Mostrando postagens com marcador James Douglas Morrison. Mostrar todas as postagens
Mostrando postagens com marcador James Douglas Morrison. Mostrar todas as postagens

domingo, 15 de janeiro de 2012

She lives in the city under the sea



She lives in the city

Ela vive na cidade

under the sea

sob o mar

Prisoner of pirates

Prisioneira de piratas

prisoner of dreams

prisioneira de sonhos


I want to be w/ her

Eu quero estar c/ ela

want her to see

quero que ela veja

The things I’ve created

As coisas que eu criei

sea-shells that bleed

conchas marinhas que sangram

Sensitive seeds

Sementes sensíveis

of impossible warships

de navios de guerra impossíveis


James Douglas Morrison

quarta-feira, 11 de janeiro de 2012

Newborn Awakening - An American Prayer - poem by James Douglas Morrison

Geopoliticus Child Watching the Birth of the New Man - Salvador Dali



Gently They Stir, Gently Rise
The Dead Are Newborn Awakening
With Ravaged Limbs And Wet Souls
Gently They Sigh In Rapt Funeral Amazement
Who Called These Dead To Dance?
Was It The Young Woman Learning To Play The Ghost Song On Her Baby Grand?
Was It The Wilderness Children?
Was It The Ghost God Himself, Stuttering, Cheering, Chatting Blindly?
I Called You Up To Anoint The Earth
I Called You To Announce Sadness Falling Like Burned Skin
I Called You To Wish You Well
To Glory In Self Like A New Monster
And Now I Call You To Pray

poem by James Douglas Morrison


terça-feira, 10 de janeiro de 2012

The Movie - An American Prayer - poem by James Douglas Morrison

The Persistence of Memory - Salvador Dali

The Movie Will Begin In Five Moments
The Mindless Voice Announced
All Those Unseated Will Await The Next Show.

We Filed Slowly, Languidly Into The Hall
The Auditorium Was Vast And Silent
As We Seated And Were Darkened, The Voice Continued.

The Program For This Evening Is Not New
You've Seen This Entertainment Through And Through
You've Seen Your Birth Your Life And Death
You Might Recall All Of The Rest
Did You Have A Good World When You Died?
Enough To Base A Movie On?.

I'm Getting Out Of Here
Where Are You Going?
To The Other Side Of Morning
Please Don't Chase The Clouds, Pagodas

Her Cunt Gripped Him Like A Warm, Friendly Hand.

It's Alright, All Your Friends Are Here
When Can I Meet Them?
After You've Eaten
I'm Not Hungry
Uh, We Meant Beaten

Silver Stream, Silvery Scream
Oooooh, Impossible Concentration.

poem by James Douglas Morrison




segunda-feira, 9 de janeiro de 2012

Stoned Immaculate - An American Prayer - poem by James Douglas Morrison

Perseus and Andromeda - Frederick Leighton

I'll Tell You This...
No Eternal Reward Will Forgive Us Now
For Wasting The Dawn.

Back In Those Days Everything Was Simpler And More Confused
One Summer Night, Going To The Pier
I Ran Into Two Young Girls
The Blonde One Was Called Freedo
The Dark One, Enterprise
We Talked And They Told Me This Story
Now Listen To This...
I'll Tell You About Texas Radio And The Big Beat
Soft Driven, Slow And Mad
Like Some New Language
Reaching Your Head With The Cold, Sudden Fury Of A Divine Messenger
Let Me Tell You About Heartache And The Loss Of God
Wandering, Wandering In Hopless Night
Out Here In The Perimeter There Are No Stars

Out Here We Is Stoned
Immaculate.


poem by James Douglas Morrison


domingo, 8 de janeiro de 2012

Babylon Fading - An American Prayer - poem by James Douglas Morrison

Vision of Fausto - Luis Ricardo Faléro


Then we hear a whistle like a bison's pipe
And the carnival immediately begins
Gradually mixing rain,
Thunder
Bullfight
Football
Playground
War
Penny-arcade
Babylon Fading...


James Douglas Morrison


sexta-feira, 6 de janeiro de 2012

Dawn's Highway - An American Prayer - poem by James Douglas Morrison

French versus Indian - Unknown Artist


Indians Scattered On Dawn's Highway Bleeding
Ghosts Crowd The Young Child's Fragile Eggshell Mind.


Me And My -Ah- Mother And Father - And A
Grandmother And A Grandfather - Were Driving Through
The Desert, At Dawn, And A Truck Load Of Indian
Workers Had Either Hit Another Car, Or Just - I Don't
Know What Happened - But There Were Indians Scattered
All Over The Highway, Bleeding To Death.


So The Car Pulls Up And Stops. That Was The First Time
I Tasted Fear. I Musta' Been About Four - Like A Child Is
Like A Flower, His Head Is Just Floating In The
Breeze, Man.
The Reaction I Get Now Thinking About It, Looking
Back - Is That The Souls Of The Ghosts Of Those Dead
Indians...Maybe One Or Two Of 'Em...Were Just
Running Around Freaking Out, And Just Leaped Into My
Soul. And They're Still In There.


Indians Scattered On Dawn's Highway Bleeding
Ghosts Crowd The Young Child's Fragile Eggshell Mind.


Blood In The Streets In The Town Of New Haven
Blood Stains The Roofs And The Palm Trees Of Venice
Blood In My Love In The Terrible Summer
Bloody Red Sun Of Phantastic L.A.


Blood Screams Her Brain As They Chop Off Her Fingers
Blood Will Be Born In The Birth If A Nation
Blood Is The Rose Of Mysterious Union
Blood On The Rise, It's Following Me.


Indian, Indian What Did You Die For?
Indian Says, Nothing At All.


James Douglas Morrison


Angels And Sailors - An American Prayer - poem by James Douglas Morrison

The Univited Guest - Eleanor Brickdale


Angels And Sailors
Rich Girls
Backyard Fences
Tents


Dreams Watching Each Other Narrowly
Soft Luxuriant Cars
Girls In Garages, Stripped
Out To Get Liquor And Clothes
Half Gallons Of Wine And Six-Packs Of Beer
Jumped, Humped, Born To Suffer
Made To Undress In The Wilderness.


I Will Never Treat You Mean
Never Start No Kind Of Scene
I'll Tell You Every Place And Person That I've Been.


Always A Playground Instructor, Never A Killer
Always A Bridesmaid On The Verge Of Fame Or Over
He Manouvered Two Girls Into His Hotel Room
One A Friend, The Other, The Young One, A Newer Stranger
Vaguely Mexican Or Puerto Rican
Poor Boys Thighs And Buttock Scarred By A Father's Belt
She's Trying To Rie
Story Of Her Boyfriend, Of Teenage Stoned Death Games
Handsome Lad, Dead In A Car
Confusion
No Connections
Come 'Ere
I Love You
Peace On Earth
Will You Die For Me?
Eat Me
This Way
The End


I'll Always Be True
Never Go Out, Sneaking Out On You, Babe
If You'll Only Show Me Far Arden Again.


I'm Surprised You Could Get It Up
He Whips Her Lightly, Sardonically, With Belt
Haven't I Been Through Enough? She Asks
Now Dressed And Leaving
The Spanish Girl Begins To Bleed
She Says Her Period
It's Catholic Heaven
I Have An Ancient Indian Crucifix Around My Neck
My Chest Is Hard And Brown
Lying On Stained, Wretched Sheets With A Bleeding Virgin
We Could Plan A Murder
Or Start A Religion.




James Douglas Morrison



quinta-feira, 5 de janeiro de 2012

Curses, Invocation - An American Prayer - poem by James Douglas Morrison

Contes Erotique - Vladimir Kush



Curses, Invocations
Weird Bate-Headed Mongrels
I Keep Expecting One Of You To Rise
Large Buxom Obese Queen
Garden Hogs And Cunt Veterans
Quaint Cabbage Saints
Shit Hoarders And Individualists
Drag Strip Officials
Tight Lipped Losers And
Lustful Fuck Salesman
My Militant Dandies
All Strange Orders Of Monsters
Hot On The Tail Of The Woodvine
We Welcome You To Our Procession

Here Come The Comedians
Look At Them Smile
Watch Them Dance An Indian Mile
Look At Them Gesture
How Aplomb
So To Gesture Everyone
Words Dissemble
Words Be Quick
Words Resemble Walking Sticks
Plant Them They Will Grow
Watch Them Waver So
I'll Always Be A Word Man
Better Then A Bird Man

James Douglas Morrison



quarta-feira, 4 de janeiro de 2012

Ghost Song - An American Prayer - poem by James Douglas Morrison

                                            "The Awakening of Adonis" by John William Waterhouse



Awake.  
Shake dreams from your hair  
my pretty child, my sweet one.  
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day  
the day's divinity  
First thing you see.  
  
A vast radiant beach and cooled jeweled moon  
Couples naked race down by it's quiet side  
And we laugh like soft, mad children  
Smug in the wooly cotton brains of infancy  
The music and voices are all around us.  
  
Choose they croon the Ancient Ones  
the time has come again  
choose now, they croon  
beneath the moon  
beside an ancient lake  
  
Enter again the sweet forest  
Enter the hot dream  
Come with us  
everything is broken up and dances.  
  
Indians scattered,   
On dawn's highway bleeding  
Ghosts crowd the young child’s,   
Fragile eggshell mind



James Douglas Morrison


"An American Prayer" Week

Celebrating James Douglas Morrison's poetry, I'll be doing a whole week dedicated to the poems from "An American Prayer" (James Douglas Morrison's spoken album), fitting his lines with famous paintings! Hope ya all like that. Next post, I'll just begin with my favorite poem "Awake/Ghost Song".



 

sábado, 24 de dezembro de 2011

A The Doors' Merry Christmas for you!

Camon, baby, light my... CHRISTMAS <3 I am coming just to say "merry christmas" to you all and I'll give some Doors' gifts for you;


sexta-feira, 16 de dezembro de 2011

Final 24: Jim Morrison's Last Hours

I've found out the full documentary about Jim's death via Jim Morrison Project who gently shared it with us on Facebook. I've watched it and I think it's a great documentary, 'cause it doesn't focus just on Jim's death, but they also explore the whole way towards it. It's a little bit shocking 'cause they explored Jim's vices - like drugs and alcohol. I felt so sad when I saw Pamela De Barres describing Jim drunk lying on the door of the Whiskey a Go Go... But I know it's a side of Jim we can't deny. And they also bought  some precious information about Jim's relation with his family. There are beautiful and rare pictures of Jim during the documentary. Anyway, it's worth of watching!


Eu achei o documentário completo sobre a morte de Jim via Jim Morrison Project que gentilmemente compartilhou isto conosco no Facebook. Eu assisti e eu acho que é um documentário incrível, pois que não foca só na morte de Jim, mas eles também exploram tudo o que levou ao fim culminante. É um pouco chocante pois eles exploraram os vícios de Jim de uma forma crua - como drogas e álcool. Eu me senti tão triste quando vi Pamela De Barres descrevendo o Jim bêbado deitado na porta do Whiskey a Go Go... Mas eu sei que é um lado de Jim que nós não podemos negar. E eles também trouxeram algumas informações preciosas sobre a relação de Jim com a família dele. Há fotos lindas e raras de Jim durante o documentário. De qualquer maneira, vale a pena assistir!


quinta-feira, 8 de dezembro de 2011

Jim Morrison's Birthday ~ The Hours

Today is Jim's birthday - and it's also the bithday of two years-old nephew called Eiji that I call my little Jim. If he was alive today, he'd be a 68 years-old man.

But Jim was taken from us when he was 27, everybody knows the history.

I just wanted to make something different and tell you what Jim Morrison means in my life.





The picture above shows the very first The Doors CD I've ever heard in my whole life. I didn't buy it, a daddy's friend gave to me when I was a 13 years-old girl. I remember I came back in the car w/ mommy and daddy listening to The Doors and mommy said that it was "cool, you could even dance it".

Jim and The Doors returned to my life when I was 14 years-old and my daddy left home. I was listening to Roadhouse Blues. Jim's voice just seemed to hold me up. Jim hugged me and I didn't fall 'cause of him.

But my deep love for Jim just began in the past year when I read a little book about him. I fell in love w/ the man and the rich world surrounding his life and legend.

I can't even say in which moments Doors and Jim were on my life. My dog's death, my first love, the nights dancing The Doors w/ my children, reading Jim's poetry w/ my cat, breaking hearts w/ L.A. Woman as soundtrack...

So Jim, happy birthday. Thank you for being here and being you.

Thank you for all. Thank you forever.




The picture above is Clara Morrison holding her son, the little James Douglas Morrison. I've done a video in honor to Jim:


quinta-feira, 24 de novembro de 2011

The Doors and Jim Morrison's Rarities

I've found some amazing  rare stuff about Doors and Jim w/ the help of some friends on Facebook (thanks to Monalyza and Beatriz), so I've to share with you:

Encontrei algumas raridades incríveis relacionadas a Doors e Jim com a ajuda de alguns amigos do Facebook (Agradeço a Monalyza e Beatriz). Então, vou postá-las aqui:

Love Me Tender (Elvis Presley) - cover by Jim Morrison



Jimi Hendrix (feat Jim Morrison) - Bleeding Heart (Live)
Go insane (Demo) - The Doors




The Doors' First Presentation on TV

Jim Morrison's Last Perfomance - 1971


Jim Morrison - Woman in the Window

domingo, 20 de novembro de 2011

Jim Morrison and Marilyn Monroe - Compared Texts


Jim Morrison and Marilyn Monroe – Compared texts
Words revealing two tortured souls








I
Introduction





Since the very first moments of Humanity, Art is a tool to express the deepest impressions of our perception. The draws of our ancestral in the caves are the proof of this.
Moving forward in History, we’ll find out Literary Schools where the poems is just a way to reach the other side – the other side of mind, that stays beyond the bounds of reality – like the Symbolism.

Looking to the poets themselves, we can see tormented people, anxious for express their thoughts. Many of them had a hard life. The Greek Mythology brings to us Orpheus as the Father of Poetry. Orpheus’ Art was his greatest power, such as his worst curse, ‘cause it gave him the opportunity of transcending Death to meet Eurydice, but it was just a moment – he had lost her again, then experiencing a pain greater than before.

On this text we’ll see how two icons of American Culture – Jim Morrison and Marilyn Monroe – can be understood through their Poetry. So you’d ask me why are they related and how their written production are linked. I’ll explain that.




Morrison and Monroe were both of them seeking for freedom and love. Just like Orpheus, both lived a journey of glory and decay, living joys and pains that were experienced by a few people. They were in the Tartarus to rescue what they thought they couldn’t live without, but they’ve lost their desires. The true freedom to Marilyn and Jim was their nemesis – death came to built up Legends where there were before a singer with the soul of a poet and an actress damned by her own sensibility. They had the same fate through different ways.

Although the comparison we’re doing is carefully elaborated, we’ve to consider some points; Monroe’s texts were all informal (they’re from Marilyn Monroe – Fragments released last year), but Jim’s texts were published as poetry. In this personal study, we should put their works on the same level ‘cause we’re not searching for technical evaluation but for the analysis of their hearts through their words.

In the same way, we should consider that they were very different. Marilyn was playing with the world while Jim let the world play around him. Marilyn was addicted to glory and fame (perhaps a valve to supply her personal missing) while Jim was addicted to shocking people – as we can see in the whole Miami Incident (1969). These points are well registered on their lines.




II
Personalities

            In Monroe’s more existentialist poem, we could see how complex was the Star’s mind:

I stood beneath your limbs
And you flowered and finally
Clung to me
And when the wind struck with the earth
And sand – you clung to me
Thinner than a cobweb I,
Sheerer than any –
But it did attach itself
And held fast in strong winds
Life – of which at singular times
I am both of your directions –
Somehow I remain hanging downward the most
As both of your directions pull me

Marilyn saw herself as a “cobweb”, what means that she was delicate and fragile (weak, at all). When she wrote “I stood beneath your limbs”, what we can notice is a very dependent woman who sought for true love during all her life – she married three times, her first husband was Jim Dougherty, then there was Joe Dimmagio and the third was Arthur Miller, but she failed on her trials – she seems to express that on the sad line “somehow I remain hanging downward the most”.

In Morrison’s turn, we have a complete different view of life; as we can see in a poem titled “Power”, from Wilderness:
I can make the earth stop in
Its track. I made the
Blue cars go away

I can make myself invisible or small
I can become gigant & reach the
Farthest things. I can change
 The course of nature
I can place myself anywhere in
Space or time
I can summon the dead
I can perceive events on other world
In my deepest inner mind
& in the minds of others

I can
I am
When you ignore the shamanic references on Jim’s line, you can see a man very proud of himself, a man believing in his personal power (“I can become gigant & reach the farthest things.”) – the fact that Jim was a lover of Nietzche’s work fits pretty good w/ the spirit of this poem. Jim’s alter ego called the Lizard King fits with Nietzche’s concept called Will to Power (the will to power – on Nietzche Philosophy – is the force that drives the man through all his life).

By these poems we are facing two different egos – the female one near to hell and the male one near to heaven; Marilyn recognized herself and her faults, as Jim recognized himself and his own power as showman. Of course, Marilyn had such power as a Hollywood Diva, but it did not change her inner opinion about herself. Jim incorporated the public’s devotion, building a safe zone to his ego. Marilyn – who had a disturbed childhood –   saw all this love and devotion as one more way to suffocate her.


II
Sex, love, relationships
If personally they were so different, there was one point where the Lizard King and the modern Giradoux’s Ondine: the way of loving and their relationships with their lovers.

In a poem from Wildnerss Jim describes brilliantly a relationship:

And I came to you
       For peace
And I came to you
For lies
And you gave me fever
& wisdom
& cries
Of sorrow
& we’ll be here
The next day
The next day
&
Tomorrow

The lines show basically the story of relationship, mostly marked by sadness. Jim wrote about the exchange between lovers (goods and bad things –  fever”, “wisdom” and “cries/of sorrow”).
Marilyn could understand Jim if they meet, as we can see by a untitled poem from 1956 when she was married with Arthur Miller;

Where his eyes rest with pleasure – I
Want to still be – but time has changed
The hold of that glance.
Alas how will I cope when I am even less youthful –

I seek joy but it is clothed
With pain –
Take heart as in my youth
Sleep and rest my heavy head
On his breast – for still my love
Sleeps beside me

Marilyn’s poem is more specific and descriptive about an evanescent relationship. We can surely see these words as a confession about her marriage.

When analyzed together, – in despite of their specific characteristics – these poems compose a completive figure; especially in the second part of each poem:

And I came to you
For lies
And you gave me fever
& wisdom
& cries
Of sorrow

While in Marilyn’s turn:

Alas how will I cope when I am
Even less youthful –

I seek for joy but is clothed
With pain –

Both of them compare and reflect about the two sides of an unique relationship, “you gave me fever/ & wisdom/ & cries/of sorrow” and “I seek joy but it is clothed with pain” show exactly that the love was a two-faced experience for both writers, mainly focused on the hard moments.

Jim and Marilyn were notorious by their sexual/romantic life, being classified as “promiscuous” by the American society. Many people suppose that Jim’s love was Pamela Courson, but he had a long list of affairs, just like Marilyn had many lovers.

Jim and Marilyn were always surrounded by lovers who probably adore them, but when you read their words, you just feel that it was like if they’re alone all the time. Their souls were a vortex of pain, and the loneliness seemed to never leave them.  




III
Allegoric poems

That silent river which stirs
And swells itself with whatever passes over it
Wind, rain, great ships
I love the river – never unmoored
By anything
It’s quiet now
And the silence is alone
Except for the rumbling of things unknown
Distant drums very present
But for the piercing of screams
And the whispers of things
Sharp sounds and then suddenly hushed
To moans beyond sadness – terror beyond
Fear
The cry of things dim and too young to be known yet
The sobs of life itself

You must suffer –
To loose you dark golden
When you covering of
Even dead leaves leave you
Strong and naked
You must be –
Alive – when looking dead
Straight though bent
With wind

And bear the pain & the joy
Of newness on your limbs

Loneliness – be still

The piece is a rich poem from Marilyn Monroe, where the river sounds like an allegory. He seems to be calm (“It’s quiet now/And the silence is alone”), but it’s just an impression, ‘cause beyond the silence there are lots of thing expressing themselves (“excepts for the thunderous rumbling of things unknown/distant drums very present”). It could be a metaphor for Marilyn’s state of soul, ‘cause everyone saw the amazing blond bombshell but no one could see the sensible soul laying down this mask. This inner torture is suggested by the lines “Sharp sounds and then suddenly hushed/To moans beyond sadness – terror beyond/Fear”.

In the next part, she seems to be trying to understand the cause of her suffering “You must suffer – to loose you dark golden”. Perhaps if Marilyn could understand why she was damned, she could try to fix it.

Morrison’s poem fits w/ Marilyn’s research for meaning of the suffering:

Mouth fills with taste of copper
Chinese paper. Foreign money. Old posters.
Gyro on a string, a table
A coin spins. The faces.

There is an audience to our drama
Magic shade mask
Like the hero of a dream, he works for us,
In our behalf

How close is this to a final cut?

I fall. Sweet blackness
Strange world that waits and watches
Ancient dread of non-existence

If it’s no problem, why mention it.
Everything spoken means that,
Its opposite & everything else.
I’m alive. I’m dying.

            Just like Marilyn, Jim work with things beneath the material reality. He used the dreamlike to express what’s beyond the obvious. The first part of the poem seems to be a hallucinogenic vision. Then there’s the part that bought to us the same feeling of suffering we’ve got in Marilyn’s poem: “There’s an audience to our drama/ Magic shade mask/ Like the hero of a dream, he works for us/ in our behalf”; Jim should be conscious about all the attention he had got from media & public (“There is an audience to our drama”) and what they think about him, which picture of Jim Morrison was drawn in the collective brain of America (“Magic shade mask/ Like the hero of a dream, he works for us/ in our behalf”). It resembles a lot Marilyn’s line who seemed to express the storm inside her soul (“sharp sounds and then suddenly hushed to/moans beyond fear”).

            The last part resembles a prophecy. The prophecy of Jim’s end, the expression of his sadness on the Paris days at 1971: “I fall. Sweet blackness/ Strange world that waits and watches/ Ancient dread of non-existence/ (…)/ I’m alive. I’m dying.”. This last line “I’m alive. I’m dying.” Expresses a two-faced condition that is also present on Marilyn’s lines: “When you covering of/ even dead leaves leave you/ strong and naked/ you must be –/ alive – when looking dead/ straight though bent/ with wind”; Marilyn felt the same thing: Dying even being alive, both of them killed by the glory who surrounded them.

            Stronger than any argument is the end of these two iconic artists: Marilyn died in strange conditions at 1962 followed by Jim in 1971, in equal mysterious situation. Even at their death, they were watched, ‘cause, as Jim wrote: “There is an audience to our drama”.

            They found their final rest running away from the fame, finally achieving the so desired nemesis.



Yasmim Deschain


*Sorry for the mistakes on the English Language, I'm Brazilian*