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Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!

The First Man was born of a Dragon,

Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!

Someday all men will be consumed by him,

Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!

Ate, at the table of their many gods....

Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!

I saw a Dragon once, -rotting as flesh,

Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!

Have you ever seen the Man called Dragon?

Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!

Eating at his tabernacle in peripeteia of vice?

Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!
Way-**-o, Way-**-o, Way-**-o, I HUNGER!*

And He that sat upon him was Death...
and she that sat upon them was death...
raw with love Nov 2015
(Yes, better than Harry Potter, get your pitchforks ready)

My first encounter with THG was approximately four years ago, when I had barely turned fourteen, did not consider myself bilingual and was romantically frustrated. Naturally, I made several mistakes at the time. First off, I read the series in translation, since I'm not a native English speaker, and missed out a huge chunk of the significance of the story. Then, as I said, I was romantically frustrated and thus paid such a monstrous amount of attention to the romance aspect of the story that I want to bitchslap myself. Finally, at fourteen, I was still ignorant and uneducated about so many things that I read the series, got hyped for perhaps six months or so, then forgot all about it, save for the occasional rewatch of the movies. In retrospect, this is probably one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made. Now, at the ripe old age of eighteen, a significantly better-read person, waaay more woke, as well as socially aware, I decided to finally read the series in the original and am finally able to put my thoughts together in a coherent, educated review of the series.

The Hunger Games has continuously been compared to a number of other books and series, occasionally put down as inferior and forgettable. In those past few years I managed to read a great part of the newly established young adult dystopian genre and am able to argue that A. The Hunger Games is undoubtedly universal and unrestricted to young adult audiences and that B. it is, without the slightest shade of uncertainty, the best series written in our generation.

While many people draw parallels between The Hunger Games and, say, Battle Royale, the similarities end with the first book, which, while spectacular in execution, seems unoriginal in its very idea. As the series unrolls, however, it is hardly possible to compare it to anything, save for, perhaps, Orwell's 1984. The social depiction and the severe criticism laid down in the very basis of the story are so brutally honest that it fails my understanding how the series was ever allowed to become this popular. What starts out as a story about a nightmarish post-Apocalyptic world works up to be revealed as a cleverly veiled portrayal of our own morally degraded and dilapidated society (if you're looking for proof, seek no further: as the series was turned into several blockbuster movies, public interest was primarily concerned with the supposed love triangle rather than the bitter truths concealed in the narrative). Class segregation, media manipulation, dysfunctional governments are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the realities that The Hunger Games so adroitly mimics. If I were to dissect, chapter by chapter, all three books, I'd probably find myself stiff with terror at the accuracy of the societal portrait drawn by Collins. I strongly advise those of you who haven't read the series between the lines to immediately do so because no matter how many attempts I make to point it out to you, you simply have to read the series with an alert sense of social justice to realize that it doesn't simply ring true, it shakes the ground with rock concert amplifiers true.

Other than the plot that unfolds into a civil war by the third book (the series deals so amazingly with trauma survival and with depicting the atrocities of war that I am still haunted by certain images), the characters of the story are what makes it all the more realistic. Though Hollywood has done a stunningly good job in masking the shocking reality of the fact that these are children - aged twelve through eighteen, innocent casualties paying for the adults' mistakes; children forced into prostitution, fake relationships, children forced into maneuvering through a world of corruption, media brain-washing and propaganda.

Consider Katniss. She is a person of color (olive-skinned, black-haired, gray -eyed, fight me if you will but she is not a white person), disabled (partially deaf, PTSD-sufferer, malnourished), falling somewhere in the gray spectrum both sexually and romantically. As far as representation goes, Katniss is one of the most diverse characters in literature, period. Consider Peeta, his prosthetic leg (which, together with Katniss's deafness, has been conveniently left out of the movies) and his mental trauma in the third book. Consider Annie's mental disability. Consider Beetie in his wheelchair. Consider all the people of color, as well as the fact that people in the Capitol seem to have neglected all sorts of gender stereotypes (e.g. all the men are wearing makeup). There is absolutely no doubt that the series is the most diverse piece of literature out there. Consider this: the typical roles are reversed and Peeta is the damsel in distress whereas Katniss does all the saving.

Furthermore, the alarming lack of religion (in a brutal society reliant on the slaughter of children God serves no purpose), as well as several other factors, such as the undisputed position of authority of President Snow, is suspiciously reminiscent of the already familiar model of a totalitarian society.

The Hunger Games, in other words, is revolutionary in its message, in its diversity, in the execution of its idea, in its universality. I mentioned Harry Potter in the subtitle. While this other series has played a vital role in the shaping of my character, it has gradually receded to the back line for several reasons, one of which is how problematic it actually is. This, though, is a problem for another day. (The Hunger Games is virtually unproblematic and while it may be argued that the LGBTQ society is underrepresented, a momentary counterargument is that *** has a role too insignificant in the general picture of the story to be necessary to be delved into this supposed problem). Where I was going with this is that, at the end of the day, Harry Potter, while largely enjoyed by adults and children alike, is a children's book and contains a moral code for children, it was devised to serve as a moral compass for the generation it was to bring up. The Hunger Games, on the other hand, requires you to already have a moral compass installed in order to understand its message. It is, as I already said, a straightforward critique of a dysfunctional society, aimed at those aware and intelligent enough to pick on it.

As for its aesthetic qualities, the series is written, ominously, in the present tense, tersely and concisely, yet at the same time in a particularly detailed and eloquent manner. It lacks the pretentious prose to which I am usually drawn, yet captivates precisely with the simplicity of its wording, which I believe is a deliberate choice, made so as to anchor the story to the mundane reality of the actual world that surrounds us.

That being said, I would like to sum up that The Hunger Games is, to my mind, perhaps the most successful portrayal of the world nowadays, a book series that should be read with an open mind and a keen sense of social awareness.
mari  Oct 2018
mari Oct 2018
hunger did nothing for me.
it gave me no new growth,
it did not give me strength
for my bones, it did not fill
me with wonder and longing.

hunger could not stay with me.
it romances with tiny spaces
and the idea of belonging,
but my stomach growls louder
than the wolves outside my bed.

i stretch, i shrink, i swallow;
hunger could not fill me up,
hunger cannot take up space,
hunger cannot hold my body
in my bed at night and tell me

it’s all going to be okay.
i swallow you, hunger,
i cast you out,
hunger gave me nothing
and i loved her as nothing, too.
We walked 500 kilometres,
We are not marathon runners,
We ran only for food and family.

The walk was long,
But our minds were strong,
Hunger came along.

Hunger put us to faint;
Public watched us like saint,
We were treated as a quaint.

The going got tough;
Our foot became rough,
We felt the tiring walk was enough.

Tears poured in our heart,
Disease ripped the whole world apart,
But humankind was selfish and smart.

Public and rulers slept,
We remained helpless and wept,
Banks disturbed us with debt.

Fishes in the sea cry,
The eaters put it to fry,
Our hunger cries were buried,
Towards our homes we hurried.

Frogs rested in the shadow of a snake,
Hunger tested us during this corona quake.

Corona turned a manhunt tiger,
Killed us with its sharp tooth of hunger,
Our hearts filled with demonic anger,
Hunger kept disturbing us longer.

Our corpses were a useless exhibition,
Media wolves framed our deaths a suicide,
We had no place to reside,
Train tracks became our new home inside.

Our hunger and pains remain unheard
Ruthless rulers find our sufferings awkward

Our hunger creates leaders and robbers,
Rulers filled our society with backstabbers,
We will emerge as leaders and food feeders,
The globe will become our followers and readers.

To all living beings we will feed,
To our future generations we will become a seed,
If hunger kills a human like a crop-killing ****,
Our hands will destroy the humanimals with greed.
Coronavirus had put the globe to a halt. Migrant laborers are the biggest victims who are battling corona and hunger together. Their voices are unheard. My poems always want to be a voice of the voiceless in the globe. Migrant labor population work for their family leading the worst life. But there was no helping hand for many migrant laborers. The house owners evacuated them and asked them to suddenly leave their homes. The migrant laborers have to make long walks towards their hometowns as they had no transportation, food or accommodation. The rulers in so-called developing countries like India left migrant laborers to walk long kilometers to reach their homes. No facility was properly made and the whole country stood silently to witness their sufferings, as they had to make a long tiring walk for around or more than 500 kilometres. Many of them could not battle their hunger and thirst.
"The world produces enough food to feed everyone, yet 155 million children are chronically malnourished and 820 million people suffer from hunger."

United Nations Facebook Page
October 16, 2018
(World Food Day)

I see hungry people,
I see them almost every day
They walk the same streets that I walk
They look at me and I try to
Choose to look back

Who are these people?
Why are they hungry?

I can't afford right now
To roll down my window and
Hand a few bucks to every
Person with a sign on a
Street corner

But I can afford them a smile
A look into their eyes that says you
Are no different than me
I see your hunger
And it's not

It's never OK
I'd be right there next to you
Begging on the street corner
If things were just
A little different

"Poverty is the principal cause of hunger. The causes of poverty include lack of resources, unequal income distribution in the world and within specific countries, conflict and hunger itself."

"Hunger is also a cause of poverty, and thus of hunger, in a cyclical relationship. By causing poor health, small body size, low levels of energy and reductions in mental functioning, hunger can lead to even greater poverty by reducing people’s ability to work and learn"

~for Bill T. Jones~

two poets, laureates both,
on the nature of hunger, they discourse,
in temple, where sacrificing is to living arts

I was there, hungry in every aspect,
seeking wisdom of the hungering nature of human.

examine the word, hunger,
hardly a rolling off the tongue mellifluous.
you growl it from the gut, in gowned resplendent ugliness,
go ahead, try it, it’s coarse and powerful insistent.

awoken empty but for the hunger, hungover from
dancing words and imagery not mine, now mine,
maddeningly demanding my dutiful attentions,
as if hunger was the master, me, obedient pupil.

the clean white slate the IPad re-presents repeatedly,
insulted that I have yet to crayon color it with the coherence
of hunger-exhaled words, dismissive that I am but an also-ran,
my village of lexical too unsophisticated,
the page addressed yet unplanned,
Apple white
is the color of the
starving artist.
I hunger for anything
A dangerous feeling
Greed to me beckoning
To devour myself in wanting

I hunger for all beings
Be it be beasts or non living
A horrible truth so appaling
Yet it keeps me craving

I hunger for what I had
I hunger for what I have
I hunger most for love
I hunger for everything I can't have
Greed is such a strong word
Poetic T  Dec 2014
Dead Hunger
Poetic T Dec 2014
Flesh* was the *delicacy
Upon dead lips it was warm,
Blood did taste like a wine of
The younger years
Were drank to fast,
To tender from the bone,
They never lasted long,
Till the
Of the dead took hold,
Yearning for the warmth,
"bodies numb"
To digest, blood still pumping warm
There was less living to feast
Only the cold hunger,
Like packs we hunted,
Never in need of rest
Rotting on jagged bones
Hunger that needed, wanting
To be fulfilled
We feel
We feel the hunger
We feel the hunger of the flesh,
We are dead in the heart but warmth
Is our comfort,
Warmth of fresh flesh, blood
Coursing down our throats
I consumed a vintage
She taste bitter, but we drank our full
Till nothing left,
We hunger for warmth, we are the **dead.
Was really hungery when this came to ink..
Carsyn Smith  Oct 2014
Carsyn Smith Oct 2014
Red    ,     red      is     the     color     of     my     hunger   ,
like     the     blood      that      flows      endlessly      from
the    cut    on    my   left   ring   finger  .   Like   the   rose
that    withered    on    my   front   door   step .  Like   the
color    of    my    cheeks   or   the   echoing  of  a  bruise.
Deny    myself    simple   pleasures   like   the   breath   of
another  or  the  feel  of  water.  Giving  more,  more  than
I have to satisfy another. My hunger is red like a lung, but
I’m exhaling more than in -- my hunger is your happiness.

Your hunger is a darkness that is simply nothing like a black hole
of  constantly  collapsing  stars  that  shine  like  an  an­gler  fish’s
allure.   Like   a   deep ,   deep   green   that   feeds   upon   the  
beautiful .   Like   a   hypnotic   blue   that   envelopes   you   in
a    trance    of    one    thousand    pounds .   Destroy  me   like
a    lion    upon    a    dying    prey .   Take    and    take    more
than        what       is      offered   .     Your     hunger     is     an
endless         cavern  ,      inhaling      more      than      out     --
your               hunger              is                 your                  gain.
The re-working of a previous work
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
Hannah Jones Jun 2017
You let me hunger
so that I
starve for You-
without You, die.

You let me hunger
so I know
upon my heart
You want to sow.

You let me hunger
so I feel
when I kneel.

You let me hunger
so I see
priceless Love
upon that tree.

You let me hunger
so I seek
Your strength when
my will is weak.

You let me hunger
so my heart
knows from it,
You'll never part.

You let me hunger
because You thirst
for me to always
love You first.

Lord, I am hungry.
Fill me up
with your Flesh-Bread
and Life-giving Cup.

Lord, I am hungry.
Let me starve.
Upon my heart
Your trademark carve.

Lord, I am hungry.
Thank you, though.
For without hunger
I'd never know
how much I filled
my life with things
that dull Your brilliance
and make kings
of worldly pleasures.
Let me crave
Your Word alone
and help me brave
this war of willpower.
Pave the way
to Your Kingdom
for there I'll stay
for all eternity
if I
let You consume me
till I die.
Based on a reflection on Corpus Christi/John 6.
"He lets us walk away hungry so we may starve for Him."
noah chen Jul 2012
What are these pangs
That wake me from my slumber?
Hunger?!? You devilish *******,
My own worst enemy, what ***** is this?
Come to fight me on my own turf,
How dare you? Not even bothering to show your own face.
How fare you? So poor that you must come bother me,
A plump little house cat such as I, truly
You disgust me. Hiss.
From the land of the warming rays you would pluck me
My own sacred home, you disrupt me!
But of course Hunger never goes away on its own,
It’ll ***** at you and **** and wear you down to the bone
Until you feed it some delicate morsel,
Like tuna, perhaps. I was always partial
Towards tuna.
Hunger’s a real witty foe, too,
Never facing you head on, no
It’s much too smart for that.
The fool makes you walk to the kitchen.
That’s about thirty ****** steps for me,
God I despise it; but then of course I have to prep for it!
Mewing pitifully and rolling around on my back,
Enticing that lazy-**** human to tally from his track
And come feed me. Jesus, pity me,
I know I do.
“Oh, look at the cute little kitty fuzz awww”
Oh ******* and feed me you ****
“Aw but you’re such a fat little cat! You don’t need the food!”
I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch it, what was that?
I’m dying of hunger over here, mate.
You’re not going to feed me? Just walk away?
Very well, you’ve made your play.
I’m gonna go **** in your shoes,
How’s that for a how-do-you-do?
Hunger, my mortal enemy, my only friend,
You’ve won this fight, but it’s not the end.
You might grumble my stomach in sweet revelry,
Taking joy in my delicious misery-
But hark, what’s this before me??
Oh hunky dory, ~purr~
... There’s no way he’s this stupid, for sure...
Oh, but there is, though it cannot be!
My master’s, (unawares), left out a morsel for me.
You hear that, Hunger, it’s fantastic, I’ve won!
(Even though you’re victory had only just begun),
Dear fat master had left out his food, you see
And now I shall feast and set my hunger free.
For in front of me, O Sweet Salvation!
... A sandwich, for my consumer-ation.
i had sort of imagined this being read in a sort of stuck up, lazy british accent.

— The End —