Poet - Writer - Speaker

CJ Mitchell

“What I learned made me who I am,

but who I am became a lie designed to hide a truth that could set me free”

An artist whose words run deep and at times leaves you wanting
more, CJ Mitchell is bound to grab your attention. With every piece,
he delves into the core of his and others’ experiences in a way that
makes you laugh, cry and everything else in-between. What he
gives is what you get... and what you get, is absolutely worth it!

Experience the

words of

CJ Mitchell!

CJ Mitchell is...

a UK native, with strong Trinidadian roots. His creativity snuck up on him the same way some of his pieces will sneak up on you. After winning the first ever Young Person Peace Award during the first ever Haringey Week of Peace (now London Week of Peace), his philosophy of fighting injustice, the ‘isms, oneself and others (rightly or wrongly), are themes throughout his written and spoken pieces. His professional experience served as a fruitful lesson on his journey and now provides him with the nourishment for which his inspiration desires. With a passion for history, he also delves into the depths to resuscitate figures from the past and give them a new voice, heard from a different perspective.

The Process

Writing takes place when inspiration hits; anytime, anywhere. It began as targeted responses to an intense period in his life where his creativity reared it’s head, to short bursts of carefully curated pieces, sometimes beginning in dreams from which he needs to wake up from to ensure he doesn’t forget them. Using words has always been his forte and while some come without the need for external stimulation, he often calls on the creative stimulation that instrumental music drives.

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You lay down, close your eyes, and nothing. The sweet in-between of thoughts neither pure or unclean, leave you paralysed. A moment of air, makes you think things are clear, yet you’re mesmerised. Stuck in a limbo at last, left it behind, your past, but you’re trapped. Convinced that you’re strong, been telling lies all along, it’s not mapped. The decisions you make, causes you to remain wide awake, yet you’re sleeping. Sleeping on the sounds of ideals, left you hungry, missed meals, now you’re weeping. Tears for an ocean, left you salty, no emotion, now where… do you go… from here? The sweet in-between, of thoughts neither pure or unclean, leave you paralysed.

The Sweet In-Between

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A Selection of Poems

My Own Soul

It took me two hours I tell no lie That the place wreaked of stagnation Had me saying oh me oh my. What have I done this time To deserve the pain of this post. Why are people running around so fast, Why are they doing the most? Everything happens for a reason, But yet I can’t seem to find it here. Have I fallen for a new trap? Is this something I’ll have to bear? Before I feel all hope is lost Her true face is revealed from beneath. There it is, my hope, I can breathe a sigh of relief My decision is made, I will never turn back. If I don’t do this now My own soul I’d attack.

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Incarceration of the Mind

Arrested, contained, defeated, restrained. Crouching along the corners of my mind I just can’t seem to find a way to release these shackles. They are killing me, Slowly, but I can’t see an end, No key in existence, no solution, no way to amend. I see a light, but I’m afraid, I’ve been caught, contained. I rise again like never before, trip on a rock then hit the floor. There really was a rock, I promise it was there, Was that me or my mind, I don’t think I care. I’m not quite sure what to do, no ideas, not a clue. Sitting in the middle of field, yet inside a box, concealed. I just can’t seem to find the reason for the incarceration of my mind, Yet I know, in time, I’ll be healed.

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Social Media

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Contact

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