Don’t Blush When I Rip This Open

Pandora’s Box Revisited

Lately, I admit, I’ve been in a feisty mood. Maybe it’s the habitual objectification, the unwanted advances, the threesome invitations, or the girl-on-girl male-induced perpetration. What’s up with all this slutin’ around? Now, I fully recognize, I come on STRONG. My sexuality and sexual preferences are often flung out on the table for others to witness, I have no shame. And I’m not afraid to confront it. However, society, in its latent sickness, attempts to stifle POWERFUL female sexuality. Men are rendered impotent and don’t quite know what to do with themselves. But hey freak daddy, put that one-eyed snake back in your jeans. Just because I’m a sexual being does not mean I want to have sex with YOU- I mean, there should an equal exchange happening here.

My openness and willingness to discuss these types of topics is not an invitation for random advances. It’s it possible that men are confused by the gender role issue and aren’t sure how to react in the face of feminine power? Sure, I’ll buy that; however, it’s time to get back in the game guys. Women aren’t going to wait around forever for your collective asses to get movin’- along the evolutionary track that is.

One woman who is quite terrifying in her expression of devouring/sexual side of the feminine is the lovely Courtney Love. Now, don’t get me wrong, Courtney Love minus the drugs would be the best possible combination here. However, we have to take what we can get with her (as she often reminds us) and just watch in awe as she kicks the collective vision of what a woman should be in the crotch.


She’s everything in one. Bitch, slut, whore, mother, wife, widow, poetess, child-bearin’, high heel wearin’, guitar-playin’, goddess-in-training, this woman is a FORCE.

You get the feeling with Courtney, that once you cross her path, you’ll never be the same again. As one can imagine, this is hard to swallow for a society that wishes to compartmentalize women and put us in neat little boxes. Women, however, are more than this; we are the embodiment of divine goddess, here to teach others about love. Now, this can be painful or life-enhancing, it depends on how we use it. In what ever way it manifests, as women, we need to realize we are the powerful, strong shapers of our destinies we always suspected we were. We need to believe what our mothers, in some cases, couldn’t teach us and pass it on. We should pass this message on to other women who, for whatever reason, may be feeling weak.

Girls, goddesses, princesses, queens, lovers, mothers, teachers, healers… that’s what I love about women, we are so beautiful and gentle, yet we can easily morph into warriors and find our own strength.

My fiery Sagittarius girl friends, who are enjoying their birthdays right now, show us there are many new paths in life just waiting to be discovered. So, as my sis’ would smartly instruct, “Get that ass up in air and get it movin’!”

Rapper's Delight

I’ve presented the lyrical stylings of Too Short, mac-daddy rapper, and self-proclaimed player for life for your examination. Please read below:

Too Short- I’m a Player

You see I made up my mind when I was seventeen,
I ain't with no marriage and a weddin' ring,
I be a player for life so where's my wife,
probably at the rehab stuck on the pipe,
'cause she must be smokin' and I'm not jokin'
Too Short baby comin' straight from Oakland,
Got way more bitches than I ever need,
I put that on a big fat bag of weed,
'cause I can give you a bitch who wouldn't give you joint,
Bitches ain't shit and now I made my point,
so you can light that weed,
while I spit this rap,
and tell you 'bout a player from way back

I was only fourteen when I first got my dick sucked,
now I'm grown up and I really like to bust nuts,
Gettin' freaky in the right situations,
You wanna rap well that's a nice occupation,
To get pussy when you want 'n how you want it fool
'cause I was fuckin' ugly hoes back in high school
I used to fuck young-ass hoes,
Used to be broke and didn't have no clothes,
Now I fuck top notch bitches,
Tellin' stories 'bout rags to riches,
'bout a pimp named Shorty from the Oakland set,
Been mackin' for years 'n ain't fell of yet,

So if you ever see me rollin' in my drop top caddy,
throw a peace sign and say hey pimp daddy!
'cause I never would front on my folks,
I slow down and let the gold diggers count my spokes,
Bitches come a dime a dozen,
So don't get mad when I fuck your cousin,
your two sisters, I even fuck your ex-bitch,
Short Dog in the house with some player shit

Comin' up we learn how to freak these hoes,
and when your through getting yours then you shake these hoes,
and when your older, it's nothin' but a routine,
Makin' G's everyday workin' blue jeans,
I know I seen it before,
I see it again,
Young tender saying Short would you be my man

I was born to mack,
I'm hookin' hoes like crack, I be a monkey on your back bitch,
Until you kick that Short Dog habit got you on my dick,
and even though I can't fuck you every day,
that's 'cause I got another bitch around the way,
We can all get together on a late night,
cut to the house hook somethin' up real tight,
I really don't care,
cause I'm a player

Now, this is interesting. Feminists have been wrapped up in this debate for awhile. Do the lyrics above contribute toward the subjugation of women in our society? Rappers talk about “big-booty hoes” and “pimpin’ bitches”, but what is this really about? Is it art? Is it just a little harmless fun for the masses, or another method some men use to assert their dominance over women? If “bitches come a dime-a-dozen” then why don’t men go find a hole in the wall to fuck rather than expose us (i.e. women) to another boring lay. I’ll try to suppress my YAWN next time, boys. I mean, seriously, as women we have to deal with this shit everyday. Yesterday, a girlfriend of mine called at work to tell me some asshole tried to rape her last weekend. As women, how are supposed to respond to this? With a casual, “oh I’m sorry honey, how was the rest of your weekend?” Topics like rape, sexual abuse ect.. are the dark side of sexuality and typically make people uncomfortable. However, we must face these issues and FIGHT BACK! I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I’m in the mood to kick some boy ass!

I wonder how Mr. Short’s lyrics would sound coming from a woman’s mouth. I think it’s worth examining. See Too Short’s lyrics below, but this time, they're comin’ from me, sons-of-bitches.


You see I made up my mind when I was seventeen,
I ain't with no marriage and a wedding ring,
I be a player for life so where's my guy
probably at the rehab stuck on the pipe,
'cause he must be smokin' and I'm not jokin'
Sally S comin' straight from Oakland,
Got way more men than I’ll ever need,
I put that on a big fat bag of weed,
'cause I can give you a man who wouldn't give you joint,
Men ain't shit and now I made my point,
so you can light that weed,
while I spit this rap,
and tell you 'bout a player from way back

I was only fourteen when I first got my CLIT sucked,
now I'm grown up and I really like to bust nuts,
Gettin' freaky in the right situations,
You wanna rap well that's a nice occupation,
To get dick when you want 'n how you want it fool
'cause I was fuckin' ugly boys back in high school
I used to fuck young-ass boys,
Used to be broke and didn't have no clothes,
Now I fuck top notch men,
Tellin' stories 'bout rags to riches,
'bout a pimp named Sally from the Oakland set,
Been mackin' for years 'n ain't fell of yet,

So if you ever see me rollin' in my drop top caddy,
throw a peace sign and say hey pimp Sally!
'cause I never would front on my folks,
I slow down and let the gigolos count my spokes,
Men come a dime a dozen,
So don't get mad when I fuck your cousin,
Sally S in the house with some player shit

Comin' up we learn how to freak these boys,
and when your through getting yours then you shake these boys,
and when your older, it's nothin' but a routine,
Makin' G's everyday workin' blue jeans,
I know I seen it before,
I see it again,
Boys saying, Sally, would you be my girl

I was born to mack,
I'm hookin' boys like crack, I be a monkey on your back,
Until you kick that Sally S habit got you on my CLIT,
and even though I can't fuck you every day,
that's 'cause I got another man around the way,
We can all get together on a late night,
cut to the house hook somethin' up real tight,
I really don't care,
cause I'm a player

And if that, girls, doesn’t put you in mood, then, here is some art work by the lovely Natalia Fabia. Now, let’s kick some ass.

Male-strippers, candy-boys, gigolos:

Wanna come over and get spanked?
With our Pretty Woman stories
They know Girls are better when we're dirty
so if you’ve been drug through the mud
And you’re feeling a little primitive
You won’t have to look hard to find

endless intrigue
mad-circus freaks
the shark's mouth bringing you closer
the carnage never ends
we just collect the dust and run


Jefferson Airplane- Don’t You Want Somebody to Love?

When the truth is found to be lies
And all the joy within you dies





Don't you want somebody to love
Don't you need somebody to love


When the garden flowers baby are dead
And your mind is full of red

Don't you want somebody to love
Don't you need somebody to love
Wouldn't you love somebody to love
You better find somebody to love

Your eyes, I say your eyes may look like his
But in your head baby I'm afraid you don't know where it is

Don't you want somebody to love
Don't you need somebody to love
Wouldn't you love somebody to love
You better find somebody to love

The God Question- Pluto in Sagittarius Spreads Havoc

Dearly Departed (fellow Scorpios), we are gathered here today to witness the joining of a host of planets colliding in Sagittarius, still hot from a massive conjunction in Scorpio weeks ago. Bring on the end of the world prophecies, the religious-rapture fantasies, and the naysayer’s favorite skewed reality. It’s world annihilation time! Calling all irrational Islamic fundamentalists, callous Christian conservatives, blood thirsty Iranians, nuclear-charged Koreans, and sadistic South Americans- it’s time to polish your swords! After centuries of destruction and torment in the name of religion, let’s brace ourselves for another long silence. For your obedience, you get conformity at its finest and blind belief fit for the masses. Which fairly tale do you believe? And how many infidels are you ready to kill for a ticket to paradise? Let's relish in our adherence, turn off our brains, and let our flesh waste away. Because each day on this Earth someone will die for their faith, when faith cannot be seen, I am talking about invisible deities lingering somewhere in the sky people. This ain’t rocket science, folks, so if we still need airy fairy tales to get us through the day, and only a single book is used to support our claims, we might as well go join our ancestors in their graves.

Sonic Youth- Do You Believe in Rapture?

Stand behind his drunken amp
Stand behind his light of love
Hear him yowl his bloody tongue
Hear him yell for blood and war
Do you believe in his sweet sensation
Do you believe in second chance
Do you believe in rapture babe
A terrible hit strikes today
A terrible hit for the parade
Burning' eyes seek Jesus coming
Jesus comes to pave the way
Do you believe in his sweet sensation
Do you believe in second chance
Do you believe in rapture babe
Can you tell me what to feel
Open up your tender soul
Can I drink your drunken mercy
Wine burns the devils hole

“We are in a period of intense debate about religion. It seems there are believers, secularists and atheists - in their manifold varieties - arguing over their various concerns. Veils. Intelligent design v evolution. Ordaining gays and women. Contraception and Aids.” – From an article posted on Political Waves today

Put the life force back into your veins

Just the other day I was made of aware of how much I need God, and not just in a mythical way, but in a real practical way.
When the inner emptiness threatens to conceal, and the darkness comes and comes, shoving under even further the most essential life force we need to feel. But some men stand under waterfalls with their arms wide open announcing the world is their own. And the rest of us will just bow down.

The cruelty of fate is pulling on our heart-strings, and it’s not always apparent how much it’s going to sting. Moreover, we are in THE DARK about how and why and we desperately need to understand at a level our minds will never be able to access, not in an Earthly incarnation anyway. But there is forgiveness and comfort, and the solace we seek.

Are we ready for the lesson? I can’t say that I ever was, but Hades doesn’t ask for permission. And here’s how it happened:

A Sudden Request for Solace

I roam through halls where grand murals pose
the neon toaster glow teases me
I want more
the portraits and landscapes threaten
I could never go home
beyond the ominous castle walls
life will uncork you and unarm you
so don’t go searching for answers
don’t go any further if it cause a question
yesterday was spent in mourning
but today I am your equal
I’ve sent my ghosts to your heaven
and back and forth I send more
I bargain for the preacher’s soul
and here is my God
and here is my death
and the foul mess it’s fermenting in
I lick the dirt from the mirror
and filter the sand from each baptism
water drips to counterbalance his absence
the forest still grows its weedy trees
and the sky still barks for the sunlight
so I move forward on the rings of Saturn
at the center of confusion comes the lesson
are you ready for the lesson?

What d'ya got up in that house?

I am the official babysitter of drunk women. Last night there were girls girls girls everywhere, and evidently, I am their keeper. Making sure they get home ok, and doubling as bodyguard and bouncer in the meantime. Someone actually asked me if I was "the man" in the relationship. To what relationship he was referring to, I don't know. Or to what extent I am "The Man", I'm not sure. But, I'll take it as a compliment. Obviously he thought I had bigger balls than him.

On the topic of balls, I have no doubt, if I was a man, I'd be nailing chicks left and right. Is that ok for a feminist to say? I'm guessing not, I’ll probably get kicked out of the top secret sisterhood club for that one. Lately, I have become pretty blasé toward men though. What exactly is their purpose again? It seems like anything they can do, I can do twice as well. Am I conceited? Probably. But hey guys, I’m still waiting to be knocked off of my chair. So far, it’s been less than impressive. Is it because South Dakota men are completely standard? Maybe I’m a snob, but I’m not finding any other reason to believe differently.

It could be I am in need of a total re-evaluation of why I am here. It could be time to leave SD. Although, the main purpose of my life should not be meeting someone spectacular, every now and then it would be refreshing to feel there is someone who at least RESONATES with me. Until then, fellow bloggers, you can find me on the dance floor, in full tough-girl gear, fielding questions like “What’d ya got up in that house?”

Woman Like A Man--Damien Rice

I need a piss,
I wanna hate,
Fuck it up, come.
My love,
Eat your meat,
Keep your teeth, run.
You lost me,
You cost me,
You taught me of me in the end.
We're bad,
What we do.
Stupid fools.

You wanna get boned,
You wanna get stoned,
You wanna get a room like no-one else.
You wanna be rich,
You wanna be kitsch,
You wanna be the bastard of yourself.
You wanna get burned,
You wanna get turned,
You wanna get fucked inside out.
You wanna be ruled,
You wanna be fooled,
You wanna be a woman like a man,
Like a woman like a man.


Need a hit?
Wanna wait,
Suck it up, cum.
My love,
Eat your meat,
Itchy feet, run.
You reach me,
You bleach me,
You teach me of things so familiar.
We're bad,
What we do.
Stupid fools.

You wanna get boned,
You wanna get stoned,
You wanna get a room like no-one else.
You wanna be rich,
You wanna be kitsch,
You wanna be the bastard of yourself.
You wanna get burned,
You wanna get turned,
You wanna get fucked inside out.
You wanna be ruled,
You wanna be fooled,
You wanna be a woman like a man, like a woman like a man.

Flesh for Sale

Should it come as a surprise that we are selling ourselves to others cheaply? There are many ways we sell ourselves daily with our time, commitments, and unwavering support. It’s natural, and most days it doesn’t bother me. When faced with the demands of the day, I simply check each task off of the massive “to do” list that has become my life. But, every now and then, I feel like a cheap whore who’s been working way too much. I’m tired, but aren’t we all? If I promise to sit still like a good girl and perform each task given to me like a machine, at least everyone around me will approve. Approval is for sale too, as long as we give a damn about what everyone else thinks about us. The need for approval will make people do crazy things, things outside of the person they are. Eventually, as we continue to please others, we become less and less aware of who we are and what we want. We hope we can keep everyone happy by totally relinquishing our time, flesh, independence, and self-will. There! Is that good enough? I’ve wondered several times in my life when I’ve caught myself bending to the will of others without any regard for what I’ve wanted. However, during the last year, I’ve become more aware of my need to say “NO”- and I don’t feel badly about it anymore. Being with that “special someone” can help to ease the pain of the daily grind. On the other hand, it becomes a chore, another item we must complete on our never ending list. People expect a certain level of commitment, and to that I would respond, “Heaven whore’s itself out often.” Just don’t get used to it.


Although what I have to give might not be enough for some, it’s all I have. Below are lyrics by the lovely, talented Sarah Mclachlan-

Sarah McLachlan- Good Enough

Hey your glass is empty
It’s a hell of a long way home
Why don’t you let me take you
It’s no good to go alone
I never would have opened up
But you seemed so real to me
After all the bullshit I’ve heard
It’s refreshing not to see
I don’t have to pretend
She doesn’t expect it from me

Don’t tell me I haven’t been good to you
Don’t tell me I have never been there for you
Don’t tell me why
Nothing is good enough

Hey little girl would you like some candy
Your momma said that it’s ok
The door is open come on outside
No I can’t come out today
It’s not the wind that cracked your shoulder
And threw you to the ground
Who’s there that makes you so afraid
You’re shaken to the bone
And I don’t understand
You deserve so much more than this

So don’t tell me why
He’s never been good to you
Don’t tell me why
He’s never been there for you
Don’t you know that why
Is simply not good enough
So just let me try
And I will be good to you
Just let me try
And I will be there for you
I’ll show you why
You’re so much more than good enough

12:00 AM (it’s purely fictional)

As I lay in bed last night, my thoughts drifted to an ex-girlfriend of mine, as they often do around Thanksgiving time. She and I met about three years ago at the end of November. She was a dynamic woman, head-strong, forthcoming and political. She had a warm smile and a laugh that just INFECTED the room. She was fearless in her pursuit of me, never giving up until she won the prize- in a typical Aries-like fashion. She was a force, a woman with a clear agenda and the determination to make it happen, to put thoughts into action. Now, I’m not saying I was in love, I would never admit to such a travesty. Then, the dream would cease to be, and dreams are not made to hold up against the stark light of reality.

My phone rang last night at midnight. And here’s how it went down.


Bruce Springsteen- I’m on Fire

Hey little girl is your daddy home
Did he go and leave you all alone
I got a bad desire
Oh I'm on fire

Tell me now baby is he good to you
Can he do to you the things that I do
I can take you higher
I'm on fire

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby
edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley
through the middle of my soul

At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet
and a freight train running through the
middle of my head
And you, you cool my desire
Oh I’m on fire

The Pressure to Endure

"The divine is perhaps that quality in man which permits him to endure the lack of God."

-Jean Rostand

Enough said.

The Irony of Incarnating

This weekend I got the flu, and it got me thinking and dreaming about sickness and bugs and the way these illnesses affect us. What exactly are our bodies saying? And where does the anger stop and healing start? I mean, human beings are in unique position. We move through each day with strength, yet we are fragile and our bodies tell that story.

Our bodies tell the stories of abuse, sickness, tension, anger, stress, fatigue; even so we still can SURVIVE. Survival is the work of the world, thrust upon us when we least expect it. We are expected to survive this.

All of our bodies’ work is symbolic, so it has a girl like me thinking…

What promises have the gods above made to us? I wonder what happens when we break ours. Is that why we’re sick? Vengeance, the definition of tough love, disguised as hatred, it is the name of the game, people. Although I’ve refused to believe, I’m still waiting for destiny to come and tap me on my sleeve. These are the consequences we face.

Spiders Crawling Up My Back

Because they told me I could be a star
Because they told me no one else could do it
Because they told me everyone would love me
Because they told me it wouldn’t hurt too much anyway

If the swelling doesn’t go down
If the red marks aren’t fading
If the sweat makes you sick
If the pavement is too cold

Lay next to me baby
and wait for love to wash it away

Ms. International- Playa with a Passport

So here’s a thought:

Does the “zip code rule”- (see a full explanation of the zip code rule below) apply if you are physically located in another zip code than your home address, but your sweetie is with you? Or do both people have to be located in separate zip codes altogether so paths won’t ever cross? Let it be known, I met some full-on hotties in Paris, seriously. While my own relationship definitely was not setting off sparks in the city of romance, I was feeling it, not with my partner, but with almost every single Frenchman that crossed my path.

My significant other was along on the trip, however, he was quiet, reserved, and quite unappreciative of my natural lusty ways. Of course, this aspect of his personality, which previously went unobserved before, was glaringly obvious in the THE city of romance. Where were my passionate deep kisses by the Seine River? Where were my long-anticipated midnight encounters? Or hand-holding walking through the gardens of Paris? Damn, I can be down-right romantic at times- it’s a curse. Although, the focus of the trip was not to reinforce our status in the eyes of others as a couple, a decent kiss by the damn river would’ve been nice.

Our relationship is best non-relationship I’ve ever had- I can do what I want, we only see each other sporadically, and oh yeah… I can do whatever I want. However, encounters with him have made me stop in my tracks and think, “hmm, yes, I’ve definitely had better.” Ouch. For him, I mean. Well, maybe it’s my loss too as I haven’t had a decent lay in ages. What’s the problem with all the men out there? Why does everyone else besides me leave the party satisfied? Maybe I’m hard to please, but seriously, let’s get our freak flags waving. I think those Frenchmen understand what I’m sayin.

ZIP CODE RULE: You can do anything you like outside your zip code. The more the digits differ, the farther you can go. Something similar to “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!”

A Girl, a City, a Revelation

Recently, I visited Paris for one week with several friends. The experience was conscious-raising, awe-inspiring, and life-changing. Something about the city and what we saw was very liberating, and the more I try to define it the less sense I can make out of it. Yet, a cryptic type of language/description is often what I’m drawn to. “Drawn to” is perfect summarization of the city of Paris. Paris is a very beautiful romantic feminine city, and it set something off inside of me.

Constantly, the words “I can feel the times, they are a-changing” reverberated in brain during my stay. I approached each experience in Paris open to the possibility of a transformative moment. As a result, during the trip, I felt I had tapped into the energy or “spirit of place” as many like to call it as we visited different historical landmarks. My most intense moment was during our tour of Notre Dame.

First of all, I nearly skipped going to the churches all together, as we all know, I’m not that impressed with organized religion. However, as I walked toward the church through the streets of Paris I felt a rush run through me. Ah, a connection. I didn’t understand it, but I could feel it. When we entered the church, I was immediately drawn to Exhibit 1 on the right side of the church by the entry way. I stood in front of the exhibit depicting Christ on the cross, in all of his agony. Candles were burning in front of it as tears slid down my cheeks. The powerful energy and imagery encountered in that one moment sent chills up and down my back and arms.

Human suffering abounds all around us, and finally I’m beginning to understand what my role is in helping to alleviate it. The moment was powerful because brought forth an important revelation- to be human is to suffer, yet the purpose for all of humanity is to provide for the healing of others and ourselves. We provide the “balm”, the saving grace, we pick one another up and we move on. Balm means “a healing, soothing, comforting agent or quality”, and in this world, we definitely need more of it.

The time is November, the sun is in Scorpio, along with a host of other planets and humanity is riding the deep wave into our subconscious mind.
It is a time of reflection, and as I always say, the pain passes but the beauty does remain. It’s good to honor the dead, it’s good to talk about death, and it’s good to mourn too. We ride, and we ride. The wave comes and goes, and I move with it too.

Below is a little piece I wrote after visiting Notre Dame. Symbolism abounds. ~ NLH


Magdalena’s Prayer

I stand in the stairway
I leave the lantern behind
I walk down the dark hall
I ask questions no one will ever know

what about all the years sacrificed on this cross?
did his death mean anything at all?
a light flicks knowingly
and I am filled with certainty

it was good to lose you
even though the Earth consumed you
it was still good to touch you

the pieces of your cross turn to dust
and the winter turns careless
digging its cold into my bones
but now I’ve earned the right to lay with you
in your tomb

The Real versus an Ideal

Recently, I met a man who blew my socks off. Although we’ve only had two conversations and met once, history is in the making. Not to say this person is necessarily my “ideal”, as I sense he’s holding back the dark, which we discussed last night in detail. As we all know, people tend to “send their representative”, so I am approaching the situation with apprehension and curiosity. Our ideas are very similar, along with the way we approach life, yet, I’m skeptical.

Is anyone THAT perfect? Does this fit into my reality? Or, is this just someone else’s beautiful dream thread I’ve been woven into again? It’s hard to tell. I’ve had problems with being a reflection for men in the past. They see me in an idealized way (a vision of what I was never meant to be!) and then project away. It’s quite strange, having been THE girl for quite a few men. I hate to disappoint, but inevitably, I do. Call it my Venus Opposition Neptune, or my Libra Ascendant (maintaining harmony), whatever it is… it plagues me. Men like to run around capturing butterflies, mounting their dead bodies for everyone to see. One can compare this to the concept of a trophy wife, a “smile and look pretty dear” attitude. It’s quite difficult to move past superficialities in this kind of situation. But, it’s what I crave.

Often I have been manipulative, drawing others into my web, only to flick them back on to the ground. Obviously, this is the nasty side of the feminine I’m not particularly proud of. Incidentally, men tend to meet the dark side of the feminine through me, when what they were really seeking was some sort of reprieve. Initially, they believe their meeting the total package, their equal. I might join in on the hoax and let my imagination run free for awhile in this fantasy, but it’s often discarded blithely in the light of day. The problem being, these projections don’t work as well when applied to reality. It’s a problem.

See below a piece written by me called “Playing Strangers.” Now, this can be a fun game, but eventually every night will meet its light.


PLAYING STRANGERS




strangers in different places

illicit provocative glances in the wrong direction
a pulse through the vein


screams for release


strangers fuck freely

or not at all

rules bend and form

to accompany the mood

a submission to the forbidden

but anonymous passion strains
to hold up against the light of day

Gender Bender

Did anyone else notice how bi-sexuality is often equated with promiscuity? Now, this girl isn’t saying she doesn’t enjoy a good ol’ fashion romp without strings attached, but in this day and age, it’s not the safest of alternatives.
Even so, bisexuals have an interesting relationship to society, especially when our sexual selves are constantly on display.

The ambiguousness of our choices baffle others, yet they have no problem including us as a welcome distraction to their boring stale relationships. All bisexuals have heard it… “how about a threesome? come home with me and my girlfriend.” Or as my ex-boyfriend so obnoxiously said, “you owe it to me”, when discussing the possibility of including a third person. Now call me naïve, but I don’t believe bisexuality is the same as polygyny. With each new relationship, I have to explain myself over and over again. While there may be some bisexuals who play on both teams simultaneously, I, personally, do not. If I’m with a woman, I’m with her, and if I’m with a man, I’m with him. It’s that simple.

However, bisexuals often have a hard time getting others to take their sexuality seriously. I have to admit; knowing a girl is bisexual and not gay would cause me to approach the relationship with a little more trepidation than I might otherwise. As there are different factions of bisexuals with different beliefs and one can never be too sure of what they’ve signed up for. The idea of loving a man or a woman equally has been a serious roadblock in several of my relationships as many people equate this philosophy with infidelity. But, in order to find our true identity we must struggle with the ignorance and judgments of others, over and over again. Desire is a nebulous concept and attraction often a chemical reaction that sparks a fire inside of us, yet it is not gender which draws another to us. Gender isn’t even half of the story.

Most people are blind to their desires, letting each passing tingle fade away, even if it challenges them to redefine their own sexuality. Still, the seeds of desire grow in each of us, threatening to disturb our carefully laid plans and partnerships. It must be dealt with. Bisexuals are closer to this energy and embody the image of duality, as the seeds of desire spin inside of us eternally. However, it would serve hetero and homosexuals to remember their more base natures; they aren’t as far from the seed as they think.

In A Nuclear Haze

Our president can’t pronounce the world “nuclear”, yet with the advent of North Korea’s underground nuclear test, we find ourselves living with the threat of nuclear warfare.When Bush included North Korea in the “axis of evil” during a speech, he did more harm than good as relations between the US and North Korea has since deteriorated. North Korea wants to be taken seriously as a “force to reckoned with” in the international community. However, North Korea is like the delinquent child who misbehaves and causes havoc, just to get attention from the principal. The country now faces sanctions imposed by the United Nations as a result of their nuclear test. North Korea seems poised to undergo second nuclear test in the near future as well. Many argue that China is really the only country in a position to engage in meaningful dialogue with Kim Jong, the country’s “great leader” who is worshiped in almost god-like fashion.

Lack of resources and shortages exist under Kim Jong’s leadership, as many Koreans have died of famine and starvation due to economic hardship. In communist North Korea, radios must be set to pre-approved stations and most TV stations are state-sponsored. Koreans are routinely bombarded with messages about the greatness of their leader and West’s desire to destroy their way of life. When North Korean’s attempt to cross the border into China defectors are tortured and imprisoned when they are caught. Most Korean’s, upon entering China, find the Chinese have more wealth and freedom than they do. The problem with power-hungry elitists like Kim Jong is that he will sacrifice the livelihood, and in some cases the actual lives of his people to feed his monstrous ego. He will tell lies, manipulate, and coerce innocents so he can remain in power.

The article below is written by a German doctor who was allowed access to the very private inner-workings of the average North Korean’s world.

A Prison Country
A report from inside North Korea.

BY NORBERT VOLLERTSEN
Tuesday, April 17, 2001 12:01 a.m. EDT

I know North Korea. I have lived there, and have witnessed its hell and madness.
I was a doctor with a German medical group, "Cap Anamur," and entered North Korea in July 1999. I remained until my expulsion on Dec. 30, 2000, after I denounced the regime for its abuse of human rights, and its failure to distribute food aid to the people who needed it most. North Korea's starvation is not the result of natural disasters. The calamity is man-made. Only the regime's overthrow will end it.
Human rights are nonexistent. Peasants, slaves to the regime, lead lives of utter destitution. It is as if a basic right to exist--to be--is denied. Ordinary people starve and die. They are detained at the caprice of the regime. Forced labor is the basic way in which "order" is maintained.
I will recount some of my experiences. Early in my spell in North Korea I was summoned to treat a workman who had been badly burned by molten iron.
I volunteered my own skin to be grafted onto him. With a penknife, my skin was pulled from my left thigh and applied to the patient. For this, I was acclaimed by the state media--the only media--and awarded the Friendship Medal, one of only two foreigners ever to receive this honor.
I was also issued a "VIP passport" and a driver's license, which allowed me to travel to areas inaccessible to foreigners and ordinary citizens. I secretly photographed patients and their decrepit surroundings. Though I was assigned to a children's hospital in Pyongsong, 10 miles north of Pyongyang, I visited many hospitals in other provinces. In each one, I found unbelievable deprivation. Crude rubber drips were hooked to patients from old beer bottles. There were no bandages, scalpels, antibiotics or operation facilities, only broken beds on which children lay waiting to die. The children were emaciated, stunted, mute, emotionally depleted.
In the hospitals one sees kids too small for their age, with hollow eyes and skin stretched tight across their faces. They wear blue-and-white striped pajamas, like the children in Hitler's Auschwitz. They are so malnourished, so drained of resistance, that a flu can kill them. Why are there so many orphans? Where are all the parents? What passes here for family life?
In North Korea, a repressive apparatus uncoils whenever there is criticism. The suffocation, by surveillance, shadowing, wiretapping and mail interception, is total. Most patients in hospitals suffer from psychosomatic illnesses, worn out by compulsory drills, innumerable parades, "patriotic" assemblies at six in the morning and droning propaganda. They are toilworn, prostrate, at the end of their tether. Clinical depression is rampant. Alcoholism is common because of mindnumbing rigidities, regimentation and hopelessness. In patients' eyes I saw no life, only lassitude and a constant fear.
Once, I had an opportunity to visit my driver, a member of the military, who was in the hospital because of injury. The authorities were vexed that I wanted to see him, but I was able to overcome objections. As was my custom on hospital visits, I took bandages and antibiotics--basics. On this occasion, I was embarrassed to see that, unlike any other hospital I visited, this one looked as modern as any in Germany. It was equipped with the latest medical apparatus, such as magnetic resonance imaging, ultrasound, electrocardiograms and X-ray machines. There are two worlds in North Korea, one for the senior military and the elite; and a living hell for the rest.
I didn't see any improvement in the availability of food and medicine in any of the hospitals I worked in during my entire stay. One can only imagine what conditions are like in the "reform institutions," where whole families are imprisoned when any one member does or says something that offends the regime. These camps are closed to foreigners.
My initial naiveté that the starvation was the result of weather conditions disappeared when I saw that much of the food aid was being denied those who needed it most. Before Cap Anamur came to North Korea, other agencies such as Oxfam and CARE pulled out because they weren't allowed to distribute aid directly to the people. They had to turn it over to the authorities, who took complete charge of distribution. Monitoring is impossible. Nobody really knows where the aid is going, except that it is not going to the starving citizens.
If a doctor's diagnosis is that North Korea suffers from society-wide fear and depression because of the cruel system, he has to think about the right therapy and to speak out against repression. The international community, especially humanitarian groups, must demand access to the shadowy world of labor camps. They have to look for the violence that is hidden from us by the system.
The system's beneficiaries are members of the Communist Party and high-ranking military personnel. In Pyongyang, these people enjoy a comfortable lifestyle--obscene in the context--with fancy restaurants and nightclubs. In diplomatic shops, they can buy such delicacies as Argentine steak, with which they supplement their supplies of food diverted from humanitarian aid. In the countryside, starving people, bypassed by the aid intended for them, forage for food. Pyongyang is fooling the world.
As a German, I know too well the guilt of my grandparents' generation for its silence under the Nazis. I feel it is my duty to expose this satanic regime, which has deified "Dear Leader" Kim Jong Il, just as it did his late father.
Even though virtually the entire North Korean economy is geared to the military, we should help ordinary citizens. But this must be on condition that aid goes to the deserving. Foreign NGOs, journalists and diplomats must be free to travel unannounced to the provinces to ensure that aid isn't misdirected. Only pressure on North Korea can save lives. The people can't help themselves. They are brainwashed, and too afraid to be able to overthrow their rulers. That's the medical diagnosis. Only the outside world can administer the right therapy, and bring about a reformation of this depraved nation.

Dr. Vollertsen, a physician from Germany, worked in hospitals in North Korea from July 1999 to December 2000.

Kim Jong uses this “closed system” to brainwash and terrify the citizens of North Korea. I was astounded to find the references and stories of human right violations in this country. Most people don’t hear about it, as very few foreigners are allowed access to North Korea, and it’s inhabitants aren’t exactly encouraged to leave (torture and prison awaits for those who try.) Kim Jong will continue to use his “subjects” to support his militaristic state until he drives these people into total and complete desperation, if they aren’t there already.
Although the threat of nuclear warfare hangs in the air, we must also remember that this is Kim Jong’s military regime, and not the actions of the average North Korean, who is far too oppressed and brainwashed to be blamed for the actions of a very evil leader.

Kim Jong creates an atmosphere of complete deprivation to keep the people spiritually, emotionally, and physically weak. One can only hope someday his “subjects” will escape from his hellish grip. Below are the song lyrics I imagine a North Korean might use to address their corrupt government and the sorrow within.

Nuclear Daydream- Joseph Arthur

You can hold your needle
You can point your gun
You can shoot and kill me
Or you could let me run

But I won't ever cry for you anymore
The days when I would die for you are now gone

If there's a plan then tell me
If you know who you are
A princess or a mummy
A flower or a scar

So I don't have to cry for you anymore
The days when I would die for you are now gone
Are now gone

What's it like to lose control
Are you even here at all

This is a nuclear daydream
It's my atomic bomb
I already lost my passage
I already lost our home

So I won't ever cry for you anymore
The days when I would die for you are now gone

There's only dreams and numbers
And wishes left unsaid
In all the burning letters
Underneath our bed

I won't ever cry for you anymore
The days when I would die for you are now gone

Baby, you can leave your hat on. (Remembering why)

Sometimes I wonder why I still live in this city.

A long time ago we stayed up until the snow plows barreled through this city while we touched each other tenderly. You see, I created a secret life where I could hide. And in the privacy of our room, it seemed like a great idea. We would throw secret parties, proclaiming our love, letting the rest of world guess what it was like to be us. Then, there were the late nights, the endless smoke fests and alcohol lips pressed against each other. Candles burned well into the next day and dates lasted days long. The phones were left off their hooks, the blinds closed, exploring one another’s bodies in the last flickers of the day light. We spoke in soft tones, not to upset the delicate balance of you and me, wrapped up in the sheets. And when you held me, our legs touched easily, we fit perfectly. You always held me so tightly, when we were alone in that fantasy.

And sometimes I wonder what’s left for me.

And I will not, I will not, I will not…
find
anyone
but
you
while
I am
alone
in this
city



You Can Leave Your Hat On- Tom Jones

Baby, take off your coat, real slow.
Baby, take off your shoes. I'll help you take off your shoes.
Baby, take off your dress.

You can leave your hat on.
You can leave your hat on.
You can leave your hat on.

Go over there, turn on the light. No, all the lights.
Come back here, stand on the chair.
Raise your arms in the air

You give me reason to live.
You give me reason to live.
You give me reason to live.
You can leave your hat on

Suspicious minds are talking. That's right, they'll tear us apart.
They don't believe in this love of ours.
They don't know what love is.
They don't know what love is.
I know what love is.
You can leave your hat on.

The Weekend's Rage

All weekend long the rage was on. People fighting, attacking, screaming, name-calling and destroying, and everyone made a good show of it. No one was immune to it. Relationships ended and we all acted like we didn’t care. We danced and laughed anyway.

The layers of anger were astounding, and I too found myself at the mercy of my bitter side. In a salute to the rage-y-ness encountered in others and myself I’m posting these lyrics. How fitting.

Volcano- Damien Rice

Don't hold yourself like that
You'll hurt your knees
I kissed your mouth and back
But that's all I need
Don't build your world around volcanoes
it’ll melt you down

What I am to you is not real
What I am to you you do not need
What I am to you is not what you mean to me
You give me miles and miles of mountains
And I'll ask for the sea

Don't throw yourself like that
In front of me
I kissed your mouth your back
Is that all you need?
Don't drag my love around
volcanoes melt me down

What I am to you is not real
What I am to you you do not need
What I am to you is not what you mean to me
You give me miles and miles of mountains
what I give to you
Is what I’m going through
This is nothing new
just another phase of finding what I really need
Volcanoes melt me down
I kissed your mouth
you do not need me



And of course a little more for him. I imagine this is what you might have said to me on Saturday night if you hadn’t called me fucking bitch instead.


"Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off" – Panic! At the Disco

Is it still me that makes you sweat?
Am I who you think about in bed?
When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?
Then think of what you did
And how I hope to God he was worth it.
When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch your skin.
I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck
Than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me
Girl I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of
Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat?
No, no, no, you know it will always just be me

Swallowing Tar

I’m on a conveyor belt with a young woman on our hands and knees. She is being held against her will. I am helping her escape from her captors. They have trapped her on this sliding platform and every few minutes the belt slides backward and she swallows. She swallows mud, tar, and all the toxic shit around her. It seeps in, enclosing her in heaviness. I try to save her as the belt moves closer to the rotting mess behind us. I begin to negotiate with her; it will be easy to leave, if she’ll just listen to me. However, I can feel the tar against my feet and I think “I’m going to suffocate, I will die here.” But, in the nick of time, she changes her mind and we jump of the belt on to solid ground and we run. Crossing the empty school yard, we finally pass through the fence and our lungs open up as we breathe.

Obviously, this is a dream. I had this dream in the wee hours of the morning of October 15th. Eventually, my phone rang and snapped me back into reality. But the images from the dream lingered for the rest of the day, the details etched in my brain. I called a friend immediately and relayed it to him, ending with “analyze that Freud”. Although, I realize we are the best interpreters when it comes to our own subconscious. So I got to work, a little self-analysis never hurts.

How many lies have our parents told us? Have they lied to us about God? About death? Have they implanted in our brains various negative beliefs about who we are? Will we spend years untangling this mess? Maybe, may be not. It depends on our willingness to leave the black hole we’ve been festering in for too long. If we hold on to our tragedies, trapping ourselves in their image, we may rob ourselves of our right to become who we are. It’s time to get off the belt and run. Let’s breathe clean air, let’s move to higher ground, and keep it moving. The lies will be discarded along the way. With a clear mind, unpolluted and sharp as a razor, we will rise.

A Change Would Do You Good

Last night an old friend called me in tears, her relationship ended a few days ago and as a result she was questioning her part in the break-up. Evidently, she was feeling pretty tortured because she asked me to pray for her. The essence of what she was experiencing is not new to me, or anyone else who’s been involved in an unsuccessful relationship. The experience of losing someone you love is powerful, and littered with vestiges from the past. Does that knife in your heart twisting about remind you of the past? Sometimes our pain comes in the form of a blessing, or a teacher, but it can be hard to appreciate a dull blade, some people really work it in slow. My friend was wondering about her ability to trust, since her lack of trust was destroying all of her relationships. Although, I believe she has inherited an extreme amount of anxiety about relationships from her mother, she’s much more equipped to deal with this than her mother is or was. So, her question got my wheels spinning. Basically, she said she understood her problem, but felt unable to change. She asked, “How can I change?”

I didn’t have a quick fix for her. This advice maven was left speechless. Imagine that! I was confounded, how does someone change? Is it a process? Is it something we “do?” Can we see it happen like in nature when a caterpillar transforms into butterfly? It seems to me insects have it easier than us. As rational beings, we understand how we are broken and where the holes are, but who or what will fill us up? I’ve always had a gift for being able to pin point people’s holes, but when they inevitably ask, “Well, what should I do about it?” I’m at a loss for words. And as the saying goes, “I cannot save you, I can’t even save myself.” If I knew the answer I would run around saving everyone, including myself. These holes are like massive bleeding wounds that won’t stop gushing, and it just gets bloodier and messier with each pattern we repeat. My friend knows she doesn’t trust people, and with each relationship, her expectation of unfaithfulness permeates through the atmosphere. Prospective partners who also have similar patterns hook into this image and work it thoroughly. We will bang our heads against the cement until we “get it”.

Fear of Change- Transformation in Reverse

The more we regress and resist the necessity of change the harder the lessons come. This regression serves as retraction of energy, spirit, and our livelihood. We work backward into our pain again, layering ourselves with the comfort of wrapping it all up. This massive cocooning humans take part in seems instinctual and primitive, but the developments of our intellectual and emotional facilities are fostered by stepping out and taking a risk, exploring new territory. Why, then, are we so afraid? And why are some people less afraid than others?
To be certain, most people are unaware an inner revolution is beginning inside of them, as they stumble from one day to next. But, as fully conscious beings we have a responsibility to stay connected, self-awareness is critical to our survival.

Recently, I have been reading Frank Kafka’s, Metamorphosis, which is an interesting exploration of the dehumanization, alienation, and mental isolation people fear or experience when going through an intense transformation. Will the people I love still accept me? Will I able to relate to the people I love afterward? All of these questions weigh heavy in the minds and hearts of those who are transcending their old reality.

See below an explanation of insect metamorphosis:

Metamorphosis refers to a major change of form or structure during development.

One of the most dramatic forms of metamorphosis is the change from the immature insect into the adult form. Most of the major insect orders have a typical life cycle which consists of an egg, which hatches into a larva which feeds, moults and grows larger, pupates, then emerges as an adult insect that looks very different from the larva. These insects are often called 'Holometabolous', meaning they undergo a complete (Holo = total) change (metabolous = metamorphosis or change). Those which have immature stages similar in shape to the adult minus the wings are called 'Hemimetabolous', meaning they undergo partial or incomplete (Hemi = part) change.

Metamorphosis is one of the key elements that explains why insects are so successful. Many insects have immature stages with completely different habitats from the adults. This means that insects can often exploit valuable food resources while still being able to disperse into new habitats as winged adults. The potential for adaptation and evolution is greatly enhanced by metamorphosis.

There is an important feature to note regarding metamorphosis. Insects are not able to mate and reproduce until they undergo their final moult or emerge from a pupa as a winged adult. Wings do not appear until the final moult (the one exception to this is the Ephemeroptera, or Mayflies). When you see an insect with wings, it is fully grown.

In closing, I’d like to leave you with some Lauryn Hill lyrics from her Unplugged album. The song speaks of the internal struggle so many of us face as we try to cleanse, rebuild, and transform our reality.

Oh Jerusalem- Lauryn Hill

Realizing that there's no place else to go
And there's nobody I know who can help me
Text book solutions are so improbable
Cause everybody else is just as empty
Naked as the day that I was born, I tried to hide
...behind education and philosophy
Hopeless explanation to describe a situation
I can't see because the world's on top of me
Oh wretched man that I am, who will deliver me
From the body of this death
Freeing me from dust, and the superficial trust
Of an enemy that seeks to take my breath
Failing to connect, cuz I'm morally defect
By reason of the God inside my head
Causing me to see, only what pertains to me
Believing I'm alive when I'm still dead
Limited to earth, unable to find out my worth
Cause I can't see past my own vanity
If I'm not included, then I just have to remove it
From my mind because it has to be insanity
Oh wretched man that I am, who will deliver me
From the body of this death
Can I even factor, that I've only been an actor
In this staged interpretation of this day
Focused on the shadow, with my back turned to the light
Too intelligent to see it's me in the way
What a paradox, having God trapped in a box
All this time professing to be spiritual

Oh Jerusalem, wash thy heart from wickedness
That thou may be saved from thy deception
How long, shall thy face those lies within thee
Oh Jerusalem, keeping thee from perfection

Submit to truth, leave the deception of thy youth
So we could walk in the council of authority
Forget the proof, our generation so aloof
Only follow in the steps of the majority
Trust in the Lord, with all thy heart
And lay not to thine, oh an understanding in all thy ways
Acknowledge Him, and He shall correct our paths

We judge and condemn, just as ignorant as them
Who religion tells us that we should ignore
Perpetrating we're in covenant with Him
Exposed by the very things that we adore
We grin and shake hands, then lay ambush for the man
Who has a different point of view then us
Infuriated cause he doesn't understand
Bringing up those things we don't want to discuss
Why we still do evil, we don't know how to do good
Walking on in darkness running from the light
Led to believe, because we live in neighborhoods
Telling us what's going on, it will be alright
Oh so repressed, so convinced that I was blessed
When I played with my game of Monopoly
Oh to suggest, that my life is still a mess
the pride I'm hiding is what's stopping me

Oh Jerusalem, wash thy heart from wickedness
That thou may be saved from thy deception
How long, shall thy face those lies within thee
Oh Jerusalem keeping me from perfection

Bringing Sexy Back

Is it my imagination or does Cameron Diaz add more sophistication and credibility to Justin Timberlake? Certainly, Kevin Federline isn’t doing much for Brit’s image. In fact, Kevin and Brit posses a quality that I like to call the “cheese factor”. Obviously, there is a propensity towards this “cheesiness” for Brit, being a Southerner with a Sun in Sagittarius. Sagittarians seem to project an “I’ll say whatever I want to say and you’ll like it” kind of attitude, on top of the general crude behavior that accompanies their regular interactions with folks. Brittany’s relationship has nearly destroyed her reputation, while Justin’s previous boyish ways have been discarded for a cool, collected, more mature projection. Evidently, Cameron has been good for him. The idea of an older woman “molding’ a young boy into a man is a popular notion in our culture. However, very often these relationships are short-lived, once our duties have been accomplished we move on to the next recruit.
In light of this “molding”, Justin may be especially sensitive to the undercurrents moving through his relationships, with an emphasis on his 7th house of partnerships in his natal chart, plus his Moon conjunct Neptune in the 5th house, which is very similar to having a Pisces Moon. All of that merging and meeting yourself through “the other” can leave a person feeling very depleted. Fortunately, for Justin, he is able to remain somewhat detached because of his Aquarian Sun, which may be why he was able to recover himself and rise out of the ashes of the failed relationship between him and Brit. This may be more difficult process for Brit, with a Libra Ascendant and Pluto making himself comfortable in her first house of self. Transformation may be achieved through the experience of “other”, but it will have its price for Brittany.
I suspect Brittany has been “forced” to fit a mold by others that is not true to her nature. Although, she may feel unable to express her dark side, she finds expression through Kevin. He represents all the hidden qualities and speaks the words she wishes she could say. Kevin is often quoted saying things like, “I don’t care what anyone thinks of me!” I imagine he says this in a very rebellious and angry way. I’m sure Brit has had the urge to utter the same sentence many times during her reign as “pop princess”- a title given to her by the public.

Justin, however, had a very different experience with his public. Yes, the media has often stereo-typed him in a similar fashion, but he’s been more free to shape-shift without the scrutiny of others. His transformation has been in the private confines of the mind, with Cameron’s steady Virgo hand guiding him along the way.

This whole discussion brings us full circle to the idea of seeing our own image in our partners. I have found in my experience that people have a tendency to look for what they cannot find or express themselves in other people, for whatever reason. Attraction is fascinating, as the mystery surrounding our attachments is no closer to being solved, and we still continue to pair off complicating the story even further.

I propose these pairings are not accidental because we have profound life-altering lessons to learn from each encounter we stumble upon. What a complex web we weave when visiting one another’s world for a short time on our journey. We don’t know which stranger’s face we’ll run into next, but we will learn to trust our instincts along the way.

The song lyrics below summarize the mood of the moment as the Sun’s in Libra right now; we are reminded how we affect each other, and how we also need to stay keyed into ourselves. The focus is on the balance of experience, experiencing ourselves through others and within. In the words of Amos Lee-- Keep it loose, child, keep it tight.”


Amos Lee- Keep It Loose, Keep It Tight

Well I walked over the bridge
Into the city where I live,
And I saw my old landlord.
Well we both said hello,
There was no where else to go,
'cuz his rent I couldn't afford.

Well relationships change,
Oh I think it's kinda strange,
How money makes a man grow.
Some people they claim,
If you get enough fame,
You live over the rainbow.
Over the rainbow..

But the people on the street,
Out on buses or on feet,
We all got the same blood flow.
Oh, in society,
Every dollar got a deed,
We all need a place so we can go,
And feel over the rainbow.

But sometimes,
We forget what we got,
Who we are.
Oh who are are not.
I think we gotta chance,
To make it right.
Keep it loose,
Keep it tight.

I'm in love with a girl,
Who's in love with the world,
Though I can't help but follow.
Though I know some day,
She is bound to go away,
And stay over the rainbow.
Gotta learn how to let her go.
Over the rainbow.

Sometimes we forget who we got,
Who they are.
Oh, who they are not.
There is so much more in love,
Than black and white.
Keep it loose child,
Gotta keep it tight.
Keep it loose child,
Keep it tight.