They need a lot of music to atone for their sins
against the great gods of disorder
Jim Morrison, from “The Tape Noon Journal”
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This is my forest
a sea of wires.
This gaggle of vision
is my flame.
These trees are men,
the engineers.
And a tribe of farmers
on their Sunday off.
Gods — the directors.
Cameras, Greek
Centaurs on the boom,
with silent
Mobile grace
Toward me —
a leaping clown
In the great sun’s
eye.
Grand danger there
in curved thigh.
The avenging finger —
lord.
Jim Morrison, from “The Tape Noon Journal”
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Humanity begins where the Empire ended
Jim Morrison, from “Loose Page Poems”
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This story has no moral. Trust not sleep or sorrow.
Jim Morrison, from “Notebook and Journal Poems”
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Out here in the perimeter
there are no stars
Out here we
is stoned
Immaculate
— Jim Morrison, from “The Elektra Tapes”
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we could plan a murder,
or start a religion
Jim Morrison, from “The Elektra Tapes”
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The form is an angel of soul
from horse to man to boy
& back again
Jim Morrison, from “The Tape Noon Journal”
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the mystery of flight to be inside the brain of a bird
to slide gracefully & knowledgeably into graveland
The Big dream vs. violent assassination of spirit & neck & skull
wounded he arrived
Jim Morrison, from “The Tape Noon Journal”
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“How you must of think and wondered
How I must feel
Out on the meadows
While you run the field
I'm alone, for you”
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“Tell them you came and saw
and looked into my eyes
and watched the shadows of the guard receding.”
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Strange new maturity Booze could not kill or quench it.
Strange charade of the guardian angels Progenitors of love & lust
ode to war & demons
Jim Morrison, from “Notebook and Journal Poems”
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I don’t believe in
murder
Yet I will not be
a serf
I can’t become a
scape goat
I’m confused as any
woman
Yet I feel like any
man
Hermaphroditic saviour
take it as you can
Jim Morrison, from “Notebook and Journal Poems”
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Jim Morrison by Frank Lisciandro, 1968.
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