Wednesday, 7 December 2016

The Forest Analogy-"A file of young people going thru a small woods"-James Douglas Morrison


In his retort the alchemist repeats the work of Nature

Few would defend a small view of Alchemy as "Mother of Chemistry," and confuse its true goal with those external metal arts. Alchemy is involved in buried aspects of reality, aimed at purifying and transforming all being and matter.
Not to suggest that material operations are ever 
abandoned. The adept holds to both the mystical and physical work.

Strange, fertile correspondences the alchemists
sensed in unlikely orders of being. Between
men and planets, plants and gestures, words and

On the eve of Jim's birthday, I wish to introduce to the readers the subjective forest analogy used in his poetry as it signifies in its highest importance -the essence of nature and its subjective surrounding sensations to be a very critical part of his verse construction and imageries. The forest is a symbol of growth, decay and rebirth - a self sustaining ecosystem that balances itself through mutual symbiosis. The forest is the essential source of natural creativity unhindered by man or human interference as it goes on growing wildly unperturbed by in its silence. The Forest symbolises the hermit, the retired sage in deep meditation and self-revealation sitting quietly among the canopy of trees that shelter him with their old wisdom of witnessing in silence. The forest signifies the ultimate conjuction of the self with the soul as one finds oneself at peace in the heart of nature.


The unblinking blind eyes
behind walls new histories rise
and wake growling and whining
the weird dawn of dreams.
Dogs lie sleeping.
The wolf howls.
A creature lives out the war.
A forest.
A rustle of cut words, choking

Quick, in raw time, serving
stealth & slumber,
grinding warm forests into restless lumber.

Jim's repeated use of the forest imagery, highlights the hidden subjective experiences of self-renewal, rebirth and the need for a natural reconnection with the source of life. The forest acts as an imagery for life beyond artificialities, a purgatory for self- discovery in utter silence and calm stillness.

Mangled hands
Tales of the old Days
Discovery of the Sacred Pool
Mute-handed stillness baby cry

The wild dog 
The sacred beast 
Find her!

They smile

Choktai leave!
evil leave!
No come here
Leave Her!

A creature is nursing 
its child
soft arms around
the head & the neck
a mouth to connect
leave this child alone
This one is mine
I'm taking her home
Back to the rain

Sea-bird sea-moan
earthquake murmuring
Fast-burning incense
Clamoring surging
Serpentine road
To the Chinese caves
Home of the winds
The gods of mourning

The city sleeps
& the uynhappy children
roam w/animal gangs.
They seem to speak
to their friends
the dogs
who teach them trails.
Who can catch them?
Who can make them come inside?

Catalog of Horrors
Descriptions of Natural disaster
Lists of miracles in the divine canal
Catalog of objects in the room
List of things in the sacred river.

Cypress was their talk
Fish-call & bird-song
Roots & signs
They chanced to be there
Guides, to the white 

Where are your manners
out there on the sunlit
boundless galaxies of dust
cactus spines, beads
bleach stones, bottles
& rust cars, stored for shaping

He spoke to me. He frightened 
me w/laughter. He took 
my hand, & led me past silence into cool whispered

Cinema returns us to anima, religion of matter,
which gives each thing its special divinity and
sees gods in all things and beings.

                                                                    - James Douglas Morrison

Wednesday, 23 November 2016

The Lords - Notes On Vision And The New Creatures - James Douglas Morrison

Look where we worship

A room moves over a landscape, uprooting the mind's astonishing vision . A gray film melts off the eyes, and runs down the cheeks . Farewell

I have tried to introduce here Jim's earliest self published poetry collections. He wrote them mostly during his college years and they seem to translate such mysterious imaginative skills of a true observer and establishes his future journey towards the mystical life in store.
These early writings ensure the making of a highly mysterious and esoteric spiritual personality. The poems, anecdotes and aphorisms are essentially psychically enigmatic. They contain an idea of envisioning the part and the whole, the real and the unreal, the diversity of thoughts and images, myriad juxtapositions of emotions and senses along with a constant reference to the subtle stillness in the poet's mind, as it remains unaffected and untouched by his own words, seemingly unwritten them . The essential images used by the poet go far beyond the literal sense, beyond rational contemplation or any logical deduction. They, as Jim puts it, " opens the doors of many possibilities one can choose to enter which" , thereby making it a visual journey from frames to frames and moments to moments .
The instance of time here is lost, as he writes  -" there is no time , time is a straight plantation" , as the relativness of time is overtly exposed and referred to constantly in these images used by the poet as belonging to no specific locale in either geographical sense of space or time but yet existing as possibilities of superimposed states of awareness .
The idea of restoration and the collective memory of information resurfaces as the need for saving every instance in time as picture frames, as he writes, Imagery is born of loss, loss of the "friendly epanses." The silver halide acts as the consolation for the moments, lived and transcended, as they put together the journey as a whole . The film spool enacts and contains this transformative phase of not only transcending images but also a higher goal of the need for evolution and self perfection.

"Each film depends upon all others and drives
you on to others; Cinema was a novelty, a scientific toy, until a sufficient body of works had been amassed, enough to create an intermittent other
world, a powerful, infinite mythology to be dipped into at will." 

Jim being a student of Films, dedicated this early collection of poems from The Lords - Notes on Vision as his understanding of the workings and the hidden meaning of this particular medium- as he correctly said it was "A thesis on film aesthetics ". The medium of Cinema as an artform struck a cord of an unexplored new vastness, a medium to be understood not merely by its superficial appearance and projection but by its highly mystical representation of reality in celluloid which goes far beyond any screenings for an audience but instead plays by itself for the entertainment of none .

It is wrong to assume that art needs the spectator
in order to be.The film runs on without any eyes.
The spectator cannot exist without it . It insures 
his existence,

It is the envisioning idea of "Camera , as an all-seeing god, satisfies our longing for omniscience" that shows delicately the presence of the observing eye beyond fame, appreciation or critique, the eye that only sees but does not judge , it is beyond this judgement and rationale where lies the world of the voyeur who enjoys as the interpretation of his thoughts are enacted out, as "The pupil opens to seize the object of vision" but beyond his capacity to participate in the act itself. The silent observer, the voyeur is left to see and hear but he tastes or touches nothing , This partial partaking is an act of observation without participation of the tactile emotive senses, it is more like a fleeting view of the hidden watcher who watches a mirage of moments enacted before him with nothing to hold in his memory.

"More or less, we're all afflicted with the the psychology of the voyeur. Not in a strictly clinical or criminal sense, but in our whole physical and emotional stance before the world. Whenever we seek to break this passivity, our actions are awkward, like an invalid who has forgotton how to walk."

The presence of this passivity highlights in its true essence the essencelessness of all acts and activities as they exist for and yet without themselves. Every act enacted ensures its reversal by interiorizing the outside or outward appearances.

"Urge to come to terms with the "Outside," by absorbing, interiorizing it ."

The differentiating lines between the real and the imaginary are blurred as the dramatics of the medium unfold and evolve.

"Cinema has evolved in two paths.
One is spectacle. Like the Phantasmagoria, its goal is the creation of a total substitute sensory world."

"Phantasmagoria, magic lantern shows, spectacles without substance. They achieved complete sensory experiences through noise, incense, lightning, water. There may be a time when we'll attend Weather Theaters to recall the sensation of rain."

Jim mystifies the origins of Cinema as a medium of art by unusually tracing its roots to the mythological, the religious and the magical as he writes-

"Cinema derives not from painting, literature, sculpture, theater, but from ancient poppular wizardry. It is the contemporary manifestation of an evolving history of shadows, a delight in pictures that move, a belief in magic. Its lineage is entwined from the earliest beginning with Priests and socery, a summoning of phantoms. With, at first, only slight aid of mirror and fire, men called secret visits from regions in the buried mind. In these seances, shades are spirits which ward off evil."

"The modern East creates the greatest body of films. Cinema is a new form of an ancient tradition-the shadow play. Even their theater is an imitation of it. Born in India or China, the shadow show was aligned with religious ritual, linked with celebrations which centered around the cremation of  the dead."

The Shadow play is a repeative reference to the virtual representation of the dualistic world . The shadows represent the states of simultaneous being and non- being, the states of reality and unreality, the states of existence and non -existence. It is this great mystery behind the shadows that entice our cuious minds to believe or unbelieve, it the play of opposites and the polarities of reason that keep us engaged to any medium of artistic expression. It is the sheer delight of the variations of experiences that keep evolving this world play.

"A mild possession, devoid of risk, at bottom sterile. With an image there is no attendant danger."

"The aim of the happening is to cure boredom, wash the eyes, make childlike reconnections with the stream of life. Its lowest , widest aim is for purgation of perception. The happening attempts to engage all the senses, the total organism, and achieve total response in the face of traditional arts which focus on narrower inlets of sensation."

The linearity of time ceases to function resulting in its primeval essence of timelessness.

"Films have an illusion of timelessness fostered by their regular , indomitable appearances."

The enclosure of time in a film frame highlights its power as a restorative medium capable of retribution and consolation, the deeds are  re-enacted as many times as one wants, Jim writes in one of his aphorisms in this collection that -" film confers a kind of spurious eternity "since it captures and captivates a moment in its entirety relevant to a memoir encapsulated in a spec of encoded archaeology. It remains a kind of infinity playing out infintely.

"Cinema is the most totalitarian of the arts.
Cinema is this transforming agent. The body exists for the sake of the eyes; it becomes a dry stalk to support these two soft insatiable jewels."

I hope the readers will like the new look and feel of the blog and I will continue to share as much of the natural surroundings I encounter with the best of nature. - MonaLisa Morrison

"Modern life is a journey by car. The Passengers change terribly in their reeking seats, or roam from car to car, subject to unceasing transformation. Inevitable progress is made toward the beginning (there is no difference in terminals), as we slice through cities, whose ripped backside present a moving pictures of windows , signs, streets , buildings. Sometimes other vessels, closed worlds, vacuums, travel along beside to move ahead or fall utterly behind."

"This is a model of our liquid resting world
dissolvingbone and melting marrow
opening pores as wide as windows."

"Dull lions prone on a watery beach.
the universe kneels at the swamp
to curiously eye its own raw
postures of decay 
in the mirror of human consciousness."

"Absent and peopled mirror, absorbent,
passive to whatever visits
and retains its interest.

Door of passage to the other side,
the soul frees itself in stride.

Turn mirrors to the wall
in the house of the new dead."

"Destroy roofs, walls, see in all the rooms at once.

From the air we trapped gods, with the gods'
omniscient gaze, but without their power to be
inside minds and cities as they fly above."

"June 30th. On the sun roof. He woke up suddenly.
At that instant a jet from the air base crawled
in silence overhead. On the beach, children try
to leap into its swift shadow."

"There are no glass houses. The shades are drawn and "real" life begins. He seeks them out with his myriad army of eyes -like the child's notion of a Deity who sees all." Everything ?"asks the child. "Yes, everything, " they answer, and the child is left to cope with this divine intrusion."

                                                                     -James Douglas Morrison

Sunday, 4 September 2016

"Free now of Space & time free to dissolve in the streaming summer- Laughter & young voices in the mts"...-Jim Morrison

"A pair of Wings
High winds of Karma


Laughter & young voices  
in the mts."


"You parade thru the sof summer
We watch your eager rifle decay
Your wilderness
Your teeming emptiness
Pale forests on verge of light decline

More of miracles
More of your magic arms"

I got the opportunity to Visit the Ancient spiritual sights of great wisdom-the mountains, not mentioning where they were I will like to say that it is within us that the truth resides. Jim's poetry I believe is the truest example of the face of divinity, as it is a highly spiritual exercise, discrete attention and observance that can attune oneself to such poetic imagination. Arriving in fragments and imageries it explains the fragmented compounded nature of existence, it is an art of self introspection occurring silently within the poet as he tries to see himself and all objects around him in a variety of perspectives when perception turns into apperceiving, true cognizance dawns- the vision is merged the delusion dissolved. Brilliance in its wholeness, grandeur of the mountains and the expanse of sea all appear in his woven patterns of words, lattices of syllables creating a spectacle, a myriad form of dreams as reality more real than what you can see or feel. As it is eternally there to be there and will always be.

Urge to come to terms with the Outside, by absorbing, interiorizing it. I won't come out, you must come into me. Into my womb-garden where i peer out. Where i can construct a universe within the skull, to rival the real.

(Windows work two ways,
 mirrors one way.)

You never walk through mirrors
or swim through windows.

Cherry palms
Terrible shores
& many more

This we know 
that all are free
in the school-made
text of the unforgiven

deceit smiles
incredible hardships are suffered 
by those barely able
to endure

but all will pass
lie down in green grass
& smile & muse, & gaze

now, isn't that fragrant
Sir, isn't that knowing
w/a wayward careless
backward glance

                                       -Jim Morrison

Saturday, 6 February 2016

After a long wait.....Understanding Fashion, Arts, Aesthitics and the Higher Beauty in things. Recreating the PsychedelicEra and Most Importantly Jim"s Poetry

The banks are high & overgrown
rich w/warm green danger
unlock the canals

Do you want us that way w/the rest?
do you adore us?
When you return will you
still want to play w/us?

Its been a long wait since i last posted my article almost a year and few months i guess ....But today i got the inspiration to let my readers undertake a visual tour of the psychedelic era in terms of its colours, fashion, artworks and music and most importantly Jim's poetry ...Thank you for waiting!

Sleep is an under-ocean dipped into each night.
at morning,awake dripping,gasping,eyes
Free now of space and time . 
Free to dissolve in the streaming summer

You may enjoy life from afar . You may look at things but not taste them . You may caress the mother only with the eyes.

imagery is born of loss . Loss of the "friendly expanses"

French deck. Solitary stroker of cards. He dealt himself a hand. Turn stills of the past in unendning permutations, shuffle and begin. Sort the images again. This game reveals germs of truth , and death.

The world becomes an apparently infinite, yet possibly finite, card game. Image combinations, permutations, comprise the world game.

Metamorphose. An object is cut off from its name, habits, associations. Detached, it becomes only the thing, in and of itself. When this disintegration
into pure existence is at last achieved, the object is free to become endlessly anything.

The subject says "i see first lots of things which dance"....then everything becomes gradually connected.

Objects as they exist in time the clean eye and the camera give us. 

Not falsified by" seeing".

When there are as yet no objects

                                                    -Jim Morrison 

Monday, 8 December 2014

On Dec 8th Jim's birthday I Love To Share These Specially Beautiful Moments, An Epiphany Of Lost Memories Of Love , Hope You'll Like The Update So Then Read On.......

Wild child
Full of grace
Savior of the human race
Your cool face

Natural child, terrible child
Not your mother's or your father's child
Your our child, screamin' wild

An ancient lunatic reigns
In the trees of the night
ha ha ha ha

With hunger at her heels
Freedom in her eyes
She dances on her knees
Pirate prince at her side
Stirrin' into a hollow idol's eyes

Wild child
Full of grace
Savior of the human race
Your cool face
Your cool face

Your cool face

It was an eventful week ahead of me, with your birthday coming round the corner we generally tend to get a bit busy planning what to do and most importantly how to spend this special day in a different day so that it turns out quite unique each year rather any boring mundane day at work!
so this is one of my ways to make it really special.....There are few of my birthday snaps hope the readers will like it...this is my most personal and intimate post ever

Unhappy girl
Left all alone
Playing solitaire
Playing warden to your soul
You are locked in a prison
Of your own device
And you can't believe
What it does to me
To see you

Unhappy girl
Tear your web away
Saw thru all your bars
Melt your cell today
You are caught in a prison
Of your own device

Unhappy girl
Fly fast away
Don't miss your chance
To swim in mystery
You are dying in a prison
Of your own device......

These are the songs which most define me i guess my innermost psyche . All the lines you read i guess you know they are written by Jim Morrison, but i guess that you would be quiet shocked to know that all these specific songs, its every single line and every single word bears an uncanny resemblance to my personal life experiences and makes me really feel as if they were written for me!. Quiet bizarre i know... but that's the  truth i shared and also that's the reason why i juxtaposed these songs with my write up cause of relevance and significance in my personal life.

You're lost little girl
You're lost little girl
You're lost
Tell me
Who are you?

I think that you know what to do
Impossible? Yes, but its true
I think that you know what to do Yeah
I'm sure that you know what to do

You're lost little girl
You're lost little girl
Tell me
Who are you?

I think that you know what to do
Impossible? Yes, but its true
I think that you know what to do Yeah
I'm sure that you know what to do

You're lost little girl
You're lost little girl
You're lost

Now, lets take the ZEN way with the song Take It As It Comes. This song actually encapsulates wu wei the action of non action . In other words. to flow with the stream of Tao the river and take it as it comes as life offers you.......

Time to live
Time to lie
Time to laugh
Time to die

Take it easy. baby
Take it as it comes
Don't move too fast
And you want your love to last
Oh, you've been movin' much too fast

Time to walk
Time to run
Time to aim your arrows
At the sun

Take it easy. baby
Take it as it comes
Don't move too fast
And you want your love to last
Oh, you've been movin' much too fast

Go real slow
You will like it more & more
Take it as it comes
Specialize at havin' fun

Take it easy. baby
Take it as it comes
Don't move too fast
And you want your love to last
Oh, you've been movin' much too fast
Movin' much too fast
Movin' much too fast 

Saturday, 8 November 2014

After A Long Time....Posting My Thoughts on Jim's Echoing Songs, This Week's Pick My Birthday Favourite LA Woman Along With Sharing The Release Of Pink Floyd's Last Album "The Endless River"


Taking a cue from Division Bell's High Hopes comes forth Floyd's last ever studio album called "The Endless River". It is the fifteenth studio album of the alternate progressive rock band and third after losing ties with the band's ex member Roger Waters. The Endless River comes as a homage to the legendary Rick Wright by his friends the surviving two members of the Pink Floyd. The album comes out nearly two decades since their last in 1994, completed with the past recording sessions during the days of " the division bell " in 1993 at the Gilmour Studios the Astoria with its only featured song being the closing track "louder than words".Instrumentally musical and ambient it appears to be Rick Wright's beautifully blooming last " Swan Song" as the Ancient Greeks believed that an artist produces his greatest creation just before his departure from this earthly realm just as a swan sings its best ever song before death & co incedentaly the title  the endless river surely seems to highlight this mythological theme along with references to - the concept of eternity -the ever flowing river- & the stoppage of time. It releases on the eve of Nov 10th in the united kingdom & Nov 7th worlwide as the much anticipated rock classic.

This Week -LA Woman The Echoing Call Of Jim Morrison

It echoes and invokes the magic word, a Shaman in utmost power chants an incantation an awakening of the spirits in time with utmost strength and vitality. this is what you feel when you hear LA Woman. the intensity with which it picks up its fast and whirlwind beat and traverses you through the frentic roads and suburbs of Los Angeles, a true blues ride through the highway picturesque of the city night it journeys inwards and outwards back and forth into space and time riding inside and outside people's minds.
Its a surreal dream, lots of imageries and the use of metaphorical emotions run through the lines. The song seems a ritual yet a Satori. Its a state of immediate self realisation and its projection through the use of worldly imageries. Its what we see outside and how we interpret it

well i got into town about an hour ago
took a look around which way the wind blow....

The first two lines encapsulate a perfect zen haiku . its a song that celebrates the moment of wakeful liveliness full of enthusiastic energy that it sojourns into an adventure.

Its the song of mutability changing its tone to unlikely moods a song of experimentation

....motel money murder madness let's change the mood from glad to sadness....

LA Woman
sunday afternoon
drive thru your suburbs
into your blues

i see your hair is burning
hills are filled with fire
if they say that i never loved you
you know that they're a liar

driving thru your freeway
midnight alley's Rome

This song with its adventurous soundtrack, unconventional lyrics and Jim's incomparable rendition stays as my personal favourite which can enlighten your mood in a zest of adventure.

Sunday, 24 August 2014

My Eyes Have Seen You : Understanding Jim Morrison Poetry & Aesthetics A Vision Thru Jim's Mind

There was preserved
           In her
The fresh miracle
              -Jim Morrison


Cold treatment of our empress
The transient universe
Instant communion & communication
Emeralds in glass
Searchlights at twilights
Stoned streets in the pale dawn
Robed in exile
 swift beat beat of a proud heart
Eyes like twenty
Swift dream
Frozen heart
Soldiers doom
Clouds& struggles
Doomed from the start
"That's how i met her,
Lonely &frozen
Right from the start."
Then Stop.
The wilderness between
Go round the march

Its not a prelude to a great personality neither a tribute nor a memoir, its my own subjective vision, my own personal understanding, my own emotinal attachment and an unspeakable feeling of love towards Jim which compels me to pen down this article. So as an eye opener to people, i intend this piece of writing helps them in understanding the Real Jim Morrison behind the cloak of fame or if even catch a glipmse of his real genius and poetic love hidden and encrypted in his literary testaments. As i know, Jim is a difficult person to fathom as he speaks very less or ever hardly speaks even when he's among his friends, he just sits silently. But he is a good listener, a very good listener indeed, a virtue which feeds his poetic flair. A good poet is always a good listener, as he captures every word heard transmuting them as an imagery through a random dynamic thought channeling and weaves them through a string of distinct creative imagination transcending its own essence like an catalyst reaction, an extraction, a distillation process, a chemical composition, an alchemy of words interplaying within themselves copulate to give birth anew. He takes up his magic wand much like the frenzied magician of Coleridge's Kubla Khan inciting a ritual to cast a spell among his readers.

Fence my sacred fire
I want. To be simple, black & clean
A dim nothingness
The sea is green
Like a child's version of a
Christmas dream

 He embraces his words as microcosmic visions, his premonitions, his intuitive senses as a Shaman of the Coming Age, challenging the macroscosmic hierarchy of the Gods, alike Longfellow's Psalm he breathes unto them, much like God Almighty who breathes unto life among men of clay. Its in the Wilderness that you find peace, its the Night that gives you rest & solace. His words generate no meanings, no intentions, no contextual ground play, no propositions, no presumption but liberally opens the doors to all possibilities and probabilities to let you walk in the one that suits your intellect. His palette of thoughts add color to his words, much alike a rainbow it infuses the spectrum of light creating a image, an enigma in both the physical and the virtual plane of existence. Where you can see upon them but fail to touch them. His words carry that aura of super effulgence where only love leads you back into his garden. The garden of Far Arden again.

The Politics of ecstasy are real
Cant you feel them working
            Thru you
Turning night into day
Mixing sun w/the sea


A poet is a good observer, he observes and perceives images, colors, textures, behaviours, moods and transitions. Keenly he sits upon to gaze and ponder, introspecting in retrospection. Jim is an excellent observer, he can read through your eyes while talking with you. He seeks inspiration in every conversation, the unfolding of a story, sharing of thoughts, ideas, innovation and revolution. He wants to perceive things in a different way, in his own way, one which has been perceived like never before. He seeks to create a new order, a new methodology, a new science of perception much like Blake or a Neitzschean revelry. He seeeks out to create a new dawn.

I get my best ideas when the telephone rings & rings
Its no fun to feel like a fool
A new ax to my head
Possesion . I create my own sword
Of Damascus. I've done nothing w/time.
When out there the world awaits & abounds w/gangs of murderers and real madmen. Hanging
From the window as if to say - i'm bold
Do you love me?


Here i have listed few of my favorite poems, my own subjective perception of Jim's writing styles....


The Night is young & full of rest
I can't describe the way she's dressed
She'll pander to Some strange requests
Anything you suggest
Anything to please her guest

Are you her
Do you look like that
How could you be when
no one ever could

Everything human is leaving her face
Soon she'll disappear into the calm
Vegetable morass
My wild love!

Ode New York Maidens

Everyone has there own magic
There is no death
So nothing matters
High style
Flash & forgive me
High button shoes
Clean arrangement
Messy breeding
Love's truimph
Everlasting hope & fulfillment

....a dog howls & whines at the glass door (why can't i be in there?) A cat yowls. A car engine revs & races against the grain -a dry rasping carbon protest.

I put the book down & begin my own book

                                             -Jim Morrison