I am a guide to the Labyrinth
Monarch of the protean towers
on this cool stone patio
above the iron mist
sunk in its own waste
breathing its own breath
Jim Morrison
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"If the doors of perception were cleansed, every thing would appear to man as it is: infinite." William Blake
I choose not to choose life.
you should know
"Nada te librará de tus pensamientos, mas tus pensamientos te libraran de muchas cosas"
Elige la vida, un empleo; elige una carrera, una familia, una TV inmensa; elige un lavarropas, autos, CD, y abrelatas electrónicos; elige la buena salud y el colesterol bajo, las hipotecas a plazo fijo; elige una primera casa; elige a tus amigos. Elige ropa informal; elige un traje de tres piezas comprado a plazos y pregúntate quién mierda eres un domingo por la mañana; elige sentarte en un sofá y mirar programas que te vuelven estúpido mientras comes comida basura; elige pudrirte en un hogar miserable, cagandote y meandote, siendo una vergüenza para los malcriados que has creado para reemplazarte. Elige tu futuro; elige la vida. ¿Por qué querría eso? Elijo "no elegir la vida"; elijo otra cosa. ¿Las razones? No hay razones, quién las necesita si hay heroína.
james douglas morrison
"If the doors of perception were cleansed, every thing would appear to man as it is: infinite." William Blake
las plantas no pecan
And they all get them out for
they all get them out
The boys in the band
only for the boys in the band
They scream and they shout for
twist and scream and shout
For the boys in the band
only for the boys in the band
they all get them out
The boys in the band
only for the boys in the band
They scream and they shout for
twist and scream and shout
For the boys in the band
only for the boys in the band
One thing that I know
is that when I'm in this town, oh lord,
they all want my sweets.
mumbles about drums, bass,and rhythm
is that when I'm in this town, oh lord,
they all want my sweets.
mumbles about drums, bass,and rhythm
(her old man)
he don't like blacks or queers
Archive
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‘The story starts here with a slap in the mush from some unsympathetic magistrate. I’m banged up in Pentonville with more than a tailor’s dozen charges on me tail. God knows why: the band should be smashing up the Toon, Glasgae and Shepherd’s Bush this weekend and instead I’m birded off on remand after a slow clucking duck walk (sitting too) through the bowels of Bethnal Green nick, Thames magistrates and now da ‘ville. Innit bleeding marvellous?’
Peter Doherty
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