Mrs Morrison's Hotel

The 100% personal official blog for Patricia Kennealy Morrison, author, Celtic priestess, retired rock critic, wife of Jim

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Location: New York, New York, United States

I was, wait, sorry, that's "David Copperfield". Anyway, I was born in Brooklyn, grew up on Long Island, went to school in upstate NY and came straight back to Manhattan to live. Never lived anywhere else. Never wanted to. Got a job as a rock journalist, in the course of which I met and married a rock star (yeah, yeah, conflict of interest, who cares). Became a priestess in a Celtic Pagan tradition, and (based on sheer longevity) one of the most senior Witches around. Began writing my Keltiad series. Wrote a memoir of my time with my beloved consort (Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison). See Favorite Books below for a big announcement...The Rennie Stride Mysteries. "There is no trick or cunning, no art or recipe, by which you can have in your writing that which you do not possess in yourself." ---Walt Whitman (Also @ and

Saturday, July 02, 2011

James Douglas Morrison 8 December 1943 - 3 July 1971

And woman
I’m waiting for you
So that my fingers
may kiss your long red hair
& I may touch you once again

--JDM to PKM, in a letter, June 1971

Dark Angel

From a song I wrote for Jim...and also for Jimi, Janis, Kurt...all our lost and loved ones...

Something that we never expected
Something that came as no surprise
Hand on our shoulder cold out of nowhere
Closing our dreaming, opening our eyes...

We only had you while we had you
Should have understood you could never be owned
You were just here on a one-way ticket
We never guessed you were only a loan

None of us ever thought you would leave us
We watched you bank your magical hours
Coining your blood to buy art on installment
We should have known you could never be ours

Never found yourself a place to shelter
Crashed with us when you needed a friend
Hardly even got to unpack your baggage
None of us dreamed there was so much to mend

We only had you while we had you
Didn’t understand you could never be owned
You were just here on a working visa
We couldn't see you were only a loan

Who could have thought you’d run the table
But that’s just the way your loaded dice were thrown
You were in town on a visitor’s passport
Even in our hearts you were always alone

We only had you while we had you
Nobody saw you get sliced to the bone
Nobody heard you bleed out silent
Nobody noticed you leaving alone

I only had you while I had you
Didn’t want to believe you weren’t meant to be owned
You were just mine by the grace of our loving
Even in my arms you were always alone...

© Patricia Morrison for Lizard Queen Music