O insan değil.. Yeryüzünde yaşamış bir tanrı.. O; Kertenkelelerin Kralı..
'Ben kuyruklu bir yıldız olmak istiyorum Ray. Hani insanların birbirlerine gösterip ne kadar inanılmaz olduklarını ifade ettikleri yıldızlar gibi. Ancak sonra.. boom! Bir bakmışsın; kuyruklu yıldız ortada yok..'
Offff yaa adama çoook küçüklüümdn beri hastayım yaa. Onn kdr sapık olupta bu kdr sewilen bi insn daa yoqtur bu dnyadaa! ! Ama hojalr napalm onn kdr tatlı bi adamdsa gelmes bu dünyaya bi daa :))
Poems, Lyrics, Stories and Artwork by James Douglas Morrison
Is everybody in? Is everybody in? Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin. WAKE UP! You can't remember where it was Has this dream stopped?
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 in a cool jeweled moon Couples naked race down by its quiet side And we laugh like soft, mad children Smug in the woolly cotton brains on 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.
GHOST SONG Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind.
'Me and my — 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 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.
Indian, Indian what did you die for? Indian says, nothing at all.
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 to wish you well, To glory in self like a new monster. And now I call on you to pray.
A MILITARY STATION IN THE DESERT Can we resolve the past, Lurking jaws, joints of time? The Base To come of age in a dry place, Holes and caves.
My friend drove an hour each day from the mountains. The bus gives you a hard-on with books in your lap. Someone shot the bird in the afternoon dance show. They gave out free records to the best couple. Spades dance best, from the hip.
The music was new, black polished chrome And came over the summer like liquid night. The DJ's took pills to stay awake and play for seven days. They went to the studio and someone knew him; Someone knew the TV showman. He came to your homeroom party and played records And when he left in the hot noon sun and walked to his car, We saw the chooks had written F-U-C-K on his windshield He wiped it off with a white rag and smiling coolly drove away. He's rich. Got a big car.
My gang will get you... Scenes of rape in the arroyo Seductions in cars, abandoned buildings. Fights at the food stand. The dust. The shoes. Open shirts and raised collars. Bright sculptured hair.
Hey man, you want girls, pills, grass? C'mon... I show you good time. This place has everything. C'mon... I show you.
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 maneuvered two girls in to his hotel room. One a friend, the other, the young one, a newer stranger Vaguely Mexican or Puerto Rican. Poor boys thighs and buttocks scarred by a father's belt, She's trying to rise. 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.
Stood by the side of the road And leveled his thumb In the calm calculus of reason
Hi. How you doin'? I just got back into town. L.A. I was out on the desert for awhile. Riders on the storm Yeah. In the middle of it. Riders on the storm Right... Into this house we're born Hey, listen, man, I really got a problem. Into this world we're thrown When I was out on the desert, ya know, Like a dig without a bone An actor out on loan I don't know how to tell you, Riders on the storm but, ah, I killed somebody. There's a killer on the road No... His brain is squirming like a toad It's no big deal, ya know, I don't think anybody will find out about it, but... Take a long holiday just, ah... Let your children play this guy gave me a ride, and ah... If you give this man a ride started giving me a lot of trouble, Sweet family will die and I just couldn't take it, ya know? Killer on the road And I wasted him. Yeah.
AN AMERICAN PRAYER Do you know the warm progress under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys to the Kingdom
Have you been born yet & are you alive?
Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
[Have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war]
We need great golden copulations
The fathers are cackling in trees
of the forest
Our mother is dead in the sea
Do you know we are being led to slaughters by placid admirals
& that fat slow generals are getting obscene on young blood
Do you know we are ruled by T.V.
the moon is a dry blood beast
Guerrilla bands are rolling numbers in the next block of green vine
amassing for warfare on innocent herdsmen who are just dying
O great creator of being
grant us one more hour to perform our art & perfect our lives
The moths & atheists are doubly divine & dying
We live, we die
& death not ends it
Journey we more into the Nightmare
Cling to life Our passion'd flower
Cling to cunts & cocks of despair
We got our final vision by clap
Columbus' groin got filled w/ green death
(I touched her thigh & death smiled)
We have assembled inside this ancient & insane theatre
To propagate our lust for life & flee the swarming wisdom of the streets
The barns are stormed
The windows kept
& only one of all the rest
To dance & save us
W/ the divine mockery of words
Music inflames temperament
(When the true King's murderers
are allowed to roam free
a 1000 Magicians arise in the land)
Where are the feasts
we were promised
Where is the wine
The New Wine (dying on the vine)
resident mockery
give us an hour for magic
We of the purple glove
We of the starling flight & velvet hour
We of arabic pleasure's breed
We of sundome & the night
Give us a creed
To believe
A night of Lust
Give us trust in
The Night
Give of color
hundred hues
a rich mandala
for me & you
& for your silky
pillowed house
a head, wisdom
& a bed
Troubled decree
Resident mockery
has claimed thee
We used to believe
in the good old days
We still receive
In little ways
The Things of Kindness
& unsporting brow
Forget & allow
Did you know freedom exists in a school book
Did you know madmen are running our prison
w/in a jail, w/in a gaol
w/in a white free protestant
maelstrom
We're perched headlong on the edge of boredom
We're reaching for death on the end of a candle
We're trying for something That's already found us
Wow, I'm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
South
Cruel bindings
The servants have the power
dog-men & their mean women
pulling poor blankets over
our sailors
I'm sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the T.V.
Tower: I want roses in
my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
fro the plant that's plowed
They are waiting to take us into the severed garden
So you know how pale & wanton thrillful comes death on a strange hour unannounced, unplanned for
like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed
özel insanlardan birisi.Yaşamı algılama biçimi,doğrultusu...Kendine öz felsefesini çıplakça ortaya çıkarabilmesi,en önemlisi bir dönemi etkileyerek müziğe yansıtması...yaratıcılık.Sıkı bir fırlama :)))
çookkk seneler önce trt'de film'i oynamıştı. diğer gün arkadaşla kendimizi jim morrison zannedip gezmiştik bütün gün, ohhhh uçmuştuk, the end'i dinleyin sizde uçun. Şımarmasaydı çok daha iyi işler çıkartırdı, belkide başarısının sırrı bu cozutmuş halindedir bilemem artık.
You could say it's an accident that I was ideally suited for the work I am doing. It's the feeling of a bowstring being pulled back for 22 years and suddenly being let go. I am primarily an American, second, a Californian, third, a Los Angeles resident. I've always been attracted to ideas that were about revolt against authority. I like ideas about the breaking away or overthrowing of established order. I am interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos - especially activity that seems to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road toward freedom - external revolt is a way to bring about internal freedom. Rather than starting inside, I start outside - reach the mental through the physical. I am a Sagittarian - if astrology has anything to do with it - the Centaur - the Archer - the Hunt - But the main thing is that we are The Doors.
We are from the West. The whole thing is like an invitation to the West.
The sunset - This is the end The night - The sea
The world we suggest is of a new wild west. A sensuous evil world. Strange and haunting, the path of the sun, you know? Toward the end. At least for our first album. We're all centered around the end of the zodiac. The Pacific - violence and peace - the way between young and the old.
raporlara göre kalp krizi sonucu ölmüştür fakat ölüm raporunu hazırlayan doktorun ismi daha sonra tabipler listesinde bulunamamıştır. bu yüzden jim morrisonun aşırı dozdan dolayı öldüğü söyleniyor
ayrıca ıq sü 149 dur..einchteinden fazla dır zeki gözüküyor yazık olmuş
secde etmekteyim kendisine...light my fire ı söölerken ölebilirim...o sölesin ben öliim...the doors olamadılar hakkaten jim den sonra...acının kralı,lanetli kuşağın efendisi...sewiyorum kendisini...
'i see myself as an intelligent, sensitive human, with the soul of a clown which forces me to blow it at the most important moments.' demis, demek ki olayin farkindaymis.*
doorsun efsanevi vokali...öyleki ünü ve karizmasi grubu bi hayli geçmistir ama bence en ilginç yani gerçek bi dahi olmasi ve bu yüzden de iyice sapitip çiygin bi hayat sürmesidir.hatta tanrilar yeni yaratiklar diye bi kitabi vardir ki 'sevgilisi' pamela tarafindan derlenmis ve düzeltilmistir.onun yazdiklarindan deniz ve kan fobisi oldugunu ve müzik kadar sinemayla da ilgili oldugunu görüyoz.mesela der ki 'filmler yapay olarak döllenmis ölü fotograflar bütünüdür', 'tanrilar hayalerle uyusturur bizi.bize kitaplar,konserler,galeriler,sovlar,sinemalar verirler.özellikle de sinemalar...sanat yoluyla kafamizi karistirir ve kendi köleligimizin içinde kör ederler bizi.sanat,hücre duvarlarimizi süsler,sessiz ve bir örnek tutar bizi
Aşırılığın yolu,yabancı bir ülkede insanların üzerine içki ve sigara artıkları bıraktıkları pis bir mezarda son buluyor. the end ve when music is over ı yaratan adam Sanat tanrısı.siyah beyaz bir herif.
şaibeli ölümünden sonra.aslında sevenleri inanmadılar öldüğüne.tek karısı görmüştü ölüsünü ve o da 2yıl sonra öldü.menejeri tabutunu görmüştü ve açma gereği duymadığını açıkladı.raporu yazan doktorun izine de rastlanmadı kimliğine de.. o doors grubunun olmazsa olmazıydı..zaten ondan sonra asla The Doors olamadılar..jim morrisona dair çok şey okudum,ama en sevdiren onun müziğindeki kopuşalrımdı...
doors. bütün 70'li hippiler gibi uçuruma sürüklendi. insan annesine küfreder mi. o ediyor işte.
Emin ol biz o kuyruklu yıldızı kalbimize kazıdık.. Seni seviyoruz Jim.
O insan değil.. Yeryüzünde yaşamış bir tanrı.. O; Kertenkelelerin Kralı..
'Ben kuyruklu bir yıldız olmak istiyorum Ray. Hani insanların birbirlerine gösterip ne kadar inanılmaz olduklarını ifade ettikleri yıldızlar gibi. Ancak sonra.. boom! Bir bakmışsın; kuyruklu yıldız ortada yok..'
(bkz: Efsane)
Offff yaa adama çoook küçüklüümdn beri hastayım yaa. Onn kdr sapık olupta bu kdr sewilen bi insn daa yoqtur bu dnyadaa! ! Ama hojalr napalm onn kdr tatlı bi adamdsa gelmes bu dünyaya bi daa :))
AN AMERICAN PRAYER
Album Poem Collection
Poems, Lyrics, Stories and Artwork by
James Douglas Morrison
Is everybody in?
Is everybody in?
Is everybody in?
The ceremony is about to begin.
WAKE UP!
You can't remember where it was
Has this dream stopped?
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 in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by its quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the woolly cotton brains on 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.
GHOST SONG
Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind.
'Me and my — 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 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.
Indian, Indian what did you die for?
Indian says, nothing at all.
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 to wish you well,
To glory in self like a new monster.
And now I call on you to pray.
A MILITARY STATION IN THE DESERT
Can we resolve the past,
Lurking jaws, joints of time?
The Base
To come of age in a dry place,
Holes and caves.
My friend drove an hour each day from the mountains.
The bus gives you a hard-on with books in your lap.
Someone shot the bird in the afternoon dance show.
They gave out free records to the best couple.
Spades dance best, from the hip.
The music was new,
black polished chrome
And came over the summer
like liquid night.
The DJ's took pills to stay awake
and play for seven days.
They went to the studio
and someone knew him;
Someone knew the TV showman.
He came to your homeroom party
and played records
And when he left in the hot noon sun
and walked to his car,
We saw the chooks had written
F-U-C-K on his windshield
He wiped it off with a white rag
and smiling coolly drove away.
He's rich. Got a big car.
My gang will get you...
Scenes of rape in the arroyo
Seductions in cars, abandoned buildings.
Fights at the food stand.
The dust.
The shoes.
Open shirts and raised collars.
Bright sculptured hair.
Hey man, you want girls, pills, grass? C'mon...
I show you good time.
This place has everything. C'mon...
I show you.
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 maneuvered two girls in to his hotel room.
One a friend, the other, the young one, a newer stranger
Vaguely Mexican or Puerto Rican.
Poor boys thighs and buttocks scarred by a father's belt,
She's trying to rise.
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.
THE HITCHHIKER
Stood by the side of the road
And leveled his thumb
In the calm calculus of reason
Hi. How you doin'? I just got back into town. L.A.
I was out on the desert for awhile.
Riders on the storm
Yeah. In the middle of it.
Riders on the storm
Right...
Into this house we're born
Hey, listen, man, I really got a problem.
Into this world we're thrown
When I was out on the desert, ya know,
Like a dig without a bone
An actor out on loan
I don't know how to tell you,
Riders on the storm
but, ah, I killed somebody.
There's a killer on the road
No...
His brain is squirming like a toad
It's no big deal, ya know,
I don't think anybody will find out about it, but...
Take a long holiday
just, ah...
Let your children play
this guy gave me a ride, and ah...
If you give this man a ride
started giving me a lot of trouble,
Sweet family will die
and I just couldn't take it, ya know?
Killer on the road
And I wasted him.
Yeah.
AN AMERICAN PRAYER
Do you know the warm progress
under the stars?
Do you know we exist?
Have you forgotten the keys
to the Kingdom
Have you been born yet
& are you alive?
Let's reinvent the gods, all the myths
of the ages
Celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
[Have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war]
We need great golden copulations
The fathers are cackling in trees
of the forest
Our mother is dead in the sea
Do you know we are being led to
slaughters by placid admirals
& that fat slow generals are getting
obscene on young blood
Do you know we are ruled by T.V.
the moon is a dry blood beast
Guerrilla bands are rolling numbers
in the next block of green vine
amassing for warfare on innocent
herdsmen who are just dying
O great creator of being
grant us one more hour to
perform our art
& perfect our lives
The moths & atheists are doubly divine
& dying
We live, we die
& death not ends it
Journey we more into the
Nightmare
Cling to life
Our passion'd flower
Cling to cunts & cocks
of despair
We got our final vision
by clap
Columbus' groin got
filled w/ green death
(I touched her thigh
& death smiled)
We have assembled inside this ancient
& insane theatre
To propagate our lust for life
& flee the swarming wisdom
of the streets
The barns are stormed
The windows kept
& only one of all the rest
To dance & save us
W/ the divine mockery
of words
Music inflames temperament
(When the true King's murderers
are allowed to roam free
a 1000 Magicians arise
in the land)
Where are the feasts
we were promised
Where is the wine
The New Wine
(dying on the vine)
resident mockery
give us an hour for magic
We of the purple glove
We of the starling flight
& velvet hour
We of arabic pleasure's breed
We of sundome & the night
Give us a creed
To believe
A night of Lust
Give us trust in
The Night
Give of color
hundred hues
a rich mandala
for me & you
& for your silky
pillowed house
a head, wisdom
& a bed
Troubled decree
Resident mockery
has claimed thee
We used to believe
in the good old days
We still receive
In little ways
The Things of Kindness
& unsporting brow
Forget & allow
Did you know freedom exists
in a school book
Did you know madmen are
running our prison
w/in a jail, w/in a gaol
w/in a white free protestant
maelstrom
We're perched headlong
on the edge of boredom
We're reaching for death
on the end of a candle
We're trying for something
That's already found us
Wow, I'm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain
South
Cruel bindings
The servants have the power
dog-men & their mean women
pulling poor blankets over
our sailors
I'm sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the T.V.
Tower: I want roses in
my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
fro the plant that's plowed
They are waiting to take us into
the severed garden
So you know how pale & wanton thrillful
comes death on a strange hour
unannounced, unplanned for
like a scaring over-friendly guest you've
brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all
& gives us wings
where we had shoulders
smooth as raven's
claws
No more money, no more fancy dress
This other Kingdom seems by far the best
until its other jaw reveals incest
& loose obedience to a vegetable law
I will not go
Prefer a Feast of Friends
To the Giant Family
The severed garden diyorum beni bu kadar etkileyen az parça vardır. Ne deyim kapılar açık kaldı o gitti gideli
özel insanlardan birisi.Yaşamı algılama biçimi,doğrultusu...Kendine öz felsefesini çıplakça ortaya çıkarabilmesi,en önemlisi bir dönemi etkileyerek müziğe yansıtması...yaratıcılık.Sıkı bir fırlama :)))
'I wanna be Jim Morrison...' (Radiohead)
çookkk seneler önce trt'de film'i oynamıştı. diğer gün arkadaşla kendimizi jim morrison zannedip gezmiştik bütün gün, ohhhh uçmuştuk, the end'i dinleyin sizde uçun. Şımarmasaydı çok daha iyi işler çıkartırdı, belkide başarısının sırrı bu cozutmuş halindedir bilemem artık.
JIM MORRISON
1943 - 1971
You could say it's an accident that I was ideally suited for the work I am doing. It's the feeling of a bowstring being pulled back for 22 years and suddenly being let go. I am primarily an American, second, a Californian, third, a Los Angeles resident. I've always been attracted to ideas that were about revolt against authority. I like ideas about the breaking away or overthrowing of established order. I am interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos - especially activity that seems to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road toward freedom - external revolt is a way to bring about internal freedom. Rather than starting inside, I start outside - reach the mental through the physical. I am a Sagittarian - if astrology has anything to do with it - the Centaur - the Archer - the Hunt - But the main thing is that we are The Doors.
We are from the West. The whole thing is like an invitation to the West.
The sunset - This is the end
The night - The sea
The world we suggest is of a new wild west. A sensuous evil world. Strange and haunting, the path of the sun, you know? Toward the end. At least for our first album. We're all centered around the end of the zodiac. The Pacific - violence and peace - the way between young and the old.
'cancel my subscription to the resurrection'
dirilişe olan aboneliğimi iptal ediyorum,,,,
dün akşam beraberdik, ama çok çabuk gittin...
raporlara göre kalp krizi sonucu ölmüştür fakat ölüm raporunu hazırlayan doktorun ismi daha sonra tabipler listesinde bulunamamıştır. bu yüzden jim morrisonun aşırı dozdan dolayı öldüğü söyleniyor
ayrıca ıq sü 149 dur..einchteinden fazla dır zeki gözüküyor yazık olmuş
secde etmekteyim kendisine...light my fire ı söölerken ölebilirim...o sölesin ben öliim...the doors olamadılar hakkaten jim den sonra...acının kralı,lanetli kuşağın efendisi...sewiyorum kendisini...
'i see myself as an intelligent, sensitive human, with the soul of a clown which forces me to blow it at the most important moments.' demis, demek ki olayin farkindaymis.*
doorsun efsanevi vokali...öyleki ünü ve karizmasi grubu bi hayli geçmistir ama bence en ilginç yani gerçek bi dahi olmasi ve bu yüzden de iyice sapitip çiygin bi hayat sürmesidir.hatta tanrilar yeni yaratiklar diye bi kitabi vardir ki 'sevgilisi' pamela tarafindan derlenmis ve düzeltilmistir.onun yazdiklarindan deniz ve kan fobisi oldugunu ve müzik kadar sinemayla da ilgili oldugunu görüyoz.mesela der ki 'filmler yapay olarak döllenmis ölü fotograflar bütünüdür', 'tanrilar hayalerle uyusturur bizi.bize kitaplar,konserler,galeriler,sovlar,sinemalar verirler.özellikle de sinemalar...sanat yoluyla kafamizi karistirir ve kendi köleligimizin içinde kör ederler bizi.sanat,hücre duvarlarimizi süsler,sessiz ve bir örnek tutar bizi
eq'sunun 145 olduğu ve einstein'den daha zeki olduğu söylentisi wardır. doğrudur... beyni halen saklanmaktadır
Aşırılığın yolu,yabancı bir ülkede insanların üzerine içki ve sigara artıkları bıraktıkları pis bir mezarda son buluyor.
the end ve when music is over ı yaratan adam
Sanat tanrısı.siyah beyaz bir herif.
şairane ruhun müzikalle anlatımın siyah derili şeytanı..
Kertenkele Kral
şaibeli ölümünden sonra.aslında sevenleri inanmadılar öldüğüne.tek karısı görmüştü ölüsünü ve o da 2yıl sonra öldü.menejeri tabutunu görmüştü ve açma gereği duymadığını açıkladı.raporu yazan doktorun izine de rastlanmadı kimliğine de..
o doors grubunun olmazsa olmazıydı..zaten ondan sonra asla The Doors olamadılar..jim morrisona dair çok şey okudum,ama en sevdiren onun müziğindeki kopuşalrımdı...
BİLDİKLERİMİZ VE BİLEMEDİKLERİMİZ VARDIR BİDE BUNLARIN ARASINDA KAPILAR... FARKLI Bİ KİŞİLİK. KENDİNİ BULMUŞ OLDUĞUNU VARSAYDIĞIM İNSANLARDAN BİRİ.
- SON DAN DAN SESLERİ -
(Jim Morrison’a)
Cisimler vuruyor gözüme,
Hiç durmayacak gibi.
Bir bebek ağlıyor,
Hiç susmayacak gibi.
Bir uçustu yürüdüğüm kaldırımlar
Bir arzuydu koştuğum ölüme
Terastaki yıldızlardı hayallerimin fazlalığı
Doyumu ve açlığı inkar eden asilik
Duygular ve zevkler
Bir adam geliyor Eski Yunan’dan,
Filozofların beynini bxxxrmiş.
Adını söyle dedim, adını,
Sadece baktı ölüme ve gitti.
Bir rüyadı göründüğü
Oydu elinde tuttuğu aşk alevlerini
Bir bilmeceydi gözleri
Senfoninin zehri
Yaşamın ve ölümün klavuzu
Bulunduğum ve göründüğüm
Bir ruh kaçıran adam
nizam 1992
grow my hair..grow my hair i am jim morrison................