anitalorrainemoore

Musician devoted to Justice, Creativity, and Courage


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Candlelight on a Friday Night

Everyone’s trying to find themselves these days;

seems like the topic of the decade.

Lovers masked behind the text on a screen,

alcohol masking all emotions to be seen.

Our game of tug-of-war between our projections and our shadows,

we stand, stunned in silent stillness, wondering how deep the wound goes.

We’ve forgotten the non-electric world,

between fingers, between addictions, distractions….the absurd.

I’m always on the verge of falling in love… and a desire to be safely furled.

My fear of intimacy may actually be unknowing – can I learn?

Who can teach me?  How do attraction and true love work?

I sit here by candlelight on a cold and dreamy Friday,

wondering if my body’s wasting away.

All the while, imagine the line outside,

hanging my drying lingerie.

 

 


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Waxing Moon

Smile I see in the sky

I mirror back

every single time.

 

Never have I looked up and frowned

or wished they’d take that incessant light down.

 

The stars dance all around,

thousands of miles

I sing along inside as they whisper by

each with their own unique styles.

 

As the darkened treetops block my view

little windows branches make, so I can see You.

 

I was born when the Moon was growing

and now she tells me about who I am

when she is dark or even when she’s showing.

 

Her pregnancy of light

this waxing Moon

a reflection of many promises

of birthing, of blooms.

 

 

waxing crescent moon

Photo credit: https://www.moonglow.com/blogs/shoot-for-the-moon-blog/moon-phase-personality-descriptions (I was born on a waxing gibbous moon. Here’s a link to a photo of an art piece I did about the Half-Moon, waxing gibbous: https://anitalorraine.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/screen-shot-2019-05-30-at-12.15.04-pm.png )


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TuesDayNewsDay Vol.2 Issue 17, October 30 Caution: Trigger Warning, references to sexual violence

TuesDayNewsDay Vol.2 Issue 17, October 30th – CAUTION: Trigger Warning – this newsletter contains triggering sexual violence references. Please take care.

Dedication: Today’s issue is dedicated to my therapist Karen. Today, while going through what came up in therapy, I realized I would drive to the place, where in October of 1990, I was first molested. I was seven years old. I decided I would drive there, sit on the ground and take a photo. I would also take something of the earth to work with this healing. As the idea came to me, a light bulb exploded in my head. Karen said, “Anita, don’t take your wounded little girl there without your whole adult self holding her, seeing her, and telling her that you are there for her no matter what. You are her nurturing parent now, hold her in your arms.”

I pulled my car into the driveway for the first time ever on my way home from therapy, realizing I have never driven into that driveway before in my life.

This spot, which I have to drive by every time I go to my grandparents’ house, is also a block from where my mother still lives with the pedophile step-father just across the railroad tracks. When I say this healing is a daily, a moment to moment process, I mean it. Literally facing those places every day has wrecked havoc on my insides – but I am resilient and strong, vulnerable and honest with myself. The place is a vacant lot in a trailer park on Pomeroy Street in Graham, where my home used to sit. Now it’s an empty, dirty space with an overgrown concrete platform over which there was a carport. Under that porch, I remember having to take all of our stuffed animals outside to be thrown away because there was such a terrible flea infestation. I remember sneaking up late at night after everyone was asleep, turning on the television to watch Alfred Hitchcock and the Twilight Zone, my face about an inch from the screen, ever wary of any sounds coming from my mother’s end of the trailer lest I get caught.

Vividly, I remember the game we were playing that night in October. My baby sister, a developmentally disabled boy named Jason, and his sister Tasha and I were playing charades. Jason and Tasha were the teenage children of my mother’s red-headed boyfriend. We played in teams and it was decided we would go into the closet to decide what animal or character we would pretend to be. I was seven years old, my sister was 2. I was on Jason’s team. Jason was sixteen. (Typing this I can feel my heart racing and the old familiar anxiety aching in my chest and shoulders, my left eye and cheek twitching.). When we went into that closet and Jason molested me, I was too afraid to move, too afraid to scream, too afraid to fight, too afraid to do anything at all except to freeze. So, I froze. I could feel his icy cold, trembling hands on me. To this day I can still feel the darkness of that closet, the walls closing in around me. When we came out of that closet, I was sick. I don’t remember anything else. I don’t remember the game, nothing. I remember after they left that night, I told my mother what happened. She said to me, “Honey, if it happens again, let me know.”

Those words etched endless caves into the crevices of my heart. Those words are the haunting. Those words represent the moment I knew I was on my own. With no one else to turn to, my grandparents were gone to Disneyland at the time, I was completely alone. I prayed and prayed and heard nothing. Those words mark the day when I, as a seven year old, realized that god didn’t exist and that I wasn’t worth saving. Those words created children’s tears. They cannot be undone, and of course, it happened again.

Despite those memories buried deep in endless caves and my mother within shouting distance, I went. It was my nurturing, accepting, loving, and whole adult self who sat on that ground. I felt the cold, wet grass and soil underneath me. I looked at the trailers to the right and left of me. My phone was propped on the very metal bracket that once held that trailer to the ground. I snapped a shot of me sitting on that sacred ground. It took less than a minute. Leaving, I searched for a four-leaf clover in the tiny patch of yard, but found none. Instead, now a big green black walnut from that place is with me. I plan to do some ritual with that walnut. It tried to escape twice from me before walking up my back-porch steps in Saxapahaw. Something inside told me not to bring it inside my house, so I left it on the back patio table. It is not clear what kind of ritual will come about, but it is sure to be a powerful one of releasing the physical ghosts of that moment. It will be one of forgiving my mother for not knowing or realizing what she was doing. It will be a process of exorcising the grief and trauma which has been sitting in my bones and blood, blooming into the person you see today. Today is all I have.

Quote: Choice is all we get, change is all that’s real.

Song: Silence is the song today folks, listen to your heart beat. – my Tuesday video song series is available here: TuesDay Song Series Video on Facebook

Dear Humans,

Today’s post wasn’t meant to be this way. The events of today were not planned, but have made a mark. The words of my song, Darlene, record this event in a lyrical, symbolic sort of way. Being an artist is a privilege because it lets us put words and visions to feelings and thoughts. We are able to somehow transform our feelings into a universal language others can share. Today with Karen, I admitted to trying to let go of my fears: people won’t like my arts and I’m not good enough to walk in the footsteps of my idols. Slowly and purposefully, she said, “Let’s transform that. You are working on your language, so let’s start here.” So after thinking, my mouth said, “I am letting go of my concern for people not liking my art or me as a person.” I do not need validation of others to justify my existence. This self-work is Sacred. I feed on it; it makes me feel more and more alive and free every day to uncover and unleash the demons. Turns out, they aren’t demons at all. They are one scared, frozen little girl, stepping into who she is destined to be, not solely a victim of her circumstance. I looked Karen in the eyes today and spoke my gratitude for her being here with me this last year and a half of journeying, visioning and healing. It was the first time I’d ever asked to hold hands with anyone. With our feet on the floor, we grounded, I closed my eyes and saw little Anita sitting on my right knee. There Karen prepared me to go sit on that patch of grass, which someday, I will drive by without flinching. I will drive by proud to have been seated there.

Love, ALM


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“Darlene” – final song release tonight ♥️

“Darlene” (link to FB video here)~ last (15th) song on my upcoming album: #SurrenderingToTheSacred ~ This one is the most difficult to sing, but necessary for my growth and for this album to be complete. I thank my grandparents for being my safety when there was none elsewhere. I thank my sister for her brave soul. I thank the Sacred Spirit within me for shining when nothing else was lit.

Please consider donating to my album, 5% of all donations go to RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network) is the nation’s largest anti-sexual violence organization. RAINN created and operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline (800.656.HOPE) in partnership with more than 1,000 local sexual assault service providers across the country.)

To donate, visit:

gofundme.com/anitalorrainemooresacredalbumrecording

#WeeklySongSeries

Thank you ALL for your support of this music, it means the world to me.

$40 = 1 hour in the studio! $5 = gas back and forth to the studio! It all helps!

Drink water, be peaceful, be grateful.

Lucky timing today. 11:11

My amazing grandparents at lunch yesterday. I am so thankful for them, in so many countless and deep ways.

Me as a small-sized.

Learning to fly.

Embracing my inner/outer goddess. Artwork by world-renowned body painters, Scott Fray and Madelyn Greco. ♥️


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Magnet poetry

The wind

The invisible energetic wind of attraction and repellency of excessive leaning

~

Magnets: the simple, divine machines, shine light on the wisdom of our being

~

Our being as one within forcefields of rhythm and grace ~

Push two positives,

No matter how positive

No matter how harmonious, soul-sculpting, perfectly mirroring – they repel, are driven away, forced to submit to the science of magnetism

~

I am an eternal butterfly in the lessons of this humbling wind. The wind is stronger than me. It brings me past my knees, my lips to the ground in gratitude for the wind as she blows my spirit ever forward, submit

~

No matter what brightly hot fire burns between, as the flames lick the air indiscriminately, the wind breaks this leaning rigidity

_

#poetry #drawings #wind #magnets #lessons #kisstheground #grounding #magnetism #gratitude #positivity #wanderingsouls #soullessons #acceptance


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TuesDayNewsDay (‘cept it’s Wednesday!) Vol 2. Issue 9, May 29, 2019

Daaaaaaaaaaaaang it’s been awhile!

Quote: Turns out… I’m not set up for traditional meditation, even the STARS say so. After YEARS of learning about it, researching it, and feeling bad I wouldn’t make time for it, stick to it, and thinking I was failing hard, in therapy this week, we explored why. Turns out… childhood sexual abuse survivors have an especially hard time doing traditional meditation. Oh good, I’m off the hook for quieting the mind… At first I was pissed but another lesson this week: acceptance and celebration of who and where I am in life right now is called for! I can take baby steps toward other types of focusing activities – WALKING once this ankle heals, drawing, song-writing, poetry, arts of all kinds. Good thing I like doing all those things. 🙂 Even the stars are validating of late.
“Thank you Universe, more please.” – http://www.ChristineClifton.com

Song: Eddie Vedder (aka *melt* incarnate) – Better Days https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUYzQ_6xhU4 Lyrics included because they’re perfect.

Dedication: This week is dedicated to all the people in my life who have helped me after this surgery. It was a blow for which I did not plan adequately. Had no idea how painful, tiring and aggravating getting around without the use of one of my feet. Dang. So to you my grandparents, Christine, Bruce, Maggie May… Crystal, Els, Deborah, Michelle for all that food, and all you out there who’ve been so helpful and rad, I send you my greatest thanks and humble gratitude. Asking for what you need is hard af. Allowing yourself to be taken care of.. that’s hard. Learning this lesson is an ongoing process and I’m grateful for that too.

Dear Humans,
Weeeeeellllllll the past several weeks have been nutso! As per my dedication for this year, ankle surgery happened two weeks ago, tomorrow. The summer semester of Critical Thinking has begun and I’m teaching online only. A blessing in disguise since I’m laid up and can’t bear weight on my ankle for several weeks. Last week, singing at the Kraken was a huge honor and has sparked some lovely ideas about how the lead-up to the album release. My Democracy Matters organizing is over for the school year as of the 15th of May. We start back in the Fall when the students return. Saxy Tarot is now up and running! I’ve been reading Tarot for a long time privately, however I’ve been called to make a business out of it to help fund my music career! Feels totally in alignment with this new self-acceptance and my obsession with the occult (astrology, Tarot, Numerology, candles, witchery in general…) I hope that it takes off! Readings will also now be available online. Schedule yours now to support the upcoming album! https://www.schedulicity.com/scheduling/STRFQ6

#LivingQueryoftheWeek – How is your work or career in alignment with your innermost values and desires? I’m beginning to feel the connection by incorporating things I would have been shameful about growing up. Southern Baptists frown upon such things… Thank goodness that’s not the church I go to. Ha.Ha.Ha….

Y’all have a lovely week. I’ll be in bed doing bed yoga so my ass doesn’t stay numb for 23 hours straight… Looking forward to singing and playing out again soon!

Upcoming Shows:

May 28 – 9pm Weekly online song debut series

June 4 – 9pm Weekly online song debut series

June 15 – 7-10 One-Hit Wonders All-Star Show @ The Kraken

June 18 – 9pm Weekly online song debut series

June 25 – 9pm Weekly online song debut series

June 28 – 7-9pm Show at the Eddy Pub w/Bruce Horvath 

June 29 – 8-10 Show at Hyperion Bar/Lounge, Mebane, NC w/Bruce Horvath 

Last few weeks in pictures:

Moooooooon and Twilight
Lessons.
Kitty company and coffee reading in the morning.
A DAMN FINE quote.
Live videos….
Joyridin….
The bed-art-medicine cave
Post-op


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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