The Bird

From tree to tree it walks

Completely free

A bird with a beak made of stone

In the snow it sleeps

Green trees and blue water

The Bird thinks

If the world is two colours

It is difficult to be

When the cold comes by and the water freezes

The green turns to yellow and the air seizes

The Bird will come out in the wilderness to play

As its mother teaches it to gather up the game

Winter disturbs the forest, but the Bird comes through

The end is near, the colours two, the Bird thinks happy thoughts and so should you!

Her Box Full of Hash

A bright young mind corrupted by the world
A girl outside, sitting, in the cold
A desperate need for a shout in the dark
The deep water reminds me of her beating heart
The pain through her knees when she has to kneel
The strange stories her father had to give
All these things that remind her of the past
She treasures them in a box full of hash

The end has come to all the facts
The shit has hit a single fan
No worries in the mind of the girl
With sparkling tears her pain is back
Secretly craving for a delight in the past
Just a candle and a box full of hash

The spring has left, the summer’s here
And cold as I was forever I will be
For this moment of inhalation
Is only awaited by pure exhalation
And the King sits on his thrown
With his eyes shut as he goes
The road to the woods is close,
a broken car meets a single rose
This stuff is strong for her to keep
But the memory is all she repeats
And her white knight will come with a tie
And marry her in a building full of lies
With people laughing on a false truth
The kind the world needs now
When it’s already doomed
The foundation of the youth will shake
And in the box full of hash she will escape

Till then she sits alone,
Wondering if her luck has started to get cold
A phantom walks beneath these walls
The city cries for some more
But yet the girl must rest
For her journey is long
And the time to remember
Will always be gone
The pain in her heart will soon embark
For another trip in the utter dark
But she’ll always have the box full of hash

The Trip

I meditate day and night
Unplanned for but still the voices have stopped
Pure silence in the air and a glimpse of light on the wall
The earth is quiet
Everything connects
Pure harmony in my soul
Strong hope for the unknown
The thoughts are scattered all over the floor
A different experience, a different set
Trees green and colours blue and red
Candle lights and illusions of shadows
Reality is perceived in a different way
My hands are moving into the hall of fame
Where people cried and laughed and saved their names
The walls thin out and a door opens up
Flowers, trees, birds singing movie themes
It’s crazy…it’s so high
The humming never stops and a shadow comes along
A sudden storm appears from above
Dark clouds, thunders and the door shuts with a scream
Horror in my heart horror in my mind
A sudden feeling of how I used to be
My childhood returns
Nostalgic memories I feel
Every inch of my body aches
Like a heart attack but not quite
Is this the feeling of death?
When did I stop living?
Why did I grow up?
Tears fall creating a river bringing pirates and sailors back to their homes
Shouts of joy from a distant port
and yet all this happens on the blank wall
The smoke is transformed. Dolphins all around me, that is what they thought
The music returns to my ears, the images fade but the feelings are still here
Suddenly a thought sparks an endless sequence of thinking
Why were you born?
Why are you here?
What is the purpose of all this?
The good questions have no answers
That is the only conclusion I have come to.

Pamela Courson...the lost little girl

We all know Jim Morrison as the charismatic vocalist of one of the most famous bands of all times, "The Doors". A singer, a poet, a person that broke through to the other side without hesitation. A visionary who was not afraid to experiment and breach reality in the most literal sense. But behind every successful man there is a woman. But was Jim successful in the true meaning of the word? He is, without doubt successful in living the way he wanted to live his life with no barriers and no rules. True to his own spirit. Was he successful in the meaning most people desire themselves to be successful? Perhaps not. Jim was only an illusion to his fans. A hero that would stand on stage and provoke ideas the world still lives by. But really now...did we see Jim in his entire glory or was he held back?

Pamela Courson is known by many as the 5th door of the band. She met Jim when she was studying art, fell in love and became attached to the poet in an unreal, drug-induced world where confusion and weakness ruled her self-esteem. She was nevertheless, Jim's muse and more importantly the flame that kept "The Doors" alive. The bank released "Other Voices" and "Full Circle" after Jim but after Pam's death it was like the fire really stopped burning. Then again, Pam is said by many to have attempted to persuade Morrison to leave the rather "trivial rock world" and concentrate in becoming a "full-time poet". She also became addicted to heroine before Jim was introduced to the drug. Logic wants Pam to have turned Jim onto heroine. Then again the Lizard King knew well enough what heroine was. Thus, as many times in his life, logic does not stand a chance. Jim took up heroine because he wanted to.

My personal opinion is that Pam was turned into this sad, desperate woman who wanted to get kicks out of life and wanted Jim to be hers and only hers. She was hurt numerous times by the tabloids and Morrison himself that it is hard to understand how a person could live like this in the shadow of a rock star.

After Morrison's death, Courson became a recluse, using heroin and showing signs of mental instability. On April 25, 1974, she died of a heroin overdose on the living room couch at the Los Angeles apartment. A neighbor said she had talked about looking forward to seeing Jim again soon. Her parents intended that she be buried next to Morrison at Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, and they listed this location as the place of burial on her death certificate, but due to legal complications with transporting the body to France, her remains were buried at Fairhaven Memorial Park in Santa Ana, California, under the name "Pamela Susan Morrison".

Was it love? Was it attachment? Many times these two get mixed up and can be confusing for sensitive people, as were Jim and Pam.

Nonetheless, Pamela Courson remains a mystery. Ray Manzarek and Pam's family have stated many times that Jim and Pam were "soul-mates" but many want her to be the cause of Morrison's death. The beautiful red-haired muse of "The Doors" most of all loved Jim's poetry and it is far more likely that it was selfless love.

I Met The Walrus

In 1969, a 14-year-old Beatle fanatic named Jerry Levitan snuck into John Lennon's hotel room in Toronto and convinced him to do an interview. 38 years later, Levitan, director Josh Raskin and illustrators James Braithwaite and Alex Kurina have collaborated to create an animated short film using the original interview recording as the soundtrack. A spellbinding vessel for Lennon's boundless wit and timeless message, I Met the Walrus was nominated for the 2008 Academy Award for Animated Short and won the 2009 Emmy for 'New Approaches'

Understanding the mind

"We are not concerned with what you should or should not do; that is not the problem. We are concerned with understanding the mind; and in understanding there is no condemnation, no demand for a pattern of action. You are merely observing; and observation is denied when you concern yourself with a pattern of action, or merely explain the inevitability of a slavish life. What matters is to observe your own mind without judgment - just to look at it, to watch it, to be conscious of the fact that your mind is a slave, and no more; because that very perception releases energy, and it is this energy that is going to destroy the slavishness of the mind. But if you merely ask, "How am I to be free from my slavery to routine, from my fear and boredom in everyday existence?", you will never release this energy. We are concerned only with perceiving what is; and it is the perception of what is that releases the creative fire. You cannot perceive if you do not ask the right question and a right question has no answer, because it needs no answer. It is wrong questions that invariably have answers. The urgency behind the right question, the very instance of it, brings about perception. The perceiving mind is living, moving, full of energy, and only such a mind can understand what truth is. But most of us, when we are face to face with a problem of this kind, invariably seek an answer, a solution, the `what to do', and the solution, the `what to do' is so easy, leading to further misfortune, further misery. That is the way of politicians. That is the way of the organized religions, which offer an answer, an explanation; and having found it, the so-called religious mind is thereby satisfied. But we are not politicians, nor are we slavish to organized religions. We are now examining the ways of our own minds, and for that there must be no fear. To find out about oneself, what one thinks, what one is, the extraordinary depths and movements of the mind - just to be aware of all that requires a certain freedom. And to inquire into oneself also requires an astonishing energy, because one has to travel a distance which is immeasurable. Most of us are fascinated by the idea of going to the moon, or to Venus; but those distances are much shorter than the distance within ourselves." -J. Krishnamurti