Джим Моррисон - Боги и Новые создания

fisherman

Last time you said

this was the only way

voice of tender young girl

Running speaking

infected green

jungles

consult the oracle

bitter creek

crawl

they exist on rainwater

monkey-love

mantra mate

maker of brandy

The poison isles

The poison

Take this thin granule

of evil snakeroot

from the southern

shore

way out miracle

will find thee

The chopper blazed over

inward click sure

blasted matter, made

the time bombs free

of leprous lands

spotted w/ hunger

clinging to law

Please

show us your ragged head

silted smiling eyes

calm in fire

a silky flowered shirt

edging the eyes, alive

spidery, distant

dial lies

come, calm one

into the life-try

already wifelike

latent, leathery, loose

lawless, large languid

She was a kindom-cry

legion of lewd marching

mind-men

Where are your manners

out there on the sunlit

desert

boundless glaxies of dust

cactus spines, beads

bleach stones, bottles

rust cars, stored for shaping

The new man, time-soldier

picked his way narrowly

thru the crowded ruins

of once grave city, gone

comic now w/ rats

insects of refuge

He lives in cars

goes fruitless thru

the frozen schools

finds no space

in shades of

obedience

the monitors are silenced

the great graveled guard-towers

sicken on the westward beach

so tired of watching

if only one horse were left

to ride thru the waste

a dog at his side

to sniff meat-maids

chained on the public poles

there is no more argument

in beds, at night

blackness is burned

Stare into the parlors of town

where a woman dances

in her European gown

to the great waltzes

this could be fun

to rule a wasteland

Cherry palms

Terrible shores

more

many more

This we know

that all are free

in the school-made

text of the unforgiven

deceit smiles

incredible hardships are suffered

by those barely able

to endure

but all will pass

lie down in green grass

smile, muse, gaze

upon her smooth

resemblance

to the mating-Queen

who it seems

is in love

w/the horseman

now, isn't that fragrant

Sir, isn't that knowing

w/a wayward careless

backward glance