Cabbage, I hate that stuff...

'Cabbage' byRoger McGough.

John Wayne died of it
People are terrified of it
cancer

I hate that stuff

Groucho was laid low with it
One in five of us will go with it
heart attack
I hate that stuff

Monroe's life turned sour on it
Hancock spent his last half hour on it
sleeping pills
I hate that stuff

Mama Cass choked on it
Blankets get soaked in it
vomit
I hate that stuff

Hendrix died from it
Chemists stay open late for it
Heroin
I hate that stuff

Women learn to live with it
No one can live without it
blood
I hate that stuff

Hospitals are packed with it
Saw my mother racked with it
pain
I hate that stuff

Few like to face the truth of it
We're living proof of it
death
I hate that stuff

Schoolboys are forcefed with it
Cattle are served dead with it
cabbage
I hate that stuff

This was one of my favourite poems as an adolescent. I remember writing it down preciously in my diary, Nutts, discribing how this was one of those poems that encompassed the poets feeling of anger in so many things, but ends with him finding inner peace. I remember feeling the anger leave the poet in his last words "cabbage, I hate that stuff". This poem was one of the first writings that taught me about letting go. There are many others -- too long to list.

Nearly 15 years on, I have lost Nutts (I cannot remember which version of Nutts I wrote this poem in (^_^) and unfortunately I cannot remember the entire poem. I've looked online so many times, but can find only a partial version of it. I was going to ask if anyone knew the full poem to send it to me, but I won't...

You see the answer is right there in the last verse: cabbage, I hate that stuff.

Let go. It doesn't matter if you can't find it. You've looked hard enough; just let it go...