Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Whatever - A Poem by Clay Cumbie

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Whatever

Simple are the words thrown around
All while complicated corners of the mind yell
The heart drops, splits, and pours out to every distal part of the body.
The abstract becomes more conscious and clear
And the amusement of easiness becomes the new bore
Your whatever you want to call it is always whatever,
And your never is always whatever it is…

Whatever it is that moves us to where we are supposed to be;
scratch that one or two times, and test your sense of humor
  against his
Get a drink and sit in a chair and see what hits you
  in the face.
Maybe you’ll feel the guilt of never saying
whatever it was you needed and wanted to say.
Maybe a religious experience will oddly occur during an
  awkward prayer
And you’ll stumble across something you were never even
  Looking for.
Or maybe you never find whatever it is you were looking for
  in the first place.

It has been a long time since our last assignation
And I fear that whatever you felt for me is no longer
  there.
There is no way to romanticize this moment we casually and
  constantly find ourselves in
Trying to repel the distance between the brokenness which is
shared
 Only to return to the recklessness of despair and selfish repair
The telling is in the touch, while the touching will always tell
If nothing could be something or if something could be dead.

Looking out the window as the sprinkler hits the glass
I am reminded of how circular it all really is in the scheme of
  things
The new becomes old but the old never becomes brand new
Like recycled shoes that end up in a third world country
You begin to realize how important whatever it is –is
The clock suddenly moves in accordance to things of
  importance
Yet the irrelevant intrigues the slightest suggestions of
  comfortability
You find yourself dwelling on the nonsense that only drags
  You deeper into the “whatever it is”…

You begin to witness life in freeze frame images that quickly
  pass you by
Taking in every breath with a new thinking as to where the
  ocean meets the sky
Every step becomes softer, and every word becomes a dessert
  that you wish you would have had twice…
The empty willingness to wake up to a new day still surprises
  the strongest of minds
As we long for a new wind to blow in and rescue us from
  whatever it is we try to escape
The cold room we find ourselves in today, is telling to all
  who came to hear the message
As the eyes of many focus on a stone which carries the
  familiar last name,
You begin to realize the “whatever it is” didn’t pass you by,
  But is waiting for you to make it what it will be.

                                                -Clay Cumbie (2010)