If We Are

For something or someone,

Speak of love.

Rain pummels the fresh cut grass.

Thunder rumbles like a sleeping lion.

Hindu's believe in everything.

The oldest religion.

Atheist believe in nothing.

The oldest religion. 

Sounds of rain change from soft to hard.

My blue reading candle is the only light. 

The scent of lilacs fills the room.

I hear her making a cup of coffee in the kitchen. 

She walks into my study,

Just waking up, sitting by the window. 

I know not to speak yet. 

Wait until the second cup, maybe. 

I have nothing to say anyway.

I just want her here. 

She stares out at the rain,

She's so lovely it breaks my heart. 

If God is.

If we are. 

Thunder again. 

A waterfall pounds the deck. 

Need a new gutter. 

Need a new deck. 

wkm

7/15/15

Honeysuckle Wind

Honeysuckle Wind

The wind nearly took my hat.

The doors are off the Jeep.

I hear birds singing. 

I don't hear them as well when the doors are on.

Summer. Uncomfortable humid wind from the south. 

A large doe there by the edge of the woods

Tan fur contrasts beautifully with the lime-green thicket behind her.

She eases into the underbrush, disappearing before my eyes. 

Summer weeds grow high in the pasture.

Baked gold in the sun's constant stare.

My dogs bark, want me to follow them. 

But I want to sit here under the slumbering Oak. 

They run into the trees.

I hear fallen limbs cracking beneath the hooves of the doe. 

The dogs give up quickly. 

Honeysuckle wind comes from the forest.

The shade from the ancient oak is dense. 

Almost dark under here. 

Silky black dirt ground to powder,

Shuffled upon by a herd of docile cows.

I step out of the Jeep onto the cool ground.

Blackened smooth roots rise just above the surface. 

I sit down among strong scents of animal and earth.

A memory bursts to mind of an innocent child playing.   

wkm

Ciao

Can you walk away the anxiety?

I'm on my one millionth mile. 

Or an eternal mile.

Walking helps most everything. 

Jim Harrison always wrote about it.

He had to walk off all the French wine and rich vittles.

I hear lawn mowers up and down the street. 

It's July in North Mississippi.

It is 3:45 in the afternoon.

In other words, it is hot. 

But walk I shall anyway damn it. 

I need to sweat and get some color.

I'm too white. 

Wish I had more Choctaw blood. 

1/16th. 

in my forehead. 

I'm so happy I stumbled upon the picture.

It's why I found out I had some of The People' s blood. 

A humble day. 

A proud day. 

Ok, time to go walk. 

Adios, arrivederci, Ciao. Nah Duh.

wkm

Lying

What do we know?

Pretty red roses have thorns.

Nothing's as it seems.

Isn't it better this way?

If we knew everything,

We would know nothing.

"I have no answers for you."

He says to the cracked mirror. 

God. Other. Trinity. Mystery. Jesus. Bukowski, Yeats.

Buddha. Zen. Merton. Knausgaard. Mary. Joseph. Saints. 

One hand clapping. 

On ear hearing, one eye seeing. 

Every effort with passion, 

Crumbles as it should. 

Success is mischief. 

Greed is antichrist. 

Failure is good. 

Anger then sadness. 

Sadness then fear. 

Comes thoughts of shadow. 

Death. Meaning. Talent. 

Here it is, never buried. 

"Rewards await thee in heaven",

The parallel beatific waiting room.

Love is a mess.

"Skin and breath and hair"---Bruce Cockburn

Watch. 

As I tread the water of this sea. 

This ocean of boring, consistent confusion. 

My body of water. Mine!

I can walk on it, dance on it, have a tantrum on it!,

Storms are commonplace, within a single  wave of thought.  

Waves still scare me.

The surface hides a silent bewilderment and melancholy.

I would be lying,

to lead you on otherwise.

 Lol.   

wkm

"Travelers" Produced by Phil Keaggy

Hello friends, it's been a while since I used this list for an email. I hope everyone is well. Peace and love. 

One morning a few years ago, I was sitting at Phil's kitchen table drinking green tea. I was finishing up a new lyric and I read it to him. He fetched a guitar and within about ten minutes the song A Little Bit Of Light entered the world. 

Not long after this, Phil produced my second album, Travelers. It has not been available digitally until now.  Please check it out. It was an amazing experience. Ken Lewis played drums and percussion. Ellen Crandle sang back up vocals on some of the tunes. Phil played guitars, bass, keyboards, etc... as only Phil can. I wrote these songs during a time of restlessness and curiosity. To quote Yeats, these songs came "Because a fire was in my head". It was the beginning of a journey that continues. 

You can hear it, and purchase here, if you like. 

https://wkeithmoore.bandcamp.com/album/travelers

Peace and love to all,

Keith

after a journey

We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us.

Marcel Proust

The Wineskins recorded live on Oxford Sessions

Happy New Year to all! Let's hope this next year is enjoyable. 

Jeff and I were filmed a few weeks ago for the very cool website, Oxford Sessions. It showcases Independent artist and bands in a very cool way. Check it out.

http://oxfordsessions.com/roster/the_wineskins.php

And please, if you have a second, copy the link and paste it to your Facebook and Twitter page. We very much appreciate all the support we can muster to begin the new year.

Peace and Love!

Keith