“for our political leaders,
may they resolve their differences
that plague our planet,” the speaker says.
(“lord hear our prayer,” everyone but me says.)
i look up at the priest.
he sits at the altar with his eyes closed.
is this so he can’t see my shaking hands?
does he think he can hide my pain?
“for those who have died,
may they find peace in heaven
with our lord god and jesus christ.”
(“lord hear our prayer,” is what i don’t say.)
they think they can hide my pain,
thinking things will get better.
but that doesn’t mean the pain is gone.
it’s just that no one can see it.
they never will.
“for those who starve for love
and have hunger for another soul,
may they no longer be lonely.”
(and i finally say, “lord hear our prayer.”)
i miss the taste of your lips
and feeling your arms around me.
but i will always be hungry and lonely.
my only companion will be loneliness.
it’s all my fault.
i made a million promises and mistakes.
but those broken promises and mistakes
is what makes up me now.
you gave to me and i can’t give back.
lord hear my prayer.
amen.
this poem is a little off since i wrote it a week ago.
i will always be hungry.
nikolà 3d
what is this
what am I doing again
Oh, I must be craving for you.

craving for the taste of your eggs at breakfast,
hungry for your touch at lunch,
and needing your milk before going to sleep.

I feel guilty for craving you.
but afterwards, i will be craving you again
I can't control this desire for you anymore

I'm addicted to the taste of you.
fill me in with your love, and
quench my thirst with your tongue.
for it is only you and your love that can satisfy me.
god must’ve made me , strictly
to be broken open —

and
you look at me with such innocent eyes ,
but
i know you see
right through
me ,,

so
tell me , do you want me to
strip ?

please you?

there’s a hunger in your voice
and i know i’ve heard it
before —

you
are like everyone and
everyone likes
me

but i do not falter ,
and i will never, ever break,

because
every time i touch myself,
god gets on his
knees .
.
Ive been really interested in erotic poetry lately and have been trying to write more of it, but every time I try I get really embarrassed. The title of this poem and ending lines I wrote a long time ago, and I’d been meaning to write the rest of it because I loved the concept so much but just never wrote something that fit. Yesterday I met a way too friendly man at my restaurant and it scared me, so this is about him. I wrote a raunchier version too but I don’t think it’s as good.
Isaac Ward Aug 1
One dime, two,
I count coins,

I don't want them to know,
I'm buying lunch with change.
Harriet Cleve Jul 30
does it matter if the taps run dry?

the thirsty will say yes

the drunks will say yes if the taps are beer taps


does it matter if the starving masses eat?

the masses will say yes if their bellies are empty

does it matter if the naked are naked?

the naked will say yes if they have no clothes



does it matter if the illiterate can't read?

not if the books are worthless

or have nothing to say or are derelict words



does it matter if thousands die in war zones?

it does if their Gods have picked the other side

that is the worst affront



does it matter if you don't matter?

if your taps run dry

if the poets lie prostrate on a blank page

with nothing to say



Does it matter if nothing matters?


Does it matter if the mortals find everlasting life?

Not if your taps run dry or your belly is empty

or the libraries are full of illiterates



Do you and I matter?

if you are still reading this then something's the matter


I don't matter

How about you?
nish Jul 23
you make a wish
upon a star
but little do you know
another being, far away
is wishing on it too

perhaps there is
the slightest chance
both wish for one same thing
like ending hunger, poverty
lack of education
or economic stability

but each of us
will take the time
wishing for our own

all i know is human nature
differs prayer from a wish
when we pray, we ask that god
bless all that is amiss
but when we wish upon a star
all thought for others leave
we wish only for ourselves
its what we've come to be.
for wishes seem so magical
and give our childish hearts some hope.
Ask me, not
Why it will not be the last?

Seriously,
Agreement was made to water
The roots of the plant

But again,
The water was poured over the leaves
For the temporary calm

On every change in season
Leaves get turned pale
When roots gave up to live in

And the fasting
Begins
Struggling to breathe in

Respectfully yours,
15th and the next
Why do one fasts?

When we are so hungry...........
Genre: Abstract
Theme: A catalyst of change. What drives someone to the limit where we never dream of? In solidarity to Dr. Govinda KC who never give up to change the health system of Nepal. It's day 22nd of hunger strike, 15th hunger strike in a count.
We’re hungry
But we lacking

We can’t even dare ask
Cos for us all, eating food is really an heinous task

Their moving out in their cars
While we, in here we are, hiding in our infectious scars

I wanna go out of here to there
But what about these ones I’ve got as friends

It’s really irking
But can I be in such a hurry?

If I have the brain to leave!
How will my younger ones live?

If I have the power to go and beg!
What about those in here, living without legs?

But then, we’re hungry
And we’ve got no one sending us daily meals

Seems I just have to make a run for it
And beg a few things for human being to eat

We all don’t have a choice but to live our time this way
For we are children of those who didn’t make good use of their young days.

©Emmiasky Ojex
Please reach out to those who need help and have nothing, will you?
Wided Ben Jul 17
With full stomachs we sleep hungry, and with bloody fists we fight for peace.

With soiled mouths we pray,
and with the finest words we slay.

At the peak of our humanity, we developed a cure to everything but to the nostalgia for our beastitude.

We speak of noble pursuits like the heirs of truth, and erect gallows to celebrate justice.

We mapped our roads with the trials of history and hit them with the promises of the future

yet, we still haven’t learnt how to breathe without trying to own the air and each other’s lungs.
Aryana Stray Jul 14
A planted seed will grow,
Unmasking its true identity.
Absorbed into the madness,
That empathy can't accept.

The bludgeoned trophy you keep mantled,
Ascended by antlers for the pecking birds.
Intricately adorning a delicate creation,
To showcase to the world.

Brought along for your hobby,
Game that stands on two legs.
The foulness of recollection,
Tastes awfully familiar.

Honored bodies devoured whole.
Devoured bodies honored whole.

The messenger in the forest,
Manifests closer each time,
Unbeknownst my dissociation,
Drenched in another cold sweat.

Constructed a new form of practice,
Sophistication that leaves no trace,
Attracts all and what is connected.
Cut from the same cloth.
Next page