He is We

I discovered this band during the summer and I have been addicted ever since. They are from Tacoma, Washington and I love finding bands that are from the Pacific NW! Anyways, I wanted to share some of their songs. "Too Beautiful" may be triggering for those who have witnessed or experienced domestic or sexual violence. I hope you enjoy their music though!

Roses Only - By Marianne Moore

You do not seem to realize that beauty is a liability rather
than
an asset - that in view of the fact that spirit creates form
we are justified in supposing
that you must have brains. For you, a symbol of the
unit, stiff and sharp,
conscious of surpassing by dint of native superiority and
liking for everything
self-dependent, anything an

ambitious civilization might produce: for you, unaided, to
attempt through sheer
reserve, to confuse presumptions resulting from
observation, is idle. You cannot make us
think you a delightful happen-so. But rose, if you are
brilliant, it
is not because your petals are the without-which-nothing
of pre-eminence. Would you not, minus
thorns, be a what-is-this, a mere
perculiarity? They are not proof against a worm, the
elements, or mildew;
but what about the predatory hand? What is brilliance
without co-ordination? Guarding the
infinitesimal pieces of your mind, compelling audience to
the remark that it is better to be forgotten than to be re-
membered too violently,
your thorns are the best part of you.

Fresh Air

You are the air I breathe
in the alley of our big city.
Similar to the inhalation of fresh
air, yet lacking the enjoyment,
this is necessity. We breathe
out of habit and to break a habit
takes consecutive days without.
Withdrawal means death, and I
am too young to die.

The only way to get away
is to take something
maybe, a train, slowly
into the country where it can
be learned what is healthy.

Pen

This is just something I've been attempting to write all week. It needs to be edited, massively. But I'm posting it in it's entirety because it took me so long to get it on the page.

Pen, you were never meant to limit

what I want to say. Once upon a time

you were used to speak without restraint,

the voice I never had the strength to release,

Released me to deny these fairytale stories

about a prince so charming that he cannot

see that I have already slain the dragon.

Pen, you used to be my liberty

from loneliness. But somehow I have

become alone with you in my hand

and I cannot seem to write out my

own happily ever after that is nothing

like all the others. Somehow I am stuck

in this socialized cycle of wanting this cliché

image of dreams coming true.

Pen, assist me in this endeavor to be honest,

not in the way I have been in the past. Reality

is relative and right now it is related to the fact

that I cannot seem to look away from the eye

contact this not so prince charming and I have made.

I used to pretend to be heartless

and it made me

honest about every other’s fault.

Pen, teach me that to be authentic

means putting you down to rest

and the rest is said with vocality not with

these scribbles of the truth of my core. But I am most

me with you in hand, so I’ll put you in my pocket

just in case I need the extra strength when I speak.

Sunk

You told me that each
word I spoke was poetry
and so I stopped speaking
when you walked away.
I never wanted this clench
in my stomach to be
inspiration. I didn't want
to poeticize you back
into my life. And now,
my shoulders are tense,
years later with regret
of what I never could say.
It wasn't love. It was friendship
we sailed until I was banned
with barely a lifeboat.
And there will never be
enough poetry to fix
the sinking emotion of
loneliness that has submerged
me for so long.

Thinking of you.

It's like you found yourself homeless
so you took residence in my head.
It's like you feed off of my sensibility
and infest my sense of pride.
My brilliance is mid recession.
I'm tangled in the obsession of what
ifs. If I evict you, I won't be the same
but I haven't figured out if this
it the best or worst thing that has settled
in my brain. I could oust and ostracize
for the sake of my independence.
But what ifs, what ifs, if this is some
thing more than the mind and yet some
thing I like. Like something of the heart.
No, I won't speak it. It is but a thought,
(love).

Top 10 Public Transit Pet Peeves

In case you didn't know, I don't drive. I commute using Portland's public transit system, Trimet. Most of the time, it is not too bad. But there are some things people do on the train/streetcar/bus that I will NEVER understand. Here's my top 10 pet peeves in no particular order!


1. When people using speaker phone. I don't care about your conversation.
2. When individuals who have their music up SO loud with the type oh headphones that basically act as a stereo for the rest of riders.
3. Road rage from bus drivers. Yes, that individual just cut you off, but I honestly do no want to hear you rant about it for the duration of my trip.
4. The person who WILL NOT stop changing seats.
5. The person who stands stupidly in front of the bike rack on the train and just stares at the person waiting for them to move so they can hang up their bike rack.
6. Making eye contact multiple times without ever saying anything. There could have been something there HA!.
7. Loud eating. It's annoying all the time, but it's especially annoying when there's no where for me to run away to.
8. People who don't know how to move into the train or bus when it's crowded. Stop being so passive, Portlanders! Even though I was raised here, I totally understand the East Coast way of maneuvering through a crowd. Just do it.
9. When creepy guys take pictures with their cell phones.
10. Middle schoolers and high school freshmen. No explanation needed.

Random Draft

It is possible that I cried for you.
Not in the way that one weeps
for the dead. But for the understanding
of what one cannot have.