Elegy For James D Morrison, The Poet And The Potter Poem by Lex Taylor

After forty years with two months and twelve days,
Since you, great modern Dionysus, did leave us,
You, shrink of masses who turned our souls ablaze,
Deserve from the tomb of the earth's vileness...

Jim if I had your IQ or poetic genius,
Your goodness of elderly epical soul,
I could realize visions heterogeneous,
And mature being a hero of self-control,

Although you was not an example of control,
In your legacy I found most cherished law,
And your preceptor's quotes from your note scrolls,
Like your own death foreseeing, they inspire awe.

Your New Creatures reveal athanasia,
And its sexual imageries of crossed trait,
Film craft in a nutshell from its roots Asian,
Poetic, yet... academically lightweight,

In my teens your The Lords were a mind cracker,
Opened my sheepish deaf-mute conditioned mind,
Visionary poem, an occultism-packer,
But sometimes your bacchantes streamlined.

This Earth is not the same since you went away,
Many of the known arts have been desvirtuated,
Degradation took hold with its lecher sway,
Tons of potential readings were mutilated,

The sixties' styles got pitilessly kitsch,
When emulated in harrowing twenty-tens,
While the melancholy of your tinsel's ditch,
Recalled me to your pottery works, to cleanse.

Memorial districts are glorious,
Like childhood's longings, but entranced,
With a poised and cool, dead radiance,
The root of a life amorous.
It's increased by mad abeyances,
To memories strange and peerless,
Like childhood's longings, but entranced,

And pining for godly auspice,
With an astral significance,
The reasons for the slick brilliance,
Of a life of zests tameless!
Memorial districts are glorious,
Like childhood's longings, but entranced.