On what expense does a man bare his soul
to a woman he does not intend to keep?
And on what expense does a man keep
a woman he does not intend to bare his soul with?
Excerpts from On What Expense.
Read More in poetry.xyldrae.com!
DECONSTRUCTING JIM MORRISON (Prose to lay off that Cinderella poem and elaborate a facebook profile pic description)
People have claimed that at the climax of Jim Morrison’s “mockery on God”, God took his life. He died.
Perhaps people say that upon perceiving some unconventional poetry of his such as this segment of one of his works:
And I remember
Stars in the shotgun
til the mind runs
Is it rolling, God
in the Persian Night?
On that, all I can say is this:
“In this meaningless life of mine I have seen both of these: a righteous man perishing in his righteousness, and a wicked man living long in his wickedness.” – Ecclesiastes 7:15
At first I thought Jim Morisson is an anti-Christ. But the more I read his works, poetry… the more I see and feel him seeking Christ. Besides, he most wrote His name with the appropriate capital letters, one thing that requires absolute belief and great reverence. Afterall… he speaks of the garden of Eden as he admits the worst he is in… and desperate to return… (“God’s strength is best seen in our weaknesses” says most people)… He pleads as a true believer:
“There’s a palace
in the canyon
where you & I
Now I’m a lonely Man
Let me back into
of the Canyon
I met you
& now you’re gone
& now my dream is gone
Let me back into your Garden
A man searching
for lost Paradise
Can seem a fool
to those who never
sought the other world
Where friends do lie and drift
Their own private gardens”
– excerpts from his “PARIS JOURNAL”
“I love those who love me, and those who seek me find me.”
– Proverbs 8:17
I do not know Jim Morrison personally. But from his genius works, lamentations perhaps, this Light I’ve found.
I use his poem TIME WORKS LIKE ACID in this profile picture:
TIME WORKS LIKE ACID – Jim Morrison
Time works like acid
You see time fly
The face changes as the heart beats
We are not constant
We are an arrow in flight
The sum of the angles of change
Her face changed in the car
eyes & skin & hair remain
the same. But a hundred similar
girls succeed each other
…because it says many different things, good and bad, challenging the perciever to behold God’s and man’s art, one of the two, or something plain superficial to be taken in a worldly manner. And perceptions change every second as sights do, even still photographs… Herein, “a hundred similar girls succeed each other”.
I only look down on people to understand their worst, and through their overcoming, behold their best whether the best has taken form or not.
By the way… I’m driven to write about Jim Morrison after a poetry-reading session with my Babes, Sherylene De La Cruz. We understand these things perfectly together, discussions unnecessary. After reading each other random works of his, epiphanies, we came up with our own scribbles:
As the wind blows, my knees weakened
and found myself in prayer.
The elements cast our heads bowed-
after shrinking’s end
Off to the tunnel of glory
casting away all the fury – Let there be
drought for deep awakening!
SOME KIND OF FUNERAL
Dirge for the superficial will,
And the geniuses in ghost-disguise.
A funeral for the
Look for that insight
Embedded on the estranged heart.
Be it welcomed. Nourished. Flourished.
No digging of shallow holes
Of/For the rotten.
But explore that Black Hole
That’s existence’s already to You known!
Was and Is
Always a part of You.
Everybody knows her story… branded Cinderella:
She was born. She lost her mother.
Some witch took over. She lost her father.
Her properties coveted by step-women.
One day with the help of pests for friends,
And her bored fairy godmother,
She catches the lead clown in a social circus most grand
Leaves one of her shoe pair upon unethical eluding
Per chance to be found.
And she was.
Clown boy puts her back in her original place
And they flatter happily ever after.
Here are the non-moral lessons:
Cinderella is a loser.
This has nothing to do with parental loss.
She simply lost her sense of self
When she chose to be coveted
She had no role in the story
Aside from being the conflict for the doers of deeds.
Pests got to be friends.
Fairy godmother existed purposely and looked good.
Clown boy is tagged heroic
And step-women were made necessary for all.
Okay. Okay. MORAL LESSON:
To be not mundane, know yourself and be.
A LITTLE LESS IN VAIN
If I could get some native to lean this rooftop pillar
Paint half his face with sunlight, radiance exact,
Take a snapshot and go
Send the photo to some Sherlock Holmes
To identify exactly when and where
My timestop has been missed…
It would be a little less in vain.
BLASPHEMY THROUGH SILENCE
Ennui is offspring to a fool and his continuity
They make such a horrid family
Casualty to awareness
Blasphemy through silence.