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Name: Fleabit Peanut Monkey
E-Mail:
Subject: RE: RE: Rock Star Death Day
Date: Tuesday, July 03, 2012
Time: 1:29:04 PM
Remote Address: 164.156.231.55
Message ID: 269874
Parent ID: 269869
Thread ID: 269849
Me too, Barb. I was 11 years old when I heard that he was dead, on WCFL radio from Chicago. But I've always called July 3 "Rock Star Death Day" because Jim Morrison died the same day in 1971. To make it even more interesting, Morrison wrote a poem about Brian's death.
Morrison paid all printing costs to share his feelings and passion about recently deceased Brian Jones through his love of poetry. This was Jim's own tribute to Brian - his own way of saying goodbye to the fallen Rolling Stone who he had admired so much. Jim sought to share these feelings with those who came to see The Doors at the Aquarious Theater concerts on July 21st & 22nd. Unfortunately, and to his chagrin, many fans trashed their gift without even reading it. Many concert goers who were at these shows attest that these printed sheets littered the floor and filled almost every trash bin after the show. This printed sheet of paper is a private edition of Morrison's poetry - probably the most under-rated and un-appreciated piece he ever printed.
ODE TO LA
WHILE THINKING OF
BRIAN JONES, DECEASED
By Jim Morrison
I'm a resident of a city.
They've just picked me to play
the Prince of Denmark
Poor Ophelia
All those ghosts he never saw
Floating to doom
On an iron candle
Come back, brave warrior
Do the dive
On another channel
Hot buttered pool
Where's Marrakesh
Under the falls
the wild storm
where savages fell out
in late afternoon
monsters of rhythm
You've left your
Nothing
to compete w/
Silence
I hope you went out
Smiling
Like a child
Into the cool remnant
of a dream
The angel man
w/Serpents competing
for his palms
& fingers
Finally claimed
This benevolent
Soul
Ophelia
Leaves, sodden
in silk
Chlorine
dream
mad stifled
Witness
The diving board, the plunge
The pool
You were a fighter
a damask musky muse
You were the bleached
Sun
for TV afternoon
horned-toads
maverick of a yellow spot
Look now to where it's got
You
in meat heaven
w/the cannibals
& jews
The gardener
Found
The body, rampant, Floating
Lucky Stiff
What is this green pale stuff
You're made of
Poke holes in the goddess
Skin
Will he Stink
Carried heavenward
Thru the halls
of music
No chance.
Requiem for a heavy
That smile
That porky satyr's
leer
has leaped upward
into the loam
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