Jim Morrison: An American Prayer

[smilezthief.livejournal.com]

Do you know the warm progress
under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys
to the Kingdom
Have you been born yet
and are you alive?
Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths
of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
[Have you forgotten the lessons
of the ancient war]
We need great golden copulations
The fathers are cackling in trees
of the forest
our mother is dead in the sea
Do you know we are being led to
slaughters by placid admirals
And that fat slow generals are getting
obscene on young blood
Do you know we are ruled by TV
The moon is a dry blood beast
Guerrilla bands are rolling numbers
in the next block of green vine
amassing for warfare on innocent
herdsmen who are just dying
O great creator of being
grant us one more hour to
perform our art
and perfect our lives
The moths and atheists are doubly divine
and dying
We live, we die
and death not ends it
Journey we more into the
Nightmare
Cling to life
Our passion'd flower
Cling to cunts and cocks
of despair
We got our final vision
by clap
Columbus' groin got
filled with green death
(I touched her thigh
and death smiled)
We have assembled inside this ancient
and insane theatre
To propogate 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 divine mockery
of words
Music inflames temperament
(When the true King's murderers
are allowed to run free
a thousand Magicians arise
in the land)
Where are the feasts we were 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 pleasure'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
For me and you
And for your silky
pillowed house
A head, wisdom
And a bed
Troubled decree
Resident mockery
has claimed thee
We used to believe
In the good old days
We still receive in
little ways
The Things of Kindness
An unsporting brow
Forget and allow
Did you know freedom exists
in a school book
Did you know madmen are
roaming our prison
within a jail, within a gaol
within a white free protestant
maelstrom
We're perched headlong
on the edge of boredom
We're trying for something
That's already found us.

We can invent a Kingdom of our own
grand purple thrones, those chairs of lust
and love we must, in beds or rust
Steel doors lock in prosoner's screams
amd musak, AM, rocks their dreams
No black men's pride to hoist the beams
while mocking angels sift what seems
To be a collage of magazine dust
Scratched on foreheads of walls of trust
This is just jail for those who must
get up in the morning and fight for such
unusable standards
while weeping maidens
show-off penury and pout
ravings for a mad
staff.

Wow, I'm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
South
Cruel bindings.
The servants have the power
dog-men and their mean women
pulling poor blankets over
our sailors.

(And where were you in our lean hour)
Milking your moustache
or grinding a flower?

I'm sick of these dour faces
Staring at me from the TV
Tower, I want roses in
my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
for the plant that's plowed.

They are waiting to take us into
the severed garden.
Do you know how pale and wanton thrillful
comes death on a strange hour
unannounced, unplanned for
like a scaring over-friendly guest you've
brought to bed.
Death makes angels of us all
and gives us wings
where we had shoulders
smooth as raven's
claws.

No more money, no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems by far the best
until it's other jaw reveals incest
and loose obedience to a vegetable law.
I will not go
Prefer a Feast of Friends
To the Giant Family.

Comments

[bardcat.livejournal.com]

wow!

[subtleparadox.livejournal.com]

Wow, thanks for reminding me how much Jim Morrison absolutely kicks ass.