Memory Paralysis
By LionHeart

‘Everybody else don’t move, that’s off they ears, oh he gone get in trouble,
that’s off they memory, they don’t move, they enslaved, they enslaved
to what could possibly happen’
– Kanye West

You don’t see it do you?

When                                              blah – kcuh
becomes a subject of mortality as lips spew
a spell snagging heel, invoking a ghost with
corpse-like eyes haunting those who see
what others don’t. Trauma’s transparent,
a harrowing glare: a chill owed something—

Duppy know who to frighten.

The world wrapped in white cotton wool
will not see its still body but will insist
it’s all in your head, will not realise
‘you’re seeing things’ is        a tragic irony.

Don’t you                                        see it?

No matter your inertia, stillness    a sixth sense
only you, shrouded in darkness will witness
its eerie stance, imploring your spine to shudder
as a postmortem spasm asks the dead to recall,
as though remembrance resurrects

with each enchanting                  blahk
another malign memory appears.
Staring you dead in the face, how long
will you pretend they aren’t there?

Presupposing poltergeists haunted by forgetfulness,
resurfacing to stop–remind you,
when                                               black
summons this once intangible memory, chilling eyes
owed something, fixated, because you’re the reason
they can’t move                              on.

Groundhog Day & Night
By LionHeart

          I don’t always listen to my intuition,
          who wants to know how the film ends
          in the first scene? Similar to my parent’s advice
          how it stole – with good intentions – the joy
          from masochistic mistakes,
          maybe they’re scared I’ll become like them,
          tired of time, mourning sleepless scars
          forgiveness has yet to put to rest,
          yet my intuition says
          next time, things will be different.

I wake up moody, reminded of my age,

          in fear one day I will come home clumsy
          and trip over the memory of my parents.

          Tomorrow they will be older.

My room is an Alcatraz of feelings
I wouldn’t dare grant a release

          I’m a déjà vu tired of wearing yesterday
          into tomorrow.

I lie to myself when I say next time
things will be different.

          I lie to myself when I say next time
          things will be different.

LionHeart is a TEDx Speaker, award-winning poet and international spoken word performer. He is the author of The Mute’s Rebellion which excavates memories of social anxiety, selective mutism, upbringing, emotional vulnerability and more. He has been commissioned by Lloyds, the BBC, the British Library for Shakespeare’s 400th birthday and Gillette, and was the first Poet in Residence at The Building Centre, exploring Architecture & Poetry’s relationship around emotional inhabitance, psychology and memory.