The Wineskins

https://thewineskins.bandzoogle.com/take-me-home


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New Wineskins Album!

https://thewineskins.bandzoogle.com/store

Drink It Up.

Drink It Up

W. KEITH MOORE·THURSDAY, OCTOBER 8, 2015

Come over here.

To the other side of the lake.

Where we dabble in mystery.

Where shadows are eternal.

Music is Celtic, and fiddles cry.

The animals are with us.

The hippies make us wonder.

St. Francis.

The Pope is with us.

Buddha is with us.

Jesus has long hair and is homeless.

No one has a gun.

Everyone eats French cheese.

Children are cared for,

from conception till death.

We smoke.

We dream.

We help each other.

We grow our food.

We are boring.

We celebrate the morning.

We hurt each other.

We are narcissist.

We love unconditionally.

Water flows into our cup.

It is miraculously turned into wine.

The wine is God's blood.

Drink it up.

wkm

Cipher

The serious know.

They understand. 

They don't judge.

They comprehend. 

The merciful wait.

They know their sins.

The forgiven bow,

And begin again.

God is OTHER

He is not us.

We're made in His "Image"

We welcome rust.

Jesus is given.

He is received.

We are to cipher,

What this all means.

wkm

New Album by The Wineskins September 1...

You can get it now at

 https://thewineskins.bandcamp.com/album/here-they-come  for $5.00. 

These songs were inspired by our unplanned reunion. Jeff and I came together in 2013 after a few years apart. I happened to be in Nashville working for a year, and one day I dropped by his place on Music Row unannounced. It's as if we had never been apart. The muse was stronger than ever. These were the first songs we wrote. We never meant for this to be an album. Most of these are the only recording of the song. We put the song together, get the feel, press record, and play it. These are all first takes. This is raw. This is real. These are all recorded on a hand held stereo recorder. Jeff would sit on one side of the desk, me on the other. In between, placed on a coffee mug, was the recorder. There is no mixing, overdubs, or panning. Every noise, tone, sound, you hear happened in that moment. 

Hope you enjoy, Keith.

An Evening With The Wineskins in Oxford Mississippi

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLWa8sCwHWgla5_rxpng0ctizEAnY39Erq

Wait

It is 6:14 PM on Monday,

8-3-15

I'm worn out. 

Wonder if I should have been a monk?

The fan in my room hums.

I sit at my desk and almost pray.

But nothing I say is what I think. 

I hear a small voice. 

Jesus commanded us. 

"Eat my body, drink my blood"

It made them so mad they left. 

Read what happened in John 6:66 after he said it. 

Hey, hold on there sinner. 

"Excuse me while I kiss the sky"--JH

White wine and water. 

I'm sitting here filled with numb.

Confucius say something. 

Pilate asked what truth is.

Jesus called himself the truth. 

If he was not, then he was fucking crazy. 

I try to do my job. 

So do you. 

And the voice I hear,

You hear it too. 

Once, today, I looked into a mirror. 

I don't know who it was.

I washed my face with cold water. 

Wait, hold on there sinner. 

wkm

Too Mysterious

I have never been to Tangiers.

But I want to go. 

I want to walk those streets.

Smell the hashish and lamb.

When I was in Istanbul,

I felt the calling to go there. 

Istanbul is a confusion. 

Not ready to live fully. 

Copenhagen is trying,

But failing miserably. 

It believes fancy shops and posh clubs are real. 

I loved every minute walking it. 

God is not considered.

The Other is too demanding. 

He/She is too mysterious. 

Like snow in July. 

wkm

To Something Else

Something Else

This yellow paint,

reminds me of a bird. 

A Finch I once saw,

On a feeder in a yard of a friend. 

Why doesn't yellow smell like yellow?

Why doesn't purple smell like purple?

All paint smells the same. 

It shouldn't be this way. 

All of these scratches,

Chips off the corners,

Where someone has hit them,

With something they were carrying. 

Jack my dog is watching.

Always trying to make eye contact.

Either to hug me, or, to tell me something,

I love every animal that has been a part of our life.

Cats, dogs, horses, crows. 

Crows have always been with me.

No matter where I've traveled or lived,

They find me.  

Once while moving to Spokane,

Driving from Oxford, Mississippi,

We stopped at an eatery in the Shasta Mountains, Northern California. 

Crows recognized me. You can ask my wife. 

I want to get out of here. 

Go somewhere where the weather is a ghost. 

A place of wind and mist. 

Where the ocean can be heard pounding a rocky shore. . 

Sell it all. 

Go. 

Not away from anything,

But to something else. 

wkm

July 27, 2015

Grapefruits and Ghosts

Grapefruits and Ghosts

Grapefruits and ghosts.

Radiohead and Pavarotti.

Ambulances pass by.

Ave Maria.

One day God. One day Dog.

Inside a rose bush.

Bleeding and beautiful.

Two shades of red. 

Your image is sex.

Walking, smoldering. 

Summer in Oxford.

Sweat beads on your skin, the rosary.

"Are you ok?"

She asked her husband,

Who had fallen into a ditch.

A few yards ahead.

"Prayer is a confusing idea.

So is nothingness.

So is you and me." 

"Excuse me?" she asked.

Another ambulance. 

Hail Mary...

It's hot.

Radiohead emotes.  

wkm

Terror

Terror is losing steam.

Terror is meant to be a surprise.

Terror is meant to be unnerving. 

Now, we know everything. 

We know who kills. 

We know their thoughts. 

We know they could strike anytime.

We expect them to. 

Terror has lost this dimension, 

We are no longer freaked out by "it". 

Yes, it kills us, lames us, scares us. 

But, something else is happening to us. 

Our leaders knows terror. 

They represent us in your towns and cities.

To you, Jack destroyed your Nation.

Jane killed your children at the wedding in Bajaur.

A terrorist mimics memories.

He becomes numb over time. 

Killing is the drug that makes him feel.

But in doing so, he only spreads numbness. 

Now we are becoming numb.

Soon, will we be a people of boredom too?

Bored with the surprise of our children dying daily?

Then, will we strap on bombs to feel something?

Oh Terror, you have become a fabric we wear. 

You have become an old shoe. 

A shoe thrown at a ducking president.

A shoe thrown at a fucking president. 

At this level of theology,

A gong and cymbal never stop crashing.

Love becomes terror. 

Terror becomes love.  

wkm

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

Where does mercy appear?

Water trickles weakly, mysterious

He decides love his wife

As he decides to be true no matter what

They meet

From both perspectives 

The discussion

the reality

Suddenly

The  women,

Say this,

"We gave you everything!"

Cogent reality falls like holy rain

The ones who burn are burnable

Mary's prayers are freaking effective.

Amazing in their effectiveness. 

Mercy alway wins.

wkm

The Wineskins

www.wineskinsmusic.com 

New Review!!

Brand New Review of Rattle My Faith!

CD REVIEW by Mick Kolassa, The Blues Man.
Wineskins: Rattle My Faith

When seeking for a simple way to describe this offering from the Wineskins one thought came to my mind: Rage against the Machine meets Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. Southern folk rock musicians with a social conscience and an abiding love of their home, the Wineskins celebrate their Southern heritage while pointing out its flaws. The album opens with references to a Mississippi River Boat, "One Long, Two Short" and "Six Miles an Hour," this is a great introduction to the band and their sensibility: reverence for the part of the world from which they hail. It closes with similar references while letting the uninformed in on some of the secrets in the songs.

The song New Reservation is a great new take on an old story – the mistreatment of Native Americans. This tune is a musical treat, combining Native American and military rhythms and other musical sensibilities for a truly original piece. This is followed by Rain, which is great example of a writer dealing with pain. One line: "He could punch a hole in the sky and watch it bleed" evokes anger and confusion at the same time, there is some damn fine poetry in this piece. This is a song about the need for redemption and Keith More, the writer, practices his craft exceptionally well here.

Turkeys in a Drizzle is another retelling of an old story – that TV rots your brain. But like most of the tunes on this CD, you can simply listen to it musically and be fulfilled but when you listen closely there are well told stories and well crafted messages in the lyrics – a pretty delightful combination.

Two songs taken together, They Cross the Line and Southern Moon, struck me as the perfect antidote to Sweet Home Alabama (a song that I believe still requires an apology to thinking people). These two pieces are 100% Southern, but they speak of the things we don't utter outside of the family. They present a small morality play and speak of issues such as prejudice and injustice as only true concerned Sons of the South can, not stooping to Yankee stereotypes of the South but more of an intervention with a loved one. I hit repeat several times when listening to these two.

The only downside to this CD is that it contains 20 tracks, and each is cleverly written and well structured. I say that is a downside because you feel like you want to keep listening to this as a whole, and that is a pretty sizable investment in time. But, taken in a single long dose or in several pieces, one or two tunes at a time, Rattle My Faith is worth that investment if you care to hear some well crafted tunes while also thinking deeply.

You can find the CD at Amazon, iTunes, CDBABY, or the band's website,www.wineskinsmusic.com