Paris
de Jim Morrison(2005)
4 min lectură
Mediu
So much forgotten already
So much forgotten
So much to forget
Once the idea of purity born,
all was lost irrevocably
The Black Musician in a house up the hill
Nigger in the woodpile
Skeleton in the closet
Sorry. Didn't mean you.
An old man, someone's daughter
Arises
and sees us still in the room
of off-key piano and bad paintings
him off to work
and new wife arriving
(The candle-forests of Notre-Dame)
beggar nuns with moving smiles, small velvet sacks
and cataleptic eyes
straying to the gaudy
Mosaic calendar
Windows
I write like this to seize you
give me your love, your tired eyes,
sad for delivery
A small and undiscover'd
park - we ramble
And the posters scream
safe revolt
and the tired walls barely fall, graffiti into
dry cement sand
an overfed vacuum
dust-clock
I remember freeways
Summer, beside you
Ocean - brother
Storms passing
electric fires in the night
"rain, night, misery -
the back-ends of wagons"
Shake it! Wanda,
fat stranded swamp
Woman
We still need you
Shake your roly-poly
Thighs inside that
Southern tent
So what.
It was really wild
She started nude and put
on her clothes.
An old and cheap hotel
with bums in the lobby
genteel bums of satisfied
poverty
Across the street, a
famous pool-hall
where the actors meet
former ace - home of
beat musicians
beat poets and beat
wanderers
in the Zen tradition
from China to the
Subway
in 4 easy lifetimes
Weeping, he left his pad
on orders from police
and furnishings hauled
away, all records and
momentos, and reporters
calculating tears and curses for the press:
"I hope the Chinese junkies get you"
and they will
for the poppy
rules the world
That handsome gentle
flower
Sweet Billy!
Do you remember
the snake
your lover
tender in the tumbled
brush-weed
sand and cactus
I do.
And I remember
Stars in the shotgun
night
eating pussy
til the mind runs
clean
Is it rolling, God
in the Persian Night?
"There's a palace
in the canyon
where you and I
were born
Now I'm a lonely Man
Let me back into
the Garden
Blue Shadows of the Canyon
I met you and now you're gone
and now my dream is gone
Let me back into your Garden
A man searching for lost Paradise
Can seem a fool to those who never sought the other world
Where friends do lie and drift
Insanely in
Their own private gardens"
The cunt bloomed and the paper walls
Trembled
A monster arrived in the mirror
To mock the room and its fool alone
Give me songs to sing
and emerald dreams to dream
and I'll give you love
unfolding
Sun
underwater, it was immediately strange
and familiar
the black boy's
from the boat, fins and mask,
Nostrils bled liquid crystal blood
as they rose to surface
Rose and moved strong
in their wet world
Below was a Kingdom
Empire of still sand
and yes, party-colored
fishes - they are the last to leave
The gay sea
I eat you
avoiding your wordy bones
and spit out pearls
The little girl gave
little cries of surprise
as the club struck
her sides
I was there
By the fire in the
Phonebooth
I saw them charge
and heard the indian
war-scream
felt the adrenalin
of flight-fear
the exhilaration of terror
sloshed drunk in
the flashy battle blood
Naked we come
and bruised we go
nude pastry
for the slow soft worms
below
This is my poem
for you
Great flowing funky flower'd beast
Great perfumed wreck of hell
Great good disease
and summer plague
Great god-damned shit-ass
Mother-fucking freak
You lie, you cheat,
you steal, you kill
you drink the Southern
Madness swill
of greed
you die utterly and alone
Mud up to your braces
Someone new in your
knickers
and who would that be?
You know
You know more
than you let on
Much more than you betray
Great slimy angel-whore
you've been good to me
You really have
been swell to me
Tell them you came and saw
and look'd into my eyes
and saw the shadow
of the guard receding
Thoughts in time
and out of season
The Hitchhiker stood
by the side of the road
and levelled his thumb
in the calm calculus
of reason.
Despre aceasta lucrare
- Autor
- Jim Morrison
- Tip
- Poezie
- An
- 2005
- Cuvinte
- 715
- Citire
- 4 min
- Versuri
- 191
- Actualizat
Cum sa citezi
Jim Morrison. “Paris.” Clasici, Poezie.ro, https://poezie.ro/clasici/jim-morrison-0004987/poezie/parisIntrebari frecvente
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