Footage of Jim Morrison's final performance with The Doors, 1971

Read Jim Morrison’s poem ‘Ode To L.A. While Thinking of Brian Jones, Deceased’ from 1969

Jim Morrison wasn’t only The Lizard King, nor the lead singer of the 60s stalwart band The Doors. No, he was also an incredible poet. None more so is this seen than in his perfect poem ‘Ode to L.A. While Thinking of Brian Jones, Deceased’, written in 1969.

The poem was a mainstay of the band’s live concerts during that time as it was passed out to the crowd before many of their gigs. Printed on bleached green paper and with olive green ink the pamphlet is a thing of beauty without considering the touching contents. As confirmed by Alan Graham’s notes saying that Morrison was “passing the poem out to everyone he met. It was published in pamphlet form on pale green bleached parchment with olive green ink.”

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Written not only about his beloved hometown L.A. the poem has more resonance with the subject of Brian Jones. The founding member of The Rolling Stones was found dead at age 27 in his swimming pool on July 3rd, 1969 and paid tribute to the star as a mythical figure.

Only two years later Morrison’s own untimely death came at the same age and also saw his body found in a body of water.

Take a look below at the poem printed on the pamphlet and transcribed below that.

Ode to La while thinking of Brian Jones Deceased
Ode to La 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 Marrakesh
Under the falls
the wild storm
where savages fell out
in late afternoon
monsters of rhythm

You’ve left your
to compete w/

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

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


Leaves, sodden
in silk

mad stifled

The diving board, the plunge
The pool

You were a fighter
a damask musky muse

You were the bleached
for TV afternoon

maverick of a yellow spot

Look now to where it’s got

in meat heaven
w/ the cannibals
& jews

The gardener
The body, rampant, Floating

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

Poke holes in the goddess

Will he Stink
Carried heavenward
Thru the halls
of music

No Chance.

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

into the loam

Jim Morrison Los Angeles 1969

(Source: Flashbak)

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