Wilderness: The Lost Writings

Jim Morrison | Posting Spree
 
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We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict.
THE ANATOMY OF ROCK


The 1st electric wildness came
over the people
on sweet Friday.
Sweat was in the air.
The channel beamed,
token of power.
Incense brewed darkly.
Who could tell then that here
it would end?

One school bus crashed w/ a train.
This was the Crossroads.
Mercury strained.
I couldn't get out of my seat.
The road was littered
w/ dead jitterbugs.
Help,
we'll be late for class.

The secret flurry of rumor
marched over the yard &
pinned us unwittingly
Mt. fever.
A girl stripped naked on the
base of the flagpole.

In the restrooms all was cool
& silent
w/ the salt-green of latrines.
Blankets were needed.

Ropes fluttered.
Smiles flattered
& haunted.

Lockers were pried open
& secrets discovered.

Ah sweet music.

Wild sounds in the night
Angel siren voices.
The baying of great hounds.
Cars screaming thru gears
& shrieks
on the wild skid & slid
into dangerous curves.

Favorite corners.
Cheerleaders raped in summer
buildings.
Holding hands
& bopping towards Sunday.

Those lean sweet desperate hours.

Time searched the hallways
for a mind.
Hands kept time.
The climate altered like a
visible dance.

Night-time women.
Wondrous sacraments of doubt
Sprang sullen in bursts of fear & guilt
in the womb's pit hole
below
The belt of the beast


Twitchyloner | Respected Posting Frenzy
 
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Beautiful, Keep it up Jim!