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Hunger

Jeremy1012Jeremy1012 Posts: 7,170
edited November 2006 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
It's almost funny to think that all
I have is that which I walk with today.
Twenty seven pence and the clothes that I
occupy, adorning my thin and dying
husk like abandoned and decaying fruit,
withering away its cold existence
in bleak and pathetic desolation.
I say nothing of my hunger: that is,
the wretched tug of barren emptiness,
the forced butchering of self-consumption
as death slips so slowly towards my gut.
I am dying inside so I guess it feels real,
my body is but carcass and my eyes
have lost the innocent glimmer of youth
but my MIND is so alive that it aches.
It aches like the hurt of a hundred wars
but it is real, I feel and this reality
gies me a droplet of hope in this vast
ocean of despair. It is my nature
to hope, and hope I shall, that I might be
released from this bondage that enslaves me,
controls me, abuses me, abhors me.
It must come to pass...
The hands are coming full circle.
"I remember one night at Muzdalifa with nothing but the sky overhead, I lay awake amid sleeping Muslim brothers and I learned that pilgrims from every land — every colour, and class, and rank; high officials and the beggar alike — all snored in the same language"
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • KarasKaras Posts: 68
    this reminds me of one part of a story I have been writing :


    I can feel the fire burning inside, aching to spread its wings…

    To be held captive in this shell, as the flames slowly grow, I cry to soar through eternity

    Oh fallen soul, I pray to you, release me from this cage…

    This is my portrait, my painting, my pain

    This is my growing adolescence.

    *********

    I think this and what you had originally posted here both touch on ideas of our minds/spirits growing larger than our humanity/bodies/"this cage"/"bondage that enslaves me" ... I know for me there is a definate sense of two parts...many times my humanity feels pointless/meaningless and my spirit "aches to spread its wings"...

    I dont quite understand this feeling though, and for me I am writing this story in hope that by the time i get to the end i will understand; a little bit better if nothing else...
    I scream in affirmation
    of connecting dislocations
    and exceeding limitations
    by achieving levitation
  • Jeremy1012Jeremy1012 Posts: 7,170
    Karas wrote:
    this reminds me of one part of a story I have been writing :


    I can feel the fire burning inside, aching to spread its wings…

    To be held captive in this shell, as the flames slowly grow, I cry to soar through eternity

    Oh fallen soul, I pray to you, release me from this cage…

    This is my portrait, my painting, my pain

    This is my growing adolescence.

    *********

    I think this and what you had originally posted here both touch on ideas of our minds/spirits growing larger than our humanity/bodies/"this cage"/"bondage that enslaves me" ... I know for me there is a definate sense of two parts...many times my humanity feels pointless/meaningless and my spirit "aches to spread its wings"...

    I dont quite understand this feeling though, and for me I am writing this story in hope that by the time i get to the end i will understand; a little bit better if nothing else...
    thanks a lot for sharing that :) its nice to hear that there are other people who can relate to stuff I write. I'd like to read more of this story.
    "I remember one night at Muzdalifa with nothing but the sky overhead, I lay awake amid sleeping Muslim brothers and I learned that pilgrims from every land — every colour, and class, and rank; high officials and the beggar alike — all snored in the same language"
  • Jeremy1012Jeremy1012 Posts: 7,170
    Karas wrote:
    this reminds me of one part of a story I have been writing :


    I can feel the fire burning inside, aching to spread its wings…

    To be held captive in this shell, as the flames slowly grow, I cry to soar through eternity

    Oh fallen soul, I pray to you, release me from this cage…

    This is my portrait, my painting, my pain

    This is my growing adolescence.

    *********

    I think this and what you had originally posted here both touch on ideas of our minds/spirits growing larger than our humanity/bodies/"this cage"/"bondage that enslaves me" ... I know for me there is a definate sense of two parts...many times my humanity feels pointless/meaningless and my spirit "aches to spread its wings"...

    I dont quite understand this feeling though, and for me I am writing this story in hope that by the time i get to the end i will understand; a little bit better if nothing else...

    thanks a lot for sharing that its nice to hear that there are other people who can relate to stuff I write. I'd like to read more of this story.
    "I remember one night at Muzdalifa with nothing but the sky overhead, I lay awake amid sleeping Muslim brothers and I learned that pilgrims from every land — every colour, and class, and rank; high officials and the beggar alike — all snored in the same language"
  • KarasKaras Posts: 68
    The following is one section that goes with what I had previsouly posted...As in what I had previoulsy posted is a footnote lcoated at the end of the third paragraph...



    A beam of light as he surged through the wake, threatening to break the barrier…


    By sea, Karas moved on. With minimal bearings, a starlit night compassed his path. Now in a region of cumulus skies, the voyage was destined for speed as the schooner carved through the wake. With the smell of sea salt thick in the air, Karas stood on the brink to inhale a healthy portion of the wind . With the naval power now amassed, Karas felt invincible traveling along side such weapons.

    Always anticipating a future struggle, Karas did the best he could to prepare himself for such turmoil by picking and choosing skirmishes as practice for a later war. It was unknown whether this altercation would be on land, sea, or by air, on this plain or the next, but preparation was just that, and being a hero, Karas took his fill.

    As can be heard in songs of endurance, battles mounted, and allies fell. With each new struggle was written a new scar, a new casualty, a new soldier to be lost. And as emotion raged, so to did the fire as Karas yearned for his own immortality .

    At present, the voyage was pressed for conquest as the dwindling crew was approaching enemy territory. Though Karas anticipated a vicious adversary, Ignorance was going to be his biggest threat, for what was coming was unknown, and what was unknown, could be anything. But he moved on, with courage (or foolishness as many said) and when he was at his strongest he plotted his path; carving a line through the magma of time …
    I scream in affirmation
    of connecting dislocations
    and exceeding limitations
    by achieving levitation
  • deadnotedeadnote Posts: 1,678
    wow

    i wish i couldve wrote this, its awesome
    set your laughter free

    dreamer in my dream

    we got the guns

    i love you,but im..............callin out.........callin out
  • Jeremy1012Jeremy1012 Posts: 7,170
    deadnote wrote:
    wow

    i wish i couldve wrote this, its awesome
    thanks very much :) that means a lot to me.
    "I remember one night at Muzdalifa with nothing but the sky overhead, I lay awake amid sleeping Muslim brothers and I learned that pilgrims from every land — every colour, and class, and rank; high officials and the beggar alike — all snored in the same language"
  • KarasKaras Posts: 68
    Generally when I write, I dont really understand what I wrote until later...And with what i had just posted, i didnt understand. I guess I never really read it. BUt over the past few days, thinking about the original post by Jeremy, and then what I had posted, it all just kind of hit me. And I came with some form of an explanation:

    Karas is a character i use (sort of an alter ego of myself I suppose) and in previous writings he has always been in the shadows, watching, searching for answers. And in the newest of what I wrote, he has that fire burning inside; his mind aching, the Hunger....

    And with my last post, Karas is traveling by sea, this vast ocean of despair, without a compass...He has no real sense of destination or direction as the stars are guiding him...he can go anyway he wants...

    But there is this feeling he cant shake. This anticipation for Something. Maybe this hunger is anticipation for the later war, or something BIG that is going to happen. WIth these chosen battles in preparation he is really searching for a drink to quench his thirst.

    And with each new battle, his spirit just keeps growing, his mind is gaining strength, only to be limited by his humanity which is enslaving him. Holding him down by its mortality...

    And as I end with my writing, I come full circle repeating the begining with variations...A death as he calls out to the fallen souls, only to come back to life, and continue on with courage (or foolishness).


    And though I dont know what the anticipation is, i feel that as his spirit grows, the only way to shake that hunger, or open the cage, is to make it bigger by making his physical presance bigger. No longer is a body in the shadows going to satisfy Karas' spirit. He needs more. And he does this by increasing his weight in the world. Incresing his influence. And as he does that, he can become immortal by being written in the history books..He is a beam of light, threatening to break through the barrier.
    I scream in affirmation
    of connecting dislocations
    and exceeding limitations
    by achieving levitation
  • Jeremy1012Jeremy1012 Posts: 7,170
    That's an extremely interesting take on it Karas :) As far as my poem goes, it is actually about physical hunger but as it concludes it deals with psychological hunger as well which seems to be what you are writing about... a quest to attain some kind of satisfaction or closure within yourself. I very much like what you have written.
    "I remember one night at Muzdalifa with nothing but the sky overhead, I lay awake amid sleeping Muslim brothers and I learned that pilgrims from every land — every colour, and class, and rank; high officials and the beggar alike — all snored in the same language"
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