LionHeart is a TEDx Speaker, Award Winning London Poet and International SpokenWord Performer. Author of upcoming poetry collection ‘The Mute’s Rebellion’, which excavates memories of social anxiety, selective mutism, emotional vulnerability and more. With recognition from the likes of Emeli Sande, Akala, Floacist (Floetry), The Voice and more, in addition to being commissioned by Lloyds, the BBC, the British Library for Shakespeare’s 400th birthday and leading pharmaceutical companies worldwide. Worked/Performed for The HipHop Shakespeare Company, Rapport Agency, Southbank Centre, Shoreditch House, Viacom, Capitol One Finance and more. Photo Cred: MervynShoots
Writing for those with walls for windows, these poems are a part of a forthcoming collection (The Mute’s Rebellion) which explores social anxiety, selective mutism and how the processing of memories alter our experiential inhabitance. Intrigued by the emotive and psychological relation between our interaction with ourselves & the world. The poet excavates experiences with family, race, vulnerability & emotional intelligence. Creating poetry the way architects create space, function before form, facilitating feelings. Both sheltered and exposed. @LionHeartfelt (All Social Media Platforms)
ppppplook at us
thinking like unrequited lovers,
less is more; we keep telling ourselves less is more
our faces corroding hope into ruins
as you force the last hour
into a jar called
pppppyou’ll regret this.
You give me the lid
I tighten it; in a way
only I will be able to open.
Your glass eyes subjugate the night,
I’ve never seen tears so self-conscious.
Pride stalls me, as my eyes play limbo
with the floorboards
opportunity follows, along
with my chance to try
Weeks pass by, masculinity in a straitjacket
can’t keep me from going around the bend,
unclenching my jaw
ppppp“Should you care for a scrap of a man
pppppplease understand I live for your smile.
pppppIt’s ludicrous yet I seldom think
pppppmy lungs have pictures of you
ppppphung up on their insides,
pppppwhen I breathe I imagine the air
ppppphas eyes and forces me to hold my breath
pppppjust so it can see you more.
pppppYour voice makes it easier to start my day,
pppppif you were a dream, I’d wake up just to chase you.
pppppYou could be the reason I was on death’s door,
pppppwiping my last breath on the devil’s welcome mat
pppppand you’d still be my favourite weakness.
pppppthat this is that four letter word,
pppppand it scares me.”
What ‘I’ve Been Hurt Before’ Really Means
- I’ve stopped flirting with fires, acceptance lost
pppplooking for light everywhere except inside.
- You remind me of a tunnel with height restrictions, a sign I should’ve seen before trying to take my expectations to a place you said this would lead.
- I don’t see light because I have eyes, I see light
ppppbecause like shame, it has eyes for me.
- I know where this leads; I have the scars, where all the absence failed to leave me alone. Faith dealer you said you’d stay, you grim reaper
ppppin church clothing, you promised me tomorrow.
- I’m not one to confuse blind adoration for sleep; eyes closing
ppppmay very well be God calling you home.
- Potential lovers look like graves with mirrors for tombstones,
ppppI see the death of me dressed in your shimmering tailored smile.
- I’m no longer trying to find the faith I’ve lost in people.
- They lied too, said I’m not like the last, said just be yourself, lighten up.
- A trick told looses itself. You said I could be myself.
ppppDon’t say things that sound like magic unravelling,
- Lighten up? I’m still
- People mistake broken for things they can mend.
- I’m a pre-emptive sceptic. So if there’s a part of you that thinks like God, tell him I’ve never seen the devil but I hear you used to be friends.
- You Déjà Vu at the dead-end of a tunnel, in light of death: promiscuous eyes for everyone. Don’t look at me that way.
- Don’t push me, I’m near the edge, looking up at the sun
ppppcraving a warmth that won’t send me back home, scorned.