Erik, you have skillfully and beautifully tread the fine line between poetry and prose with your honoring of this enigmatic, gifted seer. Thank you for sharing your gift in acknowledging Jim Morrison’s. You lit my fire.
Thanks for sharing. I was a kid living in Paris, actually crashing at somebody's apartment, when Jim Morrison died July 3, 1971. A shame we lost him and more of his music.
This is great! There you are! There Jim is. Your words bring him and his words to life and feed my project this morning of trying to write about what it takes for one to dare to go on over to the other side.
Beautiful tribute Erik! It always bothers me when others refer to Jim as no better than a "B" grade poet. They just don't see the wisdom in his words. They're just not ripe enough yet, and I suppose that's ok. All in good time... ☺️
The movement of it. I was swept alone by the imagery. Absolutely spell binding.
I started reading it and I just couldn't pull myself away even though I really didn't intend to finish it.
Beautiful imagery. You're right there you're sitting on the beach in Venice with him and I was a beach bum in Fort Lauderdale and I can feel that. I could feel that tattered jeans and one t-shirt thing.
I can feel that sand and smell the ocean through this.
it's a different way of looking at him. It's smooth and it just falls out. And you kind of just drift through it traveling with him, doing the things he does...
Serpentine.
I loved it.
I actually knew the promoters who brought him to Miami to the concert where everything went crazy. I knew the promoter that set it up and he never should have done it the way he did.
I also knew Jim was ragged out and wasn't ready for that concert. I know some things that make him more than what people think.
I've met most everybody and rock over my lifetime including Hendrix.
I didn't get to meet Jim but I do know that the promoters wish they had done things differently. Some of what was set up was part of the contributing factor.
You kind of just lift him out of it with this poem... maybe the way he would have done it.
“the age of anxiety — that arid time when the post-war folks were paralyzed by fear, their minds riddled with a peculiar unease, everyone everywhere just blindly conforming to the whims of authority ”
I agree, his real talent was as a poet, a performance poet. The rest was a rather lucrative side line. It’s interesting to hear the alcohol destroy his voice over the course of the albums - rather like listening to two different people.
Well done. Interestingly, at the close, you chose a photo of Jim smiling. Was it intentional? As I recall, these are rare. Also rare are pictures of Jesus smiling. For me, the connection has always added to Morrison’s mystique.
The hospital where he was born, before the developers got it, had turned into a bad luck motel full of drifters and angels of the street. He probably would have approved.
For the music is your special friend
Dance on fire as it intends
Music is your only friend
Until the end
Until the end
Until the end
Erik, great tribute, delicious wordsmithing.
Erik, you have skillfully and beautifully tread the fine line between poetry and prose with your honoring of this enigmatic, gifted seer. Thank you for sharing your gift in acknowledging Jim Morrison’s. You lit my fire.
Thank you!
Thanks for sharing. I was a kid living in Paris, actually crashing at somebody's apartment, when Jim Morrison died July 3, 1971. A shame we lost him and more of his music.
Reading your tribute was a lot like listening to Jim sing on that album Morrison Hotel/Hard Rock Cafe. There was no holding back.
This is great! There you are! There Jim is. Your words bring him and his words to life and feed my project this morning of trying to write about what it takes for one to dare to go on over to the other side.
Beautiful tribute Erik! It always bothers me when others refer to Jim as no better than a "B" grade poet. They just don't see the wisdom in his words. They're just not ripe enough yet, and I suppose that's ok. All in good time... ☺️
Just stunning.
The movement of it. I was swept alone by the imagery. Absolutely spell binding.
I started reading it and I just couldn't pull myself away even though I really didn't intend to finish it.
Beautiful imagery. You're right there you're sitting on the beach in Venice with him and I was a beach bum in Fort Lauderdale and I can feel that. I could feel that tattered jeans and one t-shirt thing.
I can feel that sand and smell the ocean through this.
it's a different way of looking at him. It's smooth and it just falls out. And you kind of just drift through it traveling with him, doing the things he does...
Serpentine.
I loved it.
I actually knew the promoters who brought him to Miami to the concert where everything went crazy. I knew the promoter that set it up and he never should have done it the way he did.
I also knew Jim was ragged out and wasn't ready for that concert. I know some things that make him more than what people think.
I've met most everybody and rock over my lifetime including Hendrix.
I didn't get to meet Jim but I do know that the promoters wish they had done things differently. Some of what was set up was part of the contributing factor.
You kind of just lift him out of it with this poem... maybe the way he would have done it.
I hope you know how very special it is.
I think he would have loved it.
❣️🌹💫⭐❣️🌹
Wow that's incredible, thank you so much for your words!
Great article. You were able to capture the magic, the angst, the mysticism of Jimmy. He would have been happy! 🔥🖤
Choose the day’s divinity, choose the first thing you see
Your words are the perfect tribute to his free spirit and the era it lived in. A pleasure to read!
“the age of anxiety — that arid time when the post-war folks were paralyzed by fear, their minds riddled with a peculiar unease, everyone everywhere just blindly conforming to the whims of authority ”
Sounds a lot like now
I agree, his real talent was as a poet, a performance poet. The rest was a rather lucrative side line. It’s interesting to hear the alcohol destroy his voice over the course of the albums - rather like listening to two different people.
Well done. Interestingly, at the close, you chose a photo of Jim smiling. Was it intentional? As I recall, these are rare. Also rare are pictures of Jesus smiling. For me, the connection has always added to Morrison’s mystique.
I ended the piece by saying, "with a smirk on his face", so I thought it fitting.
The hospital where he was born, before the developers got it, had turned into a bad luck motel full of drifters and angels of the street. He probably would have approved.
Pain can be a valuable teacher. Love all of Jim's music, he's a true poet.