Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2010

BREATHE

by George Kwarteng

The umbilical cord that ever dragged me has finally been detached
Its music was distorted; had me on strings – dancing under hypnosis
Got my sense of real feeling blocked so I tasted the art of fear
Through the pipelines of the city – I choked on fumes and confusion
 
It was back it those times when I was broken
So my certainty to survive rested upon a diminishing pile of sand
Blowing through the city – the dust caused a deflection in my reflection
But an altered perception could mean accepting a misconception
 
Living under the image of anything means signing a contract for something –
Something had wrestled with her odds and gambled with my being
I have been a pawn to her avarice - I have inhaled broken dreams
But that day is now erased from my existence
 
So leap high with me now to the habitat of infinite beauty
The freshest of air resides in this side of town and yes I am a witness to her comfort
From the purest to the most sacred, we exchanged meditational whispers and…
Through the trees’ wiggle and breeze’s calm - we erased the scars of the deep
 
Now let me paint you a picture of how I really feel beyond your atmosphere
Laws of gravity could not hold me so I flew above the exospheric heights and
Entered club peace where DJ Silence played sounds of excellence
Now I have excelled heavenly into the arms of unsung rhythms and wow so -
 
Like the spider, I re-enacted broken pieces of dreams into a peace
My understanding broadened like the wind – so I blew about high and low
And exhaled telepathic murmurs from planet Genius to your atmosphere
I know you felt this wisdom; but now can you bridge this gap?
 
You were mesmerically submerged into listening to constant replays and junk
It all sounded particularly good with its beat – especially when you heard nothing
Forgetting that the gems of sacred music is buried under your instrumentals
Your unique verse cries for the touch of you – do not fall for yet another episode…
 
Of wasted dreams and meaningless epitaphs
As soldiers, it takes a bit of mind mapping and reconnections above the given senses –
To assemble the disseminated pieces of us - it was the reason why they called it Life
But do not fulfil its reasons, hold on to your dreams and breathe easy
 

Added: 30.04.2010

Judges' comments on this poem

12.05.2010

too much resemblance of rap style

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