothel, into the blood bath
into the Dream
The dark Dream of conquest
& Voyage
into night, Westward into the Night


LAMERICA

Clothed in sunlight
restless in wanting
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 Crossroads
a place where ghosts
reside to whisper into
the ear of travelers &
interest them in their fate

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

-Why do you call us?
You know our price. It
never changes. Death of
you will give 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; shuddering
his way into inward grace

- laughter) Well then. Would
you mock yourself?

-No.

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



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

Flame-tree
Sire, we met inEden
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 Mexico
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 hiway
he winks.

-I got picked up
& rode thru 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 alter

[musical interlude]

Trees
Train-death
The American Night
We went thru 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 & merry 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 castanets

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 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 & smog &
pollen of existence

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

We looked around
lights now on
To see our fellow travelers



I am troubled
Immeasurably
By your eyes

I am struck
By the feather
of your soft
Reply

The sound of glass
Speaks quick
Disdain

And conceals
What your eyes fight
To explain



She looked so sad in sleep
Like a friendly hand
just out of reach
A candle stranded on
a beach
While the sun sinks low
an H-bomb in reverse



Everything human
is leaving
her face

Soon she will disappear
into the calm
vegetable
morass

Stay!

My Wild Love!



I get my best ideas when the
telephone rings & rings. It's no fun
To feel like a fool - when your
baby's gone. A new ax to my head:
Possession. I create my own sword
of Damascus. I've done nothing w/ time.
A little tot prancing the boards playing
w/ Revolution. When out there the
World awaits & abounds w/ heavy gangs
of murderers & real madmen. Hanging
from windows as if to say: I'm bold -
do you love me? Just for tonight.
A One Night Stand. A dog howls & whines
at the glass door (why can't I
be in there?) A cat yowls. A car engine
revs & races against the grain - dry
rasping carbon protest. I put the book
down - & begin my own book.
Love for the fat girl.
When will SHE get here?



In the gloom
In the shady living room
where we lived & died
& laughed & cried
& the pride of our relationship
took hold that summer
What a trip
To hold your hand
& tell the cops
you're not 16
no runaway
The wino left a little in
the old blue desert
bottle
Cattle skulls
the cliche' of rats
who skim the trees
in search of fat
Hip children invade the grounds
& sleep in the wet grass
'til the dogs rush out
I'm going South!


MIAMI

What can I read her
What can I read her
on a Sunday Morning

What can I do that will
somehow reach her
on a Sunday Morning

I'll read her the news of
The Indian Wars

Full of criss-calvary, blood
& gore

Stories to tame & charm
& more

On a Sunday Morning



Some wild fires
Searchout
a dry quiet kiss on leaving



Like our ancestors
The Indians
We share a fear of sex
excessive lamentation for the dead
& an abiding interest in dreams & visions


EXPLOSION
The mushroom
The unfolding

instant of creation (fertilisation)
not an instant separate from breakfast
It all flows down & out, flowing

but that instant:
not fire & fusion (Fission) but a moment
of jellied ice, crystal, vegetative mating
merging in cool slime splendor
a crushing of steel & glass & ice

(instant in a bar: glasses clash, clink, collide)

far-out splendor

heat & fire are outward signs of a
Small dry mating



event in a room
event in space
a circle
Magic rite
To call up the godhead
spirits, demons
The shaman calls:
"when radio dark night..."
We are eating each other.



The Voice of the Serpent
dry hiss of age & steam
& leaves of gold
old books in ruined
Temples
The pages break like ash

I will not disturb
I will not go

Come, he says softly

an Old man appears &
moves in tired dance
amid the scattered dead
gently they stir



I received an Aztec wall
of vision
& dissolved my room in
sweet derision
Closed my eyes, prepared to go
A gentle wind inform'd me so
And bathed my skin in ether glow


Drugs are a bet w/ your mind



The cigarette burn'd
my fingertips
& dropp'd like a log
to the rug below
My eyes took a trip
to dig the chick
Crouch'd like a cat
at the next window
My ears assembled music
out of swarming streets
but my mind rebelled
at the idiot's laughter
The rising frightful idiot laughter
Cheering an army of
vacuum cleaners

[Salem6]

Mouth fills w/ taste of copper.
Chinese paper. Foreign money. Old posters.
Gyro on a string, a table.
A coin spins. The faces.

There is an audience to our drama.
Magic shade mask.
Like the hero of a dream, he works for us,
in our behalf.

How close is this to a final cut?

I fall. Sweet blackness.
Strange world that waits & watches.
Ancient dread of non-existence.

If it's no problem, why mention it.
Everything spoken means that,
its opposite, & everything else.
I'm alive. I'm dying.



1st wild thrush of fear

-A phone rings
There is a knock on the door.
It's time to go.
No.


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



I am a guide to the labyrinth
Come & see me
in 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



Leaving the phone-booth, I was
Struck by a whiff of
the weird.
Insane old country woman
come to nag the haunts
of town
Hairy legs w/ open sores.

From what swamp or under-rock
did you crawl to remind
to leave


LAmerica

Androgynous, liquid, happy
Heavy
Facile & vapid
Weighted w/ words
Mortgaged soul
Wandering preachers, & Delta Tramps

Box-cars of heaven
New Orleans Nile Sunset



The form is a plane above
the earth, A soldier bails
out, leaving his entrails
fluttering, billowing, Scoop'd
down, windy midwife, wrench'd
by the world from her rich
belly, my metal mother,
ripped cord, down & frozen.
Following pilot the eye of
the plane; "Great Eye of Night"
God on a windscreen, wind-
scream, wormwind
Trailing.

(& hide among women
like a toothless bird)

Burned by air
Burned bad by light
in the

[gun shot]

O Wow
he's shot
& the scarlet news
(hoarse mute confusion
of the witness crowd)



Airport.
Messenger in the form of a soldier.
Green wool. He stood there,
off the plane.
A new truth, too horrible to bear.
There was no record of it
anywhere in the ancient signs
or symbols.
People looked at each other,
in the mirror, their children's
eyes.
Why had it come.
There was no escape from
it anywhere.
A truth too horrible to name.
Only a loose puking moan
could frame its dark interiors.
Only a few could look upon
its face w/ calm.
Most of the people fell instantly
under its dark terror.
They looked to the calm ones
but saw only a green
military coat.
Repent!
None of the old Things worked.



disciple
Scar
death
Magic
Prison
Garden
Shelter
Princess
of Sorrow
Wilderness Angel
of envy
Call Me
Tomorrow
Bones
Landing
Gold
Arrival



Street. Steel thrust sucking space.
Silent willful turbines, motors
raving

City of clouds, pirates of air.

Land of rainbows & scarlet rare
islands.

We are here, parables.

Silent climbers

The breast engine mattered.
Monster in drag, a tin damsel
Shuddered & flew

Cut spent space
Crazed ace
Collect

The cake-walk.


HORSE LATITUDES

The barn is burning
The race-track is over
Farmers run w/
buckets of water
The Horse flesh is burning
They're kicking the stalls
(panic in a horse's eye
That can spread & fill
an entire sky.)

The clouds flow by
& tell a story

about the lightning bolt & the mast
on the steeple

Some people have a hard time
describing sailors to the
undernourished.

The decks are starving
Time to throw the cargo over

Now down & the high-sailing
fluttering of smiles on the air
w/ its cool night time disturbance

Tropic corridor
Tropic Treasure

What got us this far to this
mild equator

Now we need something
& something new
when all else fails
we can whip the horse's eyes
& make them cry
& sleep



France is 1st, Nogales round-up
Cross over the border-
land of eternal adolescence
quality of despair unmatched
anywhere on the perimeter
Message from the outskirts
calling us home
This is the private space of a
new order. We need saviors
To help us survive the journey.
Now who will come
Now hear this
We have started the crossing
Who knows? it may end badly

The actors are assembled;
immediately they become
enchanted
I, for one, am in ecstasy
enthralled.
Can I convince you to smile?

No wise men now.
Each on his own
grab your daughter & run



"Oh God, she cried
I never knew what
it meant to be real
I thought all this was a joke,
I never let the horror, or
the sweetness & the dignity
penetrate my brain"

"Let me up to see
the window. Dark Riders
pass in the sunset
coming home from
raiding parties.
The taverns will be
full of laughter, wine,
& later dancing, later
dangerous knife throws.

Antonio will be there
& that whore, Blue Lady
playing cards w/ silver
decks & smiling at the night,
& full glasses held aloft
& spilled to the moon.
I'm sad, so full of sadness"



She's selling news in the market
Time in the hall
The girls of the factory
Rolling cigars
They haven't invented musak yet
So I read to them
From The BOOK OF DAYS
a horror story from the Gothic age
a gruesome romance
From the LA
Plague

I have a vision of America
Seen from the air
28,000 ft. & going fast

A one-armed man in a Texas
parking labyrinth
A burnt tree like a giant primeval bird
in an empty lot in Fresno
Miles & miles of hotel corridors
& elevators, filled w/ citizens

Motel Money Murder Madness
Changed the mood from glad to sadness

play the ghost song baby



a young woman, bound silently, on
a hospital table, obviously pregnant,
is gutted & rifled of her empire

object of oblivion



Drugs sex drunkenness battle
return to the water-world
Sea-belly
Mother of man
Monstrous sleep-walking gentle swarming
atomic world
Anomie in social life

how can we hate or love or judge
in the sea-swarm world of atoms
All one, one All
How can we play or not play
How can we put one foot before us
or revolutionize or write



Does the house burn? So be it.
The World, a film which men devise.
Smoke drifts thru these chambers
Murders occur in a bedroom.
Mummers chant, birds hush & coo.
Will this do?
Take Two.


each day is a drive thru history


BRIGHT FLAGS

The great hiway of dawn
Stretching to slumber
pouring out from her greedy
palms a shore, to wander

Hesitation & doubt
Swiftly ensconced

O Viking, your women
cannot save you
out on the great ship

Time has claimed you
Coming for you
And I came to you
for peace
And I came to you
for gold
And I came to you
for lies
And you gave me fever
& wisdom
& cries
& sorrow
& we'll be here
the next day
the next day
&
Tomorrow



There's a belief by the
Children of Man which states
all will be well

Search on man, clam savior
Veteran of wars incalculable
greed. Search on man, calm savior
God-speed & forgive you
morning-star, fragrant
meadow person girl



down
down
down
down
down
down
deep
below

children of the caves will let their
secret fires glow



An explosion of birds
Dawn
Sun strokes the walls
An old man leaves the Casino
A young man reading pauses
on the path to the garden


Bitter winter
Fiction dogs are starving
The radio is moaning softly
calling to the dogs
There are still a few
animals left out in the yard

Sit up all night,
talking smoking
Count the dead & wait
'til morning
Will warm names & faces
come again
Does the silver forest end?



December Isles
Hot morning chambers
of the New Day
Idiot first to awaken (be born)
w/ shadows of new play
learned men
in Sunday best
we've had our chance to rest
to morn the passing of day
to lament the death of our
glorious member
(she whispers secret messages
of love in the garden
to her friends, the bees)
The garden would be here
forevermore



Mexican parachute
Blue green pink
Invented of Silk
& stretched on grass
Draped in the trees
of a Mexican Park
T-shirt boys in their
Slumbering art



-I fear that he's been
maim'd beyond all
recognition

He hears them come &
murmur over his corpse.

Street Pizza.



funny,
I keep expecting a
knock on the door
well, that's what you
get for living around
people

a Knock? would shatter
my dream's illusions
deportment & composure
The struggle of a poor poet
to stay out of the grips
of novels & gambling
& journalism


A quality of ignorance,
self-deception may be
necessary to the poet's
survival



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

[Salem6]

Bourbon is a wicked brew, recalling
courage milk, refined poison
of cockroach & tree-bark, leaves
& fly-wings scraped from the
land, a thick film; menstrual
fluids no doubt add their splendor.
It is the eagle's drink.



Why do I drink?
So that I can write poetry.

Sometimes when it's all spun out
and all that is ugly recedes
into a deep sleep
There is an awakening
and all that remains is true.
As the body is ravaged
the spirit grows stronger.

Forgive me Father for I know
what I do.
I want to hear the last Poem
of the last Poet.




THE CONNECTORS

-What is connection?

-When 2 motions, thought
to be infinite & mutually
exclusive, meet in a
moment.

-Of Time?

-Yes.

-Time does not exist.
There is no time.

-Time is a straight plantation.


THE CONNECTORS

The diamond shone like broken glass
Upon the midnight street
And all atop the walls were wet
Their white eyes glint & sleek

Then from afar a gnome appeared
An angel flashed on furry feet
The boulevard became a river
While waiting crowds began to quiver

I was in a motel watching
Whiskey in my hand
Her breath was soft, the wind was warm
Someone in a room was born



Accomplishments:

To make works in the face
of the void
To gain form, idenity
To raise from the herd-crowd

Public favor
public fervor

even the bitter Poet-Madman is
a clown
Treading the boards



Cold electric music
Damage me
Rend my mind
w/ your dark slumber

Cold temple of steel
Cold minds alive
on the strangled shore

Veterans of foreign wars
We are the soldiers of
Rock & Roll Wars



Whether to be a
great cagey perfumed
beast
dying under the
sweet patronage
of Kings
& exist like luxuriant
flowers beneath the
emblems of their
Strange empire
or by mere insouciant
faith
slap them, call their cards
spit on fate & cast hell
to flames in usury

by dying, nobly
we could exist like
innocent trolls
propagate our revels
& give the finger to the
gods in our private
bedrooms

let's rather, maybe,
perhaps,
get fucking out in
the open, & by
swelling, jubilantly
Magnificently, end them.



Jim Morrison,1966-1971. Wilderness.


I'm a resident of a city
They've just picked me to play
the Prince of Denmark

Poor Ophelia

All those ghosts he never saw
Floating to doom
On an iron candle

Come back, brave warrior
Do the dive
On another channel

Hot buttered pool
Where's Marrakesh
Under the falls
the wild storm
where savages fell out
in late afternoon
monsters of rhythm

You've left your
Nothing
to compete w/
Silence

I hope you went out
Smiling
Like a child
Into the cool remnant
of a dream

The angel man
w/ Serpents competing
for his palms
& fingers
Finally claimed
This benevolent
Soul

Ophelia

Leaves, sodden
in silk

Chlorine
dream
mad stifled
Witness

The diving board, the plunge
The pool

You were a fighter
a damask musky muse

You were the bleached
Sun
for TV afternoon

horned-toads
maverick of a yellow spot

Look now to where it's got
You

in meat heaven
w/ the cannibals
& jews

The gardener
Found
The body, rampant, Floating

Lucky Stiff
What is this green pale stuff
You're made of

Poke holes in the goddess
Skin

Will he Stink
Carried heavenward
Thru the halls
of music

No Chance.

Requiem for a heavy
That smile
That porky satyr's
leer
has leaped upward

into the loam





Far Arden


In that year
We had an intense visitation
of energy


SIGNALS

When radio dark night existed
& assumed control & we rocked in its web
consumed by static, & stroked w/ fear
we were drawn down long from
a deep sleep, & awaken'd
at dayfall by worried guardeners
& made to be led thru dew wet
jungle to the swift summit, o'er looking
The sea. . . .

A vast radiant beach & a cool
jewelled moon. Couples naked
race down by its quiet side & we laugh like soft mad children,
smug in the wooly cotton brains
of infancy.

The music & 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 w/ us
Everything is broken up
& dances

(Mt. Music
Violin)

Moonlight night
Mt. Village
Insane in the woods
in the deep trees

Under the moon
Beneath the stars
They reel & dance
The young folk

Led to the Lake
by a King & Queen

O, I want to be there
I want us to be there
Beside the lake
Beneath the moon
Cool & swollen
dripping its hot
liquor

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Frozen moment by a lake
A knife has been stolen
The death of the snake

I know the impossible sea
when the dogs bark

I am a death bird
Naughty night bird



Bird of prey, Bird of prey
flying high, flying high
In the summer sky

Bird of prey, Bird of prey
flying high, flying high
Gently pass on by

Bird of prey, Bird of prey
flying high, flying high
Am I going to die

Bird of prey, Bird of prey
flying high, flying high
Take me on your flight

Indians scattered on dawn's
Highway bleeding.
Ghosts crown the young child's
fragile egg-shell mind

Underwaterfall, Underwatwefall
The girls return from summer balls
Let's steal the eye that sees us all


TAPE NOON

Tell them you came & saw & looked
into my eyes, & saw the shadow
of the guard receding
Thoughts in time & out of season
The hitchhiker stood by the side of the road
& leveled his thumb in the
calm calculus of reason

(a car passes)

Why does my mind circle around you
Why do planets wonder what it
Would be like to be you

All your soft wild promises were words
Birds, endless in flight

Your dog is still lost in the frozen woods
or he would run to you
How can he run to you
Lunging w/ blooded sickness on the snow
He's still sniffing gates & searching
Strangers for your smell
which he remembers very well

Is there a moon in your window
Is madness laughing
Can you still run down beach
rocks bed below w/ out him?



Winter Photography
our love's in jeopardy
Winter Photography
our love's in jeopardy
Sit up all night, talking smoking
Count the dead & wait for morning
(Will warm names & faces come again
Does the silver forest end?)


<CENTER
ORANGE COUNTY SUITE

Well I used to know someone fair
She had orange ribbons in her hair
She was such a trip
She was hardly there
But I loved her
Just the same.

There was rain in our window,
The FM set was ragged
But she could talk, yeah,
We learned to speak

And one year
has gone by

Such a long long road to seek it
All we did was break and freak it
We had all
That lovers ever had
We just blew it
And I'm not sad

Well I'm mad

And I'm bad

And two years
have gone by

Now her world was bright orange
And the fire glowed
And her friend had a baby
And she lived with us
Yeah, we broke through the window
Yeah, we knocked on the door
Her phone would not answer,
Yeah, but she's still home

Now her father has passed over
& her sister is a star
& her mother smokes diamonds
& she sleeps out in the car

Yeah, but she remembers Chicago
The musicians & guitars
& grass by the lake
& people who laugh'd
& made her poor heart ache

Now we live down in the valley
We work out on the farm
We climb up to the mountains
& everything's fine

& I'm still here
& you're still there
& we're still around



Well I'll tell you a story of whiskey
& mystics & men
And about the believers, & how the
whole thing began

First there were women & children obeying
the moon
Then daylight brought wisdom & fever
& sickness too soon

You can try to remind me
instead of the other
you can
You can help to insure
That we all insecure our command

If you don't give a listen
I won't try to tell your
new hand

This is it can't you see
That we all have our end in
the band

And if all of the teachers & preachers
of wealth were
arraigned

We could see quite a future
for me in the literal sands

And if all of the people
could claim to inspect
such regret

Well we'd have no forgiveness
forgetfulness faithful
remorse

So I tell you
I tell you
I tell you
We must send away

We must try to find a new
answer instead of
a way

[Salem6]

All hail the American Night

And so I say to you
The silk handkerchief was
embroidered in China or Japan
behind the steel curtain And
no one can cross the borderline
w/ out proper credentials.
This is to say that we are all
sensate & occasionally sad
& if every partner in crime
were to incorporate promises
in his program the dance
might end & all our friends
would follow.

Who are our friends?

are they sullen & slow? Do
they have great desire? Or
are they one of the multitude who
walk doubting their impossible
regret. Certainly things happen
& reoccur in continuous promise;
All of us have found a safe
niche where we can store up
riches & talk to our fellows
on the same premise of disaster

But this will not do. No, this
will never do. These are
continents & shores which
beseech our understanding.
Seldom have we been so slow.
Seldom have we been so far.

My only wish is to see
Far Arden again.

The truth is on his chest
The cellular excitement has
Totally inspired our magic
Veteran. And now for an
old trip. I'm tired of thinking.
I want the old forms to
reassert their sexual cool.
My mind is just - you know.
And this morning before I sign
off I would like to tell you
about Texas Radio & the Big Beat.
It moves into the perimeter of
your sacred sincere & dedicated
Smile like a calm surviver
of the psychic war. He was
no general for he was not old.
He was no private for he
could not be sold.

He was only a man & his
dedication extended to the last
degree. Poor pretentious soldier,
come home. The dark Los Angeles
evening is steaming the Church
that we attended & I miss
my boy. Stupid in gree -
What the color green? When
I watch the T.V. & I see
helicopters swirling their
brutal & bountiful sensation
over the fields & the comic walls
I can only smile & fix a meal
& think about the child who
will one day own you.

In conclusion, darling, let
me repeat: your home is still
here, inviolate & certain
and I open the wide smile of
my remembrance. This to you
on the anniversary of our first
night. I know you love me
to talk this way. I hope
no one sees this message
written in the calm lonely
far out languid summer afternoon
W/ my total love





The hour of the wolf
has now ended. Cocks
crow. The world is built
up again, struggling in
darkness.

The child gives in to night-
Mare, while the grown
Man fears his fear.

I must leave this island,
Struggling to be born
from blackness.

Fear the good deep dark
American Night.
Blessed is Night.

The flood has subsided
The movie panic & the
chauffeured drive
Thru the suburbs

Wild folks in weird dress
by the side of the hiway

Some of the men wear
Tunics or short skirts.
The women posture on
Their porches in mock-
classical pose.

The driver aims the car
& it guides itself. Tunnels
click by overhead.

Love the deep green gloom
of American Night.

Love frightened corners,
Thrill to the wood-vine.

So much of it good
& so much quantity.

___________


The Major's boots are where
he left them.

Pseudo-plantation.

Period prints - white
& black boxing match.

A Negro Dance

___________


The principal of the school holds his nose.
"A dead cow is in there. I wonder
why they haven't sent someone to
remove it?"

A vulture streams by,
& another. The white tip
of his claw-like red beak
looks white, like meat.
Swift sad languorous
shadows.

The cat drinks little cat
laps from a sick
Turquoise swimming pool.

(Insane couplings out in the night.)

America, I am hook'd to your
Cold white neon bosom, & suck
snake-like thru the dawn, I
am drawn back home
your son in exile
in the land of Awakening
What dreams possessed you
To merge in the morning?

"I been in a daze"

A spot, a reef, behind
the nursery door, off
the main bedroom-
"Those are the major's."

The bed looms like a white
funeral butterfly barge
at one end of the room,
hung w/ nets & sails.

"We're outlaws."

"What church is that?"
:Church of God."
while bandana, white tambourine

-Walking on the Water-

"In traditional style, we'll
give them a good political
back-siding" - (laughter)

"Victimization"

a frog in the road
children in church
drums
Sun-Sun
lying like death
on the back seat
Revival.

A whore-house.
Lord John & Lady Anne's.
Red-blooded Blue-blooded.
Queen's bosom.Is it The Princess?

Golden-blood, like me, he said,
folding the bill again neatly,
the Queen's ear - a naked
cock stuck in her ass.

Ha Ha Ha Ha.

You're no more innocent
than a turkey vulture

A cannon.

The Negro slaves & the English
killed the Indians, & mixed
w/ the Spanish, who were soon
forced out.

Yes, big battles

Boom Boom






The velvet fur of religion
The polish of knife handle & coin
The universe of organic gears
or microscope mechanical
embryo metal doll
The night is a steel machine
grinding its slow stained wheels
The brain is filled w/ clocks, & drills
& water down drains
Knife-handle, thick blood
like the coin & cloth
they rub & the skin they love
to touch

the graveyard, the tombstone,
the gloomstone & runestone
The sand & the moon, mating
deep in the Western night
waiting for the escape
of one of our gang
The hangman's noose is a
silver sluice bait
come-on man
your meat is hanging
on the wing of the raven
man's bird, poet's soul

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
the thin rustle of weeds
the voice comes from faraway
inside, awaiting its birth
in a cool room, on tendril bone
The insane free chummy cackle
of infants in a ballroom, of a
family of friends around
a table, laden w/ feast-food
soft guilty female laughter
the bar-room, the men's room
people assemble to establish
armies & find their foe
& fight



Clustered in watchful terror
by vine-growth, the hollow bush
dry cancerous wells
We awoke before dawn, slipped
into the canyon

Noon schoolyard screamed
w/ play, the lunch hour ending
ropes & balls slapped hard at
cement sand, the female land
was bright, all swelling to degree
most comfortless & guarding

A record noise shot out
& stunned the earth. The music
had been bolted w/ new sound.
Run, run the end of repose
an anthem has churned
the bad guys are winning.



Silver shaken in the gloom
I left her

Trees waste & sway forever

Marble porch & sylvan frieze
Down on her knees

She begs the spider-king to wed her
Slides into bed

He turns her over

There is a leather pouch
that's full of silver

It spills like water

She left
And took the coins I gave her



As to the drowning man
hoarse whisper
invokes, on the edge,
an arroyo
Sangre de Christo

Violence in a time of plenty

There is one deaf witness
on the bank, the shore
leaning in finery against
a ruined wall
as Jesus did. Red livid lips,
pale flesh withdrawn from
ragged dress, pit of the past
& screens unveiled in the
scarred chalk wall

When, often, one is not deluged
by rain, 3 drops suffice
The war is over there
I am neither doctor nor saint
Christ or soldier
Now, friends, don't look at me
sadly ranting like some
incomprehensible child
I know by my breath of what
I speak, & what I've seen
needs telling.

Please, freeze!
Danger near.
A message has started its path
to the heart of the brain
A thin signal is on its way
An arrow of hope, predicting rain
A death-rod bearing pain


I

I will not come again
I will not come again
into the swirl
The bitter wine-soaked
stallion eats the seed,
all labor is a lie;
no vice is kindled in
these loins to melt
or vie w/ any strong
particulating smile.
Leave sundry stones alive.

II

Now that you have gone
all alone
the desert to explore
& left me here alone

the calmness of the town
where a girl in black
gets in a car
& searches numbly
for her keys;

Now that you have gone
or strayed away-

I sit, & listen to the hiss
of traffic & invoke
into this burned & gutted
room some ghost, some
vague resemblance of a time

Off-on, on and off,
like one long sick
electric dream.
This state is confused
state. Out there her life
like warm connectors,
plug into her soul
From every side & melt
her form for me.

But I deserve this,
Greatest cannibal of all.
Some tired future.
Let me sleep.
Get on w/ the disease.











Come
for all the world lies
hushed & fallen
green ships dangle
on the surface of
Ocean, & sky-birds
glide smugly among
the planes
Gaunt crippled houses
Strangle the cliffs
In the East, in the cities
a hum of life
begins, now come



Of the Great Insane
American Night
We sang
sending our gift
to its vast promise

Pilots are a problem
The rain & hungry sea
greedy for steel

Say a soft American Prayer
A quiet animal sigh
for the strong plane
landing

We rode on opium tires
from the colossal
airport chess game
at dawn, new from glass
in the broken night

landed then in quiet
fog, beside the times
out of this strange river

Then gladly thru
a wasted morning
happy to be alive to
signs of life
a dog,
a school girl
are we in Harlem?



Blessings

accept this ancient
wisdom
which has travelled
far to greet
us
From the East
w/ the sun

Call out to him
From the mountain
high, from high
towers

as the mind
rebels
& wends its way
to freedom

grant us one more day
& hour
the hero of this dream
who heals & guides us

Forgive me, Blacks
you who unite
as I fear & gently
fall on darkness

[Salem6]

SCIENCE OF NIGHT

Earth Air Fire Water
Mother Father Sons & Daughters
Airplane in the starry night
First fright
Forest follow free
I love thee
watch how I love thee



The Politics of ecstasy are real
Can't you feel them working
thru you
Turning night into day
Mixing sun w/ the sea.



Ledger domain
Wilderness pain
cruel swimming ambience
sweet swimming fish hook smile
I love you all the while
even w/ the little child
by the hand
& squeeze

You're learning
fast

Keep off the walk
listen to the children talk



Cobra sun / Fever smile
-No man kill me

"Who is this insane messenger?"

In times like these we need
men around us who can
see clearly & speak the truth.

Out of breath

Raving witness

-Who comes?
-Asia


CASSANDRA AT THE WELL

Help! Help! Save us!
Save us!
We're dying, fella, do something.
Get us out of this!
Save us!
I'm dying.
What have we done now!
We've done it, fella, we've committed the

Help!
This is the end of us, fella.
I love you fella.
I love you fells.
I love you cause you're you.

But you've got to help us.
What have we done, fella,
What have we done now?



Where are my dreamers
Today & tonight
Where are my dancers
leaping madly
whirling & screaming

Where are my women
quietly dreaming
caught like angels
on the dark porch
of a velvet ranch
dance dance dance dance
dance dance dance



It was the greatest night of my life
Although I still had not found a wife
I had my friends right there beside me

Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crown the young child's fragile eggshell mind

We scaled the wall
We tripped thru the graveyard
Ancient shapes were all around us
No music but the wet grass
felt fresh beside the fog

Two made love in a silent spot
one chased a rabbit into the dark
A girl got drunk & made the dead
And I gave empty sermons to my head

Cemetery cool & quiet
Hate to leave
your sacred lay
Dread the milky coming of the day



In this full-throated
Sex'd cry
we must try again
to speak of the ununited
miles of sleep around
us
Bumbling thru slumber
Blind numbers

In a tiled room
We sit & brood
Refuse to move
The guards refuse

and in the last place
and in the last sweet breath
& in smoke of sine-wise crab

and in stars of plenty, stars of greed
in the written book & majesties
in fulfillment on a cliff
on the inside of butter
on smooth backs & camels
in the open vessel
in the vein
in lives untold
who witnessed everything

For those people who died
for Nirvana
for the heavenly creed
for you, for me

These lines are written
to convey the message
To ignore the warning
To spree upward into
Tantalizing voices
To visit under-seas
Believe
Things more horrible
than war
Things out of the tales
Great beasts
Suffering extinction



All these monsters
Words forsaken, falling
by all Hell
loose walls, forgotten
tumbling down into
Night / Fast friends
fellows of the one true cross
earthly lovers crash
sweet sorrow blackness
on the spilled roadside
down, into fire
silence, cry



Argue w/ breath
nice
while I cry
Midnight!

it must come
like dream
sperm
uncalled
from the center
Borderlands
where liquor's
made
flow

it must come
unbidden
like the dawn
soft haste
No hurry
hairs curl

The phone
rings
We create the dawn



I fell on the earth
& raped the snow
I got married to life
& breathed w/ my marrow
I saw young dancers
I am meat & need fuel
Need the whorey glimmer of tears
in women, all ages
Laughter sandwich, fuel
for the lunch of meat minds
Now damn you, dance
Now dance
or die sleek & fat in your
reeking seats, still
buckled for flight



If the writer can write, &
the farmer can sow
Then all miracles concur,
appear, & start happening
If the children eat, if there
time of crying was Mid-
Night

The earth needs them
soft dogs on the snow
Nestled in Spring
When sun makes wine
& blood dances dangerous
in the veins or vine



To have just come wondering
if the world is real is
sick to see the shape she's
made of. What wandering
lunacy have we soft created?

Certain no one meant it
sure someone started
Where is he?
Where is he or it when
we need her?
Where are you?
In a flower?

To have just been born
for beauty & see sadness
What is this frail sickness?



Round-up, Roundolay, Rhonda,
Red Rich roll ruse rune
rake roan ran regard
if you know what I mean.
This is concrete imagery Vermont
The mouth leads this way
I that way
No good faster the hand too slow
To exist in time we die construct
prisms in a void
The truth faster These hang-ups
hold-ups shooting the republic
The president's dream behind
The throne
four-score fast fever the clinic
the wisdom syphilis doctor nurse
Indians americans Atlantis
Save us guide us in time of need
prayer to the mind cell body
prayer to center of man prayer
to evening's last whisper as the
hand silently glides into peaceful
thorns stones storms
I await your coming
w/ negligence Speak to me!
don't leave me here alone Torture
clinic chamber The stale bars his mother
who will help a match a cigarette
I'm going. God? What is your name

There must be some way to define
stop happening space shades
postures poses snapshots The
World behind the word & all
utterance Can't now
coming for us soon leave all over
The Republic is a big cross in a
big cross the nation The world on fire
Taxi from Africa The Grand Hotel
He was drunk a big party last
night there. Pastures fields
skunks snake invisible night birds
night hawks summer disasters
out of doors listen to the lions
roar in the empty fields
These are forgotten
lands Speak confidently of
the forest the end the joke
is on me most certainly
There must be someone today who
knows they do but they can't
Tell you like feeding a child
Wine like sniffing cortex
blue babies lists real estate
cleaning offices word-vomit
mind soup crawling lice book bonds.

Feeling streams lead to losers
back going back in all directions
sleeping these insane hours
I'll never wake up in a good mood
again. I'm sick of these
stinking boots. Stories of animals
in the woods not stupid but
like indians peeping out there
little eyes in the night I know
the forest & the evil moon tide.
"we sure look funny don't we fella?"
Plu-perfect. Forgotten. Songs
are good streams for a laugh.
The mind bird was a good fella
Who minded labyrinths & lived
in a well He knew Jesus
Knew Newman Knew me &
Morganfield I hope you can
understand these last parables
were hope (less) sure if you can
regard them as anything beyond
matter Surely not more than
Twice-fold folk follow & loose-
tree Now here's the run rune

Rib-bait squalor the women of the
quarter yawned & meandered
swimming dust tide for food
scraps to child feed No noon
for misses The Church called bells
inhabitants of the well come to hell
come to the bell funeral jive
Negroes plenty, fluttering their
dark smiles. Mindless lepers -
con-men The movie is popular
This season in all the hotels
rich tourists from the continent
shore up & hold a story seance
nightly The birds tell & they
Know all Telephones crooks
& castanets The lines are wired
Listen hear those voices & all
This long distance from the other half
I love to hear ya ramble boy
missionary stallion One day
The devil arrived only no one tell
or you'll ruin the outcome. He
walked to the pulpit & saved
The city while certainly scoring
Someone's female daughter.
When his cloak was hoisted
The snake was seen & we all
slipped back to lethargy.

Buildings glided no interruptions.

Constructions everywhere. Our
own house was solid astrology
Tiny flutes won their starlings
sunrise. And in the estuary
side-traps stopped our dinner
He came home w/ bags of meat
& sacks of flour & the bread
rose & the family flourished.


Those who Race toward Death
Those who wait
Those who worry



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.



Fence my sacred fire
I want. To be simple, black & clean
A dim nothingness
Please
The sea is green
Smoke
like the child's version of a
Christmas dream
w/ no
waking.



Why the desire for death.

A clean paper or pure
white wall. One false
line, a scratch, a mistake.
Unerasable. So obscure
by adding million other
tracings, blend it,
cover over.

But the original scratch
remains, written in
gold blood, shining.

Desire for a Perfect Life










As I look back
over my life
I am struck by post
cards
Ruined Snap shots

faded posters
Of a time, I can't recall

I am a Scot, or so
I'm told. Really
the heir of Mystery
Christians

Snake in the Glen

The child of a
Military family...

I rebelled against church
after phases of
fervor

I curried favor in school
& attack'd the teachers

I was given a
desk in the corner

I was a fool
&
The smartest kid
in class

Walks in D.C. in
Negro streets. The library
& book stores. Orange
brick in warm sun.
The books & poets magic

Then sex gives greater stimulation
Than you've ever known &
all peace & books lose their
charm & you are thrown
back on the eye of vision

History of Rock
coinciding w/ my
adolescence

Came to LA to
Film School

Venice Summer

Drug Visions

Roof top songs

early struggles &
humiliations

Thanks to the girls
who fed me.

Making Records

Elvis had sex-wise
mature voice at 19.

Mine still retains the
nasal whine of a
repressed adolescent
minor squeaks & furies
An interesting singer
at best - a scream
or a sick croon. Nothing
in-between.

[Salem6]

ROAD DAYS


fear of Plane death

And night was what Night
should be
A girl, a bottle, & blessed sleep

I have ploughed
My seed thru the heart
of the nation.
Injected a germ in the psychic blood vein.

Now I embrace the poetry
of business & become - for
a time - a "Prince of Industry"

A natural leader, a poet,
a Shaman, w/ the
soul of a clown.

What am I doing
in the Bull Ring
Arena
Every public figure
running for Leader

Spectators at the Tomb
-riot watchers

Fear of Eyes
Assassination

Being drunk is a good disguise.

I drink so I
can talk to assholes.
This includes me.

The horror of business

The Problem of Money
guilt
do I deserve it?

The Meeting
Rid of Managers & agents

After 4 yrs. I'm left w/ a
mind like a fuzzy hammer

regret for wasted nights
& wasted years
I pissed it all away
American Music

End w/ fond good-bye
& plans for future
-Not an actor
Writer-filmmaker

Which of my cellves
will be remember'd

Good-bye America
I loved you

Money from home
good luck
stay out of trouble

[Salem6]

Historians in Florida have discovered a 40-year-old clip of a clean-cut Jim Morrison appearing in a promotional film for his university.


How Jim Morrison appears in the 1964 film

The 1964 film shows the Doors frontman, who died aged 27 in 1971, playing the part of a young man who had been rejected by Florida State University.

Morrison is seen quizzing a college administrator on why he was refused.

"But what happened? How come my parents and the state and the university didn't look ahead?" he is seen asking.

'Softly-spoken'

"It's incredible. He's so clean cut and soft-spoken," said Florida state archivist Jody Norman.

"We know he was at Florida State University for a period of time and he did some acting when he was there," Norman added.

The Doors were one of the most influential bands of the 1960s, with hits including Light My Fire and Riders On The Storm.

Morrison was notorious for his wild lifestyle - and was accused of exposing himself and simulating a sex act at a Miami concert in 1969.

He was found dead in the bath of his Paris apartment after taking drugs and alcohol.

A coroner recorded a verdict of death by natural causes and his grave at the city's Pere Lachaise ceremony has become a shrine for fans.



news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/entertainment/music/4339935.stm

[Salem6]

Poetry By James Douglas Morrison



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






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







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







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.







AS I LOOK BACK


As I look back
over my life
I am struck by post
cards
Ruined Snap shots

faded posters
Of a time, I can't recall

I am a Scot, or so
I'm told. Really
the heir of Mystery
Christians

Snake in the Glen

The child of a
Military family...

I rebelled against church
after phases of
fervor

I curried favor in school
& attack'd the teachers

I was given a
desk in the corner

I was a fool
&
The smartest kid
in class

Walks in D.C. in
Negro streets. The library
& book stores. Orange
brick in warm sun.
The books & poets magic

Then sex gives greater stimulation
Than you've ever known &
all peace & books lose their
charm & you are thrown
back on the eye of vision

History of Rock
coinciding w/ my
adolescence

Came to LA to
Film School

Venice Summer

Drug Visions

Roof top songs

early struggles &
humiliations

Thanks to the girls
who fed me.

Making Records

Elvis had sex­wise
mature voice at 19.

Mine still retains the
nasal whine of a
repressed adolescent
minor squeaks & furies
An interesting singer
at best ­ a scream
or a sick croon. Nothing
in­between.


ROAD DAYS


fear of Plane death

And night was what Night
should be
A girl, a bottle, & blessed sleep

I have ploughed
My seed thru the heart
of the nation.
Injected a germ in the psychic blood vein.

Now I embrace the poetry
of business & become ­ for
a time ­ a "Prince of Industry"

A natural leader, a poet,
a Shaman, w/ the
soul of a clown.

What am I doing
in the Bull Ring
Arena
Every public figure
running for Leader

Spectators at the Tomb
­riot watchers

Fear of Eyes
Assassination

Being drunk is a good disguise.

I drink so I
can talk to assholes.
This includes me.

The horror of business

The Problem of Money
guilt
do I deserve it?

The Meeting
Rid of Managers & agents

After 4 yrs. I'm left w/ a
mind like a fuzzy hammer

regret for wasted nights
& wasted years
I pissed it all away
American Music

End w/ fond good­bye
& plans for future
­Not an actor
Writer­filmmaker

Which of my cellves
will be remember'd

Good­bye America
I loved you

Money from home
good luck
stay out of trouble

[Salem6]

James D. Morrison
Born: December 8, 1943
Died: July 3, 1971

"I hope you went out
Smiling
Like a child
Into the cool remnant
of a dream"
--Jim Morrison



After spending his formative years as a Navy brat, emerging with all the usual emotional problems appertaining thereto, he attended St. Petersburg Junior College and Florida State University, finishing his academic career at UCLA in 1965, receiving a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree with a major in film. In the summer of that year, he began the only gainful employment he was ever to have -- a singing job with a band called The Doors. He remained with them until March 1971, when he went to Paris, intending to return in the fall to record a solo album.

He was the author, in his own lifetime, of The Lords, The New Creatures and An American Prayer; after his death, two more volumes of poetry were "edited" and published by the parents of Pamela Courson, who inherited his estate when their daughter, to whom he had left everything in an unrevised 1968 will, died intestate.



The DOORS





The band consisted of....
Jim Morrison, vocals
John Densmore, drums
Robby Krieger, guitar,
Ray Menzarek, Keyboards







You could say it's an accident that I was ideally suited for the work I am doing. It's the feeling of a bowstring being pulled back for 22 years and suddenly being let go. I am primarily an American, second, a Californian, third, a Los Angeles resident. I've always been attracted to ideas that were about revolt against authority. I like ideas about the breaking away or overthrowing of established order. I am interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos—especially activity that seems to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road toward freedom—external revolt is a way to bring about internal freedom. Rather than starting inside, I start outside—reach the mental through the physical. I am a Sagittarian—if astrology has anything to do with it—the Centaur—the Archer—the Hunt—But the main thing is that we are The Doors.

We are from the West. The whole thing is like an invitation to the West.

The sunset—This is the end
The night—The sea

The world we suggest is of a new wild west. A sensuous evil world. Strange and haunting, the path of the sun, you know? Toward the end. At least for our first album. We're all centered around the end of the zodiac. The Pacific—violence and peace—the way between young and the old.

-Taken from the original Elektra Records biography, 1967-

Jim Morrison Stats:

FULL REAL NAME:
James Douglas Morrison
BIRTH DATE & PLACE:
December 8, 1943, Melbourne, Florida, USA

PERSONAL DATA (Height, weight, and coloring):
5'11", 145lbs., brown hair, blue-gray eyes


FAMILY INFO:
Dead (so he said...)
HOME INFO (Where located and description):
Laurel Canyon, L.A. - nice at night
SCHOOLS ATTENDED:
St. Petersburg Junior College, Florida State Univ., UCLA

MARRIAGE INFO:
Single
INSTRUMENTS PLAYED/PART SUNG:
Lead voice
FAVORITE SINGING GROUPS:
Beach Boys, Kinks, Love

INDIVIDUAL SINGERS:
Sinatra, Presley
ACTOR/ACTRESS:
Jack Palance, Sarah Miles
TV SHOWS:
News

COLORS:
Turquoise
FOODS:
Meat
HOBBIES:
Horse races

SPORTS:
Swimming
WHAT LOOKED FOR IN A GIRL:
Hair, eyes, voice, walk
WHAT DO YOU LIKE TO DO ON A DATE?:
Talk






JIM'S POETRY JIM'S GRAVE

THE DOORS-THE FILM, BY OLIVER STONE

THE DOORS TODAY-2003

GALLERY--PICS



The scoop on Jim Morrison and Patricia kennealy

Jim Morrison met Patricia Kennealy in January 1969, at the Plaza Hotel in New York City. A tall, attractive redhead, Patricia was then the editor of Jazz & Pop, an influential rock trade magazine. In June 1970, Jim and Patricia were married in a Celtic Pagan handfasting ceremony (this info is straight from Patricia herself, this event has been disputed by others who knew Jim).



Patricia has since written a few books, one of which is about her and Jim:

Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison is the story of what led to the handfasting, and also of what came after the death of the author's mate. It is also a portrait of an era. Kennealy attended Woodstock; she knew personally many of the most famous rockers of the time. Her favorite bands were Jefferson Airplane and The Doors and she describes several concerts by The Doors in great detail. She also recounts time spent interviewing members of Jefferson Airplane. She did not really care for the atmosphere of Woodstock and she does not use nostalgic language to describe the experience. Despite its title, Kennealy's book does not really focus on Jim Morrison, though she describes in detail each of her meetings with him. It is the story of those few years in her own life and how Morrison changed that life forever. She is careful to point out that she had a life of her own as a rock critic before she met him which continued after his death. She went from being a critic and editor to writing ad copy; then began writing her Keltiad novels. Kennealy also speaks about Morrison's long-time girlfriend Pamela Courson, who often used Morrison's name and publicly proclaimed herself to be his wife. They were never wed, though; both Morrison and Courson admitted as much to Kennealy, despite claims later put forward by Courson's family. (Kennealy hastens to point out that her own "marriage" to Morrison was never legal, nor did she ever claim so.)

Now,on to Pamela Courson.....



JIM MORRISON AND PAMELA COURSON

Jim and Pam were together through thick and thin. They always ended up back together in the end.
Pam was there the day Jim died. Unfortunately, she died there shortly after....in 1974.





A self-proclaimed creation of Jim Morrison, Courson was a complex and compelling woman who lived several roles in her relationship with the Doors lead singer: groupie, muse, and wife, to name a few. Pam and Jim's relationship was relatively private and long term for a rock couple then and maybe for any couple anymore. The two were essentially beautiful booze- and drug-addled twentysomethings with money to burn, and their fatal flaw was not so much being at odds with the material world as it was never having been forced to confront it without help from agents, roadies, groupies, or sycophants.

The Doors' keyboardist and co- founder (with Jim), Ray Manzarek, claims that Pamela and Jim will "go down in history as great lovers,'' and that their tale recalls Romeo and Juliet, Heloise and Abelard. Perhaps one could argue that a more fitting, albeit less flattering, comparison might be Sid (Vicious) and Nancy (Spungeon).

You may want to check out a book written about this couple:

Angels Dance and Angels Die : The Tragic Romance of Pamela and Jim Morrison

by Patricia Butler



MORE ABOUT JIM MORRISON:

American rock singer and rock lyric who achieved after his death a cult position among fans. Morrison wished to be accepted as a serious artist, and he published such collections of poetry as An American Prayer (1970) and The Lords and The New Creatures (1971). The song lyrics Morrison wrote for The Doors much reflected the tensions of the time - drug culture, the antiwar movement, avant-garde art. With his early death Morrison has been seen as a voluntary victim of the destructive forces in pop culture. However, he was not ignorant about the consequences of fame and his position as an idol. Morrison once confessed that "We're more interested in the dark side of life, the evil thing, the night time."

Morrison was early interested in literature, he excelled at school and he had an IQ of 149. Morrison studied theatre arts at the University of California. Morrison found from music a channel to project his poetry, and add to it a theatrical aspect. Thus improvising and unpredictable ness was a part of the band's show on stage.

Morrison's drinking, exhibitionistic performances, and drug-taking badly affected his singing and input at recordings. "Let's just say I was testing the bounds of reality. I was curious to see what would happen. That's all it was: just curiosity." (Morrison in Los Angeles, 1969) In Miami in 1969 the audience thought it saw Jim's "snake" - he was charged with exposing himself on stage, in full view of 10.000 people. The police did not arrest him on the spot, for fear that it would cause a riot. Next year Morrison was sentenced 8 months' hard labor and a $500 fine for 'profanity' and 'indecent exposure', but he remained free while the sentence was appealed against. After Miami everything changed and Morrison put his leather pants in closet. "See me change," he sang. He grew a beard, started to take distance to his fans, and devote more time with projects outside the band. On his 27th birthday, Morrison made the recordings at Elektra's LA studio of his poetry, which later formed the basis of AN AMERICAN PRAYER. The Doors played their last concert with Morrison in New Orleans. It was a disaster - Morrison smashed the microphone into the stage, threw the stand into the crowd and slumped down.

After finishing sessions for a new album, L.A. WOMAN, Morrison escaped to Paris, where he hoped to follow literary career. He never came back from Paris. His first book, THE LORDS AND THE NEW CREATURES, was published by Simon and Schuster in 1971. It went into paperback after selling 15.000 in hardback. An earlier book, AN AMERICAN PRAYER, was privately printed in 1970, but not made widely available until 1978. Morrison was buried at Pére Lachaise cemetary in Paris, which houses remains of many famous artists, statesmen and legendaries from Edith Piaf to Oscar Wilde. In 1990 his graffitti-covered headstone was stolen. In 1979 Francis Ford Coppola used The Doors' performance of 'The End' in his Vietnam War film, Apocalypse Now, and in 1991 director Oliver Stone made the film biography The Doors, starring Val Kilmer. WILDERNESS: THE LOST WRITINGS OF JIM MORRISON was published in 1989.



Poems and other fiction and non-fiction by Jim Morrison:

An American Prayer, 1970 (poems)

The Lords and the New Creatures, 1971 (poems)

Jim Morrison collaborated on a screenplay with poet Michael McClure and directed the film A Feast of Friends. He had made films to accompany "Break on Through" and the 1968 single "The Unknown Soldier".

Wilderness: The Lost Writings of Jim Morrison, 1989

The American Night: The Writings of Jim Morrison, vol.1, 1990

The American Night: The Writings of Jim Morrison, vol. 2, 1991

Morrison is credited as the writer of The Story of the Doors in Words and Pictures


www.geocities.com/seaswept1/index2.html

[Salem6]

James Douglas Morrison - A Priest of the Invisible

Thomas R. Koll



Contents
1 PREFACE
2 HIS LIFE
2.1 Growing Up
2.2 Music
2.3 Theater & Film
2.4 Women
2.4.1 Pamela Susan Courson
2.4.2 Patricia Kennealy
2.5 Miami
2.6 Paris
3 HIS WORK
3.1 L.A. and L'America
3.2 Shamanism
3.3 Death
3.3.1 The Hitchhiker
3.3.2 Indian Highway
3.3.3 The End
4 APPENDIX
4.1 Short Biographies
4.1.1 James Douglas Morrison
4.1.2 Pamela Susan
4.1.3 Patricia Kennealy
4.1.4 Raymond Daniel Manzarek
4.1.5 Robert Alan Krieger
4.1.6 John Paul Densmore
4.1.7 Michael McClure
4.2 Bibliography/Sources
4.3 Discography
Index


Chapter 1
PREFACE

This is the end, beautiful friend,
This is the end, my only friend,

The end of our elaborate plans,

The end of everything that stands,

The end.

...

The end of laughter and soft lies,

The end of nights we tried to die.

This is the end. 1

When I think of my most favorite song, I remember these powerful lines, sung by the young Jim Morrison, a powerful man looking like Alexander the Great with his long hair. When he stood on stage, one foot at the micro-phone's base the other aside, right hand at the micro-phone's head, the left hand on the stand or at the mic, his eyes closed most of the time and his voice telling us about his visions, dreams and thoughts.
As Ray Manzarek once put it, Jim was the reborn Greek god Dionysus, a modern-day shaman full of feelings, spontaneity, dance and music.2 With their music and rhythms the band helped Jim to get on his trip, to open himself.


Chapter 2
HIS LIFE

2.1 Growing Up

They claim everybody was born, but I don't recall.
Maybe I was having one of my blackouts.3 - James Douglas Morrison

James Douglas Morrison was born on December 8th 1943 in Melbourne, FL as the eldest of three children. His sister Anne and brother Andy were born in 1946 and 1949.
His mother Clara (n�e Clarke) rose the three children nearly alone while Jim's father Steve was in the US Navy and busy with his career4 and the young family had to move a lot5. This mobility had a major impact for his later poetry. There's The Hitchhiker (see ), a traveler or the various poems about crossroads and highways and his movie HWY (see ) are showing this mobility. Over the years the Morrisons lived in Clearwater FL, twice in Albuquerque NM and Washington DC, Claremont CA (near Los Angeles), Alameda CA6, Alexandria VA. In Alexandria Jim graduated high-school, with a score 30% above the national average in verbals, he made a 88.32 average in grades with only basic effort7.

But more interesting, in his high school years he read Nietzsche , Plutarch 8, Rimbaud 9, Kerouac 10, Ginsberg and McClure 11.

After finishing high-school and a year at the St. Petersburg Junior College, he enrolled at the Florida State University. In his second trimester he took two influential courses, one on the philosophies of protest, which included Montaigne, Rousseau, Hume, Sartre and of course Nietzsche, the other course was on collective behavior which later showed useful when he provoked riots at Doors concerts.

In 1964 Jim finally enrolled at the University of California Los Angeles (UCLA). The university just entered it's >>golden age<< with directors like Stanley Kramer12, Jean Renoir13 and Josef von Sternberg14 and students like the young Francis Ford-Coppola15. Jim was interested in film and he somehow managed to graduate, but he did only one film which he got a >>complimentary D<< for,16 a montage of abstract and loosely connected scenes.

During his days at the UCLA Jim wrote most of the material for his four years later published The Lords: Notes on Vision, hundreds of notes and definitions mirroring the times he lived in.

After leaving UCLA (he was still enrolled, but never attended his courses) in June he moved to Venice Beach, LA's upcoming hippy-community full of long-hairs, runaways and artists. For a while he lived on the in a warehouse rooftop and began to write songs.

In August 1965 he saw Ray Manzarek who he knew from the UCLA at the beach, telling him that he had some songs and after hearing them Ray said >>Those are the greatest fuckin' song lyrics I've ever heard. Let's start a rock 'n' roll band and make a million dollars.<<


2.2 Music
At the beginning Jim rehearsed with Rick and the Ravens 17, which consisted of the three Manzarek brothers and three other musicians. Short after only Jim, Ray and his brothers were left and together with John Densmore, who was in Ray's meditation class, they did a 6-song demo tape. They took the songs to every record company they knew but were always rejected.

But in October Jim and Ray saw a picture of Billy James, Columbia Records talent manager for California, and decided that he was hip enough to understand their music.18 Two days later they virtually had a contract with Columbia but Ray's brother decided to leave and Robby Krieger, also in Ray's meditation class joined. In the next weeks they rehearsed five days a week, working for a occasional gig on weekends.

Jim was still very shy at that time, and Ray sung most of the songs.

Because nothing happened with Columbia, Billy James got no attention of the producers, the band auditioned for several clubs and finally came to the London Fog were they played for lousy $5 each on week-nights and $10 each at Fridays and Saturdays.

By February 1966 they had about twenty-five own songs in their repertoire. As the weeks passed, Jim became more self-confident and the band grew closer.

In May the owner of the London Fog fired the band, but in their last night Ronnie Haran , the talent booker from the legendary Whiskey a Go Go asked them to play the next Monday night, for union scale, $499.50 for the band.

The Doors played at the Whiskey two months, from mid-May on and were fired at least once a week by it's owner Elmer Valentine. Jim went really crazy at that time, every day on acid and sometimes making everyone, including the go-go dancers mesmerizing. The Doors were finally fired when Jim sung >>Mother... I want to FFFUUUCKKK YOOOO!<< in The End 19, no one of the band knew about this lines and owner fired the >>foul-mouthed son of a bitch<<.

When Jac Holzman , founder and president of Electra Music 20 he said >>This group doesn't have it<<21. The second time he saw them he liked Ray's organ play and after the fourth visit in the Whiskey he gave them a contract. Three years or six albums (what ever takes longer), $2,500 as an advance against future royalties of 5% or the record's wholesale price. Paul Rothchild was their producer and they've learned a lot from him during the first years, enough to do L.A. Woman nearly on their own.

Because describing the following five years I'll only mention the most important moments, like the concert at the Hollywood Bowl July 5th 1968, which was filmed and can be purchased on video. Or in the same year the European tour where the kids took music seriously and discussed it22 and didn't know the super-star Jim Morrison. And of course there was the concert in Miami (see ).


2.3 Theater & Film
Jim had a strong interest in theater and film. Still at the FSU he played in The Dumbwaiter , a two-person play and as Keith Carlson , the other actor, said Jim >>tended to play the role very differently all the time.<<23 For his class in theater history he wrote facetious interpretation of plays and suggested obscene sets.

In 1968 Jim made Feast of Friends , a documentary film together with his friends Paul Ferrara and Frank Lisciandro . For the concert at the Hollywood Bowl there were another three cameras.

HWY was a experimental film Jim made in 1969, this time Babe Hill joined the trio. HWY is Jim's abbreviation for highway but the original title was The Hitchhiker but when the filming begun in Palm Springs in March 1969 the title had been changed.24 The story is mostly take from The Hitchhiker (see ) but it wasn't accepted by the audience when it was shown to 3,000 people in Vancouver March 27th 197025 most of the audience left early.


2.4 Women

2.4.1 Pamela Susan Courson
There are different version on how both met, sure is that it was in a Hollywood nightclub, maybe even the London Fog where The Doors started their career. Jim taught her about philosophy and about life. She called herself >>Jim's creation<<.26

Although they fought a lot and broke up often, their relationship lasted all the years until Jim's death. They never married27 but Pamela often used Jim's name and he called her his >>cosmic mate<<. She was the only one he really took serious and made plans with.

Jim wrote several songs for her, like Love Street and she wanted him to leave The Doors to concentrate on his poetry.

Pamela was a real, wild child of the 60's and so she died in 1974, at the same age like Jim, in her Hollywood apartment of a heroin overdose.


2.4.2 Patricia Kennealy
Patricia met Jim early 1969 when interviewing him for a rock magazine and fell in love for him.28 Patricia was intelligent, had a talent for story-telling, a lashing Irish tongue like Jim himself and is member of a Celtic religion.

Both didn't meet more often than seven or eight times until the >>wedding <<, he didn't behave different towards than he would towards other women. He drank and passed out with her, tested her with his usual non sequiturs.

Jim and Patricia >>married<< June 24th 1970 in a Wicca ceremony. He had arrived in in New York two days earlier, and in the first night his temperature rise to 100� F and to 105�F the next day but at afternoon the fever broke and Jim was up again at evening. Nonetheless they got married by a high priestess of a coven and Jim was totally caught up in the ritual. And after they signed the wedding documents signatures in blood, Jim simply fainted. There are several rumors around why he fainted. In No One Gets Out Alive there's no description at all, biographer Dylan Jones wrote that >>he came into the presence of the Goddess, one of the ancient forces of nature, and one of the deities to whom he prayed...<<.29 My personal opinion is that he was weak from the fever the day before and maybe ritual fumes might have result in his reaction.

Another point of discussion is whether this so called wedding was legal or not. Patricia won a legal fight for using the name Morrison in the 90's but that doesn't clear everything. She also calls herself >>Lizard Queen <<30 but even both were alike in mind they didn't share a lot of time and she wasn't more than one of many for him.

In August, during the Miami trail Jim learned that Patricia was pregnant but he made her aborting it.


2.5 Miami

I am interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos-especially activity that seems to have no meaning. - James Douglas Morrison
At the end of February 1969 the Living Theater 31 came to the LA and Jim attended all three performances called Paradise Now at the University of Southern California. The controversial theater group had the same ideas like Jim, they nearly-exposed them-self at stage and provoked the audience.
On March 1st the Miami concert was scheduled and Jim missed his direct flight from LA to Miami, so he had to take a LA - New Orleans - Miami flight and of course he got really drunk while waiting for the connection flight32. He arrives at the crowded (there were 13,000 instead of 7,000 fans) and overheated Dinner Key Auditorium just minutes before the beginning. Jim began the show with a little rap:33


YEEEEEAAH!
Now listen here, I ain't talking 'bout no revolution and I'm not talkin' about no demonstrations.

He varied it a later and repeated it like a mantra again and again.
What followed was the attempt of playing Back Door Man and Five To One , both interrupted by Jim's rap. When it came to Touch Me Jim first threw his shirt into the auditorium and then planned to shed his leather pants , he rarely wrote and underwear, but at this concert he did and so he knew what he was doing and wanted to stay within the legal limits. But Vince Treanor 34 stopped him and the arrival of Paradise would be delayed.35

For more than an hour Jim invited to audience and by the end of the show a hundred of kids were dancing with him on stage until one of the security guards decided that it became to dangerous and shoved Jim off the stage.

After the show the cops and the crew were laughing, talking about the good time they had.

Jim vacationed three days in Jamaica and when he came back heat had risen for the band. Jim was charged with one felony - lewd and lascivious behavior - and three misdemeanors - indecent exposures, open profanity and drunkenness . He faced a total of 7 years and 150 days prison.

About twenty of the following concerts, mostly at the east cost, were canceled, several radio stations took their songs from the play lists and the whole media turned against them. At the end of March the FBI charged Jim with unlawful flight for his vacation in Jamaica, an absurd charge because Jim had left for Jamaica three days before any warrant was issued.

In August the trial begun and Jim's layer, Max Fink expected it to last six to ten weeks, because he wanted to call up a hundred of witnesses and everyone expected the trial to become kind of Them vs. Us . But after the first hearings judge Goodman ruled that no evidence in connection to >>community standards<< would be allowed and so he destroyed Jim's whole defense.

Finally the trial came to an end in mid September and Jim was found guilty of profanity and exposure, both misdemeanor. Ironically he was found innocent of drunkenness although he accidently confessed to while in stand.36

On October 30th 1969 Jim faced the judge again and the sentence was the maximum, 8 months of hard labor, after that two years and four months of probationary time and $500. He remained free on a $50,000 bail, pending an appeal which never took place.


2.6 Paris

All games contain the idea of death37 - James Douglas Morrison
Unlike the deaths of Jimmy Hendrix38 or Janis Joplin39 , Morrison's death had something mysterious. When Janis had passed Jim was telling friends that they were drinking with the third.
Jim sent Pamela to Paris in mid-January to look for an apartment. Jim followed her in mid-March. They spent romantic months in Paris with trips to south France, Madrid and northern Africa.

No one of his friends or the band doubted that he wouldn't return, John Densmore said that he was sure that Jim wanted to come back. The Doors' last album L.A. Woman was not yet finished but Jim wasn't needed for the mixing.

Only Pamela, a few police men and a doctor have seen the body of Jim Morrison. The official reason of death is that short after midnight July 3rd Jim regurgitated some blood but he claimed to be okay. Pamela was concerned but fell asleep again. At five in the morning she woke and found Jim in the bath tub, first thinking that he was playing one of his macabre games but then called a resuscitation unit, followed by a doctor and the police. The official reason was a heart failure . The burial was only attended by a few friends. Jim's death was told to the media six days after.

Other voices blame heroin as the reason, Jim had been in the Parisian Rock'n'Roll Circus , then the center of the local heroin underground. Another theory is that he's still alive and living quite as a poet.

For me it doesn't matter how he died, or if he's living in exile, he's not among us anymore and went the way he wanted to go.

His grave at P�re Lachaise cemetery in Paris is still a important place for many of his fans.

[Salem6]

Chapter 3
HIS WORK
Although he left sixteen hundred pages of poems, lyrics, stories and frames for screen plays, there are only a handful of themes which appear over and over again.


3.1 L.A. and L'America
For Jim Los Angeles was the town he loved and with L.A. Woman 40 he wrote a lyrical monument for his >>city of night<< with it's freeways, cops in cars and top-less bars, but at the same moment >>motel money murder madness<<, mirroring chaos and disorder, the Manson murders and the troubled time LA was in. Or as he wrote in his Jamaica Journal41 :


America, I'm hook'd to your cold white neon bosom, & suck
Snake-like thru the dawn, I am drawn back home

Your son in exile in the land of awakening.

Yes, Jim loved the West and in The End42 he sings >>the West is the best<< and also >>Ride the King's highway ... Ride the highway west baby<<, another appearance of his hitchhiking.
And when Brian Jones43 was found drowned in his swimming pool, Jim wrote a Ode to LA describing himself as >>a resident of a city<< who was just picked up to play the Prince of Denmark (Hamlet).

But at the same time he also saw the bad side of L'America, in L'America (Wilderness p. 45) he wrote:


How it has changed you
How slowly enstranged you

Solely arranged you

Beg you for mercy

and obviously criticizes the government and its politics.

3.2 Shamanism
Jim was a shaman, the band gave him the rhythm and the crowd was the tribe. It began with the Indian Highway (See ) and ended with Jim's death.

Jim called himself >>a guide to the Labyrinth<< in a few poems44 and what else if not a guide is a shaman? He also wrote about the power a shaman has:


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 mind of others

I can / I am

He saw the Doors concert as a part of this Shamanism, >>When we perform, we're participating in the creation of a world, and we celebrate that with the crowd.<<45
Jim wrote even a song about it, the Shaman's Blues 46:


There will never be another one like you.
There will never be another one

who can do the things you do.

Showing that he saw himself and his performances on stage as something special and unique.

3.3 Death

3.3.1 The Hitchhiker

hitchhiker n.
a person who travels by getting free rides from passing vehicles; one who hitchhikes.47
Jim had a very different view of what a hitchhiker is. In his script The Hitchhiker (An American Pastoral)48 he combines dialogues and dramatic action49 and tells the story of the hitchhiker and outlaw Billy .
Jim was used to hitchhike in his youth, for example he regularly traveled the 200 miles from St. Petersburg to Clearwater to visit a girl friend, or the trip with a friend to LA after the second trimester in St. Petersburg has ended.50

Both, Jim and Billy seem to have a lot in common, but first I'll summarize The Hitchhiker (An American Pastoral).51

It starts with a dialog about buying a girl in Mexico brining her up and marrying her. That's what Billy does, but in Mexico he gets drunk and has not enough money for the whore he wants. So he has to hike back to LA.

The first driver who takes Billy with him tries to touch Billy while he's asleep, >>... the man's right hand moving snake-like52 towards the hiker's left leg. He hesitates and then touches it above the knee Immediately, a .38 appears from Billy's jacket and points at the driver<<. Billy makes him to pull over and shoots him.

There are two more >>incidents<< like this and the next scene is an interview with Billy 's father who describes Billy as a loner since his mother has died and now wants him to turn himself in. Then there are two retrospects, one showing the father learning young Billy how to handle a weapon. The second one shows Billy in his high school year at a rocky ocean-view, dancing around, acting like crazy and howling like an Indian and then shooting the girl he brought with him.

The next scene shows the hitchhiker wandering around in downtown LA where the cops get him. And in the last scenes Billy leaves the vast town, enters a automobile graveyard at night in the desert where he meets three persons (Doc, Blue Lady and Clown Boy) the, as Morrison writes, >>hoboes in Eternity<< who leave before sunrise and the hitchhiker is again, alone.

First of all the beginning of this film script, going down to Mexico and bringing a girl back, is also used in Forest strong sandals (Wilderness p. 48ff.). It also appears in the Paris Journal (The American Night p. 199) where the poet is talking with Billy and looking back at the good old times.53

The motive of the hitchhiker appears in several poems, but in the film script his role described best. In The Crossroads (Wilderness p. 46) the hitchhiker talks with ghosts54 and we can read that he has >>... a soul already ruined<<.
The death of Billy's mother reminds me first of the Celebration of the Lizard


The body of his mother / Rotting in the summer ground
He fled the town.


He went down south / Left the chaos and disorder

Back there / Over his shoulder.

But it also reminds me of the famous song The End where >>all the children are insane<<. The killer first kills his father and then fucks his mother,55 of course we must state that Billy did the same.
And the last motive is the >>automobile graveyard<< or >>car cemetery<< as in Wilderness p. 144, another symbol for death.


3.3.2 Indian Highway
When Jim was a boy of seven or eight he and his family drove back home to Albuerque at dawn.56 They came to a accident where a truck with Indians had crashed, they were scattered all over the highway and bleeding. Jim forced his father to stop and help them, and while his father and grandfather went to check it out, the soul of one or more dead Indians landed in Jim's soul.

Expect the point with the wandering soul the story can be taken true and the accident was the most important moment in life of Jim. In Peace Frog57 he sung:


Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding,
Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile egg-shell mind.

and on the An American Prayer LP he asks:

Indian, Indian what did you die for?
Indian says, nothing at all.


3.3.3 The End
There is no doubt that Jim saw his early death coming, he might even have wished for his restless soul. For example in Hurricane & Eclipse58 he wrote: >>I wish clean death would come to me.<< and in the next poem If only I he ends with >>I would die / Gladly die<< if he could feel his childhood again.

But in Why the desire for death59 he compares life to a clean paper and shows both a wish for death and a desire for perfect life.


Chapter 4
APPENDIX

4.1 Short Biographies

4.1.1 James Douglas Morrison
Born December 8th 1943 in Melbourne, FL ; Died July 3rd 1971 in Paris, France . Rock star, sex-symbol, poet, shaman, reborn god, writer, film-maker.


4.1.2 Pamela Susan
Born December 22nd 1946 in Weed, CA; Died April 25th in Hollywood, CA. Jim's >>cosmic mate<< and >>wild child<<


4.1.3 Patricia Kennealy
Born March 4th 1946 in New York City; grew up in a Irish Catholic family; journalist, practicing Celtic witch; editor-in-chief for the Jazz & Pop magazine; started to write Keltiad novels in the 80s


4.1.4 Raymond Daniel Manzarek
Born February 12th 1939 in Chicago, IL; was the The Doors' keyboard player; attended UCLA Film School; started with the piano at the age of nine and was influenced by jazz, blues and rock. After the Doors he and Michael McClure worked together60


4.1.5 Robert Alan Krieger
Born January 8th 1946 in Los Angeles, CA; started and gave up both trumpet and piano, started playing flamenco guitar with 17 but switched to blues to rock'n'roll a few months later. Went back to flamenco after the Doors broke up.


4.1.6 John Paul Densmore
Born December 1st 1944 in Santa Monica, CA; started with piano, in junior high with drums, played symphonic music in high-school then jazz and rock'n'roll. In the 80s he left the world of rock and toured with Bess Snyder and Co. for two years. Then he played in some theater plays and movies (including The Doors (1991)) and wrote his biography Riders on the Storm.


4.1.7 Michael McClure
Born September 18th


4.2 Bibliography/Sources

No One Here Gets Out Alive
Danny Sugarman and Jerry Hopkins; 1981 by Warner Books; ISBN 0-446-34268-8
Seven years of research make this biography one of the best
The Lords & The New Creatures
James Douglas Morrison; 1971 by Simon&Schuster; ISBN 0-671-21044-0
Both published privately by Jim with 100 copies each
Wilderness
James Douglas Morrison; 1989 by Vintage Books; ISBN 0-679-72622-5
A collection of Jim's work including poems, bits of play & dialog, epigrams and an self-interview
An American Night
James Douglas Morrison; 1991 by Vintage Books; ISBN 0-679-73462-7
Another collection, this time including The Hitchhiker61, several Doors lyrics and his last journal entries in Paris
The Doors - In Their Own Words
Andrew Doe and John Tobler; 1988 by Omnibus Press; ISBN 0-7119-1472-9
Many quotations towards different topics
The Doors - Lyrics 1965-1971
1995 by Omnibus Press; ISBN 0-7119-2894-0
Lyrics from the six studio-LPs

4.3 Discography
My personal favorites songs are written bold, even if they aren't written by Jim. Live Albums and Compilations are not mentioned.


The Doors
January 1967: Break on Through - Soul Kitchen - The crystal Ship - Twentieth Century Fox - Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar) - Light My Fire - Back Door Man - I Looked At You - End Of The Night - Take It As It Comes - The End
Strange Days
October 1967: Strange Days - You're Lost Little Girl - Love Me Two Times - Unhappy Girl - Horse Latitudes - Moonlight Drive - People are Strange - My Eyes Have Seen You - I Can't See Your Face In My Mind - When The Music's Over
Waiting for the Sun
July 1968: Hello, I Love You - Love Street - Not To Touch The Earth - Summer's Almost Gone - Wintertime Love - The Unknown Soldier - Spanish Caravan - My Wild Love - We Could Be So Good Together - Yes, The River Knows - Five To One
The Soft Parade
July 1969: Tell All The People - Touch Me - Shaman's Blues - Do It - Easy Ride - Wild Child - Runnin' Blue - Wishful Sinful - The Soft Parade
Morrison Hotel
February 1970: Roadhouse Blues - Waiting For The Sun - You Make Me Real - Peace Frog - Blue Sunday - Ship Of Fools - Land Ho! - The Spy - Queen Of The Highway - Indian Summer - Maggie McGill
L.A. Woman
April 1970: The Changeling - Love Her Madly - Been Down So Long - Cars Hiss By My Window - L.A. Woman - L'America - Hyacinth House - Crawling King Snake - The Wasp (Texas Radio and the Big Beat) - Riders On The Storm
An American Prayer
November 1978 - mostly spoken lyric but also music by The Doors

Awake - Ghost Song - Dawn's Highway - Newborn Awakening

To Come of Age - Black Polished Chrome/Latino Chrome - Angels And Sailors - Stoned Immaculate

World On Fire - American Night - Roadhouse Blues - Lament (for the Death of My Cock) - The Hitchhiker

An American Prayer
Index (showing section)
An American Prayer (album), 3-3, 4-3
automobile graveyard, 3-3


Back Door Man (song), 2-5
Billy, 3-3


car cementry, 3-3
Carlson, Keith, 2-3
Celebration of the Lizard (poem), 3-3
Clarke, Clara, 2-1
Clearwater, 3-3
Columbia Records, 2-2
Courson, Pamela Susan, 2-4
Curson, Pamela Susan, 4-1


Densmore, John, 2-6, 4-1
Dinner Key Auditorium, 2-5
drunkenness, 2-5


Electra Music, 2-2
Europe (tour), 2-2 FBI, 2-5
Feast of Friends (film), 2-3
Ferrara, Paul, 2-3
Film, 2-3
filmfestival, 2-3
Five To One (song), 2-5
Florida State University (FSU), 2-3
Forest strong sandals (poem), 3-3


Ginsberg, Allen, 2-1


Haran, Ronnie, 2-2
heart failure, 2-6
Hendrix, Jimmy, 2-6
Hill, Babe, 2-3
Hitchhiker, 2-1, 2-3, 3-3
hitchhiking, 3-3
Hollywood Bowl (concert), 2-2, 2-3
Holzman, Jac, 2-2
HWY, 2-3


Indian Highway, 3-3
Jamaica, 2-5
Jamaica Journal, 3-1
Jones, Brian, 3-1
Jones, Dylan, 2-4
Joplin, Janis, 2-6


Kennealy, Patricia, 2-4
Kerouac, Jack, 2-1, 3-3
Krieger, Robby, 4-1


L.A. Woman (album), 2-2, 2-6, 4-3
L.A. Woman (song), 3-1
LAmerica, 3-1
leather pants, 2-5
lewd and lascivious behavior, 2-5
Liscardo, Frank, 2-3
Living Theater, 2-5
Lizard Queen, 2-4
London Fog (club), 2-2
Los Angeles, 3-1, 3-3
Love Street (song), 2-4 Manson, Charles, 3-1
Manzarek, Ray, 4-1
McClure, Michael, 2-1
Melbourne, FL, 2-1, 4-1
Miami, 2-5
Miami (concert), 2-5
mobility, 2-1
Morrison Hotel (album), 4-3
Morrison, Clara, 2-1
Morrison, James Douglas (Jim), 4-1
Morrison, Steve, 2-1


New York, 2-4
Nietzsche, 2-1


Ode to LA (poem), 3-1


Pamela, 2-4, 2-6
Paradise Now, 2-5
Paris, 2-6, 4-1
Paris Journal, 3-3
Patricia, 2-4
Peace Frog (song), 3-3
Plutarch, 2-1
P�re Lachaise, 2-6
Rick and the Ravens (band), 2-2
Rimbaud, 2-1
Rock'n'Roll Circus (club), 2-6
Rothchild, Paul, 2-2


Shaman's Blues (song), 3-2
Shamanism, 3-2
snake, 3-3
St. Petersburg, 3-3
Strange Days (album), 4-3


The Crossroads (poem), 3-3
The Doors (album), 4-3
The Dumbwaiter (play), 2-3
The End (song), 1-0, 2-2, 3-3
The Soft Parade (album), 4-3
Theater, 2-3
theater, 2-3
Them vs. Us, 2-5
Touch Me (song), 2-5
Treanor, Vince, 2-5 Vancouver, 2-3


Waiting For The Sun (album), 4-3
wedding, 2-4
Whiskey a Go Go (club), 2-2
Wicca, 2-4
Women, 2-4



www.tomk32.de/Facharbeit/jim-morrison.html#tth_sEc2.4.1

[Salem6]