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And yet I tell myself, again and again

I am meant to read, not to write,
To lick, and not to bite.
The cherries are too far away, they fall
from the branch before I can rise up on my toes
And explore them with my tongue.
I'm so hungry.
I need this juice.

I cannot move.
Would you choose
A frozen muse?

I do not have the power...
To move you with my words
or my body, or my heart,
My body
My heart
It is not exquisite
is it?
Ashley Lopez Aug 2014
The hunger pains are so strong, they're earth-shattering.
It feels like my ribs will crack open, like the sidewalk during an earthquake.
My stomach is excavating itself from its very depth,
twisting and turning and rumbling, like the molten lava from an erupting volcano.
The pains come in waves,
like the rippling tides as the tsunami approaches.
Though sudden they have come,
the damage is already done.
Trigger warning
timestopper Aug 2014
Today I climbed a mountain so high.
So high that I started feeling pain in my thigh.
So high hoping to touch the sky.
But still! I could hear, the women and children cry!
So high looking in the view of a birds’ eye.
But still! I could see the babies die!
And a man buying a million dollar tie!
So high feeling that I could fly.
Above the rich man, that told that lie.
As I reached the top I prayed to god to show me why.
I really climbed a mountain today before I wrote this poem.
Arun C Aug 2014
On occasion
that great dark beast
claws and scrapes
and then
breaks free of it's cage
howl at the moon
it's never too soon
but make no mistake
its always there
ready to rip and tare
hunger
truly knows no bounds
but I wouldn't want it any other way
otherwise I wouldn't be
- just Arun
Poetic T Aug 2014
Corrupted is flesh,
Reanimated, vacant  frame,
Carnivorous Bite,
What did your childhood sound like?


Did it sound like  a crowd cheering when you scored the winning point?  Or, the sound of your friend teaching you to roll a joint. The sound of sirens.  And it feels so right to be doing things wrong. The sound of the engine revving.  Or, the sound of a car radio blasting a new rap song about violence. Or, coming home to the sound of silence, because nobody's there. Or, the sound of the raspy voices in your head when you think nobody cares. Or, the sound of gunshots at nighttime that are to close for comfort. So you text all your friends to make sure no one is hurt.  Or, the sound of the school bell, The sound your feet make when you run out of the building like you're running from Hell, thinking who am I kidding i'll never be good enough.  Or, the sound of an envelope tearing open with your grade card inside. watching all of the color drain from your Dad's face including his pride. Or, the sound of him yelling, telling you that you're weak when he sees that first tear drop roll down your cheek. Or, the sound of your conscience calling you fat. Yeah, there's that. The sound of your stomach growling with hunger when you refuse to eat. " Jeez, you're so FAT you can't even see your feet ."

What did your childhood sound like?

Did it sound  like sticks held by police destroying your families poppy field? The sound of  your mom trying to silence your brother and sister when they squealed. All you want is to end all this pandemonium. What's even so wrong with *****? your whole family is addicted. But everyone was. There's nothing really to be convicted of. even the snakes and mice are addicts. does that mean the animals are also convicts? not to mention, where your from it's used as medicine. The sound of a Marine holding a gun as big as a machine saying it's just routine as he scans your fathers eye so he's easier to identify. He's just an ordinary Afghan. I'ts not like he's a Mad Man, You think. then you feel your heart start to sink to the pit of your stomach. As all of a sudden,  You hear the sound of you family crying. and you're watching your Father dying in front of you. killed, by Insurgents. An obvious divergence of opinions. As you wonder how they could even make that decision to take your Fathers life, right in front of his children and Wife. the sound of your stomach growling with hunger. any found food goes to your siblings because they're younger. the Poppies were your only income. You never cared about money, now you'd do anything to earn some. The sound of Marines teaching you to grow wheat instead. It's not the same but it's something to eat so you don't wind up dead.

No matter what your childhood sounded like, you're more then the things you've heard. no matter where you are in the world, you're not stuck there you're as free as a bird. No matter what you've been through, You're a survivor. Never give up, you were born a fighter. So, before you make judgmental misconceptions, remember there are no exceptions. It doesn't really matter what for, everyone you know is battling their own war.
© copyrighted *Nicole Ann Osborn
The Unknown Aug 2014
I’ve eaten food yes now my stomach’s full
But why is that irrelevant to this
great hunger in my soul? oh how it pulls
What type of sustenance could I have missed?

Not food not water, no, not great success
not recognition, nay, I have this all
And yet there is some more, I must confess
the possibility that I might fall

So try I might to write a sonnet now
But such is not the will of my sweet soul
I woke at night still thinking wond’ring how
tomorrow I would go achieve my goal

And lo! I painted such a masterpiece
I am content, my soul is now at peace
Aubrey Aug 2014
If it were easy,
it wouldn't be worth it.
If it were worth the pain,
there'd be sacrifice.
If...
above all else....
it is what you live for..
in the end..
it is what you die for.
And we cannot distract ourselves
one day
we cannot forget ourselves
stave off the hunger
for something felt
one day
judgement is inevitable...
one day
the offer is no good anymore.
10/19/11
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