That continent Looks like You can walk it And that camp Has a life It wants to go my way To the rock Watch the dogs patrol I wrote this after witnessing first hand for myself, the refugee camp in Calais, France 8th of September 2015... I was traveling by road that day from Amsterdam to London... I can remember the dullness of Belgium (though pretty, looked like a Monet)!, and the vibrancy of the refugee camp. (Like Vauxhall Market on a Sunday, but slightly poorer looking with more bonfires). So I called my poem Livelier, because it looked livelier than Belgium. This was also the first thing I saw when I came back to England And that day, this land left an impression it burned into me that I'd never forget just west of this picture where the ferry docked at Dover. 'The rock' Like a natural fortress when compared to the flatness of where I'd just came from.
