American Prayer - Although it went platinum, this is the album that producer Paul Rothchild called " The Rape of Morrison"
Should it have been scrapped and never heard? Well that's just crazy talk, anyone who loves the Doors and has been influenced by Jim Morrison has to greatly appreciate that these kind of projects and recording are " here for a reason".
Screw the critics. The poetry was originally recorded in 1969 and 1970 then 7 years later after Jim passed away, the remaining members of The Doors recorded back up music for it. Weather this was Jim's intent and vision for his poetry, the way someones belongs and music legacy is handled after they die is bound to be a subject of dispute, we can only take it as it is and appreciate that it has been preserved for us. Seattle music is famous for it's moodiness, and his influence although more subtle than that of Jimi Hendrix or Led Zepplin make him a Xanaland favorite. The following is a collection of my favorite poems by Jim Morrison. Read but do not weep. The Lizard King is always with us. Just ask Mark Lanegan.
If the writer can write & the farmer can sow Then all miracles concur, appear & start happening... If the children eat, if their time of crying was Midnight. The earth needs them:
Soft dogs on the snow Nestled in Spring When sun makes wine & blood dances dangerous in the veins or vine.
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.
Everything human is leaving her face
Soon she will disappear into the calm vegetable morass
My Wild Love!
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.
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.
I can make the earth stop in its tracks. I made 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,
The grand highway is crowded w/ lovers & searchers & leavers so eager to please & forget.
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.
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.
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 cooly.)
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 car a craft in wretched SPACE
& your past to warm you in Spiritless Night
The Lonely HWY Cold hiker
Afraid of Wolves & his own Shadow.
LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF MY COCK
Lament for my cock Sore & crucified I seek to know you acquiring soulful wisdom you can open walls of mystery strip-show
How to get death On the morning show
T.V. death which the child absorbs
death-well mystery which makes me write
Slow train The death of my cock gives life
Guitar player Ancient wise satyr Sing your ode to my cock caress its lament stiffen & guide us
Lost cells The knowledge of cancer To speak to the heart & give the great gift
This stable friend & the beasts of his zoo wild, haired chicks each color connects to create the boat which rocks the race
could any hell be more horrible than now & real
“I pressed her thigh & death smiled”
death, old friend death & my cock are the world I can forgive my injuries in the name of
Sentence upon sentence Words are healing
Words got me the wound & will get me well
If you believe it
All join now in lament for the death of my cock a tongue of knowledge in the feathered night
boys get crazy in the head & suffer I sacrifice my cock on the altar of silence
Disciple Scar death Magic Prison Garden Shelter Princess of Sorrow Wilderness Angel dancing wings of envy Call me Tomorrow Bones Landing Gold Arrival
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 dull friendly terror. They looked to the calm ones but saw only a green military coat. Repent! None of the old Things worked.
— What is connection?
— When 2 motions, thought to be infinite & mutually exclusive, meet in a moment.
— Of time?
— Time does not exist. There is no time.
— Time is a straight plantation.
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.
History of Rock coinciding w/my adolescence
Carne to LA to Film School
Roof top songs
early struggles & humiliations
Thanks to the girls who fed me.
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.
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.
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 that a turkey vulture
The Negro slaves & the English killed the Indians, & mixed w/the Spanish, who were soon forced out.
Yes, big battles
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.
IN THAT YEAR...
In that year we had a great visitation of energy.
Back in those days everything was simpler & more confused. One summer night, going To the pier, I ran into 2 young girls. The blonde was called Freedom, the dark one, Enterprise. We talked, & they told me this story.
A wake Shake dreams from your hair My pretty child, my sweet one Choose the day, & the sign of your day, 1st thing you see.
A burnt tree, like a giant primeval bird, a leaf, dry & bitter, crackling tales in its warm waves. Sidewalk gods will do for you. The forest of the neighborhood, The empty lost museum, & The mesa, & the Mt. pregnant Monument above the newsstand where the children hide When school ends.
& THE COOL FLUTTERING...
& the cool fluttering rotten wind & a child's hand-print on picture window & the guncocked held on the shoulder. & fire in the night waiting, in a darkened house for the cruel insane breed from town to arrive & come poking thru smoke & fuel & ashes for milk & the evil leer on their faces barking w/triumph Who will not stop them? The hollow tree, where we three slept & dreamed in the movement of whirling shadows & grass Tired rustle of leaves An oldman stirs the dancers w/his old dance darkening swift shadows lean on the meat of forest to allow breathing.
Gently they stir Gently rise The dead are new-born awakening w/ravaged limbs & 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 & now I call on you to pray.
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 our 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
THE ANATOMY OF ROCK
The 1st electric wildness carne 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 road Where the tires skid & slide into dangerous curves.
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
Meeting you at your parent's gate we will tell you what to do What you have to do to survive
Leave the rotten towns of your father Leave the poisoned wells & bloodstained streets Enter now the sweet forest
I WALKED THRU...
I walked thru the panther's living room And our summer together ended too soon Stronger than father Strangled by night Rest in my sun burst Relax in her secret wilderness This is the sea of doubt which threads harps unwithered & unstrung It's the brother, not the past who turns sunlight into glass it's the valley it's me
Testimony from a strange witness
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.
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 up 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 funereal butterfly barge at one end of the room, hung w/nets & sails.
“What church it that?” “Church of God.” white bandana, white tambourine
—Walking on the Water—
“In traditional style, we'll give them a good political back-siding” — (laughter)
The flowering of god-like people in the muted air would seem strange to an intruder of certain size
but this is all we have left to guide us
Now that He is gone
THE WILD WHORE LAUGHS
The wild whore laughs like an ancient spinster Crone, we see you, come again in the mind I lie like fever Dancing your nubile hush willing to be possessed untold stories dare indians rise Trampled, like red-skins sacred fore-skin Cancer began w/the knife's cruel blow & damaged rod has risen again in the East like a star on fire
THE OPENING OF THE TRUNK
—Moment of inner freedom when the mind is opened & the infinite universe revealed & the soul is left to wander dazed & confus'd searching here & there for teachers & friends.
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.
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 are 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.
TO BE ALONE
To be alone & watch the dawn It could create a silly song About a girl I used to know
She was the star of the lost side show
She wasn't me She wasn't you Believe you me Knew what to do
& say to a man on the end of his tether “Hey, fine handsome Man, there'll be a change in the weather”
So what am I Supposed to do? just sit alone & chew my shoe I needed a love No more than she & yet no less & no regrets
If you can fill me in on my Telephone I'd be a sadder, wiser son of a gun
I’ll just this about all that I was the mouse who caught the cat
I don't intend To give you no points of view
I just mean to tell You—I'm alone
TIME WORKS LIKE ACID
Time works like acid Stained eyes You see time fly
The face changes as the heart beats & breathes
We are not constant We are an arrow in flight The sum of the angles of change
Her face changed in the car eyes & skin & hair remain the same. But a hundred similar girls succeed each other.
WE AWOKE, TALKING...
We awoke, talking. Telling dreams an explosion during the night.
A new siren. Not cop, fire, New York ambulance or european movie riot news but the strange siren predicting war. She ran to the window. The yellow thing had risen
Car cemetery The abandoned cars The color of car paint, new at night under neon The dead reside in cars — the old man, filthy, keeper of the graveyard Children, curious, throw stones
THERE’S SOMEONE AT THE DOOR
There's someone at the door. A rapist rushes in. No pain. No death.
It's us, over & over again
We're coming in. All right, search the place. You won't find anything.
Seeing all perspectives at once
When everything freezes & kind of turns back in on itself.
O how could this be done to me great dancers's Witness God, you are a satyr in disguise Thus cruelly & uselessly to Rend my life awry I’ll lie here stolen, in cold wind in the road, until peace freezes over,
& hallows me Rude ghost bastard. Ah! Who comes now.
IF IT'S NO PROBLEM...
If it's no problem, why mention it? Everything spoken means that it's opposite, & everything else. I'm alive, I'm dying.
THE END OF THE RAINBOW
The end of the rainbow
put all my screaming phantasies into one giant Box-trap
image of self-image-propagation image of elation
Ungulation limit 1st tree
image of Utopia a slaughter of phantoms
The Human World bounded by words & dust
sweet soft & velvet dust
HEAVEN OR HELL...
Heaven or Hell the circus of your actions
To Play (chance is god here) at Carnival
assuage the guilt The deep fear
The separated loneliness
open Synagogue open sesame
The Party of new connections mind made free Love cannot save you from your own fate
Art cannot soothe Words cannot tame The Night
SCOUR THE MIND...
Scour the mind w/diamond brushes. Cleanse into Mandalas. Memory keeps us wicked & warm. The Time Temple. Who'll go 1st? Cloaked figures huddled by walls. A head moves clocklike slowly. I'm coming. Wait for me.
YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW.
You think I don't know that!
Your poetry is so obsessed I like my madmen cold
The abandoned Hotel flowers dirt on its walls The labyrinth of bowels moves slowly in grim waste Children play here, wait & sway here, tiring to her swoon arched summer and languid by the bow Sits Esther, made up like a queen, port in a storm, striking fire-bells in her drawers, chalking the black street w/wild lies
HURRICANE & ECLIPSE
I wish a storm would come & blow this shit away. Or a bomb to burn the Town & scour the sea. I wish clean death would come to me.
THE END OF THE DREAM
The end of the dream will be when it matters
all things lie Buddha will forgive me Buddha will
THANK YOU, O LORD
Thank you, O Lord For the white blind light A city rises from the sea I had a splitting headache from which the future's made
In that year We had an intense visitation of energy
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)
Moonshine 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
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 Hiway bleeding Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile egg-shell mind
Underwaterfall, Underwaterfall The girls return from summer balls Let's steal the eye that sees us all
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, endlessly 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?)
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
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. There 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 survivor 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 green— 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.
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 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 Change the mood from glad to sadness