anitalorrainemoore

Musician devoted to Justice, Creativity, and Courage


Leave a comment

Alone in my thoughts without you

Alone in my thoughts

without you

The river rose above its banks

as the rain in the night passed by

prints from night animals

and driftwood

still fresh where they lie

I remembered Your enchanting smile

and mountainous heart

distant

memories to me now

The black-capped chickadee and cardinal

as captivating to me

as fire to a cold wanderer

My heart warms with the thought of you

And I move on

Like you did

Like the still raging river


Leave a comment

A grim fairytale of the Tower, late night poetry

Wrote a poem list night from a bad dream, inspired by the tower card. It’s kind of a magical, dark fairytale about trauma responses, in our most vulnerable relationships.

They’ll say she’s crazy,
For predicting the truth
That they all, deep down inside
Have the power to drop the other shoe

A whispers trace away
Only unknowns save the day
One can never tell
What moment it was
When she cast her own spell

It is madness
Born of a caged child’s tears
A feared tower built so high
She throws herself from it
Every few years

Each time it gets steeper
The price ever taller
The depth of this child’s fears
The moat grows deeper

What is this curse
of cunning she prays
She was only a girl,
had no choice but to stay

As one man betrayed
Mother looked away
As one man betrayed
Time pierced her Spirit barricade

Now with every tick
Of a clock no one sees
The awaited bomb deafens
Scoured by her company

Darkness lives within
Only the broken can satisfy her brokenness
Calling out, abandoned dogs,
Knowing she will someday free them

She will hold and coddle their egos
until they’ve had their fill
Then they run scared,
after her doubts crack their seals

“Why”, she silently moans,
“Why can I not look away
Why is it only this curse is my lot,
I am a Magnet to the highway.”

Because memory is all you know,
You cannot hold what does not hurt
You cannot know the solid
They feel that you yearn
For deeper seas
For sadder pain
For the rush of fury
For the pouring rain

Step down tonight
Lay down this dream
Carry me home, to the sky, dark Moon,
To my Queen.

My teacher card, the Tower
Language of Letting Go: Melody Beattie


Leave a comment

It’s Okay To Need A Nightlight

It’s OK to need a nightlight

For those of us who fear darkness

There is no need to feel shame

We simply need a light to say yes

~

A blackout robs even perfect vision

Disorients, distorts reality

We feel deeply, everyone and everything

But inside it is murky, so to the light we flee

~

Violent hands have stolen Me

My sense of peace and security

Through a keyhole I peer

Into a luminous world, perceived normalcy

~

When you are silent, to one like me

It lets the monster out from under the bed

From the closet, from under the covers

In through the windows, crazy fantasies of dread

~

When you give the gift of some notion

Musical notes from your far off song

When you sing the chorus after my verse

Somehow the star shows me where I belong

~

Until I can learn the uncrossing spell

Which lights me from my inside

Please give me something, a match, a blaze

To quell this Jekyll and Hyde


Leave a comment

TuesDay NewsDay Vol 3, Issue 7 – May 26, 2020

TuesDay NewsDay Vol 3, Issue 7 – May 26, 2020

Dedication: This week’s edition of TuesDayNewsDay is dedicated to Amy Alexander and her family.  Here is her obituary and HERE. We said goodbye to Amy on Saturday after she passed on last Tuesday.  Last Tuesday, in lieu of a newsletter, Bruce and I did a memorial livestream on the Facebooks which you can see HERE.  It is more and more difficult to speak of her in the past tense.  Ryan and I had a talk about that. I have so many unutterable feelings.  All I can express right now is my gratitude for her.  I could never be more grateful for her presence in my life as a substitute mom.  I love you Ma.

This is Amy, Loren and me:

This was us (the family of Alexanders and friends) at Thanksgiving last year:

last Thanksgiving

This is Amy and her oldest son, Josh. Everyone knows him as Skip. I called him Skippo. He called me Stinkie. They are together on the other side now and to quote my post about this earlier this week: “My thoughts also drift to our brother Skip during this time. Time slows down when I think of him. There is something strangely comforting and tragic knowing that they’re on the other side together now.”

The week before last, another friend passed over the rainbow bridge, Paul Vasquez (the double rainbow guy) and I made a memorial video for him live on the Instagrams.  You can see that HERE.

paul v rainbow

 

Quote: “WILD KINDNESS” by Jack Kerouac

“By practicing kindness all over with everyone you will soon come into the holy trance, definite distinctions of personalities will become what they really mysteriously are, our common and eternal blissstuff, the pureness of everything forever, the great bright essence of mind, even and one thing everywhere the holy eternal milky love, the white light everywhere everything, empty bliss, svaha, shining, ready, and awake, the compassion in the sound of silence, the swarming myriad trillionaire you are.”

 

Song: “Don’t Be Shy” , by Cat Stevens  »  “Love is better than a song… love is where all of us belong…”

 

Dear Humans,

Cat Stevens says, “Don’t be shy just let your feelings roll on by, don’t wear fear or nobody will know you’re there..” Today, as we lift our heads to the heavens all around us, it is with acceptance and grace that we move through grief and mourning those souls who have gone before.  To be real as can be, this last year has gifted many opportunities for pause and reflection, gratitude and silence, reception and art, Spirit messages and an outpouring of gifts we can only begin to imagine.  This may seem folly, overly light-hearted, or flippant – but please, know I say these things with extreme reverence in the midst and acknowledgment of the pain and suffering in our world right now too.

As I sit here on this magical rock, a direct connection to the heartbeat of this earth, I have no choice but to breathe and sigh, sit in awe of the moving spectacle of the water coursing through my toes,  the sunlight pouring in through juvenile leaves of Summer.  The Elm and Sycamore, the Box elder and Tulip Poplar are my Sacred canopy.  The bees gently buzz in puddles left from the latest flood.   I have been blissfully swimming in poetry and space, gifts of song and tears, all the while mourning and then once again, with dry and damp eyes, tapping into the divine through connections with others, these plants, the garden soil, growth, and my dearest buzzing, singing, trumpeting beautiful flying beings.

No, I cannot complain.  Yes, there has been much loss. Yet, I am making my own type of peace simply by surrendering to what is.  Supplication to blessings, even if they hurt.  Nodding my head and heading in the direction to which I am called, without an ounce of regret or hesitation.

I love you all.  Thank you for Being. Thank you for being there, being challenging, being real, being You.

 

ALM

 

Shows: Ha! I’ll do a live stream tonight on Facebook at 9pm! Here’s the link to my FB music page, that is where the live stream will be going on. Anita Lorraine Moore Music on Facebook

Visual aids and insights from Life:

Tulip poplar

Tamales with Bruce

 

Amy Eifell Tower

Amy and the Eiffel Tower!

 

 

Thanksgiving 2018

Thanksgiving 2018

 

 

amy and litte one

Last photo Scott took of Amy being a Grama, one of her favorite things in the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wet Forest

 

Days of crying

 

Home studio mess with Bruce last week

 

 

 


Leave a comment

Grit and Moss

 

    At this moment, all that exists in my sights are the darkness of the night sky through the window, the golden light of a candle glimmering in my periphery and the glow of this computer screen.  Of late, I have read many stories by writers about their influences and writers whom they adore. The most compelling stories depict how the main inspiration was the author’s own life, their own experiences and hardships were their teachers and the stories told themselves, their fingers were merely a medium.

    Songs seem to come to me this way.  Ideas for paintings, projects, special studies… they all jump into my mind and slam the “Go” button, yet, it wasn’t my choice to press it.  Once, I was asked to write my autobiography on one page. That was horribly prohibitive. It takes a half-hour just to get started when telling about my life.  Perhaps I am simply detail-oriented or lack conciseness. I see everything as bleeding into everything else, just like a watercolor painting which starts with too much water.  Except, in life, those bleeding tales need no judgment, at this point, of too much or too little liquid. Those tales exist only in the memories of my body and when I think back to them or something reminds me of them; I can only experience them in the moment or in a dream.  At times, I become overwhelmed with the sound of my heart beating and shortness of breath. Other times, the need to sleep or eat suddenly tips me over and makes me weak in the knees. In more extreme cases, fear fills every pore, unexplainable in the present moment as to why and I find myself floating above, as an outsider looking in, disassociating.  Somehow, I can become a shadow when the worst moments resurface. I get lost in the replay and the mountainous weight of knowing there is nothing I can do to change the stories. In those dark and tremendous moments, there are veins reaching into the future, into the people I love, into the choices I make, into the way I look in the mirror, into the way strangers look at me…  All this is happening under the guise of a smiling, confident, albeit sometimes distracted, woman.

    Imagine what it would be like if those moments disappeared.  What would happen if those shocking and depressing moments no longer plagued those of us who share them?  There could be a light, a blinding light, swirling out of my forehead. I see light emanating from my fingertips and from each strand of hair.  There is no memory in my body, from the earliest of early storage drawers of visions, that does not have a tinge of sadness. I cannot remember ever feeling completely light, free, and without judgment.  Fear permeates every facet of life. I could be beaten for not finishing my dinner or having an accident potty training. I could be abused or taunted by any man who walked by. I could be ridiculed for being imperfect by any movement, decision, performance or by simply existing.  Simultaneously, I was treasured and praised when I was approvable. In public, I was the gem of the show. I was “the rock”. The undeterminable atmosphere of our home, the lack of comfort, the affectation of normalcy, the quid-pro-quo nurturing, the unending sarcasm, perversion, and the predatorial context into which my sister and I were forced to exist has created, in me, a person who needs to come to terms with the impact such a life has had on my body.  The lives and bodies of millions of people in this world are all carrying scars on their beating hearts from childhood. They learned about their lack of importance, their prescribed stupidity and their lack of control so early, the notion that such things don’t HAVE to hold them down may never be realized in their lives. They may never individuate.

    I have the privilege of a new awareness of how my body, heart, and mind are all interconnected and I proclaim that the marks carved into my being are going to be brought to light.  Immunity to sickness and dedication to health are the core of my focus now. The amount of time it will take to begin to feel whole and happy again may be lengthy. Yet, I am here.  I am learning. My body is going to heal. I have magnets in my heart and the celestial bodies and our beautiful, magical planet are connected by those same forces.

I am filled with grit. I am the softest green moss of the forest floor.

In some corner of my mind, I have yet to unearth, there is the North star of hope.

I am seeking Spirit by this river’s shore and in my inner flame’s ashes and smoke.

long exposure of photography of brown tree

Photo by Harrison Haines on Pexels.com

 


Leave a comment

TuesDay NewsDay Vol. 3, Issue 1 – January 14th, 2020

The room is filled with restaurant sounds; the cutlery is clicking on plates and bowls. Autumn Leaves is coming from the trombone, piano, upright bass and drums. How lovely.

Dedication: Today is dedicated not to a person, but to the priceless concept of forgiveness. Without it, we remain cold and buried in our own asses. With it, we become softer and compassionate toward and acknowledging of others’ simultaneous struggles in this world. Thank you forgiveness. Thank you to those of us who forgive easily. Thank you to those of us who know we need to work on it. …and bless you to those of us who struggle with forgiveness.

Quote: “Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” Mark Twain

Song: This song reminds me of riding in the backseat of my grandparents’ car on one of our thousands of Sunday drives, as we meandered in and around rural North Carolina, listening to classic country music, the “Country Gold” cassette tape set.

I Love by Tom T. Hall

Dear Humans:

It has been a few weeks since an official newsletter and if you watch my weekly video series, you can find out why. So much has happened since the end of 2019! It was a roller-coaster of a year! As I was answering a journal prompt about last year during my morning writing, it became clear that 2019 was packed with physical, emotional, intellectual challenges and feats. I had major ankle surgery and was laid up in bed for 12 weeks. My new job teaching started in January last year, the whole year of creating curriculum and learning how to teach adults in real life was demanding and in all honesty, I didn’t enjoy it. (Thankfully this year, I feel a bit different and am excited about the prospect of continuing. That surprised me.) Many things were left behind: some relationships, my lack of boundaries and fear of others’ judgments. Surely, the latter two of the three aforementioned castaways will crop up from time to time in cyclical lessons, yes. However, each time growth will emerge and lessons will help to create a better human up in here. We learned why my digestive system was torn apart for years (of course stress will hurt anyone’s stomach) – I’m allergic to beef and beef products, gluten and other hooved animals! We also learned that I have an insane amount of allergies! WTF?! Glad to know more about myself now, so I can take care. I plan to heal and end the allergies and grow back the cartilage which was damaged in my ankle surgery; I know these things can be done.

A part of my childhood was left behind as well. The child within who operated out of fear and scarcity has become known to me. I have a serious desire to feel security and my motivations in attempt to obtain that security were unmasked. I no longer feel the need to look to others (my grandparents specifically) to provide the shelter and protection, something I desperately once needed and am eternally grateful. Adios 2019! Enter stage left and right the new decade with a new abode, new music, new understandings, and new relationships (with others and with myself.).

The album is trudging along. It is a struggle to make time when I am working two jobs. Rest assured, it will be finished sometime soon! I was thinking by the end of January… but I truly don’t know right now. Still aiming for late June for the party. If it happens, wonderful. If it doesn’t, that’ll be fine too.

happy new year y’all, may you find peace and for those under fire, you are in my prayers

Upcoming Shows: Sunday, High Point 2pm-5pm https://facebook.com/events/s/eliqqn-ii-portraits-of-gavin-g/2306691406283389/?ti=icl

Next week, Friday, January 24th – I’ll be playing with Tim Smith at Special Treats on Weaver Dairy Rd in Carrboro! 6-10pm! Come out and get some candy! Ear candy too!

Lately in pictures: