The New Creatures:

The New Creatures:

The soft parade has now begun
on Sunset.
Cars come thundering down
the canyon.
Now is the time & the place.
The cars come rumbling.
“You got a cool machine.”
These engine beasts
muttering their soft
talk. A delight
at night
to hear their quiet voices
again
after 2 years.

Now the soft parade
has soon begun.
Cool pools
from a tired land
sink now
in the peace of evening.
Clouds weaken
& die.
The sun, an orange skull,
whispers quietly, becomes an
island, & is gone.

There they are
watching
us everything
will be dark.
The light changed.
We were aware
knee-deep in the fluttering air
as the ships move on
trains in their wake.
Trench mouth
again in the camps.
Gonorrhea
Tell the girl to go home
We need a witness
to the killing.

II

The artists of Hell
set up easels in parks
the terrible landscape,
where citizens find anxious pleasure
preyed upon by savage bands of youths

I can’t believe this is happening
I can’t believe all these people
are sniffing each other
& backing away
teeth grinning
hair raised, growling, here in
the slaughtered wind

I am ghost killer.
witnessing to all
my blessed sanction

This is it
no more fun
the death of all joy
has come.

Do you dare
deny my
potency
my kindness
or forgiveness?
Just try
you will fry
like the rest
in holiness

And not for a
penny
will I spare
any time
for you
Ghost children
down there
in the frightening world

You are alone
& have no need of other
you & the child mother
who bore you
who weaned you
who made you man

III

Photo-booth killer
fragile bandit
straight from ambush

Kill me!
Kill the child who made
Thee.
Kill the thought-provoking
senator of lust
who brought you to this state.

Kill hate
disease
warfare
sadness

Kill badness
Kill madness

Kill photo mother murder tree
Kill me.
Kill yourself
Kill the little blind elf.

The beautiful monster
vomits a stream of watches
clocks jewels knives silver
coins & copper blood

The well of time & trouble
whiskey bottles perfume
razor blades beads
liquid insects hammers
& thin nails the feet of
birds eagle feathers & claws
machine parts chrome
teeth hair shards of
pottery & skulls the ruins
of our time the debris by
a lake the gleaming
beer cans & rust & sable
menstrual fur

Dance naked on broken
bones feet bleed & stain
glass cuts cover your mind
& the dry end of vacuum
boat white the people
drop lines in still pools
& pull ancient trout
from the deep home. Scales
crusted & gleaming green
A knife was stolen. A
valuable hunting knife
By some strange boys
from the other camp across
the Lake

BY: Jim Morrison

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