Family Living

Brothers begging me to stay sing a song I have to tune out

Stamp my feet into the clay until I'm gone away, new routes

Are enticing eyes and echoing the future into the past

Change is fast, and we become the souls that die in the slowest way

The last ditch is the only one I ever bother digging

Every new itch has passed before my brothers stop their begging

How can people all get along

When we're all too proud to sing each other's songs?

Why can't men just internalize the cost

Of living here at home among the lost?

Sisters loving me and holding me often do so with an ease

I rarely strap a boot on without thinking of one to please

Sacrificing self to someone else is not a simple task

Change is fast, and we become the souls that die in the slowest way

The last fence is the only one I ever stop to mend

Alas, the sisters that I love are those I'm so prone to offend

How can people get along

When we're all too proud to sing each other's songs?

Why can't men just recognize the price

Of turning a blind eye to sacrifice?

Parents scolding me along the way are electric to my bones

But time and time again I come back asking for a loan

For slicing my dreams up into bits I can sweep into the trash

Change is fast, and we become the souls that die in the slowest way

The first piece of me is the only thing I ever sold

And though my parents made me, we both came from the same mold

Attention, followers

This blog will continue to be an outlet of creative writing, but I've also got a tumblr page that will be more of an all-purpose weblog.

nickhibbeler.tumblr.com

Mortality in Question

When kids learn about death, they then ask a new question

And grownups give them an answer just to keep them from guessing

Because pressing the issue's something kids do best

They haven't figured out that life's about teaching to the test

Lest they worry like us, we say there's life after death

As we call it 'afterlife', it puts a chill in our breath

Still, don't expect the sad ones to accept your answer

It's simplicity grows in them like a burgeoning cancer

After life there comes death

& after death, we're all dead

But in between we like to keep our curiosities fed

Find our answers in books

Yeah, you know we're well read

While the here & know's absorbed by all the holes in your head

I was looking for clues, thinking back to the beginning

Back before my becoming, my original sinning

Coming close to the outcome, then further once again

Back to my negative years- I was an integer then

I recalled something odd about my preborn days

I just didn't exist- it was a necessary phase

Amazed at the fact, at least you'd think I was

But it went unexamined like my Twitter account does

A whole generation takes their questions to the net

& argue about answers 'til they die or forget

Now my poetry's a part of that, if you happen to read it

I turn the feedback option off because I don't really need it

Or tell me what you think- It won't change our destinies

Unless you're God & if you're God, all I want is rest in peace

The least of these have their answer in every morsel that is thrown

Every breath they get or have to breathe is enough to be known

After life there comes death

& after death, we're all dead meat

But in between we like to keep our curiosities discreet

Find our answers in each other

Yeah, you know we'll make end's meet

While the here & know's absorbed by every day you complete

My girlfriend's in another country and it makes me all gooey insi-hi-hi-hiiiide.

It's happened. My thick veneer of boyish charm has been worn down to rough and jagged moonlike surface, gathering dust and craters alone in outer space.

Nah, it's not that bad. I miss my bugglyboo, but there are plenty of things here in HANNIBAL, MISSOURI to keep me busy to the point of being all worn out. This, by the way, is my favorite treatment for depression. I get up and go to school, come home and exercise for an hour, eat and go to work. When I get home from work I might do homework (ha!), read for a bit and sleep lightly to the sounds of Hannibal daredevils peeling out not far from my window. If I weren't a Christian, I'd sniper them like Tom Berenger in the movie "Sniper 2" or Tom Berenger in the movies "Sniper 3" and "Sniper".

By the way, that reminds me- why do all my Christian friends like to use that passage about Jesus whipping money-lenders to justify all kinds of violence? "I don't like this wimpy version of Jesus." they say. I recall the scene from Talladega Nights where Jesus is imagined as a baby, a mischievous badger, and a winged spirit singing lead for Lynyrd Skynyrd. It's interesting that our deities look so different from one another (even when we call them by the same name and use the same book to try and figure out what they're all about). To some people, God looks like the God of the poor and downtrodden, on the side of social justice. To others, God looks like a military general, creating hurricanes to punish the gays and whispering into George W. Bush's ear to invade Iraq. God can be a Democrat to some, a Republican to others, and a Libertarian to crazy people. My point is this- monotheists believe in one God- theirs. I'm not telling you what to do with that information. Ignoring it is probably the most practical thing.

By the way, ignoring important things is kind of how we stay not miserable. Somehow I manage have feelings other than elation and utter satisfaction even though I'm a rich white kid who can afford to do things like write for fun and pursue dreams because I don't have to work the land for 15 hours a day to not starve. In fact, sometimes I experience despair over my clearly awesome life and if I were a bit more wealthy, I'd probably pay another rich white person to try and figure out why I'm so sad when the secret might have something to do with the fact that I'm not running around in the wilderness using every iota of my homo sapien wiles to snare a wild beast and forage for berries and nuts. Seriously- we get our food out of cans and frozen bags, replace real sensory stimulation with shiny pixels flashing on all manner of flat screen and substitute real problems of survival with amateur, self-indulgent anthropological blog posts. I need to invent something that has nothing to do with words.

Sufjan Stevens - All Delighted People

At first I was confused as to why this was released as an EP when it weighs in at a hefty 59 minutes. Upon listening to it, it made more sense. "All Delighted People" is not a cohesive effort, but I'm interested in how it will foreshadow Stevens' next full-length work, "The Age of Adz" (CD coming October 12th). The aforementioned ep includes 8 tracks.

1. All Delighted People (Original Version) [11:38] - This is a big brassy, stringy, choir-y song that seems to crescendo and decrescendo over and over again in anthematic fashion. Sometimes it seems focused and the next minute a misguided guitar will cut through like a jigsaw. Stevens' voice seems a bit more confident here and it needs to be to contend with what seems like about 30 different ideas for a song that he smushed together in just under 12 minutes.

2. Enchanting Ghost [3:39] This is familiar territory, and it's damn good. He ditched the grandiose production he's been so fond of lately for this song that features a few strumming guitars, a banjo, an occasional piano and a harp playing chords in the background. It's a tight, well-written folk song and fittingly chilling at points.

3. Heirloom [2:55] A simple folk song that the Bob Dylan fan in me really loved. Guitars intertwine like on the last song (the harp is back too), but Sufjan's voice is doubled and echoed which really helps to buttress his naturally weak and trembling timbre. Another great song that is appropriately confident in itself.

4. From the Mouth of Gabriel [4:03] Occasionally, Stevens swaps out his traditional instruments for avant-garde synthesizing. In this song, they run into each other and seem to get along. His habit of exploring religious imagery with a personal dimension present as well. The juxtaposition of encountering an ancient messenger of God to the tune of a weak upright piano and heavily distorted, warbling synthesized brass is interesting, but fails to present a really great song like the last two tracks.

5. The Owl and the Tanager [6:38] This song opens up with a lonely piano (so lonely in fact, that you can hear the felt padding as Stevens' fingers strike each key). When his voice comes in, it echoes, further isolating the songwriter. Isolated he stays, and tells a story that is just vague enough to keep the listener wondering, but just explicit enough to convey a tragic and shameful feeling that is palpable beneath the ever lonely and building piano.

6. All Delighted People (Classic Rock Version) [8:07] This is exactly what it claims to be, though don't expect anything along the lines of The Who or Zeppelin. He starts off with the same banjo and leads into the same brass, but as soon as this version begins to crescendo, there's a lot more rock-based percussion and he leaves behind the strings for electric guitar. He also indulges his inexplicable affinity for rambling, aimless guitar solos (Captain Beefheart he is not). I personally don't enjoy this at all, but it comes with the territory and I expect it enough to put up with it. Overall, this version is worthy and seems a bit more victorious.

7. Arnika [5:13] "I'm tired of life, I'm tired of waiting for someone; I'm tired of prices, I'm tired of waiting for something" This cautious poem features limited, lumbering instrumentation, and each crescendo is quickly exhausted as the song continues. The music and words work together well here and the sample of what seems to be a rocking chair works well with the vocals in the background repeating "I'm goin', I'm goin', I'm goin'". Working together, these sounds paint a picture of an elderly individual waiting for death. Oh, and the cheap-sounding harps are back for the second half of this song.

8. Djohariah [17:02] The song that rounds out the hour is the most tedious, though I'm not sure it's meant to be popped in and listened to individually. The confused guitar pops it's head in throughout this groovy jam and really... just tires me out. This song builds and builds for about 5 and a half minutes before it changes pace and the chanting begins. "Djohari, Djohariah" for a minute and then back to the confused guitar solos, then back to the chanting, then at 11:43 the song starts. It's an ode to his sister (Djohariah Stevens), and it chronicles her struggles and importance as a mother. Good stuff once you get to it.

Overall, this is an encouraging ep for Sufjan Stevens because it hints at a whole new full-length album that will hopefully have some kind of conceptual and sonic cohesiveness like his past works have had. For five bucks, you'd be hard pressed to find a better hour of music. Pick it up- this rough work features some gems.

Post-F

Abandoned buildings

Stinking haze and rotten wood,

-the town was filthy

Stuck deep inside the waning flood

-and cut off at the knees

With people stuck to their top floors

-and praying for the sun

To dry their homes and set them free

-because the

Rain came down and the

-floods came up

The rain came down and the

-river came up

The water fell down and the

-sewers filled up

And oh, the sewers spilled their souls upon the street!

Where were the children?

Oh when the rain began to fall

-I heard them laughing

You know that little kids so small

-should not play in the rain

I hope to God they got inside

-before the powerlines

Were snapped and shocked what was alive

-oh God!

What will we do, wife?

Our crops all ruined by the flood;

-where is the carving knife?

That I might drain my farmer's blood

-don't try to stop me

'Cause we don't got no food to live

-I love you too, girl

But I've got nothing left to give

-because the

Rain came down and the

-floods came up

The rain came down and the

-river came up

The water poured down and the

-sewers filled up

And oh, the sewers spilled their guts upon the street!

This is a Godsend

This flood that soaked the town below

-I will be wealthy

With more work than I've ever known

-they'll need a carpenter

To build them shelves and doors and chairs

-they're calling for me

And I'll have charity to spare

-because the

Rain came down and the

-floods came up

The rain came down and the

-river came up

The water fell down and the

-sewers filled up

And oh, my pockets, they'll be filling up good too!

Post-A

His road to her was a wasteland of rubber tires and a sea of salty bottlecaps
He wrote to her every day without being sure she'd get his messages
Telephone wires were crossed and cut and the airwaves were halted by radiation
Malted bald eagles, remnants of a nation, brave and free
His love was part of the debris, but he didn't know it
Down by the docks, he sat and listened to a man singing river-town blues
He tossed a couple dollars to the man so he could repair the trumpet that he used
Rusted and bent, it sung out across the water and through the bare treetops
"Thank you," the trumpet man said and gathered up his worthless paper bills;
Artifacts of a time when a lot of nothing was worth something and people fought for it
He later took them to the old diner and gave them to the woman who lived there
She laughed at his lark and pretended to give him food as their stomachs rumbled
The man who'd lost love stumbled back to his apartment, weaving among the rubble
He finished off his box of crackers and boiled a cup of water
A rotten cigarette burned between his fingers and the ash fell among dust
He brushed off an old photo album and prayed, "Why? Why, God, why?"
God answered- as a barking dog in the distance
The chemical sunset filled his room with swirling purples and reds
He fell upon his cot and turned his head against the doom
A flower in the jungle bloomed but he didn't notice
His world was hopeless and he had lost focus
On a burnt earth it seemed like Death's door was all around him
Ambitions were scorched along with the place that he had found them
He wanted to get behind the wheel of a car, but hadn't seen one drive in years
Drying tears every morning from the stinging smog, he was a lone scavenger searching for enough to get along
"Enough to get along on down the road," he thought, but there was never enough
And all this stuff from another time was running out
And coming out of caves and sinkholes were wild animals to snatch his finds
Ravenous wolves and dogs of many kinds
He dipped his musty canteen into a secret spring he knew
And she seemed to know him too
She greeted him with clear water and a symphony of crickets
He crouched and crawled among the thickets, first to find and then to leave her
He told others of the spring, but they didn't believe- or perhaps they didn't care
They were calm in their despair and boiled river water
And then they gave it to their sons and their daughters and pretended it was milk
As the man struggled through the woods to get back to the road, he heard a voice
"Where'd you get that water?"
That water- that gift from the spring that kept him walking and let him remember what hope was
He turned to see a wild animal with stars on his shoulder and a cross on his gun
The man clutched his canteen and thought to run
The animals had charred the land and now they want the spring
To dig a hole and take control and make it their thing
He wouldn't
He couldn't give the spring away and spoil her truth
He had toiled through the roots to find her
They would bind her
He turned to flee the animal and leapt through the bush with what energy he had
Thunder sounded as the animal emptied his clip
The man stared at the cloudy pink sky, thought of his goodbye and took his last sip