the final gasp
Jim Morrison shrine

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Sensitive, mystical poet
Your legacy lives on
Stoned as petrified reptile
In the amber resin of your ageless words
Passionate images
ROCK IS NOT DEAD!
Only sleeping in the spirit of your generation
How peculiar a twist to fate comes awakening
The virgin student fascinated by disc technology
Finds camaraderie among your lyrics
A lost soul reaches for a book of library poetry
To discover forgotten passions in your verse
A collage of celluloid impressions moves an observer
To search beyond for remembered truths
Death has no hold on your ancient powers
Your time has come again
Myth ignited into flame
Dormant seeds of great vision
Have begun to burst and grow
The second coming of a generation
Older, wiser, the struggle for justice lost in
Decades of the struggle for paper
The realization of selling out what was once held most dear
Footsteps caught in mid air
A sobering look back toward a fork in the road of life
We should have listened to forewarning
 
The delicate thread of the search for truth
Once again unites our legions
Years of obligations and promises behind
One by one we "get together one more time"
Dare to light the candle of long ago dreams
Lift the staff of courage, sincerity, the thing that is right
Small contributions by sheer numbers
Our dream of America - Proud, Free, Green
Seems less impossible
 
I wish you were here to see it...

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lyrical hell | inspiration | Jim Morrison shrine | the phoenix bird | heed the forewarning | Jack Handey quotes

Words I Live By:

Expose yourself to your deepest fear, after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.
 
I think of myself as an intelligent, sensitive human with the soul of a clown, which always forces me to blow it at the most important moments.
 
I see myself as a huge fiery comet, a shooting star. Everyone stops, points up and gasps 'Oh look at that' Then whoosh, and I'm gone... and they'll never see anything like it ever again..and they won't be able to forget me ever.
 
I hope you go out smiling, like a child into the cool mist of a reverent dream.
 
Their are things known, and their are things unknown, and inbetween is The Doors.
 
That's what real love amounts to, letting a person be what he really is. Most people love you for who you pretend to be. To keep their love, you keep pretending, performing. You get to love your presence. It's true, we're locked in an image, an act, and the sad thing is, people get so use to their image, they grow attached masks. They love their chains. They forget all about who they really are. And if you try to remind them, they hate you for it, they feel like you're trying to steal their most precious possession.
I like people who shake other people up, and make them feel uncomfortable.
 
If my poetry aims to achieve anything, it's to deliver people from the limited ways in which they see and feel.
 
I'm a word man. See there's this theory about the nature of tragedy, that Aristotle didn't mean catharis for the audience but a purgation of emotions for the actors themselves. The audience is just a witness to the event taking place on stage.
 
Let's just say I was testing the bounds of reality. I was curious to see what would happen. That's all it was, curiousity.
 
The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You trade in your sense for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and, in exchange, put on a mask. There can't be any large scale revolution until there's a personal
revolution, on an individual level. It's got to happen inside first. You can take away a mans political freedom and you won't hurt him, unless you take away his freedom to feel. That can destroy him. That kind of freedom can't be granted. Nobody can win it for you.
 
Sex if full of lies. The body tries to tell the truth, but its usually too battered with rules to be heard. We cripple ourselves with lies. Most people have no idea of what they're missing. Our society places a supreme value on control, on hiding what you feel it mocks primative culture and prides itself on the supression of natural instincts and impulses.
 
We're like actors, turned loose in this world to wander in search of a phantom, endlessly searching for a half-formed shadow of our lost reality. When others demand that we become the people they want us to be, they force us to destry the people we really are. It's a subtle kind of murder. The most loving parents and relatives commit this murder with
smiles on their faces.
 
A hero is someone who rebels or seems to rebel against the facts of exsistence and seems to conquer them. Obviously that can only work at moments. It can't be a lasting thing. That's not saying that people shouldn't keep trying to rebel against the facts of exsistence. Someday, who knows, we might conquer death, disease, and war.
 
THE OPENING OF THE TRUNK
Moment of inner freedom
When the mind is opened and the infinite universe revealed
And the soul is left to wander
Dazed and confus'd searching here and there for teachers and friends
Moment of Freedom
As the prisoner blinks in the sun
Like a mole from his hole
A child's first trip away from home
That moment of Freedom
 
POWER
I can make the earth stop in its tracks
I made the blue cars go away
I can make myself invisible or small
I can become gigantic & reach the farthest things
I can change the course of nature
I can place myself anywhere in space or time
I can summon the dead
I can perceive events on other worlds
In my deepest inner mind and in the minds of others
I can
I am
 
THE ANATOMY OF ROCK
The first electric wildness came over the people on sweet Friday
Sweat was in the air
The channel beamed token of power
Incense brewed darkly
Who could tell them that here it would end?
One school bus crashed w/ a train
This was the Crossroads
Mercury stained
I couldn't get out of my seat
The road was littered with dead jitterbugs
Help
We'll be late for class
The secret flurry of rumor marched over the yard
And pinned us unwittingly
Mount Fever
A girl stripped naked on the base of the flagpole
In the restrooms all was cool and silent
With the salt-green of latrines
Blankets were needed
Ropes fluttered
Smiles flattered and haunted
Lockers pried open and secrets discovered
Ah sweet music
Wild sounds in the night
Angel siren voices
The baying of great hounds
Cars screaming thru gears and shrieks on the wild road
Where the tires skip and slide into dangerous curves
Favorite corners
Cheerleaders raped in summer buildings
Holding hands and bopping toward Sunday
Those lean sweet desperate hours
Time searched the hallways for a mind
Hands kept time
The climate altered like a visible dance
Night-time women
Wondrous sacraments of doubt
Sprang sullen in bursts of fear and guilt
In the womb's pit hole below...
The belt of the beast
 
AN AMERICAN PRAYER
 
AWAKE GHOST SONG
Is everybody in? Is everybody in? Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin.
Wake up!
You can't remember where it was had this dream stopped?
 
AWAKE
Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
The day's divinity
First thing you see
A vast radiant beach in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it's quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us
"Choose" they croon the Ancient Ones
The time has come again
"Choose now" they croon
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake
Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
Everything is broken up and dances
 
DAWN'S HIGHWAY
Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind
Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven
Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of Venice
Blood in my love in the terrible summer
Bloody red sun of Phantastic L.A.
Blood screams her brain as they chop off her fingers
Blood will be born in the birth if a nation
Blood is the rose of mysterious union
Blood on the rise, it's following me
Indian
Indian what did you die for?
Indian says, nothing at all
 
NEWBORN AWAKENING
Gently they stir, gently rise
The dead are newborn awakening With ravaged limbs and wet souls
Gently they sigh in rapt funeral amazement
Who called these dead to dance?
Was it the young woman learning to play the ghost song on her baby grand?
Was it the wilderness children?
Was it the ghost god himself, stuttering, cheering, chatting blindly?
I called you up to anoint the earth
I called you to announce sadness falling like burned skin
I called you to wish you well
To glory in self like a new monster
And now I call you to pray
 
TO COME OF AGE
A military station in the desert
Can we resolve the past lurking jaws, joints of time?
The Base To come of age in a dry place
Holes and caves
My friend drove and hour each day from the mountains
The bus gives you a hard-on with books in your lap
Someone shot the bird in the afternoon dance show
They gave out free records to the best couple
Spades dance best, from the hip
 
BLACK POLISHED CHROME (Latino Chrome.)
The music was new black polished chrome
And came over the summer like liquid night
The DJ's took pills to stay awake and play for seven days
They went to the studio
And someone knew him
Someone knew the TV showman
He came to our homeroom party and played records
And when he left in the hot noon sun and walked to his car
We saw the chooks had written F-U-C-K on his windshield
He wiped it off with a rag and smiling cooly drove away
He's rich
Got a big car
My gang will get you
Scenes of rape in the arroyo
Seduction in cars, abandoned buildings
Fights at the food stand
The dust the shoes
Open shirts and raised collars
Bright sculptured hair
Hey man, you want girls, pills, grass?
C'mon... I show you good time
This place has everything.
C'mon... I show you
 
ANGELS AND SAILORS
Angels and sailors rich girls backyard fences tents
Dreams watching each other narrowly soft luxuriant cars
Girls in garages
Stripped out to get liquor and clothes half gallons of wine and six-packs of beer
Jumped, humped, born to suffer made to undress in the wilderness
I will never treat you mean
Never start no kind of scene
I'll tell you every place and person that I've been
Always a playground instructor, never a killer
Always a bridesmaid on the verge of fame or over
He manouvered two girls into his hotel room
One a friend, the other, the young one, a newer stranger
Vaguely Mexican or Puerto Rican
Poor boys thighs and buttock scarred by a father's belt
She's trying to rise
Story of her boyfriend, of teenage stoned death games
Handsome lad, dead in a car
Confusion
No connections
Come here
I love you
Peace on earth
Will you die for me?
Eat me
This way
The end
I'll always be true
Never go out, sneaking out on you, babe
If you'll only show me Far Arden again
I'm surprised you could get it up
He whips her lightly, sardonically, with belt
Haven't I been through enough? she asks
Now dressed and leaving
The Spanish girl begins to bleed
She says her period
It's Catholic heaven I have an ancient Indian crucifix around my neck
My chest is hard and brown Lying on stained, wretched sheets with a bleeding virgin
We could plan a murder
Or start a religion
 
STONED IMMACULATE
I'll tell you this...
No eternal reward will forgive us now
For wasting the dawn
Back in those days everything was simpler and more confused
One summer night, going to the pier I ran into two young girls
The blonde one was called Freedom The dark one, Enterprise
We talked and they told me this story
Now listen to this...
I'll tell you about Texas radio and the big beat
Soft driven, slow and mad Like some new language
Reaching your head with the cold, sudden fury of a divine messenger
Let me tell you about heartache and the loss of god
Wandering, wandering in hopless night
Out here in the perimeter there are no stars
Out here we is stoned
Immaculate
 
THE MOVIE
"The movie will begin in five moments"
The mindless voice announced
All those unseated will await the next show
We filed slowly, languidly into the hall
The auditorium was vast and silent
As we seated and were darkened, the voice continued
"The program for this evening is not new"
You've seen this entertainment through and through
You've seen your birth your life and death
You might recall all of the rest
Did you have a good world when you died?
Enough to base a movie on?
I'm getting out of here
Where are you going?
To the other side of morning
Please don't chase the clouds, pagodas
Her cunt gripped him like a warm, friendly hand.
It's alright, all your friends are here
When can I meet them?
After you've eaten
I'm not hungry
Uh, we meant beaten
Silver stream, silvery scream
Oooooh, impossible concentration
 
CURSES, INVOCATION
Curses, Invocations
Weird bate-headed mongrels
I keep expecting one of you to rise
Large buxom obese queen
Garden hogs and cunt veterans
Quaint cabbage saints
Shit hoarders and individualists
Drag strip officials
Tight tipped losers and
Lustful fuck salesman
My militant dandies
All strange orders of monsters
Hot on the tail of the woodvine
We welcome you to our procession
Here come the Comedians
look at them smile
Watch them dance an Indian mile
Look at them gesture
How aplomb
So to gesture everyone
Words dissemble
Words be quick
Words resemble walking sticks
Plant them they will grow
Watch them waver so I'll always be a word man
Better then a bird man
 
AMERICAN NIGHT
All hail the American night!
What was that?
I don't know
Sounds like guns ...thunder
 
THE WORLD ON FIRE
The World on Fire...
Taxi from Africa...
The Grand Hotel...
He was drunk a big party last night
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 stinky boots
 
LAMENT
Lament for my cock
Sore and crucified
I seek to know you
Aquiring soulful wisdom
You can open walls of mystery
Stripshow
How to aquire death in the morning show
TV death which the child absorbs
Deathwell mystery which makes me write
Slow train, the death of my cock gives life
Forgive the poor old people who gave us entry
Taught us god in the child's prayer in the night
Guitar player
Ancient wise satyr
Sing your ode to my cock
Caress it's lament
Stiffen and guide us, we frozen
Lost cells
I sacrifice my cock on the alter of silence
 
THE HITCHHIKER
Thoughts in time and out of season
The Hitchhiker
Stood by the side of the road
And leveled his thumb In the calm calculus of reason
Hi. How you doin'?
I just got back into town, L.A
I was out on the desert for awhile
"Riders on the storm"
Yeah. In the middle of it
"Riders on the storm"
Right...
"Into this world we're born"
Hey, listen, man, I really got a problem
"Into this world we're thrown"
When I was out on the desert, ya know
"Like a dog without a bone, an actor out on loan"
I don't know how to tell you
"Riders on the storm"
But, ah, I killed somebody
"There's a killer on the road"
No...
"His brain is squirming like a toad"
It's no big deal, ya know
I don't think anybody will find out about it, but...
"Take a long holiday"
Just, ah...
"Let your children play"
This guy gave me a ride, and ah...
"If you give this man a ride"
Started giving me a lot of trouble
"Sweet family will die"
And I just couldn't take it, ya know
"Killer on the road"
And I wasted him
Yeah
 
AN AMERICAN PRAYER/ HOUR FOR MAGIC/ FREEDOM EXISTS/ A FEAST OF FRIENDS
Do you know the warm progress under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Filled with green death
I touched her thigh and death smiled
We have assembled inside this ancient and insane theatre
To propagate our lust for life and flee the swarming wisdom of the streets
The barns are stormed
The windows kept and only one of all the rest
To dance and save us
With the divine mockery of words
Music inflames temperament
When the true King's murderers are allowed to roam free
And 1000 Magicians arise in the land
Where are the feasts we are promised
Where is the wine The New Wine
Dying on the vine
Resident mockery give us an hour for magic
We of the purple glove
We of the starling flight and velvet hour
We of arabic pleasures's breed
We of sundome and the night
Give us a creed
To believe
A night of lust
Give us trust in The Night
Give of color hundred hues a rich mandala


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