Julien Crispin Street Poet, Faith Walker, Poet to the stars, the trees etc
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my own small cell
Cloud
It would have been harder
If it had ever touched
But I drifted slowly off
On the cloud that I had clutched
I remember LEGO
I remember my big bed
I cant remember all the fights
They had outside my head
The ones the others say they had
Chuckin pans and pots
I'm sure they felt them all
Cos it tied them up in knots
But I was there in body
Though my mind was somewhere quiet
My ears the passive channels
For their unrequited riot
When we finally left
I thought I was O.K
But drifting on my cloud
Id drifted far away
The means of my escape
Became its own small cell
I was at a distance
And the world could go to hell
Finding my way back
Was a thing I couldnt do
So you came to me
So that I could come to you.
boxed set
Boxing
Its funny how people see me Or perceive me More to do with them than me More to do with their life than mine More to do with who theyve met Than meet me
Its funny how people see me Postulate discreetly Their inner font of knowledge How they know the real me Some perspective only they see But seen held up against me And torn from all its dressing Its just a ruse they use To beat me
Its funny how people see me Remark the way I should be To realise my could be Only then I really would be Absolutely nothing like me
Its funny how people see me But then again I look at you What do I see
looking to leave
The Thought Dont Count
I thought about going But I stayed I just knew I should But I just delayed
I was almost at the point Almost stepping out Nearly packed my bags Then I chickened out
I could have helped so many Made a difference Made a stand But I havent helped, well, any My heads still stuck in sand
He called me to the world But Im acting like a clown Jesus did it all for me I think Ive let him down
white walls
Holding on
Holding on To your smallest flame The shard of hope That might ignite My pile of deadwood doubt That might just Pull me out Of this test tube Where i No longer care That those that don't know Stare at this sad sight This pool of me No longer scaling Polished walls Waiting waiting To be poured out Be told all's well To hold In my arms again Willing willing Wanting to trust Trust won't fail me Leave me shattered
Leave me here now Hands pressed East & west Only coping Holding on To your smallest flame
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