Wow, I'm sick of doubt
Live in the light of certainSouthCruel bindings.
The servants have the power
dog-men and their mean women
pulling poor blankets over
our sailors
(And where were you in our lean hour)
Milking your moustache
or grinding a flower?
I'm sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the TV
Tower, I want roses in
my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood-meal
for the plant that's plowed.
They are waiting to take us into
the severed gardenDo you know how pale and wanton thrillfulcomes death on a strange hourunannounced, unplanned forlike a scaring over-friendly guest you'vebrought to bed
Death makes angels of us all
and gives us wingswhere we had shoulderssmooth as raven'sclaws
No more money, no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems by far the best
until its other jaw reveals incest
and loose obedience to a vegetable law.
I will not go
Prefer a Feast of Friends
To the Giant Family.
YOU ARE READING
Poems by The Lizard King
PoetryMy favourite poems by Jim Morrison. This is put completed but I'll prob add more poems
