This hunger of those without.

In the past it was
that my land was fruitful
Rich, fertile, worthy of wonder,
A treasure for my ancestors,

Now I fail sleep
For the land was sold
Pricked by these arrows of hunger
Like piercings of fiery thorns,
they sting better than a needle
Able to pain,
Break and kill
Even the living strong
This hunger of those without
is a fear with a taste of dreadful sickness

The best wishes it brings along
When the young one is hungry

He says can eat a mountain of bread
And a full tank of wine
Think about it
Before the feeding of the mind
The feeding of the body should precede
Guess that’s why,
I now drain of knowledge and strategy
This hunger of those without,
punishes better than brutal spanking

My voice is loud because of this hunger
Am afraid it might be last,
The more I speak
The more I lose energy,
to ask for food again,
It’s the best strategy left
That I seek food
with the mouth that eats it,
So help me, any stranger
For no friend comes to my aid
This hunger of those without
possesses ability to drive man crazy

Look closely
at my once beautiful skin
You may ask why it‘s now pale
Don’t anticipate that I didn’t smear it
It’s this visitor hunger
The one I’m crying about,
he has failed to leave my house
He itches my full body and skin
He says he won’t leave unless I die
This hunger of those without,
thirsts for blood of all, nevertheless

Those without we are well bred
We don’t eat for three days
And yet there’s no hope
That we’ll eat the fourth day
Persistence becomes an exercise,
Death becomes the result
I am not of blame
That the only thing in mind is food
I am too hungry
to think about any political affairs
Save my soul

I too carry purpose

Hunger in karamoja

The sky forgets to cry
Where bones etch stories on children’s skins
The fields lie flat-no anything,
Only the breath of wind.

The area is merely forgotten by the World,
Mothers trade dreams for bowls of sorrow,
Dreams that are like that of a woman,
Who cannot conceive but wants children
Each day comes with thoughts of how
The children will go by without anything to eat.

But still they stand through the days of pain,
On the ground that is hot like fires of hell,
In very much sorrow, they strive,
The rich take advantage of their ignorance & hunger,
Oh! Our heart has to beat again.

MOUTH OF THE WORLD

The world has mouths it doesn’t feed
Wide open, aching with dust
It sings in tongues of bitter needs
Yet bites the hand it dares to trust

It waits where morning does not rise
In homes where pots hang cold and dry
It stares through until, hollow’s eyes
Watch the bread go walking by

No fire warms a starving soul
Harvest that fills a broken land
The belly is a begging bowl
Held out of time with trembling hands

But hunger is not fate alone

It’s a choice, a wound we sow
The earth is rich, the seed is grown
And still we turn and let it grow