To James Douglas Morrison (1944 – 1971)

It all seemed meaningless
  To me at first
Then when I read it alone
I realized the outlook
 The attitude in his verse.
The pain, the drug, the realization,
The protest through
 His words, his songs
Against this world’s
Other senseless beliefs.

Where this mysterious man
 Call him genius or mad,
There is so little difference
Between the two,
Suffocated under the pressure
Of sugar coated evil suppressing
 The spirit of life
Of freedom,
Of expression,
Of love and creation.

Where a mysterious man
 Preferred to live,
“In a long prolonged state of derangement
of drugged senses”,
 Than to live a safe life.

Where with only the power of art and music,
 He wanted to break, he wanted to,
“break on through to the other side”,
“the other side of dawn”

This mysterious man wanted
“break on through to the other side”,

Where a good man dies for love,
Of doing good till the end,
And the bad gloats over his own misdeeds.

Where love is not equal to bonding and need,
Where duty is not slavery but just deed,
Where self-expression is not bound
by the dictates of fashion
Where feelings are not shrouded in
 flimsy layers of skin.
Where we are conscious of our bodies,
Yet not so that we hide in shame.
Where we don’t forget to love
Our own bodies and souls
And that of fellow men the same.

Where creation doesn’t mirror what
fetches good money,
But by what we live and feel.

Where everything that is not
common and mundane
Is definitely not deranged and abnormal.

Where man meets a man with a smile,
 And only a smile.
And not with a dagger on his back.

Where man doesn’t crucify man,
Where women don’t kill babies,
Where children don’t grow up to be
Such men and women.

Where a word is worth a word
Where love of our selves’ stems from
Love for everything around us
Where our pain, is our prize from
  him who hangs eternally on three nails
Where we all love our crowns of thorns
And walk proud to meet him
At the doors of heaven