JOHN RICHARDSON | SURREALIST

I Walk In The Hollow Footsteps Of The Scorched Shadow

 

 

I walk in the hollow footsteps of the scorched shadow

Following the path of the goddess of absurdity

Clothed in a crimson funeral suit of morals

Toward the granite valley of desire

Where delirium and nonchalance

Are but two sides of the same coin

And the pungent bushels of fire

Are carelessly scattered by the black wind

While the garrisons of the innocents

Fly their tattered flags of redemption

As stones of water

Fall from the forbidden sky

And the murmur of impatient longing fills the jagged air

And dreams

As tender a caged moth

Are placed in my pockets by the silent ones

 

 

18 March 2014

Lanzarote