27 May 2005

Madman, musician, poet, genius

“I pressed her thigh and death smiled”
(An American Prayer – Jim Morrison, The Doors)

Jim Morrison was essentially a poet, obsessed with sex and death, haunted by self-destructive urges. Heavily into alcohol and drug abuse, he died at the age of 27 in Paris in 1971, leaving behind his music and poetry for generations of fans across the world. A touch of mystery; a touch of madness; a touch of genius.

“We chased our pleasures here,

Dug our treasures there,
But can you still recall
The time we cried?
Break on through to the other side.”
(Break On Through To The Other Side – Jim Morrison, The Doors)

Better known as a Rock icon and a sex symbol – although Morrison hated the distinction people made between him and The Doors – his music has always overpowered his poetry. Songs like Riders On The Storm, LA Woman, Break On Through, Hello I Love You, Light My Fire… from The Doors’ albums have rocked and swayed the world for years; but to my mind, Morrison has always been a poet. Not because he (apparently) confessed to this fact during the recordings of “An American Prayer”, his lyrics of stark imagery have always resonated as poetry in my heart.

“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 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 there.”
(An American Prayer – Jim Morrison, The Doors)

In his own words: “I see myself as a huge fiery comet, a shooting star. Everyone stops, points up and gasps ‘Oh look at that!’ Then – whoosh, and I'm gone... and they’ll never see anything like it ever again, and they won’t be able to forget me – ever.”

1 comment:

pH said...

it is said that we wouldn't have great creativity if everyone was sane.

some of humanity's creative best has been fuelled by depression and insanity(?).

analyzing myself, i had realized that i wrote the best when i was "down". and i've known that for many years now.

read here for some more http://www.molbio.princeton.edu/courses/mb427/2000/projects/0002/artists.html
a search in the internet would land you a plethora of information !