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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Mr. Mojo Risindots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: rws
    ASL Info:    57/m/ohio
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 2777/1297/258
    Words: 162
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 695
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1290



    Description:
       This is somewhat of an homage to the 'Crawling King Snake' and late proto-punk lead singer of the Doors, James Douglas Morrison (who might have been a better known poet if he hadn't set most of his works to music). As befits the subject of the write, this piece refused to behave itself and wrestled me to the end.


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    dotsMr. Mojo Risindots
    -------------------------------------------


    The flesh lay in its
    eminence, as
    the saying goes,
    "We is stoned
    immaculate,"
    and that stone
    glows.

    Bearded like
    a child's idea of God, alluring
    as an erotic Santa Claus,
    the leering angel
    knows no eloquence
    save that of stolen
    slopes of azure, wrapped
    in trembling draperies
    between Valhalla and Nod,
    sparing the child
    and spoiling the rod,
    bows bent to
    ghostwritten
    songs.

    I wish I could
    have warned you,
    such soft bigotry
    befits those claimants
    to the low expectations
    of lesser gods
    pantomimed brilliance,
    cast from their element;
    perhaps ghosts
    bleed the jeweled
    glyphs a thousand
    tongues have clawed
    to drunken lullabies.

    You thought the slim
    perimeters
    of native souls
    might dance to
    a pulse feathered
    red and gold,
    but there is no
    beauty here
    and, in these beams,
    not a drop of
    light; the natives,
    restless, drag sad
    elegies toward
    home.

    See ya later,
    Jimmy.

    Goodnight.




    Submitted on 2006-02-13 19:04:01     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
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    ||| Comments |||
      So yea it was Jim Morrison who inspired me to write, love this piece, it's a great tribute!
    | Posted on 2012-05-21 00:00:00 | by Damien Vladimir | [ Reply to This ]
      Hehe, this is a great tribute Bill... your title first off... which is an anagram of Jim Morrison - I only found that out recently actually.

    Have you ever listened to his spoken word album 'An American Prayer'? It's great... I have it in my room somewhere... if you don't have it you should have a listen... buy it or download it...

    I don't have any nitpicks (wow you say lol)... I think that the tone of this piece works very well... your references to ghosts and natives also works very well... from what I've read of him (a biography) and listening to his albums (I only have like sixty or so songs hahaha) it fits beautifully.

    Can ya tell I'm into the Doors? Hahaha. So yea... I can't really pick this apart as I'm pretty biased about it all.

    Nicely written and all that jazz.
    Peace,

    Jase
    | Posted on 2006-03-26 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ]
      Wow, my favorite write by you so far Bill. So plainly spoken...yet eloquently infused with all the brilliance and depth of meaning which are hallmarks of your writing.

    There is a mysticism missing from modern man. This is not a new phenomena. But Jim had the balls to weave a sort of mythic existence all his own. Which, any homage to the man would not be complete without mentioning. Without enveloping with thoughts and words as beautiful, and tragic, and incendiary...as the man himself. A fitting tribute to the lizard king. Nothing more or less than necessary.

    But somehow...something more.

    a real pleasure to read,
    later,
    kc
    | Posted on 2006-03-16 00:00:00 | by twacky | [ Reply to This ]
      

    ahh, the Lizard King.. he was quite a poet. it's too
    bad he got so tore back on drugs.

    i could actually hear someone reciting these words
    as if it were Jim himself, in a hazy, stoned way that trips through your brain as you're listening.
    this is a great homage, Bill.

    peace,
    ~Cat
    | Posted on 2006-02-25 00:00:00 | by magnicat | [ Reply to This ]
      Bearded like
    a child's idea of God, alluring
    as an erotic Santa Claus,
    the leering angel
    knows no eloquence
    save that of stolen
    slopes of azure, wrapped
    in trembling draperies
    between Valhalla and Nod,
    sparing the child
    and spoiling the rod,
    bows bent to
    ghostwritten
    songs.


    this is one of the best stanza's i've read in a long time. I don't always get your poetry Bill, but i know this is my failing and not yours, and i'm not suggesting you change a thing about what you do.

    I loved this stanza (aside from evoking an image of an erotic santa (distrubing!)), the references to jesus from a childs eyes, valhalla (any former resident of a nordic land would have enjoyed this), and Nod, and the delightful and appropriate litlte deviation on the old wisdom of disciplining children.

    this was good.

    Its never sat comfortable with me though that JM now lies under french concrete, less so having visited it. Not when i read his poems like "bird of prey". they'd have been better off in my humble opinion leaving his corpse above ground in the desert for nature to reclaim him.
    | Posted on 2006-02-24 00:00:00 | by Senna27NZ | [ Reply to This ]
      "Soft lizard eyes connect
    Their soft drained insect cries erect
    new fear, where fears reign.
    The rustling odd sex against their skin.
    The wind withdraws all sound.
    Stamp your witness on the punished ground."

    He does go to start reciting poetry in "The End"...(what have we done to the earth/ what have we done to our fair sister?) He actually recites his poetry in the midst of his songs. How cool is that?

    You capture Morrison. He was eccentric, he was cocky, he was lusty, he thought he was some kind of god, but he was a freaking genius.

    I know this is homage, but if you wanted to style it more after Morrison's own poetry I would say eliminate some of the syllables...it is kind of wordy. Morrison uses these luscious words and he focuses and draws them out. The words themselves have so much impact, he doesn't need other words to fill each line and give it meaning.

    Strange days,
    Danielle
    | Posted on 2006-02-14 00:00:00 | by Astarael | [ Reply to This ]
      Mmm great work here Bill and you save the illustrations for last hit of Riders on the Storm. So yes the departure had to be quite radical if it serves to unveil the folly: the dual dueling gods seem to unfold during the time of Morrison.

    You though the slim
    perimeters
    of native souls
    might dance to
    a pulse feathered
    red and gold,

    On this do you mean "You, through the slim.."
    if so you want to add a comma and correct the spelling
    on "through"

    Very well done Bill, as always..

    Nan

    | Posted on 2006-02-14 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]
      This is an exquisite write. My best friend is a huge Doors fan I think I've got to know a little about them from him. I love how you include the saying ‘We is stoned, immaculate’. It really sets the scene. The beautiful poetic voice is perfect because it contrasts with his wasted potential, it shows what he could have been if he wasn’t so imprisoned by playing in The Doors and you capture this flawlessly in the lines:

    to the low expectations
    of lesser gods
    pantomimed brilliance,
    cast from their element;
    perhaps ghosts
    bleed the jeweled
    glyphs a thousand
    tongues have clawed
    to drunken lullabies.

    And:

    the leering angel
    knows no eloquence
    save that of stolen
    slopes of azure, wrapped
    in trembling draperies
    between Valhalla and Nod,

    If I were to make one criticism, and this is a nit pic that in a sense has nothing to do with the poetic language and flow which is perfect, I don’t understand why you write :

    bows bent to
    ghostwritten
    songs.


    Robby Krieger was a guitarist and I think perhaps strings might sound better in this rock context, but, of course, that is just me and knowing my somewhat limited knowledge of music I’m probably missing something. I wrote an eulogy to Jimi Hendrix in a poem 'All That Is Left'.

    A brilliant poem,
    Speacenik.
    | Posted on 2006-02-15 00:00:00 | by Speacenik | [ Reply to This ]
      Ah, Mr. Morrison

    You make a good point in your description. Many of his songs stand up pretty well in the world of poetry, even stripped of their music.

    What is it about the great poetic songwriters that leads them to oblivion?

    You thought the slim
    perimeters
    of native souls
    might dance to
    a pulse feathered
    red and gold,
    but there is no
    beauty here
    and, in these beams,
    not a drop of
    light; the natives,
    restless, drag sad
    elegies toward
    home.


    Perhaps the reality for the world is just too ugly for people capable of such beauty.

    Steve
    | Posted on 2006-02-16 00:00:00 | by Lost Sheep | [ Reply to This ]


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