Excerpt from The Lost Writings of Jim Morrison: Wilderness Volume One, Page 57


I dropped by to see you

late last night

But you were out

like a light

Your head was on the floor

& rats played pool w/your eyes

 

Death is a good disguise

for late at night

 

Wrapping all games in its calm garden

 

But what happens

when the guests return

& all unmask

& you are asked

to leave

for want of smile

 

I’ll still take you then

But I’m your friend

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Our Gifts


Good morning sun

This misted robe for me?

The trees are gossiping

‘Bout the way we treat their land

Statue beetles scattered

Upside-down looking battered

Kissed by pesticides

Our gift

One of the many we bring

We’ll spread our gifts

‘Til birds cease to sing

Tainted water running rapid

The wind howls earths suffocated cries

It calls to us for help

Urges us to open our eyes