The Jim Morrison Tribute To Brian Jones: “Ode To L.A. while thinking of Brian Jones, Deceased”

Photo by Edmund Teske

Morrison self-published a four page pamphlet three weeks after Brian Jones death in 1969 and distributed to The Doors concert goers

The Jim Morrison Tribute To Brian Jones: “Ode To L.A. while thinking of Brian Jones, Deceased”

In July 1969, three weeks after The Rolling Stones guitarist Brian Jones died at age 27, Jim Morrison distributed to concert goers at two performances by The Doors at the Aquarius Theatre in Hollywood, a self-published four page pamphlet on textured yellow paper with dark green ink featuring a poem/meditation on the death of Brian Jones. This was the third of Morrison’s four self-published poetry works, issued after “The Lords: Notes on Visions” and “The New Creatures”  both issued in 1969,  and before “An American Prayer” in 1970.  According to one account, the floor of the Aquarius was littered with copies of this pamphlet after the show, sadly, Morrison’s plan to project his poetry through his music hadn’t yet been accomplished. Curiously, Brian Jones passed away at 27 on July 3rd, exactly two years before Morrison in 1971 who also had the same age. Jones death begun a circle that became mythical in Rock history, the 27 Club. After Jones, in 1970 Alan Wilson from Canned Heat died at 27 from a suspected suicide/drug overdose, followed by Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin, and in 1971 on July 3rd, Morrison.  Read Jim Morrison’s tribute to Brian Jones.



Ode To L.A. while thinking of Brian Jones, Deceased

I’m a resident of a city
They’ve just picked me to play
The Prince of Denmark

Poor Ophelia

All those ghosts he never saw
Floating to doom
On an iron candle

Come back, brave warrior
Do the dive
On another channel

Hot buttered pool
Where’s Marrakech
Under the falls
the wild storm
where savages fell out
in late afternoon
monsters of rhythm

You’ve left your
Nothing
to complete w/
Silence

I hope you went out Smiling
Like a child
Into the cool remnant
of a dream

The angel man
w/ Serpents competing
for his palms
& fingers
Finally claimed
This benevolent
Soul

Ophelia

Leaves, sodden
in silk

Chlorine
dream
mad stifled
Witness

The diving board, the plunge
The pool

You were the bleached
Sun
for TV afternoon

horned-toads
maverick of a yellow spot

Look now to where it’s got
You

in meat heaven
w/ the cannibals
& Jews

The gardener
Found
The body, rampant, Floating

Lucky Stiff
What is this green pale stuff
You’re made of

Poke holes in the goddess
Skin

Will he Stink
Carried heavenward
Thru the halls of music

No chance.

Requiem for a heavy
That smile
That porky satyr’s
leer
has leaped upward

into the loam



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