#thedoors
Before you slip into unconsciousness
I'd like to have another kiss
Another flashing chance at bliss
Another kiss, another kiss
The days are bright and filled with pain
Enclose me in your gentle rain
The time you ran was too insane
We'll meet again, we'll meet again
Oh tell me where your freedom lies
The streets are fields that never die
Deliver me from reasons why
You'd rather cry, I'd rather fly
The crystal ship is being filled
A thousand girls, a thousand thrills
A million ways to spend your time
When we get back, I'll drop a line
Oct 2, 2020
Oct 2, 2020 at 7:34 PM UTC
.
*Rider On The Storm of trances,
LA Woman led through ritual dances.
A Poet just Waiting for the Sun,
when The End was where it all begun.
The Spy trying to Break on Through,
a native sharing his Shamans Blues.
A Ship of Fools tinged with mirth,
destined Not To Touch The Earth.
Mr Mojo Risin', the acid dream rover,
taking rest When The Music's Over.*
© Pagan Paul (04/12/16)
James 'Jim' Douglas Morrison
(Poet and Rock Star)
8 December 1943 – 3 July 1971.
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 6:12 PM UTC
Leave your demons behind they grunt with oppression.
If pride was a cloak then you'd wear it well.
Those who see you for who you are don't have eyes,
their souls are primed with smitten sins.
Dancing with the wolves gives you the danger you deserve but you play with the pups.
Lust love lust love
what does it matter you'll get your way oh master of words,
show me those pretty eyes, Mr. Soul play your music.
This is for you God of rock.
Push pull push pull
the threads are unwinding,
whittling your story,
sewing your fate.
Lips of spice drowning in tongue.
Where's your cheek?
Swallow that pill please because you take that medicine well.
Society huh?
what a dream, keep your ideals because this is hell...
Welcome, leave your soul at the Doors.
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 5:46 AM UTC
It's after midnight
And I'm listening to The Doors
And I think in Jim Morrison's symphony -
I'm a Rider On The Storm
With People who Are Strange
But I say, "Hello, I Love You, can you tell me your name?"
I beg them to Light My Fire
But they don't even try...
How long will I try to Break On Through To The Other Side?
Love Me Two Times, before I say I'm goin' away
But maybe I don't have to feel lonely
As long as there is good music out there
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
As he sits back he blows up the smoke
With one look the Lizard King penetrates your soul
A talk of dreams and projections
No ears to hear the King's interventions
A post prophet of freedom and anarchy
The room is crowded but the lizard king is lonely
Innate talent of mind alternance and substance abuse
Words speaking of a King and a noose
The Lizard King roars before shooting his final blend
The King closes his eyes as the crown falls to an infinite end
Words Of Harfouchism
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
The heart of the Lizard King beats with every note
It speaks of a strange tongue and a banned tone
A vision of the future and past incarnations
A trip to the edges of creation
The Lizard King smiles, but it knows him not
He cries but the tears refuses to drop
18th generations of a pure blood race
The Lizard King offers the last chance to escape
Words of a lost soul that won't breed
Pain, pleasure and desires till the Lizard King fals asleep
Words Of Harfouchism
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
They said, people are strange,
When you're a stranger
They knew, and people get even
Even stranger once you dive into them
Once familiarity becomes so familiar, it irks
They pierce into your mind
Straws of trust, and leech out every bit of you
Your essence must evaporate
In the drought of love and kindness
People are strange
They crave for colour to fill up their lives
but never to seep into their skin
They want a rich friend, a poor one as much
A girl, a boy, transgender, gay, bisexual, asexual
But a lover, only as conditioning and the general tainted view of the world permits
People are strange
They say blood is thicker than water
But blood is poisoned and water
It needs distillation
They say they love when they don't
And nothing when they do
They say a lot of things
That only confuse
People are strange
All for love, no to hate
Until of course, higher motives surface
One heartbreak, all men are Gates of Defecation
One attack, entire fraternity blamed
One moment of broken trust,
A million of murdering reason
People are strange
No matter who you are
And yet, you fall in love
Because people are strange
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 11:15 AM UTC
In the crowded street
Where you cant hear who talks
And you cant see who walks
I hear whispers
Whispers from the ocean
Calls for help and survival
The gentle calls
And silent screams
The man whispering
Was the one dancing
With a knife in his heart
Slowly being thorn apart
Further away
I saw a floating shadow
Whilst i turned
I saw a man hanging
Someone grabbed my hand
As I came closer to the end
He opened the doors
And fire and wind arose
The killer woke before dawn
He put his boots on
He pushed me down
And the sea claimed her forgotten son
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 6:25 AM UTC
All hail the Lizard King,
whose esoteric words crawl like sirens
over hungry rocks
baring teeth to the hypnotized sailor
steering his ship into the jagged maw.
All hail the Lizard King,
perched upon his Dionysian throne,
ambrosial ecstasies fill his cup
while jongleurs dance to psychedelic chansons.
At his feet
prey the nubile maidens of yore
flower-eyed and pearly-teethed.
His eyes, mighty azure pools of madness
within which Byzantine kings were murdered--
blood darts through the mysterious waters
into the hysterical white void.
Alexander the Great
sits poised like a statue
where his libido crouches like a panther
'til the aural adonis
leaps from his confines
an amorous figure of tantalizing flesh and blood
with supple lips pouting, naked muscles taut,
mad eyes gleaming.
All hail the Lizard King,
from lush lips poetic decrees
sing forth into the endless night
penetrating taverns and bedrooms and radios
and stadiums.
The electric shaman leaps from his throne
to cast his wicked incantation,
a spark from his eyes shoots to the pyre
where a lustful blue flame erupts from
the bones of the prophets.
HIs voice soothing, haunting,
the sonic alchemist
sings his siren song into the cataclysm
where we are cast in abeyance--
We follow him,
but is he only leading us deeper
into the darkness,
or does he truly see the light?
The endless night.
All hail the Lizard King.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 10:06 PM UTC
La Ratita Presumida
“... y sentia muy feliz. Pero al terminar, el gato se lanzo sobre ella para comer se la. La Ratita lorgo escaper y aprendio a no fiarse de la aparencias”
Generally speaking, the most romantic matters take place beneath the moonlight. It shone down on the city of Barcelona that night with a certain intention, a mysterious plan. She went out for a cigarette, or a “thought” as she liked to think of it, her soul already marinating in a bottle of cheap, red wine. She let the moonlight pour its possibilities upon her skin as she exhaled into the night.
It was this recipe:
¾ bottle of red wine,
1 pack of Marlboro Lights,
a pinch of red lipstick and
a dash of moony-mist
on the dimly lit terrace that started it all.
Just then, a tall, blondish, smart looking guy walked into the room. She felt as though she could see the weight of his brain sitting in his head. Almost visible were the synapses firing within.
He spoke so smoothly, in a comforting, southern accent.
His words cast visions of sunsets,
surrounding her
in an unfamiliar, yet soothing
warmth.
She drew closer.
His southern spark lit her cigarette and
with that flick of the match,
an immediate magic ignited between them.
They spoke of Matthew Macconaughy, death and anxiety... death by anxiety, art and music and love and lust.
lovelustlovelustlovelustlostlove
“Just come with me,” he said, “I’m not expecting anything... we’ll get brunch!” , he said. Ooooooh that’s a mighty word there, “BRUNCH”.
“Brunch”,
A word capable of bringing this girl,
to her knees
~the birds and the bees~
she left with him.
...
“You had me at ‘brunch’.”
They took a cab to his shoebox-sized flat in Gracia, “the best neighbourhood of Barcelona by far”. They linked lips, caressed, clutched each other’s flesh and faded into one as the sun began to rise.
...
The sun came beating through the dungeon –like windows of the shoebox-shaped room. The laundry hanging outside-as it must in this city- cast shadows across their naked skin. It appeared to be dancing quite joyfully, despite the intensely hung-over state of the two strangers that lay entangled amongst the sheets.
As promised, BRUNCH ensued. They chatted, and laughed and flirted. They shared secrets that no one else knew.
“I like your brain”, he said.
...
In the weeks to come they spent every waking moment of each weekend in each other’s company. The rest of the time was spent as the charismatic protagonist in the day dreams of the other one’s mind.
Hospital General, Sant Cugat Del Valles, Valldoreix, La Floresta, Las Planes, Baixador de Vallvidrera, Peu del Funicular, Reina Elisenda, Sarria, Les Tres Torres, La Bonanova, Muntaner, Sant Gervasi, Gracia, Provenca, Passeig de Gracia, Placa Catalunya.
The Trains chugged on
And on
And just remember it’s hard to stop a train...
Gracia -the best neighbourhood in Barcelona- sang like a bird in her ear and a sore thumb pressing its weight into her aching heart.
*Take me Spanish Caravan, yes I know you can...
...I know where treasure is waiting for me
Silver and gold in the mountains in Spain
I have to see you again and again.
Take me Spanish Caravan, yes I know you can.*
...
That dreaded, dreary morning, the rain beat down. The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plane -Or all over, really.
She helped him stuff his damp laundry
into his star-spangled suitcase,
himself into her...
He came,
she left, and so did he.
*I'd like to see you again
and again.*
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC
***In silence a black motorcade
the sad and soft parade
heavy hearts the last charade
the last song is finally played
one last curtain call is made
rest in peace shadow and shade***
***The music is over forever delayed
Turn out the light
turn out
the light
finish
and
fade***
R.I.P.
Lizard King
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC