By Kelly Grace Thomas


We are all starving for something.

A nation of anorexics,

All gunning for a paycheck in next-day love, not buried in regret.

Choking on our apple pie, American dream

the hungrier we get.


It is a hunger that hunts and haunts

growing fat our unfulfilled wants.

To think if we move faster,

away from this disaster  

we might not get in our own way.

While our isolated souls grow thinner-



gave up hoping,

 from this decay.




empty stomach starving for that

love, success, acceptance, fame

So we dance with broken bottles,

that sober us with shame

A chance in the chatter,

to prove someday we might matter

and numb this panicked pain.




We are all hungry.


Hungry like the kid from Watts,

whose missing father has tied his stomach in knots,

As he watches his little sister grown thinner.

His mother burning pipes instead of family dinners.

Society growls at his growling stomach

Labels him an inner-city at-risk project

Fat on food stamps and class full of scorn

Demanded to grow up, the day he was born.

Packing that heat, a slave to the street.

Who need affection when you have protection?

An urban playground where they play too tough,

while the rich still think welfare is, well, fair enough.


Hungry like the artist trying to be heard and seen

But no one is beautiful enough for the Hollywood machine.

They gloss their lips with philosphys

swim in metaphors of expression.

Artists fill their rowboats with only ifs,

the pretending promise of profession.

They want this to be their day job,

so they can paint the world with art

to write similes of the suffering, the graffiti of their heart

They are hungry to simply share, turn the audience perspective.

Why must the touch of fame be so critical and selective.

In this city of angeles that worships that stars above our head

and has them outlined on the streets

they hand out cricitism like candy,

but never compliments to eat.


Hungry like the lonely homeless, ashamed of his hardened place

He begs for change with dirty hands, wishing pride could be erased.

He used to dress in brook brothers and rub elbows with elites

Now concretes his companion, a cousin to the streets  

Before he dates an actress, now he courts dignity instead

when you spend to feed the hunger, you’ll never get ahead.


We are nation of starvation

fixated on a frustration

of all the things we’re hungry for,

always wanting, needing, craving more.

The success, the love, always needing the attention

Online order what we need, shop to ease the tension.  

When will it be time to fill our hearts instead of plate?

To laugh at our shortcomings and dine on our mistakes?

Cause whether you grew up in Compton or San Fernando Valley

There is still a dark monster

who feeds in every alley

Whether you dream of perfection,

or simple safe at night protection 

Just know that this hunger if not feed

will tear us all apart

So stop thinking with your head

and start listening with your heart.