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Here's a poem by an 11th grade student Roxely Castro Hernández from Honduras I Was Hungry and He Feeds Me I was hungry, and you formed a hunger club. Thank you. I was homeless, and you preached to me of shelter in the love of God. You seem so holy and so close to God. But I´m still very hungry, lonely and cold; I am still in pain. I wish you had taken me home. I was lonely, and you left me alone to pray for me. You seem so holy, so close to God, But I’m still very hungry, lonely and cold. I’m still in pain. Does it matter? When the burdens seem too hard, in Him I find help and comfort, Let His angels be your guard. This is my testimony.  Illustration used for the poem Roxely Castro Hernández is an 11th-grade student at Alison Bixby Stone School in Honduras
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Food Magazine Models Picked perfectly ready for the customer Not the worst, but please remember I am no different alone, not worse or better But the last kale people think they’re scraping the barrel Yet I taste just fine and I am no less sterile You can find me friends to make me “edible” Free to be picked, free to be eaten My taste has my appearance beaten Two versus One, only a little “misshapen” My fate is doomed, the rot will grow Given to no one, and no one will know That I am fine, but into earth I will go They are hungry, meals here for everyone But the time and money are gone So here these feasts will constantly spawn Thanksgiving, for a hundred children Subsidies are the only thing missing Given this we can help, this problem isn’t hidden Look at the faces of those who hurt Ask them how much a meal is worth Please help those, this system has birthed Matthew is a student at Oregon State University.
His name is Steven He is 10 His ribs poke out of his skin His legs quiver as he walks His back telling stories no book has the spine to carry All because people don’t want their last bites They say one man’s trash is another man’s treasure But they forgot that one man’s trash can be another man’s life, his livelihood I can hear the cries of a child saying “mama I’m hungry” It’s toxic waste he walks into a store looking for something healthy to eat on a budget just about 1$ to spend but the salad he wants is 5.00 vs the mcdonald’s hamburger that’s .99 Where in other places they throw away their $2 ones America is the capital of obesity but strutting the authority to exercise but what about the kids who are food deprived starving themselves to feel like they fit in While others throw away food for sport toxic waste her name is amber she has insecurities she doesn’t get enough to eat at home She walks down the halls of her high-school And the kids tease her Because she’s thin, fragile to touch but what they failed to realize is amber’s family has no money they judged her by the appearances she ended up starving herself to feel accepted Just to trim her waist Her family afraid that she’ll waste away Toxic waste when you fix your plate the first thing you think of when you get full is to throw away your scraps But what you don’t understand is that all you’re doing is adding to the Toxic Waste Click on the file below to see the recording of the poem: 
Both: Flavors
K: Of sugary sweet lies and revelations Z: And of the fiery spice of life and death K; Something Unique, something that is defined not by the food we eat but the buds on our tongue Z: The morphine, dopamine, and dynorphin within the brain coated from the flavors of vain Both: But the identification of the flavors are tricky K: I identify as a syrupy sweet, unseasonably fresh flavor, something so plush and lush on the tongue, sending waves of morphine and euphoria down your spine, like hot chocolate with a dash of nutmeg. Causing a lie of happiness down your throat. A la-la land of something fragrant. True to the dopamine I cause when you take a bite of that soothing vanilla macaron. But beware, a banana boat of disaster floats your way. Too much of me can and will cost your mind. I will make you addicted, become unhealthy, go crazed, and wish you could stay away from the chocolate drowning you in its sugars and the gumdrops of your anxieties. Thus a start of a licorice beginning and a twizzler end. But this never really was my choice, it was always yours. Z: I identify as piquant, hot, and tempting. One taste of me and I’ll get your blood pumping. And you’ll be drowning in pepper soup and you open your eyes and see your surrounded by the thick heat like Suya being barbecued over charcoal fire. I give you a chance to live on the wild side of life. A quick journey as though you going on a speed race, running away from your problems, zooming fast like a car chase. You traveling north trying to run away from the flames lookin for ways to escape but you can’t resist when that Kilishi comes your way. Cause I am a high. A natural drug. As soon as you taste me all you’ll see is color, all you’ll see is red. All you’ll hear is your heart beating so fast it’ll sound like drums bringing you into the next life. But of course you realize this is all a game, right? The devil’s tango, didn’t mommy and daddy teach you about places you can't go? I am a high. But every rush must come crashing down. All of the sudden your world’s gone dim, looks like you’ve had too much ata din din. Leaving you with a sigh of relief that you’ve once again survived the spice, and once you’ve caught your breath you’ll come back to taste the fire. K: the vindictiveness of something so meticulous and melancholic, it's strawberry ice cream sprinkled with cyanide. Z: the seductiveness and nostalgic presence of something like a carolina reaper on the run. Both: Flavors are nothing to be played with, but something to watch out for. Go deeper if you must, but tread lightly in the dust. K: Because something so sweet Z: and something heavily spicy Both: Can be deadly. Hunger Spell
I’m hungry stomach growling as I crave for food mouth watery as flavors lurk in my thoughts and my mood changes they say ”food doesn’t happen without work “ but what happens to those who are looked past and forgotten? starved and deprived with no years supply This became my life add a pinch of truth mix in a heaping table spoon of want I’m so hungry Food stamps haven’t come in so wheat bread, processed ham or turkey, & mayonnaise sandwiches with water is what I’m devouring Oh good my “favorite “ or maybe I’m used to it - it was cheap & easy to fix fast and quick Better meals I’ve prayed for it I’m not trying to be a disturbance to the system but I’m hungry You must not understand my language so allow me to reverse the script Step into my shoes Open your ears and hear your stomach speak It’s desire for you to eat I’m hungry and my spell is on you Now tell me Aren’t you hungry too? Kitchen Echoes
Society calls it soul food Laced in black excellence Perfect healing There is nothing like it Birthed from the full belly of the south Laughter and love Woven into the scars of a history that they thought had been long forgotten Turned into something beautiful Recipes from our ancestors that we remember that are braided into our very existence Nobody could cook like them I can imagine the smell of love wafting from the kitchen on a Friday afternoon as the sounds of jazz spoke pigments into the ears of all who listened It’s the magic of healing that brings us from yesterday to today Helps the skies lighten up on our darkest days Makes the pain fade away Brings us to our own kind of promised land Makes us heal And smile Hunger Games
A made up story about an annual event in which two people from each of 12 starving districts are randomly selected by the wealthy to compete in a televised battle to the death. Now let’s not get it twisted… I’ve never watched these movies a day in my life. But I just can’t help but notice painting poverty and white-faced makes it poverty. So called fiction. Making a number one novel, a blockbuster movie a hit at the box office I guess being brown and hungry ain’t all that entertaining. Our stomachs have been starving since the dawn of time Since we were fed chitlins and licked cornmeal off our dirty fingers which became a delicacy. Since three dollar ramen boiled hot dogs and pinto beans became a norm. This game is only one sport we call surviving. This story is not just a story to us it is now obstacles in your path we call it welfare. Food stamps. Food deserts. Is it true the USDA labeled parts of Prince George’s county a food desert? But you call this entertainment. As Hollywood spends millions of dollars to tell this story with outlets they call it Panem, I call it Andrew Jackson Middle School where most kids there meals are when they enter that building and wait to hopefully receive more if they so make it to another day. I call it Baltimore City which has more than 20 percent of people living below the poverty line and has one of the highest poverty rates in Maryland I call it Suitland High School here most girls come just to feed their babies who now are growing up the way they did. I call it Washington D.C. and no not the gentrified part of D.C. you have built to try and cover it’s faults and run us out I mean that one part of D.C. That’s the real life Hunger Games. Many on the street dressed up in whatever they have left begging, scavenging for cash. As their stomachs growl just as hard as our ancestors did. Do you hear it? Skinny “Toothpick” “Bones” “Twig” “Noddles” “Starved” A lot of people talk about obesity Being overweight What people don’t understand is calling someone “too skinny” is the same as calling someone “too fat”. My mind and my stomach have been fighting for years and all my heart wants is peace. Just like I wanted another piece of cake. Or a brownie. Even a piece of chicken. And maybe it’s wrong but i felt so whole being empty. As much as I hear my stomach growling, I skip breakfast. Sometimes lunch. And almost always dinner. I’m the type who doesn’t eat when she’s upset, instead, I avoid eating altogether. Apparently I’m too damn skinny I’m told at least 5 times a day, “you need to eat”. I always say to my mother, “I’m a big girl deep down”, but what she doesn’t realize is that at night, I don’t bother to even touch the food she has made for the family. My friends disregard me because apparently, “I have nothing to be concerned about”. My grandmother had to feed me as a child because I was underweight and even then I didn’t want to eat. Some of us start early. Yes I am skinny and no, I don’t like it. Thin shaming is just as hurtful as fat shaming. But no one acknowledges it. No one sees this as a problem. I’m sorry I don’t come with a shocking before and after photo. But I do know how many lunches you have to skip before you start feeling the way that I feel. I do know, that no matter how many times my boyfriend compliments me on my weight, I have never felt full. I always wanted to be full. I’m still thinking about how much I ate last night And I felt pretty when I was empty. But today I feel beautiful when I am full. Desserts
Every bite I take is poison The taste is delicious and filled with temporary pleasures But every time I eat it I know my time limit reduces I see the Rodeo King riding down the beef patty mountain and onto the smoked bacon ground The area is surrounded by the BBQ sand, the grass grows onion ring flowers I take it all in and I could be here for hours and hours.. I could eat this for hours. But I can feel the environment turning on me The sand trying to suck me in, the avalanche of the mountain making its way towards me The cracks in the bacon covered ground started shaking, earthquakes causing the holes to form Everything slows down as I power down For the first time I felt those 1400 calories drag me down And then I look around and I realize the land is empty, it’s all gone. No long term value but just short term fulfillment You see I don’t live near Whole Foods - nah - that’s like 15 miles away There ain’t no Sweetgreen or Great Sage that’s all the way up in Howard County I only have places that prey on my low income status That love to play with my health or lack of it I live in a desert where desserts are our only options And where vultures cash in on our bad financial situations while they keep the poison they feed us in circulation Bully
Hunger is a disturbance It discomforts me and lacks sympathy It tugs at my stomach Like a child wanting attention from their mother Then I have to tell to tell it, “wait a second” just so I can focus on my academics The more and more effort I put into this lesson, the more I realize that this pain is not irrelevant So I drop my pencil and unlock my phone and push the Instagram icon to watch “mukbang” videos As I sit and watch energized people stuff their faces with mozzarella-filled corn dogs It makes it easier to imagine satisfying flavor Oh, how I desire the taste of salty cheese and the crisp fried layers covered in ketchup and mustard Oh, how I desire the comfort of a excellently seasoned piece of salmon and asparagus with a side of fluffy mashed potatoes Even when I’m at home, my hunger haunts me and lingers like a ghost When I’m watching TV and “My 600 lbs Life” comes on The unnecessarily obese can binge on 3 course meals to cope and find comfort When I only have a bag of chips in the cupboard to tell my hunger to “shut up and move on to another” See, I can’t get that same comfort nor can I cope with the bully named HUNGER |
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