Fire And Ice

He took the stage with a reptile's slink
And cocked a brow
Letting his vertebrae rest, leaning to the left
And his dark hair framed his face
Cascading
Down
His black collar
He stared and stood motionless
(Amusing himself)

The crowd grew bored
Agitated
Disruptive
And he grinned
(Getting his way)

The ocean of people applauded and stomped their feet
He moaned
He screamed
His body melted, his flesh collapsed
He thrashed, hurling his rapture
Possessed with anger and poetry
He was cool
He was hot
Innocent and sinful
Imploding, exploding
Chains and freedom
Wither and amplification
Fire and ice

He flicked the microphone
(Pretending a heartbeat)
And his hand tore into his chest
He offered its mad pantomime to the masses, laughing like a demon
To the last second of the crescendo
When his animation trailed to an almost, helpless shiver

He was the reluctant, rock-star poet
The forever young, stunning and tragic, leather angel
The caesura, punching through, shocking and punctuating a time space
The epitome of beauty and death's alluring, fictional character
But he was real
And he was destined to become the immortal, iconic image
For chaos and eloquence
... that left us too soon

He took the stage with a reptile's slink
Growling and singing and whispering ... until silence met the spotlight
And the foreboding, snapshot-pause, in that moment, was captured
As he fixated ... someplace
Beyond this world

(c) Kay Irvin

~ For: Jim Morrison
James Douglas Morrison
The Doors
[December 8, 1943 - July 3, 1971]

"If the doors of perception were cleansed,
everything would appear to man as it is, infinite."
- William Blake