December 8, 1943 – July 3, 1971

Jim Morrison & I would throw a massive party at the cemetery in Paris
Where his mortal remains were buried one bleak summer day in 1971.
He was the man who came back through the door
To attend his own wake and to read more
From Aloysius Joyce’s work-in-progress Finnegan’s Wake.
Anybody who has passed through that wall
Has been made to crawl through the doors of perception
And will be changed, changed utterly, a terrible beauty is born
Via mescaline, lysergic acid, magic mushrooms, datura
All of these drugs that can  see right through yer.
She may be wise enough to be  unsure of everything,
She will question everything
As did William Blake who saw through the material screen
To what is really always there.
These wise fools were often locked away in prisons and lunatic asylums
As was the case with the beautiful poet-soul John Clare.:
He, less self-satisfied, humbler, seeking to fix if only for a time,
The ever-slippery relationship between words and gods
And to look at and record all the unfathomable mysteries that surround us
Everystrangedaythat we liveordie.