şükela:  tümü | bugün soru sor
  • bir jim morrison şiiri...
    fonda doorsla okunmuş hali on kaplan gucundedir
  • jim morrision un şiir kitaplarından birisi
  • jim’in son yaş günü olan 27. yaş gününde kaydettiği şiirlerinden oluşan bir albüm olup; grup bu şiirlerin üzerine müzik yapmıştır.
    ayrıca grup açısından kapının kırıldığı andır. yıllarca jim ve doors bir olarak anılmasına ramen albüm the doors ve jim morrison arasında kalmıştır. çünkü albümün ismi jim morrison and the doors- an amrican prayer dir..
  • jim morrisonun efsanevi siir kitabinin orijinal baskisini http://www.thedoors.com/band/jim/?fa=booktour01 adresinden bulabilirsiniz. baskida jim morrison'un ciziktirdikleri* ve fotograflari da bulunmaktadir. kacirmayiniz. albumle senkron dinlenmesi itinayla tavsiye olunur.
  • 'wow, i'am sick of doubt', en carpici buldugum sozleridir bu albumun.
  • aynı isimdeki albümde yer alan parça. şiir jim morrison'ın bir çocukluk anısıyla alakalıdır. morrison öldükten sonra the doors grubunun diğer üyeleri tarafından bu şiir kaydı müzikleştirilmiştir.

    --- spoiler ---

    do you know the warm progress under the stars?
    do you know we exist?
    have you forgotten the keys to the kingdom?
    have you been borne yet & are you alive?
    let's reinvent the gods, all the myths of the ages
    celebrate symbols from deep elder forests
    [have you forgotten the lessons of the ancient war]
    we need great golden copulations
    the fathers are cackling in trees of the forest
    our mother is dead in the sea
    do you know we are being led to slaughters by placid admirals
    & that fat slow generals are getting obscene on young blood
    do you know we are ruled by t.v.
    the moon is a dry blood beast
    guerilla bands are rolling numbers in the next block of green vine
    amassing for warfare on innocent herdsmen who are just dying
    o great creator of being grant us one more hour to perform our art & perfect our lives
    the moths & atheists are doubly divine & dying
    we live, we die & death not ends it
    journey we more into the nightmare
    cling to life our passion'd flower
    cling to cunts & cocks of despair
    we got our final vision by clap
    columbus' groin got filled w/ green death
    (ı touched her thigh & death smiled)
    we have assembled inside this ancient & insane theatre
    to propagate our lust for life & flee the swarming wisdom of the streets
    the barns are stormed
    the windows kept & only one of all the rest
    to dance & save us
    w/ the divine mockery of words
    music inflames temperament
    (when the true king's murderers are allowed to roam free a 1000 magicians arise in the land)
    where are the feasts
    we were promised
    where is the wine
    the new wine
    (dying on the vine)

    --- spoiler ---

    toplam beş bölümden oluşan şiirin ilk bölümünün yarısı albümdeki parçada yer almıştır.
    devamı:

    --- spoiler ---

    resident mockery give us an hour for magic
    we of the purple glove
    we of the starling flight & velvet hour
    we of arabic pleasure's breed
    we of sundome & the night
    give us a creed
    to believe
    a night of lust
    give us trust in
    the night
    give of color
    hundred hues
    a rich mandala
    for me & you & for your silky pillowed house
    a head, wisdom & a bed
    troubled decree
    resident mockery
    has claimed thee
    we used to believe in the good old days
    we still receive ın little ways
    the things of kindness & unsporting brow
    forget & allow
    did you know freedom exists in a school book
    did you know madmen are running our prison
    w/in a jail, w/in a gaol, w/in a white free protestant
    maelstrom
    we're perched headlong
    on the edge of boredom
    we're reaching for death
    on the end of a candle
    we're trying for something
    that's already found us
    we can invent kingdoms of our own
    grand purple thrones, those chairs of lust
    & love we must, in beds of rust
    steel doors lock in prisoner's screams
    & muzak, am, rocks their dreams
    no black men's pride to hoist the beams
    while mocking angels sift what seems
    to be a collage of magazine dust
    scratched on foreheads of walls of trust
    this is just jail for those who must
    get up in the morning & fight for such unusable standards
    while weeping maidens show-off penury & pout ravings for a mad staff
    wow, ı'm sick of doubt
    live in the light of certain
    south
    cruel bindings
    the servants have the power dog-men & their mean women
    pulling poor blankets over our sailors
    (& where were you in our lean hour)
    milking your moustache?
    or grinding a flower?
    ı'm sick of dour faces
    staring at me from the t.v.
    tower. ı 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 garden
    do you know how pale & wanton thrillful
    comes death on strange hour
    unannounced, unplanned for like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed
    death makes angels of us all & gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as raven's claws
    no more money, no more fancy dress
    this other kingdom seems by far the best until its other jaw reveals incest & loose obedience to a vegetable law
    ı will not go
    prefer a feast of friends
    to the giant family
    [ıı]
    great screaming christ
    upsy-daisy
    lazy mary will get you up upon a sunday morning
    "the movie will begin in 5 moments"
    the mindless voice announced
    "all those unseated, will await the next show"
    we filed slowly, languidly into the hall. the auditorium was vast, & silent.
    as we seated & were darkened
    the voice continued:
    "the program for this evening is not new. you have seen this entertainment thru & thru.
    you've seen your birth, your life & death; you might recall all of the rest
    - (did you have a good world when you died?) - enough to base a movie on?"
    an iron chuckle rapped our minds like a fist.
    ı'm getting out of here
    where're you going?
    to the other side of the morning
    please don't chase the clouds
    pagodas, temples
    her cunt gripped him
    like a warm friendly hand.
    "ıt's all right.
    all your friends are here."
    when can ı meet them?
    "after you've eaten"
    ı'm not hungry
    "o, we meant beaten"
    silver stream, silvery scream,
    ımpossible concentration
    here come the comedians
    look at them smile
    watch them dance
    an indian mile
    look at them gesture
    how aplomb
    so to gesture everyone
    words dissemble
    words be quick
    words resemble walking sticks
    plant them
    they will grow
    watch them waver so
    ı'll always be
    a word-man
    better than a birdman
    but ı'll charge
    won't get away
    w/out lodging a dollar
    shall ı say it again
    aloud, you get the point
    no food w/out fuel's gain
    ı'll be, the irish loud
    unleashed my beak
    at peak of powers
    o girl, unleash
    your worried comb
    o worried mind
    sin in the fallen
    backwoods by the blind
    she smells debt
    on my new collar
    arrogant prose
    tied in a network of fast quest
    hence the obsession
    ıts quick to admit
    fats borrowed rhythm
    woman came between them
    women of the world unite
    make the world safe
    for a scandalous life
    hee heee
    cut your throat
    life is a joke
    your wife's in a moat
    the same boat
    here comes the goat
    blood blood blood blood
    they're making a joke
    of our universe
    [ııı]
    matchbox
    are you more real than me
    ı'll burn you, & set you free
    wept bitter tears
    excessive courtesy
    ı won't forget
    [ıv]
    a hot sick lava flowed up,
    rustling & bubbling.
    the paper-face.
    mirror-mask, ı love you mirror.
    he had been brainwashed for 4 hrs.
    the lt. puzzled in again
    "ready to talk"
    "no sir" - was all he'd say.
    go back to the gym.
    very peaceful
    meditation
    air base in the desert
    looking out venetian blinds
    a plane
    a desert flower
    cool cartoon
    the rest of the world
    ıs reckless & dangerous
    look at the
    brothels
    stag films
    exploration
    [v]
    a ship leaves port
    mean horse of another thicket
    wishbone of desire
    decry the metal fox

    --- spoiler ---
  • bak şimdi abi the doors, morrison hotel, la woman gibi albümleri çok iyi müzisyenler de yapa bilir. çok iyi albümler ancak bir iyi müzisyen 15-20 yıl sonra çıkıp bu albümler gibi çok iyi albüm yapa bilir. ancak american prayer diye bir albüm var ki onu ne bir yazar ne de bir müzisyen yapa bilir. bir insanın yapa bileceğinden bile şüpheliyim. ölmeden önce mutlaka dinlenmeli 5 albüm arasına girer.
  • (bkz: ghost song)

    “ıs everybody in? ıs everybody in? ıs everybody in? the ceremony is about to begin. the entertainment for this evening is not new, you've seen this entertainment through and through you have seen your birth, your life, your death....you may recall all the rest. did you have a good world when you died? -enough to base a movie on??”
  • bir insanın ölümünün ardından, onun anısına ya da onu hatırlamak, canlandırmak gibi amaçlarla yapılabilecek şeylerin yapılmış en güzel hali bu albümdür. içinde ne ararsan vardır çünkü; şiir, ses, müzik, edebiyat, kitap, duygular ve daha neler neler. yani bu albümü neresinden tutarsanız tutun, elinizde kalmaz. her kısmında değişik bir güzellik var. bir de bu albüm jim morrison'ın bilinç akışının bir portresi gibi sanki. yani insan başından sonunda kadar dinleyince, jim'in beyninin içinde bir koltuğa oturmuş ve etrafı izliyormuş hissine kapılıyor, evet. yani gerçekten çok güzel bir sanat eseri bu. hatta, albüm ile aynı isime sahip olan şiir - ya da şarkı - da çok güzel bir şey; ki orada diyor ki "o great creator of being, grant us one more hour to perform our art and perfect our lives", ki bu albümün de yarattığı etki tam da bu sanırım. mesela, bir saatcik daha fazla olsaydı daha da güzel olurdu, ya da bu bile zaten çok güzel.
    ek olarak da, şiir dinlemek çok güzel bir şey, bu eylemin içerisinde jim morrison olunca bu daha da güzel bir şey.
    ayrıca öyle sevdiğim bir şey ki, mesela "an american prayer" isimli kitabı edinebiliyor olsaydım sanırım bu dünyanın en güzel şeylerinden birisi olurdu. ama işin güzel ve teselli edici yanı da kitap olmasa da, ses var, albüm var ve o albümde çok güzel şeyler var. mesela, bird of prey duygusallığı diye bir şey var, insanı mutlu ediyor, evet ben keşfettim. çok duygulanıyor ve mutlu oluyorum, tanrım, iyi ki varmışsın jim.