Jim Morrison’s ‘Ode To L.A. While Thinking of Brian Jones, Deceased’

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The poem was a mainstay of the band’s live concerts during that time as it was passed out to the crowd before many of their gigs.

25 Apr 1974  Pamela Courson the long-term companion of the late Jim Morrison died of a drugs overdose. It was Courson who found The Doors singer dead on July 3, 1971  Immagine correlata

Excerpt from faroutmagazine – Printed on bleached green paper and with olive green ink the pamphlet is a thing of beauty without considering the touching contents. As confirmed by Alan Graham’s notes saying that Morrison was “passing the poem out to everyone he met. It was published in pamphlet form on pale green bleached parchment with olive green ink.”jimi

Written not only about his beloved hometown L.A. the poem has more resonance with the subject of Brian Jones. The founding member of The Rolling Stones was found dead at age 27 in his swimming pool on July 3rd, 1969 and paid tribute to the star as a mythical figure.

Only two years later Morrison’s own untimely death came at the same age and also saw his body found in a body of water.

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Bernett, a French-born former New York Times journalist, claims the death was then covered up by two drug dealers who transferred Morrison’s body from the club to the singer’s apartment and dumped it in the bath.

Poem Transcription BELOW: 

I’m a resident of a city
They’ve just picked me to playjimi
the Prince of Denmark

Poor Ophelia

All those ghosts he never saw
Floating to doom
On an iron candle

Come back, brave warrior
Do the dive
On another channel

Hot buttered pool
Where’s Marrakesh
Under the falls
the wild storm
where savages fell out
in late afternoon
monsters of rhythm

You’ve left your
Nothing
to compete w/
Silence

I hope you went out
Smiling
Like a child
Into the cool remnant
of a dream

The angel man
w/ Serpents competing
for his palms
& fingers
Finally claimed
This benevolent
Soul

Ophelia

Leaves, sodden
in silk

Chlorine
dream
mad stifled
Witness

The diving board, the plunge
The pool

You were a fighter
a damask musky muse

You were the bleached
Sun
for TV afternoon

horned-toads
maverick of a yellow spot

Look now to where it’s got
You

in meat heaven
w/ the cannibals
& jews

The gardener
Found
The body, rampant, Floating

Lucky Stiff
What is this green pale stuff
You’re made of

Poke holes in the goddess
Skin

Will he Stink
Carried heavenward
Thru the halls
of music

No Chance.

Requiem for a heavy
That smile
That porky satyr’s
leer
has leaped upward

into the loam

Jim Morrison Los Angeles 1969

 

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