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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.
When Villains Win

Movies and books
They're all predictable
So unoriginal

I dream of a story
Where the plot is somewhat gory
And the villain
Isn't just chillin'

The hero and their nemesis
Are at a stale mate
And their actions aren't repetitive
Finally the hero's imperfections take over,
and he hits too late

The enemy takes control
And the moment, he stole
He doesn't hesitate
A second, he doesn't wait
Time isn't slowed down
He doesn't take his sweet time
So quickly, he cuts the line

The end of the hero
A new beginning for evil
Andrew Rueter Jul 2017
The evolution of art never halts
Once we began dancing around fire
Our feet couldn't stop
A place in our lives
Where our subpar seeds
Could be seen as glowing trees
That's the way I feel about my poetry
It reminds me a lot of me
I reread it and rewrite it so often
By the end it seems unoriginal and plain
And all I can hope
Is the themes and ideas that were the inspirational genesis
Remain intact

Art walks a tightrope over the most unpredictable factor
The audience
They are the other half of art
Their power cannot be overstated
And as time progresses
Their power grows
And the importance of art always extends an equal distance
But the stronger art becomes
The more it asks of it's audience
In many cases
The audience is not ready to take the call
This is one of those times
Here at the current pinnacle of art
Surfing the web
A wonderful chance as
Art is a reflection of people and society
The Internet is people and society
But just as we listen to songs
To decide what concert to go to
Or watch trailers
To decide what movie to see
We like what we like
And put blinders on to find it
Like moths to fire

We could do amazing things
If we could harness the potential
Of our collective conscious
But the threat of losing our individuality
Is too great for us
Unable to accept
Our individuality is always in the context of our cosmic existence
We are part of something greater
And we can't escape that
Even in death
We feed what lies beneath
The memory of our lives
Shrinks to obscurity
The maggots that cover our corpses
Flourish to maturity
Everything this world creates is art
And we are it's most complex creation
Not necessarily the best
We just have the most parts
And the maggots that use our dead bodies for sustenance
Were once the monsters that roamed this Earth
They had no nationality
Or political affiliations
Or religion
And they're still here
Waiting to reclaim their throne
Once "smarter" species seek suicide
sanch kay Apr 2016
when i was young,
i only lived
between the pages of a book
between the words of a sentence
between Privet Drive and Baker Street
between bookstores and libraries
where I did not have to speak
to make friends;
where I made friends
who would not leave,
where I could leave
and return to see
that nothing had changed;
nothing, except me,
but only a little.

now that i’m older
i’ve been twice
to the other side and back;
i think i’d also like to live
between time zones and skylines
between silken sheets on starry nights
between your fingers and your eyes,
where conversations are passports
to other worlds in
in other hearts beating
in other bodies;

if only for just a little.
for #napowrimo. to you, from me.
Mel  Aug 2014
Metamorphosis
Mel Aug 2014
Adapt & absorb other beings,
needs,wants, habits, ideas, beliefs.
Influences, unoriginal.
Metamorphosis,
eternally avoiding the raw,wicked truth of your inner soul,
drop the ******* facade, it is futile and ludicrous.
Analyze,compare, identify, mimic, imitate, copy,shift, evolve.
Perpetual cycle.
Veiled false identities and lies,
layers upon layers, shirk the pale shadows of who we used to be.
Shall we continue?
Contradiction.
Fools, to believe that one can ever change.
Abellakai  Dec 2013
Unoriginal
Abellakai Dec 2013
My mind is colored with red and blue
stereotypes.
All that spills from my mouth is mundane.
Unrequited love,
depression and disappointment
all so self centered.
Yet, if I were to ask
"What do you love to read the most?"
your eyes would light up
at the idea of fairy tales
and love.
But what is love?
Some say it is the best and worst
but love is a feeling
and I'm not one for feeling
anything at all.
So to that I say
I wish I could rip out my heart
and bury it away
from the world and it's monsters
but that would be expected of me.
And oh so unoriginal and plain.
I am* the black sheep
among the *high-achievers

and
the sociable.
We don't
even
baaa..
the same tune.
Nothing
*****
more
than
being
compared
to them.
It is the height
of
cliche,
lack of imagination,
unoriginal.

*Parents love cliche, right?
Dia  Jun 2014
Sleepless Ramble
Dia Jun 2014
It's an anxiety attack waiting to happen when I can't think of a witty way to say something unoriginal; something that everyone has heard before, but that just now occurred to me to say. I can feel my thoughts racing, my heartbeat speeding up to pump blood to my overreacting brain that's now thinking, "How the **** am I gonna get these feelings out, now?" I can't think of a cunning way to use a metaphor--one that I need to be able to put this pen to the page and call all these thoughts in my head poetry.
What is the meaning of poetry? I feel like I should have some kind of figurative language in here, but my brain is fried. I'm too numb to process a **** thing. I'm so numb that it physically hurts and that pain is all that I can feel. That and the burning of my eyes from lack of sleep. This isn't poetry. I don't know what this is--random words strung together by a writer who's falling asleep at the page, who doesn't even know what sense is at this point. It's a rant...it's a ramble. Sleepless ramble
I was writing this last night..."this morning" at 1am and I fell asleep while writing it. I woke up and found this so I decided to put it up.
Ayesha  Jan 2023
Shit rant
Ayesha Jan 2023
Wordless? Could I write a  poem with silence?
the skid-slide of the road
the burden of a sudden night on me

Sometimes, I fall asleep
with the pen uncapped in my hand
little book open... it may seem so lovely
look at her!
huddled up with her little thoughts
a true writer, that child!

but- but I preferred sleep!
sleep was pleasurable and it did not run
I preferred pleasure to poetry, madam!
please take the label back

But...
sometimes the pen runs out of ink
and the ballpen stutters
and I get teary-eyed in the dark night
I engrave the paper with the ballpen nib
trace the words out in the morning
sometimes I tear the paper with the ballpen nib
and then weep

Sometimes, like this time, the lamp dies
I press the buttons of the AC remote
every four seconds (I counted)
write in the light of its lit-up screen
Sometimes I write on my hand
and when the hand runs out, I go to the arm
I write on pants, on tissue-paper pieces
Sometimes, there is light and pen and ink and...
and you know exactly what.

I could never call myself a poet
the word stuck, a jumble-mess
of all my literary inadequacies
rolled up to hardness, taped to throat
I... I roll up like a cat or a rug
words come by on a conveyer belt
and I stamp each with 'unoriginal'
unoriginal, unoriginal
a moving queue of unoriginal
so many words! the page is empty
I become unoriginal
other times...
so little words (like this time)! the page is full
I become unoriginal
Then I get so upset, I toss poetry away
like crumpled paper, roll over on the bed
an upset lover; I keep an arm back though
for some little touch


Oh my
I think I'm going to sleep
with the pen uncapped in my hand


Or maybe...


No, put it away
we are done for the night
17/01/2023
Ston Poet Dec 2015
I wanna taste ya, I wanna take you away girl..(away from all the **** ****2)...all the **** ****..that you gotta (deal wit2)...me girl Yeah..(I wanna taste2)..I wanna (take you away girl2).(away from all the **** ****2)..all the **** ****..that you gotta (deal wit *2)...me girl Yeah..Just (deal wit me girl Yeah2)..(just deal wit me2)..(deal wit me2)..(just deal wit me2)..Shawty.. Yeah..

Deal with me girl so what's the deal girl, what is real girl..what is real love girl,..What is true...What's happening..What's up..wit you..baby me &  you..that's what's good.. Uhh, Young Ston Babygirl you need a soulja baby I'll be the  whole troop for you if you want me to..girl, I'm willing to do whatever I need to do for you, Yeah baby so..(you believe Dat
2)..Imma be there whenever you need me, best believe Dat Imma treat ya, how you supposed to be treated..(Yeah
You best believe girl2)..best believe Yeah..you best believe me. Yeah believe Dat..Uhh Aye..best believe girl..you best believe girl, you best believe Yeah..you best believe me....(best believe Dat, Yeah you best believe girl2)..believe dat..
I won't tell you no lies baby..I will never cheat on ya..(you best believe Dat2)...believe me..Aye..Baby  Yeah..


(I wanna taste you, I wanna take you away girl
2)..away..(from all the **** ****,yeah2)...that you gotta deal wit..Uhh..,just (deal wit girl *2)...Yeah,.. You (best believe girl2)..I wanna taste you,..I wanna take you away girl..(away from all the **** ****2)..,that you gotta (deal wit2) me girl..(just deal wit me Yeah2)..Deal wit me girl...

I'll protect you like you my Louis Lane boo, baby Yeah believe dat, believe in me, Dat your heart won't be in pieces no more baby & if it is already baby I'll be a mechanic & fix it..forget them other worthless man, that you have been wit, I'll put them in their place, if you need me to, Babygirl Aye..Imma keep it real, Imma keep it gangsta wit you..You gone need me, best believe Dat, yeah best believe girl, baby Imma put it down on you daily,..every chance I get..Imma give you love baby..Yeah true love girl..Imma have you screaming, Imma have you moaning, like "Young Ston you the man, like "**** Daddy you the best ..I ever had".. Uhh..Yeah I know dat already baby..girl just take this **** yeah, take it all in like some good kush babygirl, don't exhale it, just let the good smoke marinate  in yo mind & yo lungs for 30 seconds, then cough it all out..

Aye Shawty being wit me..is like being in another dimension baby being wit me is a new reality, Aye..Its another universal feeling being wit me girl , you (best believe Dat..
2)..I ain't like another man, they so regular that's so unoriginal, & I ain't even tryna spitt no player **** to you baby..boo, I'm rhyming from my heart girl, Yeah this song was written  deep down  from my soul girl..I really love you girl..This song is only dedicated to (you2), know who you are , You my (boo,2)..You so sweet, you my favorite candy, girl..Oo..Oo.., (best believe Dat2)..you my only woman too..Oo..Oo.
It's just (you
2)..the only one dat I think about girl...boo, its just (you2)..the one when I fall asleep, I dream about (you2..)..Aye & when I wake up  Im still thinking about (you2)..(just you2)..

I lust after you..& only (you2)..is all I really care for girl.. (Yeah you2)..(just you,Yeah2)..
I  adore..(you
2)..girl Yeah..Yeah..just (you2)..baby..Yeah..Yeah..
Best believe it's just..(you
2)..(just you2)..be on my mind so much Shawty..,I'm so crazy in love wit you..****, I gotta put a ring on you soon, when I find ya best believe dat..(you best believe girl2)...you best believe.. (Yeah2)..Best believe me, best believe (Dat2)..

I wanna taste you..Yeah..I wanna take you (away girl2)..(away from all the fucc ****2)..Yeah..from...(all the **** ****2)..that you gotta (deal wit2)..me girl..deal wit me girl..deal wit me Yeah...just (deal wit me,girl2)..(deal wit me2)..,you best believe girl..,(deal wit me girl2)..(deal wit me2)..,you best believe girl..,(deal wit me3)..girl, Yeah you best believe girl, you best believe, (deal wit me..3)
stonpoet.tumblr.com
Sarah Nov 2013
"I knew this girl once,
she had long hair, so long it whispered tiny kisses along her hips and waist
she had the oddest bluest eyes i'd ever seen, the color of the sky right before it gets completely dark
her thick, long eyelashes framed those eyes, and freckles formed constellations across her cheeks
i could almost draw the big dipper and Orion's belt on her milky white face.
She didn't know i existed but i admired her from afar. I could tell she was educated- She always had some form of poetry in her hand. But of all the things i could have noticed about her i noticed her bookmarks. She would lose them all the time, i would see her chasing after the scraps of paper as they flew through the wind down the street. She'd stick anything in between those pages, wrappers of all sorts, leaves, pennies, shoelaces, once i even saw a page ripped from a different book. It became my favorite game to guess what the next bookmark would be.  After awhile she stopped chasing the various bookmarks across the city and she cut all that long hair off, then awhile after that she started using unoriginal, uninspired plain old bookmarks.Then even awhile that she stopped bringing books altogether, until one day she didn't show up. Nobody knew that beautiful, mysterious, bookmark making girl was locked up inside her own mind. Nobody knew she hated her long hair and her freckles and even those baby blues. Nobody knew that she couldn't stand to live in her skin anymore so much that she swallowed a couple pills one night to ease away the pain. Even worse was she didn't know i watched her for so long and thought she was the most interesting human being i'd ever encountered. That girl committed suicide because she hated herself learn from her mistake, my mistake, everyone who ever noticed her bookmarks mistake, and don't do this, don't off yourself with a .45 before you've even had a chance to live" he's desperate now  
"please please you don't have to do this" he sputters

I answer simply " I never was much of a bookmark girl, i always dog-eared my pages"

*bang

— The End —