Джим Моррисон - Боги и Новые создания

A hut, lighted by candle.

She is magician

Female prophet

Sorceress

Dressed in the past

All arrayed.

The stars

The moon

She reads the future

in your hand.

The walls are garish red

The stairs

High discordant screaming

She has the tokens.

"You too"

"Don't go"

He flees.

Music renews.

The mating-pit.

"Salvation"

Tempted to leap in circle.

Negroes riot.

A file of young people

going thru a small woods.

They are filming something

in the street, in front of

our house.

Walking to the riot

Spreads to the houses

the lawns

suddenly alive now

w/people

running

I don't dig what they did

to that girl

Mercy pack

Wild song they sing

As they chop her hands

Nailed to a ghost

Tree

I saw a lynching

Met the strange men

of the southern swamp

Cypress was their talk

Fish-call bird-song

Roots signs

out of all knowing

They chanced to be there

Guides, to the white

gods.

An armed camp.

Army army

burning itself in

feasts.

Jackal, we sniff after the survivors of caravans.

We reap bloody crops on war fields.

No meat of any corpse deprives our lean bellies.

Hunger drives us on scented winds.

Stranger, traveler,

peer into our eyes translate

the horrible barking of ancient dogs.

Camel caravans bear

witness guns to Caesar.

Hordes crawl seep inside

the walls. The streets

flow stone. Life goes

on absorbing war. Violence

kills the temple of no sex.

Terrible shouts start

the journey

— if they had migrated sooner

— a high wailing keening

piercing animal lament

from a woman

high atop a Mt. tower

— Thin wire fence

in the mind

dividing the heart

Surreptitiously

They smile

Inviting-Smiling

Choktai

leave!

evil

Leave!No come here

Leave her!

A creature is nursing

its child

soft arms around

the head neck

a mouth to connect

leave this child alone

This one is mine

I'm taking her home

Back to the rain

The assassin's bullet

Marries the King

Dissembling miles of air

To kiss the crown.

The Prince rambles in blood.

Ode to the neck

That was groomed

For rape's gown.

Cancer city

Urban fall

Summer sadness

The highways of the old town

Ghosts in cars

Electric shadows

Ensenada

the dead seal

the dog crucifix

ghosts of the dead car sun.

Stop the car.

Rain. Night.

Feel.

Sea-bird sea-moan

Earthquake murmuring

Fast-burning incense

Clamoring surging

Serpentine road

To the Chinese caves

Home of the winds

The gods of mourning

The city sleeps

the unhappy children

roam w/ animal gangs.

They seem to speak

to their friends

the dogs

who teach them trails.

Who can catch them?

Who can make them come

inside?

The tent girl

at midnight

stole to the well

met her lover there

They talked a while

laughed

then he left

She put an orange pillow

on her breast

In the morning

Chief w/drew his troops

planned a map

The horsemen rose on up

The women fixed the ropes

on tight

The tents are folded now

We march toward the sea.

Catalog of horrors

Descriptions of Natural disaster

Lists of miracles in the divine corridor

Catalog of objects in the room

List of things in the sacred river

The soft parade has now begun

on Sunset.

Cars come thundering down

the canyon.

Now is the time the place.

The cars come rumbling.

"You got a cool machine".

These engine beasts

muttering their soft

talk. A delight

at night

to hear their quiet voices

again

after 2 years.

Now the soft parade

has soon begun.

Cool pools

from a tired land

sink now

in the peace of evening.

Clouds weaken

die.

The sun, an orange skull,

whispers quietly, becomes an

island, is gone.

There they are

watching

us everything

will be dark.

The light changed.

We were aware

knee-deep in the fluttering air

as the ships move on

trains in their wake.

Trench mouth

again in the camps.

Gonorrhea

Tell the girl to go home

We need a witness

to the killing.

The artists of Hell

set up easels in parks

the terrible landscape,

where citizens find anxious pleasure

preyed upon by savage bands of youths

I can't believe this is happening

I can't believe all these people

are sniffing each other

backing away

teeth grinning

hair raised, growling, here in

the slaughtered wind

I am ghost killer.

witnessing to all

my blessed sanction

This is it

no more fun

the death of all joy

has come.

Do you dare

deny my

potency

my kindness

or forgiveness?

Just try

you will fry

like the rest

in holiness

And not for a

penny

will I spare

any time

for you

Ghost children

down there

in the frightening world

You are alone

have no need of other

you the child mother

who bore you

who weaned you

who made you man

Photo-booth killer

fragile bandit

straight from ambush

Kill me!

Kill the child who made

Thee.

Kill the thought-provoking

senator of lust

who brought you to this state.

Kill hate

disease

warfare

sadness

Kill badness

Kill madness

Kill photo mother murder tree

Kill me.

Kill yourself

Kill the little blind elf.

The beautiful monster

vomits a stream of watches

clocks jewels knives silver

coins copper blood

The well of time trouble

whiskey bottles perfume

razor blades beads

liquid insects hammers

thin nails the feet of

birds eagle feathers claws

machine parts chrome

teeth hair shards of

pottery skulls the ruins

of our time the debris by

a lake the gleaming

beer cans rust sable

menstrual fur

Dance naked on broken

bones feet bleed stain

glass cuts cover your mind

the dry end of vacuum

boat while the people

drop lines in still pools

pull ancient trout

from the deep home. Scales

crusted gleaming green

A knife was stolen. A

valuable hunting knife

By some strange boys

from the other camp across

the Lake

Are these our friends

racing shuddering

thru the calm vales of parliament

My son will not die in the war

He will return

numbed peasant voice of Orient

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