Compound North

A Rant and Plee(you know you want to read it...)

2009-03-07T11:27:00.000-08:00

So for those of you that didn't know this the Grateful Dead are one of if not my number one favorite band, and they are getting back together to tour again. Furthermore they are coming to Illinois (I live in Iowa for those of you that didn't know) and I really freek'n wanna go. But, theres basicly no way that I could, which sucks.....alot! Mostly because I don't have a car right now, and even if I got mine fixed I wouldn't have the money for tix or gas and stuff to go.
DAMN!!!!!!
So, to all and any; pleez buy me tix and fix my car and give me money for gass........I'll let you come with (and be you slave for a year if you do). In other news I have a job now, so I guess I'll be getting money, I'll hope for the best.
see you on the flip side.
Go here----->(www.dead.net)

~Poem I Don't Care For~-->Words--~Steal Your Face~->End

2009-03-02T10:13:00.000-08:00

Just don't know what to do.
Hoping for you.
All I want is the best;
all we get is a curse.
I don’t know what to do.
But I keep hoping for you.
You’re the best I’ve ever seen
if you know what I mean.
You’re the best there'll ever be.
I’m sorry if I bug you.
I’m sorry that I’m not perfect.
I do what I can and...And, all that I can?
Because...
well,
I don’t know why.
But I know I must.
…I know you trust in me?
But, I don’t trust in me. But I do in you, so I guess I do in me and I hope you’re never my en-em-"E”.
But you’ll never be the end of me.
We keep going
growing
stronger distant closer.
I don’t know.
But I know you.
I know you here and that’s what matters.
You’re what maters
you are what I’m made of
and that is matter so that’s why you matter.
You are my everything.
I’m sorry I’m not good enough.
I don’t think I can be,
…
Or maybe I don’t know how,
or want to. But that’s not the point.
The point is that you know me,
I let you in.
I know you, so you know that I am with you.
I now that you will be with me for now;
later and then...that’s what I see.

How do I know this, I don’t know. It’s because I know you.
Because I get this much time at home to sit here and think about stuff like this.
It’s because I sit here and type what I’m thinking. Even though I’m not sure what I’m thinking when I’m typing it. I find it weird that I type faster this way and that it works at all really I would think that what I think would come out as a big ball of yuck but it doesn’t. It comes out as coherent though and that’s good it might ramble around and not mean a whole lot. But, I like to get thoughts out so that I have more room for....well air (ha-ha). My mind needs to breath too ya know.
I guess you might think this is a very weird post and that it’s “like, totally weird dude.” But I dunno, I think it’s great and I like that I could do this forever.
...a magic carpet of words *smiles* that idea makes me happy.
I’m hungry and I wish I had some one do get me food....I don’t like being lazy. But,
it’s so much easier than ...well, not being lazy.
But, I guess that’s how people are sometimes. I really wish I lived some were tropical I hope in the future when I’m in my thirties(?)maybe,
I'll live in a nice house on some sunny place that’s warm and nice that sounds good to me.
Ok let’s go for the almost almost daily poem.

Twist.
Twirl.
Emotions hurling me around.
Circles spinning in my eyes.
Sun beaming on my face,
kissing me awake.
Love from the grass on the cool ground
makes me feel whole.
Natures shag carpet.
I love it.
Pine trees rustle in the wind of my lungs.
I’m the god of wind.
Making things spin,
dust devils delve,
down,
up,
zigging around the ground.
Eyes glowing with pride.
I love myself,
the world.
Those hated shrivel and curl, I don’t care.
Apathy is a friend I know well.
The band plays louder in my ears.
Birds screaming death metal,
woodland creatures exploring sounds they should have never learned to make.
I love you,
the outdoors.
Sleeping with you.
Walking with you.
Being happy alongside you.
Grateful
Grateful
Grateful Dead

There-ya-go that was kinda forced. I hope it wasn’t too bad; I should prolly stop now for your sanity.
See ya on the flip side.

~Commune With Nature~

2009-02-28T08:50:00.000-08:00

Glistening green spider webs sparkle in the explanation of a carroty crescent in the sky.
Crimson spiders twinkle toward manila moths still convulsing.

Bottle green turtle’s plop into navy green streams.
Rowing to remote lands; ogling snowy minnows bathing nearby.

Rusty foxes shadow foggy hairs.
Crimson blood waiting to be consumed.

Life’s current surging about forever and always.

Unnoticed by most;
worshiped by some.

Life persists, even if we’re not here to observe it.

Only you

2009-02-27T16:39:00.000-08:00

This is a completely new poem. It's very simple, but, I think, very effective.

Only you

Let’s get together
and share a vociferous
yawn of truth. If
the spirit is lacking,
force it. Make it
mean something.
Only you.

Don’t hold back,
you can grab,
split,
crack,
slither.
Only you.

Take the pill,
shove the flux.
It’ll make sense
if you try, just once.
Only you.

Croon it bigger,
yell it grander.
Just make a sound.
I know you can.
Only you.

I feel it crawling,
pulling,
seizing;
you did it.
Only you.

Rebirth

2009-02-27T16:34:00.000-08:00

This ia actually a complete rework of the "Moonlight on University Drive" poem. It totally changed, but I like it; it has a different message now.

Rebirth

Machinegun fire of the mind
sending jolts of pleasure
through the slums
of my brain.

In the shantytowns
around my lungs,
it was common
knowledge: Death
is a fierce friend.

I heard a rumor
in the suburbs
surrounding another
ulcer; it couldn’t last
forever.

It was during my
expedition through
the projects adjacent
my aorta that I
saw it:

The tower built
from the bones
of indulgence will no longer
support itself.

The crash brought
with it all my happy
thoughts, crushed any
notions of fairness under
the bulk of reason.

The Babel of my
id was razed by you,
built by me. We both
saw it fall and the
calamity birthed
something new:

Us.

The ritual of birth

2009-02-27T16:33:00.000-08:00

Another rewrite:

Today I finally found the nerve
to encounter my reflection.
Blushing beams bounced off my onerous edifice
and I didn't even care.

Split seconds spent sharing,
cool counterspells crowning
kings through keyholes.

It killed my feeble mind,
left it still twitching.
What should I do amidst
crashing cream-colored cretins?

The sickly stream of words
flowing without meter,
without match.
It's here.

Lying, standing, dying.
Is there an entomologist
in the house?
I think I'm being born here.

Prop 8

2009-02-27T16:30:00.000-08:00

Here's a rewrite of the "Someday" poem I've been vworking on:

Prop 8

It's not easy
when you can't accept love. On occasion,
I'll say, "Sure,
go for it. What
do I care?"

The back doors
of my childhood
beckon. Love was
so simple, how could we lose it?
If we are no more than this,
no more than petty
misplaced anger;
what are we?

They fear it, fear what they should accept
without question.
Maybe it’s too hard for them,
and we make it too easy.

They're so quick to judge
us with old fairy tales, ignoring their our broken
reflections. Who gave them
this power, and why?

They don't deserve it,
at least not yet. Take
it away, please. Just
take it away. We'll all be ready
someday.

~Write Overs~

2009-02-26T15:10:00.000-08:00

Floating to the bottom.
Smiles wain,
tears tumble.
Minds void.

A blind subconscious
sifting threw time.
Trails lost,
elusive,
conclusive.

Eyes rolling;
destination unknown.
Emotions blindfolded.
Soul exploding.
Fractal lite emoting.
Days are done,
as weeks, months
and years.
Time is over.

But never done.

Lost.

Lousing.

Moving;
place to place.
Hart pounding.
Life, an endless struggle.
Scraping.
Crawling.
Suffocation's inevitable.
Time is over now.
(yes)
Time is over now.
Time is over.

~Standing On The Moon~

2009-02-22T08:20:00.000-08:00

(I did not write this, Robert Hunter did. This is one of my favorite songs, and I thought it would be nice to have it here for all of the no one that reads this to read...or not read, whatever.)

Standing on the moon.
I got no cobweb on my shoe.
Standing on the moon.
I'm feeling so alone and blue.
I see the gulf of Mexico
as tiny as a tear.
The coast of California
must be somewhere over here,
over here.

Standing on the moon.
I see the battle rage below.
Standing on the moon.
I see the soldiers come and go.
There's a metal flag beside me.
Someone planted long ago.
Old Glory standing stiffly
crimson, white and indigo,
indigo.

I see all of Southeast Asia.
I can see El Salvador.
I hear the cries of children
and the other songs of war.
It's like a mighty melody
that rings down from the sky.
Standing here upon the moon
I watch it all roll by,
all roll by.

Standing on the moon.
With nothing else to do.
A lovely view of heaven.
But I'd rather be with you.

Standing on the moon.
I see a shadow on the sun.
Standing on the moon.
The stars go fading one by one.
I hear a cry of victory
and another of defeat.
A scrap of age old lullaby
down some forgotten street.

Standing on the moon.
Where talk is cheap and vision true.
Standing on the moon.
But I would rather be with you.
Somewhere in San Francisco.
On a back porch in July.
Just looking up to heaven.
At this crescent in the sky.

Standing on the moon.
With nothing left to do.
A lovely view of heaven.
But I'd rather be with you,
be with you.

~Sun Kissed~

2009-02-22T07:50:00.000-08:00

Life touched by rays,
Sparkling in the morning dew.
Heat keeping me warm.
Light guiding my way.
My life is sun kissed.

Laying in grass;
basking in the glow;
soaking up rays.
My life is sun kissed.

Setting in the dusk,
I fallow.
Call us back,
you never will.
This is something built to last.
My life is sun kissed.

Rising in the morning
a most beautiful sight
colors, beauty undamaged.
My sun on the horisone.
My life is sun kissed.

(To fully appreciate this you need to know a couple things about it;
1. My gf's name is kira
2.Kira is Russian for sun)

~A Grim Profit of Doom~

2009-02-16T08:41:00.000-08:00

Feel my stomach cramp,
excuse me while I hurl.
It makes me sick,
makes me want to spit.

No, I have no faith in humanity.
Earth is a cursed planet.
Life a curse on life.
We all go alone.
Comforted by others arms; Why try?
Why not let "great" things fall?
Why not let "great" things die?
All will be gone,
now that's world peace.

Don't tell me!
Save him;
Save her;
Fallow this "golden rule."
Do this,
not that.
Don't tell me to play fair.
Life's not fair.
Nothing is.
Life's ugly,
as we all are.

We all end up gone,
nothing changed.
So why try
if you can't.
Who cares.
Nobody does.
Because,
We're all greedy little fungi.
Feeding off death,
waiting to die.

(Note: to all that read this, have a nice day.
No, I'm not mad...just, alone at home...and bored.)

A Bit Aboot a Berry

2009-02-15T20:41:00.000-08:00

So, I though it would be good idea to..well, blog/write a bit aboot myself so that maybe anyone who does read these poems of mine can know a bit about the person writing them. I'm 20 live in Iowa and enjoy most things you think I would, and probably a few you don't. I love folk and bluegrass music; and obviously I like to write poetry. I also like to draw and paint and stuffs too. But you can go to my DA account for that (link on my pro here goes to it). Currently I'm listening to Gordon Lightfoot. Anyone who doesn't like him in my opinion needs to start, he's good. As far as music goes you could also call me a "dead head", I love the dead I know that I'm probably to young for that. But, hey I do. So, yeah I do. I Love my friends and wish I got to see them more often, I think of them as brothers almost sometimes. I often ramble and I'll apologize now for it because I can feel that this is going to be waaay to long. I also hate spelling and will tell you now that if you try to do spell check for me I thank you but nock it off. I don't really watch TV and as far as movies go I like most of them, though I really don't like scary movies, I dunno why. I love tea it's tasty and I'm currently living off roman noodles. That was random I'm sorry, ha ha. I'm blond, green eyed six foot two and purdy thin. I'm currently unemployed and went to college for one year for graphic design. But, I'm still not sure of what I want to do as far as a career path is concerned. I live with my gf and her bro. And much like The Doors song, I do "love her madly", she's the best is the mid-west...ha ha. I love the outdoors and hiking and camping, though I don't get to do it often. Hopefully, that will change sooner or later. Not really religious; but, I would say I'm spiritual..kinda. I try to meditate when I have the chance, with no job now that happens more often. Used to see a shrink (though I liked him a lot he was a really good guy). So, yeah, according to him I'm depressed and have anxiety stuff. Oh well aye. But, on a day to day basis I'm very chill and mellow. Trying to learn guitar with my spare time also...deff not as easy as it looks. All in all the cure all in my life would be a good paying job that I really liked...but, I spose that's true for many people. Not really sure where I'm going with this ramble, so sorry to all that are confused about it, I hope it comforts you to know that I am too. I really hope that things start to go better and to all that do read this sorry it turned into a piddy trip.
See you all on the flip side.
ps I'm sure you'll get more of me rambling if you check back.
Later dood.

~We All Have Roots Here~

2009-02-10T11:13:00.000-08:00

What am I?
What are you?
Love one another,
live your life.

Something’s wrong,
misery and strife.

Love is long.
Love is real.
Love is something;
we should all feel.

Live your life!;
don’t smother others.
Let weeds grow,
let them bloom.
Let all people assume there role.

More than physical.
More than an idea.
Love is everything,
everywhere.

Let life shine.
Never say no;
though only to no.
Let life be “yes”.
Let it be real.
Just try and feel.

Just try and feel.
Just try and feel.

~The Undergrounds of Thought~

2009-02-08T09:56:00.000-08:00

Lip-lop!
Loppity dah...
Criss kross;
krapling.

(Skimming rooftops)

Loppy lop...
Dah!...

(Skimming rooftops)

New Ford pickup...
dishes down the drain,
AH! My brain!
Frogs in the garage.

(Skimming rooftops)

Sorry, I can't come out and play.

(Skimming rooftops)

Mother goose
killed by a noose.
Lip smacking good times we'll have.
Oh, the rhymes I have.

(Skimming rooftops)

Rudolf and his Hitler
glowing,
growing.
Frowning on my fruit.
Kick him now:
the boot.
the boot!

(Skimming rooftops)

Oh,...

(Skimming rooftops)

What a poop.
Lick my toad.
Weasel beasel,
automobile.
Ralf no meow.
..and how.
You might yet be saved.

Yes,
you might yet be saved.

Skimming rooftops.
Skimming rooftops.
Skimming rooftops.

Poem 3

2009-02-07T22:54:00.000-08:00

Someday

It's not easy
when you can't say yes.
On occasion,
I'll say, "Sure,
go for it. What
do I care?"

The back doors
of my childhood
beckon. But I can't;
What if they knew?
They can not, will not,
accept.

If we are no more than that,
no more than petty
misplaced anger;
what are we?

I would venture a guess,
if I could. The sameness
is easy, but where
does it come from?

We're so quick to judge,
ignoring our broken
reflection. Who gave us
the power, and why?

We don't deserve it,
at least not yet. Take
it away, please. Just
take it away. We'll be ready
someday.

~Get Out~

2009-02-07T20:52:00.000-08:00

Dead minds staring.
Blank screens feeding.
Souls,
lives;
being devoured.

Life's yearning to be lived.
Time dieing to be spent.
Days waiting to be filled.
People wanting more.
Everyone wanting more.
Yet giving nothing.

Life's not cheap.
Get up...
...

GET UP!
Do!
Do!
Do!

Poem 2

2009-02-07T19:36:00.000-08:00

The ritual of birth

Today I finally found the nerve
to encounter my reflection.
In the mirror I found nothing
and I didn't even care.

Split seconds spent sharing,
cool conterspells crowning
kings through keyholes.

I killed your feeble mind,
left it still twitching.
Why do you blame me,
when it was you pulling the strings?

The sickly stream of words
flowing without meter,
without match.
It's here.

Lying, standing, dying.
Is there an entomologist
in the house?
I think I'm being born here.

~Dark Corners~

2009-02-07T19:10:00.000-08:00

Don't know what I'm thinking;
just plinking,
in the dark of my mind.
Just never mind...

Searching for something to think.
Something to feel.
Something that I can call real.

~Retaliation~

2009-02-07T18:12:00.000-08:00

Look at me.
Look at me.
All that I’m prepared to be.

Yet, nothing.
Just an alien.

Alone in the dark.
Mind left stark,
white.

Perfection.
A human disease.
A cursed speck.
Cosmic dust we call our existence.
Racing against itself.

Humanity on its knees;
Pleading;
Bleeding.

Mother shunning.
Us killing.
Murder!
Us dyeing in return.
Retaliation.
Retaliation.
Retaliation.

Poem 1

2009-02-07T17:59:00.000-08:00

I'm going to be posting some poems that I write here. Please feel free to comment on them.

Moonlight on University Drive

Machinegun fire of the mind
sending jolts of pleasure
through the slums
of my brain.

Guilty corners
of my holding cell,
grasping thoughts
of trapped guilt.

The body of love
killing notions of
hereditary pain.

We made the choice,
acceptable risk.
It'll never happen,
not to us.

The tenets of law
reaching out,
touching the untouchable.
We didn't, but we did.

I would appreciate any thoughts anyone has about this poem. I feel pretty good about it, but I don't really write that much poetry, so feedback is much appreciated.

Peace.

Elephant beer = Steel Reserve

2009-02-06T01:36:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: This post may or may not have been written under the influence of one or more substances. Also, the fact that some of the sites I link to reside outside of the US, they may take slightly longer to load.

In Scandinavia, the expression elephant beer (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elephant_beer#Elephant_beer) has come to signify a beer whose alcohol content is higher that that of a standard beer.
I feel I should mention that, in Norway, at least, beer above 4.75 % alcohol by volume can not be sold in regular supermarkets or foodstores. Anything above that level must be sold exculsively at Vinmonopolet [http://vinmonopolet.no/] (literally: the Wine Monopoly). This is a state-run enterprise that is, as far as I know, confined to Scandinavia. (If you wnat more information on this subject, please feel free to comment on this post. I'm more than willing to inform whoever is interested about Norway.)

The background for this post is that Steel Reserve beer (http://www.steelbrewing.com) would definately be classified as an elephant beer. Its alcohol content is 6.0 %, which, as far as I know (I may be ignorant on this fact), is the highest alcohol content of beer availabe in the US .

Norway, and Scandinavia an general, has a long and rich brewing tradition. The beers Norwegians enjoy are usually much more full-bodied and complex than the typical American beer. This gives me pause about Steel Reserve. As a European, I feel compelled to almpst reject any American beer on face value. Also, any beer with an alcohol content higher than the aforementioned value is looked down upon as having an "undisireable" taste and exist only for alcoholics.

These are the values I grew up with. Norwegians only bought "elephant beer" if they happened to be in Denmark, a country with much more lenient alcohol laws. The only time I ever tried an "elephant beer," I hated it. It basically tasted like alcohol, which, for me at least, was the reason I was drinking beer, not vodka.

Steel Reserve, on the other hand, I actually like. This is hard for ne to admit. As aforementioned, I came to the US basically disavowing any domestic beer as either flavorless or just not worth my time. I would buy Heineken or Kronenbourg [http://www.k1664.com/] (French beer actually. There's a story here, I'll tell more later.). Joe ( my sister's boyfriend) suggested Steel Reserve because I was looking for a cheap beer that would get me fucked up fast.

This brings me to my point. I LOVE Steel Reserve. It's cheap, I don't care. It's hated, I don't care. It's American, I don't care. It's union made, I care. It tastes good, I care. It has a sense of history, I care. Most importantly, it fucks me up.

So, for all the haters out there: Steel Reserve kick ass, in more than one way! The fact that it's union made really lifts my spirits (more on the Employee Free Choise Act in another post. It's fucking important!)

OK. I'll sign off now. The Steel Reserve is beckoning me into another proletarian rant of righteousness (I know how Americans hate that). Peace.

First post

2009-02-03T02:44:00.000-08:00

I guess I could start with an explanation of the name of this blog. The "Compound North" is an offshoot of what you could call my Mom's resettlement in Iowa. You see, my Mom is from Iowa, but had lived in Norway for 20-odd years. She came back, settled in Iowa City with my sister in what came to be known as the "Compound" later.

The compound soon filled up and became a veritable hodgepodge of people. My Mom's boyfriend moved in, I moved over from Norway and, finally, my sister's boyfriend moved in.

My Mom came to be known as the Commandant of the Compound, ruling with a just and steady hand. When my Mom eventually moved back to Norway to run her business, my sister, her boyfriend and I moved up to Cedar Falls, so my sister and me could go to the University of Northern Iowa.

Since Cedar Falls is North of Iowa and we considered our grouping to be a legitimate offshoot (or franchise, if you will) of the compound, we named it, simply, Compound North.