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We are the human stray dogs,
All we breathe are street smogs,
We roam with slogging legs,
To humans, we are begging ***** pigs!

With excess food, you stand on obesity,
On the dustbins, we stand for charity.

Hunger eats us every second,
As we beg, humans abscond,
World has let us to fall and despond,
Will the so-called God respond?

When we beg at temple premises,
Giving money to us becomes dharma,
When we beg beyond temple premises,
People reply that it is our karma,

When we beg with untorn dress,
Fellow-humans say, “You have money at excess.”
When we beg with torn dress,
Fellow-humans say, “All you possess is madness.”

To the streets we are untouchable,
To the hunger, we are inseparable,
With money, we remained respectable,
Without money, we turned disposable.

Where is god? Where is god?
I searched with hunger very hard,
I discovered, he was none but a useless fraud,
Anger from hunger turned us a hot iron rod.

Life remains unlivable,
Hunger remains miserable,
Humanity is scarce and valuable,
As modern nomads, our houses are portable.

With loans, our farmlands were stolen,
With human treachery, our life was broken,
With menial physical jobs, our body started to weaken.

World remained cruel,
So hunger turned our fuel.

To our hunger,
Reply of wealthy humans was silence,
For a beggar,
It is larger than a bloodshed violence.

As we beg,
Poor humans bowed heads with guilt
Helpless their life,
With disappointments, it was built.

In the world divided into classes,
Many live as beggars in houses,
Many live as beggars in heart,
They were just ***** and smart.

In appearance, we remain a minority,
In the universe, we stand as a majority,
Self-reliant life is our priority,
We don’t want your publicizing charity.

There appeared a revelation,
A day we will steer a revolution!

Idols in the temple decorated with money,
Its time to turn them into bread and honey.

Give us dignified life and food,
We won’t steal,
This is nothing but a peacemaking social deal.

We proclaim!
As hungriness grow,
That make humans bow,

We will ensure; we make
Your money-flowing temple,
Will completely set down to topple,

We will take (steal) money spent for useless stone,
If an individual is left begging hungry-prone!
Do you feel that?
It’s hunger.
Plain, raw animalistic instinct,
Hunger.

The fat girl wants her fix.

The ex
Skinny
Queen *****
Is hiding away in her room,
Dreaming.
Dreaming of trans fats and sticky
Perfect
Corn syrup,
Of powdered, fluffy,
Luxurious sugar,
And crispy, crinkly,
Crackles on your tongue,
Against your teeth
Deap fried
Junk calories.

While she lusts after that feeling
Of being too full to be awake,
Drifting off into sleep,
Entrancing herself with flavor and sensations,
She pinches the skin over her ribs and stomach.
She rolls the soft fat
In her hands,
To remember.

Remember you’re fat.

Remember you aren’t enough.

Don’t eat.

It isn’t worth it.

Oops,
She opened the door.
The gates have swung open
And out spills grease,
And glorious salt,
And sweet confections.
The sweet taste of self loathing.

That *******
Build up
To the cravings finally being met.
That comfort of knowing there’s food,
there’s food that no one can take out of her hands.

Do you feel that?
Hunger.
Basic survival
Reminder
Hunger.
SMS Feb 4
She’s living on those water bottles
And that pack of Extra gum
She’s long forgotten how to use
The tastebuds dotting her tongue
How can you blame her broken soul
For craving her old favorites taste
For those few seconds she’s not in control
Before the food goes to complete waste.
To the idiot that thinks anorexics are sick for spitting out food and questions why they taste it in the first place.
Let us
be the salt
in life.
To add
meaning
and
taste
to those around us.
I guess you could also say let us be the sugar to add sweetness to those around us, but I chose salt. My lunch inspired me...
Jeff S Feb 2
We all go grocery shopping on Saturday at 4pm, and that’s America for you, but do you have to buy the last demi-loaf of artisan rice flour sourdough and swoop in to get the only carton of organic, local, grass-fed, 2% milk that I like, then have the tenacity to take the final gold foil-wrapped bar of imported Belgian dark chocolate and, for that matter, give me a Christ-save-your-soul stare when I spend a good five minutes debating the respective virtues of KY and Astroglide?

Thank god, at least, America sells liquor with its bread and milk and ****.
laura Feb 1
My only true love
Is always and only food
How can it not be?
Delaney Jan 31
do you hear that?
that rumbling?
crying out?
sounds like I deserve it,
don’t you think?

-hungry for love
Specs Jan 30
READ THE NOTE AT THE BOTTOM*

Sweet one I love.
Dream date.
Made conversation.
First kiss.

Dream one I love,
Be bold.
Wow me.
Hug me.
Kiss me.
Love
Me.
I <3 you.
For you... not significant?
One I love
Loved me
Artificially.

Love
May inadvertently become
Lodged
In the throat
In English class once, we had to write a poem using only words on and in a box of conversation hearts. I thought it was really fun, so if you want to do this in the month of February, tag it CHBpoem, and we can have a whole collection!
The day comes in with a
Flash of light and I begin to creep
Further into my bed thinking
Of days when normal was normal.
I reach my hand towards my ceiling in the
Dark room with a single blue light that haunts me through it’s enchanting glow
It’s mesmerizing glow astounds my
Soul. as I slowly begin to fall asleep I ask for answers to my “problems.” I pull my hand down and think of the blue paint that is now white and shining. My brother comes in after my brother opens the curtains in my room to awaken me from my decrepit sleep of shame and depression. I can only believe he is here to show me comfort or some basic form of loving compassion. He leaves without looking at me as if to say “I don’t care.” I look further at him wondering if these humans will forgive my weaknesses, my uncontrollable wanting and fear. I’m alone, I realize that now.  I am supposed to act like an 18 year old for the rest of my life? isn’t that unreasonable? I’m supposed to survive on 1/4 the food I need? What god planned this? I’m limited and forced to feel weak. I’m slowly falling apart. The cattle meat I’ve been been surviving on does not satisfy my needs. I need something to bleed. I sit up after these questions run through my mind and think of when my “normal” will feel “normal.” what complete trash of a feeling... what am I?
My mind as human as most of the people around me. My morals are changing and my hunger is raging. The pain won’t go away. What should I do, how will I eat?
buying food is super hard...
kiran goswami Jan 29
I cook my food on the flames of broken hearts and hatred
And
Boil my water on the heat of agony
And
They ask " why does it taste so well? "
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