Jim's Notebooks

[TheWallsScreamedPoetry]

It is not known how many notebooks Morrison destroyed and how many were mislaid never to be found (yet) but there are many fine examples of his work from loose sheets of paper and journals giving us a feel for what went though the Poets mind as he created his art.
Frank Lisciandro has proved himself a worthy gaurdian of Jim's poetic legacy as seen by the two volumes of poetry he has championed in the late 80s and 1990.
As to what remains unseen Frank has hinted that he is trying to persuade the Coursons to relent and allow more of this work to see the light of day and considering Corky was in a coma during the trial (he came out of it near the end of proceedings his health does not look so bright so perhaps we may yet see Volume 3 of the lost writings sooner rather than later.
Here are a few examples of Jim's notebooks between 1965 and 1971

Time works like acid
Stained eyes
You see time fly

The face changes as the heart beats
& breathes

We are not constant
We are an arrow in flight
The sum of the angles of change

Her face changed in the car
eyes & skin & hair remain
the same. But a hundred similar
girls succeed each other.


Fear is a porch where winds
slide thru in the North
A face at the Window that
becomes a leaf
An eagle sensing its disaster
But soaring gracefully above
A rabbit shining in the night


Are they sullen & slow? Do
they have great desire? Or
are they one of the multitude who
walk doubting their impossible
regret. Certainly things happen
& reoccur in continuous promise;
All of us have found a safe
niche where we can store up
riches & talk to our fellows
on the same premise of disaster.

But this will not do. No, this
will never do. There are
continents & shores which
beseech our understanding.
Seldom have we been so slow.
Seldom have we been so far.

My only wish is to see
Far Arden again.


The cat drinks little cat
laps form a sick
Turquoise swimming pool.

(Insane couplings out in the night.)

America, I am hook'd to your
Cold white neon bosom, & suck
snake-like thru the dawn, I
am drawn back home
your son in exile
in the land of Awakening
What dreams possessed you
To merge in the morning?

‘I been in a daze’

[mywildlove4371]

wow cool A few of those are ones i had never read before!! thnks alex..and If it isnt said enough.. thankyou for the hard work you put into this site!! I have made a lot of really cool friends off here!! Hope to see you all next summer!

[TheWallsScreamedPoetry]

here are a couple of examples from Jim's notebooks which may not have been seen much before.....they come from an auction house who were selling them and the comments are theirs.

Jim Morrison Handwritten "Nietzsche" Prose

Jim Morrison's admiration of 19th century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche is showcased here with historical accuracy in this unpublished prose. The details of Nietzsche's nervous breakdown in January 1889 are well-documented. He did, indeed, throw "his arms around the animals neck and burst into tears". The reference to contracting syphillis as a young man and carrying "the germs of chaos all his years" also is factual. The reference to Richard Wagner is interesting as well since Nietzche became a close friend of the German composer while he was teaching in Switzerland. Some of Nietzsche's last years were spent in an asylum. Perhaps Morrison's interpretation of that period in the philosopher's life are summed up: "When at last despaired of embodying in words his entire world of thought, he let those forces sweep through him and explode chambers in his brain".

Jim Morrison "Andalusian Bitch" Handwritten Prose

While we've found no reference to "The Andalusian Bitch" in any of Morrison's published writings, we have determined Morrison's prose is a result of his viewing the 1929 Luis Bunuel/Salvador Dali surrealist film, 'Un Chien Andalou.' "The artist's own hand..." refers to Bunuel's appearance in the film where he sharpens a straight blade and slits an eye (close-up.) "Cloud razors slash at the moon" is a reference to a shot of thin, dark clouds passing in front of a silvery moon.

[cobriaclord]

Very nice, you can tell that Morrison really understood the works of Nietzche.

[itisstillnovember]

Very interesting!!

Thanks for sharing.

[TheWallsScreamedPoetry]

Thank you, O Lord
For the white blind light
A city rises from the sea
I had a splitting headache
from which the future's made.

Tender island Night
And a promise of fever
& scars that burst
at blossom depths
& more green silver

Us wrestling in the warm temple of summer
beside the temple
cool inside
-He took my hand.
He spoke to me-

Black horse hooves galloping sun
mad chariot race burning
mad fiery chariot race
mad girl & mad boy
My feathered son flew
too near to the sun.




Still wet from a strange dream
dawn burst
scarring the chamber's
roof where all things lie

I sat w/her & sipped cold sherry

Airport.

(Caesura = ante-room to hell)



We awoke, talking. Telling dreams.
an explosion during the night

A new siren. Not cop, Fire,
New York ambulance or european
movie riot news but the strange
siren predicting war. She ran
to the window. The yellow thing
had risen.


Dreams are at once fruit & outcry
against an atrophy of the senses.

Dreaming is not solution.


The sidewalkers moved faster
We joined the current. Suddenly
the cops, plastic shields & visors,
wielding long thin truncheons
like wands, in formation,
clearing the street the other way.
To get near or stay away.
Cafes were taking in tables
putting chairs on upside
down, pulling the steel playpen
safety bars. Whistles as
the vans arrive. Moustached
soldiers. We leave the scene.
Eyes of youth, wary, gleaming.
The church. A pastoral scene
of guitars, drums, flutes,
harps, & lovers. Past
Shakespeare & Co., the restaurants
w/elegant patrons, cross
street, the small Jazz
district (Story Ville) a
miniature New Orleans.
Negroes in African shirts.
A street brass band.
"Fare well to my web footed friends"
Crowd smiles, jogs, & sings.
Move past. San Michel Blvd.
The Statue. The Seine. Bonfires
of cardboard buzz evilly,
down the blvd. Fire-tenders.
Smell of smoke. Approach closer
nearer. Suddenly screams
long warhoops & the crowd runs
back. And as we flee,
they attack from behind.
Pressed against cafe tables.
Subway & news Kiosk- A
girl beaten, her cries. Can't
hear blows. Rain. (Man w/bottle)
Join me at the demonstraion

We join groups under trees
& rain. Tall public buildings.

Join us at the demonstration.

[TheWallsScreamedPoetry]

A page from Paris Journal.

Chinese newsprint
Dancing over the fires of hell
<Book of Martyrs>
_______________________________

I am astonished.

Strange meat doll & sacred cow.
Horizons

We're entering the zone
of sparrows

Letter from an inmate:
They let us do anything
we want here.


Porcupines not in the field
A comedy of manners
Soft underbelly

2 Pages likely from the same notebook that became Paris Journal but which does not feature in the copy I have.





I have a vision of America seen from the air
28,000 feet and going fast

I have drunk the drug of forgetfulness

Leave the informed sense
in our wake
you be Christ
on this package tour
­­ Money beats soul ­­
Last words, last words
out

[TheWallsScreamedPoetry]

The rare poetry featured on the Morrison Scrapbook disc.
Likely from the 1970 December 8th session.

We can invent Kingdoms of our own
Grand purple thrones, those chairs of lust
And love we must, in beds of rust
Steel doors lock in prisoner's screams
And muzak, AM, rocks their dreams
No black men's pride to hoist the beams
While mocking angels sift what seems
To be a collage of magazine dust
Scratched on foreheads of walls of trust
This is just jail for those who must
Get up in the morning & fight for such
Unusable standards
While weeping maidens
Show-off penury and pout
Ravings for a mad
Staff

[TheWallsScreamedPoetry]

Cheyenne to Denver,
(come to Denver)

Cheyenne You Shine
Like A City of Gold

(Is there an inner light?)

Just look in my eyes,
You'll be alright

[TheWallsScreamedPoetry]

Another peiece of Jim poetry that turned up recently on e-Bay.
No idea where it's from.

[The Lords]

this one is not from Jim, this is not his writing!