If my poetry aims to achieve anything, it's to deliver people
If my poetry aims to achieve anything, it's to deliver people from the limited ways in which they see and feel.
Jim Morrison, the poet-shaman of rock and frontman of The Doors, once declared: “If my poetry aims to achieve anything, it’s to deliver people from the limited ways in which they see and feel.” In this vision, he revealed the true calling of the poet: to break chains. For man so often lives in prisons of perception—trapped by habit, blinded by convention, dulled by routine. The poet does not merely sing for beauty; he sings to awaken, to shatter the narrow walls of thought and to fling open the windows of the soul. Morrison sought through his words and his music to guide people into realms beyond the ordinary, where sight is clearer and feeling more vast.
The origin of this thought lies in Morrison’s lifelong fascination with mysticism, philosophy, and the unconscious. He studied the works of Rimbaud, Nietzsche, and Blake, poets and thinkers who themselves revolted against narrow vision. For Morrison, art was not entertainment alone—it was an act of liberation. He believed poetry could deliver men from the smallness of their own minds, carrying them into deeper states of awareness, closer to the raw pulse of existence. His words were meant to disturb and inspire, to tear away the veil of false comfort, so that truth, however wild, could be glimpsed.
The ancients understood this same power. The Delphic oracles spoke in riddles, words that seemed obscure yet carried revelations that changed the course of empires. The prophets of Israel thundered in verse, not to soothe but to awaken the people to their blindness and injustice. Likewise, the mystic poets of Sufi tradition—like Rumi—spoke to lift hearts from the dust of the mundane into the ecstasy of divine love. Morrison stood in this lineage, a modern oracle, a rebel prophet who used song and poetry to rip away the dullness of ordinary vision.
History too provides us with luminous examples. Consider William Blake, whose visions of angels in the trees and eternity in a grain of sand were not madness but clarity. He sought to “cleanse the doors of perception,” to deliver men from the narrowness of mere reason. His art was not escape, but revelation—just as Morrison’s was. Or think of the Surrealists, who, like Salvador Dalí and André Breton, sought to tap the subconscious mind, exploding the limits of how men thought they could see and feel. Their works were strange, unsettling, yet liberating, for they opened doors to inner worlds that had long been shut.
Morrison’s words also carry a challenge. If our ways of seeing and feeling are limited, then they are also self-made prisons. We live by categories, labels, and fears that confine us. To be delivered from them requires courage: the courage to step into chaos, to question what we have been taught, to feel more deeply than comfort allows. Poetry is one such doorway, for it leads us where prose cannot, into rhythms and images that shake the soul awake. Morrison sought to be not just a singer, but a deliverer—a guide leading men into wider vision.
The lesson for us is clear: we must not live as prisoners of narrow perception. The poet reminds us that life is more than routine, more than utility, more than appearances. Each of us carries within us depths of feeling, wells of imagination, horizons of vision waiting to be unlocked. By opening ourselves to poetry, art, and music, we expand our being. By daring to see differently, we learn to live differently. To see more is to be more.
Practical action flows: read poetry not merely with the mind but with the soul; let it unsettle you, stir you, widen you. Do not dismiss the strange or unfamiliar, for it may be the key to breaking your inner chains. Write your own verses, not for perfection, but to reveal to yourself what you have hidden. In daily life, challenge your perceptions: pause, observe, question, and feel deeply what you would normally pass by. In doing so, you practice the art of being delivered from limitation.
So let Morrison’s words echo as a call: “Poetry aims to deliver people from the limited ways in which they see and feel.” This is no small task—it is a revolution of the soul. To follow this teaching is to refuse smallness, to embrace vision, to live with eyes and heart wide open. And in this openness, we step not into chaos, but into freedom—the freedom of seeing and feeling as fully as human beings were meant to do.
KTnguyen khanh tung
Jim Morrison's perspective on poetry as a way to expand our ways of seeing and feeling is inspiring, yet it raises a question: Is it the poet's intention to 'deliver' the reader, or is it the reader’s ability to engage with the poem that matters more? Can poetry be truly transformative if the reader doesn’t actively seek to shift their perspective? What role does the reader play in this process of change?
LGLong Gia
The idea that poetry can deliver people from their 'limited ways of seeing and feeling' is incredibly profound. But does this mean that all poetry has this potential? Is it the responsibility of the poet to ensure their work challenges readers, or is it up to the reader to engage with poetry in a way that opens them up to new possibilities? How do you think readers can actively participate in this transformative experience that Morrison speaks of?
TTThao Ta
Morrison’s idea of poetry as a force for liberation, breaking through the narrow ways people see and feel, seems ambitious but inspiring. But is it realistic for poetry to have that kind of effect? Or is it more about offering a different lens through which to view the world, rather than actually transforming perception? How do you think poetry can serve this function in the modern world, where people are often overwhelmed by distractions?
TPAnh Thu Tran Phan
I find it fascinating that Morrison views poetry as a tool to challenge the limits of perception. It makes me wonder—how much of the poet’s job is to spark change in the reader’s emotional or intellectual landscape? Can poetry truly alter how we feel, or is it more about making us aware of the limitations we impose on ourselves? What do you think is required for a poem to achieve that level of transformation?
DDMinh Duc Dam
Morrison’s statement feels like a call to arms for poets to not just write, but to push boundaries and encourage new ways of thinking. But can poetry really break people free from their habitual ways of seeing and feeling? Is it more of an intellectual exercise, or does it come down to an emotional, transformative experience? I’m curious about how poets strike that balance between personal expression and universal challenge to perception.