anitalorrainemoore

Musician devoted to Justice, Creativity, and Courage


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Upcoming shows!

Upcoming show dates:

Taken for our very first show poster 2 years ago. ❤ Love Bruce!
One of my favorite pics of us. ❤
Happy birthday yesterday to my dear sweet Phil Cheney, the one, the only Capitan Tortuga de las Rowboats and my amazing historical Northern housemate and girlfriend Meg Luce! ❤
A Bird on a Wire, a photo by Benjamin Clark. My dear friend who is now among the stars. I have been playing his ukulele a lot of late and wanted to give him a shout out through the ether. You are missed.


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TuesDayNewsDay live version!

Tonight, live from Boone North Carolina I got to play with my dear friend Jeff at my dear friend Cindy’s house. Hope you enjoy! If you like what you hear, please consider donating to the studio album recording I’m working on now! 5% of all donations go towards RAINN.org

Link below is the live video link! Love everybody! Be sure you go see the Moon if you can, that little thumbnail is beautiful tonight!

https://www.facebook.com/anitalorrainemusic/videos/646714715772269/

Virtual tip jar! https://www.gofundme.com/anitalorrainemooresacredalbumrecording


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Again

As the Moon grows to darkness

I tap my foot to the music above

the heart throbbing below

The heart of this moment,

the heart of these messages,

of Earth

Tapping in, jumping into still water

Counting every ripple from above, hovering

The spider shakes her shimmering web,

All will feel it ~

From her… to what she catches

Catch, consume, escape

by chance of sacred Divine…

You were supposed to be free

you are supposed to fly

Justice catches us, compels us

Understand effects

Effects of our people

Our culture

Our system

Our breastfed fathers

Our negligent mothers

We live out these dreams

We call in our strengths…

if we know what’s good for us

Only in hindsight can we, truly

Speak the language of the passing clouds

The knowing,

The acceptance,

The liminal, everlasting momentary

guarantee keeps me

projects me into the wheel, the void, the Fool

again ~

into eternal Release

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The Muses Groove

The workshop today

This rhythm is rolling
rolling around inside my undulating chest
and heart
Sitting at this wooden table,
contemplating it not being real
and part of me
and part of you
and I’m not really touching it, it’s touching me.

The music changes, I dream of being a poet.
I dream of being who I am.

I dream of making music unabashedly humble,
grateful to share this gift with the Greats.

To only for a moment think of all those who laid the path before me,
those brave and enduring souls who, pebble by pebble, note by note, stroke by stroke, experience by heartbreakingly joyful, or painful, experience,
tapped in.

They tapped in, not out.
Some through Divine Spirit intervention,
some through straight up booze,
whatever the avenue, whatever the teacher,
it brought about my ancestors of music and word. They walked that road.

Creative muse lingers just outside our reach and we must take heed.
We must cook up that stew and be ready when the salt falls from the shelf to delightfully richen our slippery, sensuous, slimy, salubrious, sacred soup.
So thank you. Thank you greats. Thank you oldies, thank you newbies, thank you those who have yet to be born.
Thank you for learnin’ me to open up, stand up straight, be connected to the ground, and lift my head and sing – those notes are not mine, they are Ours.


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Fundraiser Starts Today!! Help me to make my first album!! 🎶💜💓💜🙏💜💓💜🎶

www.gofundme.com/anitalorrainemusic

Poem about the process and #SurrenderingtotheSacred continued from the last episode to catch yall up:

The Mystery Still

They used to call that old white lightning “moonshine” in these hills

How many lips of other those words or family ties it breaks and kills

Strawberry apple pie or dark cherry kinds

But I found a new flavor my fingers and heart longed to find

Paid heed to the unanswered questions I spent too much time tryin to answer

Somewhere down the line I met a spirit and she bade me to release her

She gave me the keys to an old wooden shed

Her hair was long and dark, she was only 3 and her granddad’s hair was red

She came from the deep, A dark despair trail of loneliness

She rows up from the ashes and held me through the hunger and distress

In that shed, she showed me the silver, the copper and the gold

She showed me the jewels inside me, once I thought I couldn’t hold

She said the way it worked was this,

“you fill it up here and it makes a little hiss,

What you put in it is who you’ve been

What comes out that mystery still is your destiny, my friend”

The mystery still, a belly full of unknown

Stands in that shed just waiting to be blown

Open side, all the ingredients are there

You

“You just gotta believe” she said, “in yourself, if you dare”

I’ll show you the way cause you couldn’t even see

No matter how hard you tried, that spirit… What will be will be

“and that’s the magic” she said to me

Of sacred mysteries that come from pain and grief

Do you know her name, down this path you must go

Of surrender and sorrow of joy you can know

This still don’t make moonshine, but the Moonglows here still

Upon deep waters, wet and a tear stained two dollar bill

The birds are all calling and cannot be boxed in

Your dreams are free and aloof just like the wind

Ask for them to come and to you they will find

Their way through the core, the ground, from the mines

The caves you dug a long time ago

We’re dug by the same shovel that now makes you grow

This girl she smiled, as I sat down in awe

Bowed my head in silence, in reverence; I had no flaws

Suddenly I was sacred when I drink from that still

I’d learn the hard way, then she screamed, her voice hard and shrill

“your mantle, your fireside, your magic, I live inside.

You must off and stoke the fire and feed me” she cried

You never are done, don’t think you’ve made it

Each day, remember to keep the right flame lit

Don’t let it go out, else you’ll have to start over

And axe to this still, and your spirit sinks lower

Out of reach, out of time, out of luck, out of rhymes

Just put back on your skates and roll outside all the lines

You’re still is your own,

Every seed you have soon

Weights and yearns for your return

Build another fire to burn

If you still don’t know what this still is about

Think of a soul, longing to get out

As in distill, intoxicate your beautiful self

With the mystery of what is, take it down off the shelf

You open a portal and let spirit in

You release your control over who it is you’ve been

That little girl who showed me the way

She’s a firestarter, pyromaniac it play

She can blow up some shit because she knows no better

But refined… She is genius and shakes her tail feather

The horizon cannot hold her, this child of God and Moore

She put in the time and said Grace for her store

This mystery still she’s found out how to use

Is a vertical prayer, open to gnosis and truth

I’m learning to use it, growing day by day

Excepting my feelings, no judgment, and a loving and kind away

As she hand me the keys and I return to make my shine

She lies back, relaxes and daydreams all the time

I long to filter out what I’ve been told versus what I know

My innermost yearnings, the balance, the flow

The gut, the tingles, the pangs and the blood is still warm

I’ll tell me the truth, like a pouring down storm

It’s like talking to God, From a sacred, me – shaped telephone booth

The mystery still takes me, shapes me, and provides me with the truth


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Maine-ly Beautiful

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Maine was beautiful and playing music and learning music is a divine rejuvenator. I learned a jazz chord progression and many new songs. Sang and played at Moosehead Lake’s The Birches and Easy Street tavern in Hallowell, Maine, and for Ladies Night @ the famous Dancing Saxin’ Bobby Watson’s place.

The Loons sang us to sleep most nights on our Lake-a-daisical tour of Panther Pond, Moosehead and Maranacook Lakes. I looked for moose but to no avail, they remain an illusive fantasy…

Traveling back was tiring but now that Im back, it’s time to turn the page and full-steam ahead as per usual. Playing a private reunion gathering of friends tomorrow night and looking forward to singing more of the words that floated into my head on this wondrous trip to Maine.

Many thanks to Phil Cheney for being my loving traveling companion. Also thanks to our trip comrades Maxwell, Ami, and Krekel. Such a wonderful time with ya’ll. Shouts out to Emil, Maisy, Fabian and crew for your gracious hospitality and love of good things and fun times. Blessings to all.

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