Crow's Nest

You won’t catch me slipping like that no more

before yeah but…you gotta think…

the crew’s nest you get me

To come back home

I swear to you this is the last time

You won’t catch me slipping like that

Get me like no being robbed of man’s peace of mind

Because peace of mind is the most expensive piece of intellectual property

You get me, your peace of mind is worth something

Probably there isn’t anything that more expensive than that like

Of bath tubs and hushpuppiesOf all the things that should have broke this skinOf beatings from parentsOf night time rain and slippery shoes

Of knifes finding homes in the lower of this backOf bullets asking questions that burnOf lying in a crashed car flipped upside downOf the lords prayerOf the shihadaOf the vidduiOf the prayers made by each person in the car asking their God to intervene and somehow keep us aliveOf section 18sOf blue lights and forceful entryOf homes gutted from the inside like fish at Billingsgate marketOf mothers rebuilding homes from rumble rebuilding sons from vacuum cleaner dustOf rolling stones conceived of stoney homes roaming alone in thunderstorms you see these waters could not break these stoney islands that’s why we wore those clothesOf being taught that dignity is a piece of meat that hungry dogs fight to the death for

Of unlearning their lies …and my own

Of violence not physical but the one that stemmed from being scared of not belonging that gave birth to our musicOf roadside gs, south soldiers, bbk, roll deep, ruff sqwad, nasty crew, PDC, SN1Of friday night youth clubs shutting down leaving us no choice but to build refugee camps on estate stairwells

5 days is 500 days…5 thousand days…50 thousand days

One day is a day…many days is a life

It look once to lose foresight

It took twice to think back

It took a three and score 5

It took 4 oz of crack

It took five man a fortnight

It took six friends to bury him

It took seven for the green luck

It took eight mils of kerosene

One day is a day…many days is a life

Of suffering and smiling

Of all the writers, musicians, dancers, painters refusing to implode politelyOf all the people who speak poetry every day without even realising ityou are the unsung crusadersOf all the little pieces… that have made me into this man that stands before you…this hybrid

Of plants and of ghosts