for some reason Gilbert Gottfried shouting .I can't take it anymore!. is yelling at me
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This war has made me cry out loud
This war has robbed me of sleep
This war gives me nightmares
This war has messed with my immune system
(I think this war it has shortened my life)
This war is like a strong wind blowing through my brain
This war has made me feel alone and hollow
This war has made me let the phone ring
It has turned me into a news junky
This war has stung me, shocked me,
Bruised me, cudgeled me, numbed me
Beyond tears, I sometimes I feel like the living dead
Because of this war
How will we ever forgive this war!
This war has forced me to do the math
It has made me not care how I look
It has made me drink more wine
And bolt my door when I go to bed
This war has brought violence to my sanctuary
It has made me hear voices in the wind
It has made me miss my mother
It has made me nostalgic for the bad old days
It has made me renew my passport
It has made me forget to water the plants
It has made me harder to talk to
This war has made me watch more sh*t TV
It has made me lie awake listening to my heart
It has made me forget to take my supplements
It made me purchase a blue light
It makes me prowl on rainy days
It has made me feel like an animal in a cage
It has made me feel worse about climate change
It has made me feel worse about any kind of change
It has made my brain fog, my heart freeze
It almost made me get a tattoo
It made me feel like I was in a tragic play
A movie that was going to end badly for my character
It made me cry when I hit a squirrel
It made the traffic on the bridge sound angry
It makes me choose sides
It makes me feel that it could happen to me
It has taught me that it doesn't take much
For people to do terrible things
It made me clean the basement
It made me eat more ice-cream
........
It feels like being in limbo, to me, to be living with another war that invades one's sanctuary and stirs up a powerful response that has no where to go, so one begins to feel beaten up and hollowed. Of course we would like to put an end to such wars but we can't so we just eat more ice-cream. Being in the war, literally, would be a different kind of ordeal. This poem is about living with the war in me.
A friend calls these my list poems, and he doesn't particularly like them, but sometimes they are the only kind of poem I can write when something is neither within me nor without me. It helps as a way to organize or separate my emotions so that I can get on with my life in "this world of woe".
The phrase "traveling through this world of woe" comes from "The Poor Wayfaring Stranger" (written some time in the early 1800s). "It is categorized as Gospel, Bluegrass, American Folk, Spiritual and my favorite, Gothic Country. Books have been written with the same title as well as poems and even plays, such is The Mystique. The powerful, yet simply written words, grasp one's attention bringing thoughts about a world to come." (Click Here)
I draw on this evocative phrase because I believe that many of us feel like "poor wayfaring strangers / traveling through this world of woe". And there is a spiritual yearning in the way I use it here except for me the "world to come" is not heaven, but the better world that we could have right here if we could just hack the pathology in human nature that, not only makes war, but tolerates it as a woeful fact of life.
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