It's A 21st Century Plague

Guns are really the plague of the 21st century to me. Fear is it's symptom. Paranoia is it's fever. It's like people see this in the news and they react one of two ways... one, if you're like me, you find it disgusting and you feel this whole culture we have in America is sick on the sauce of it's own violence... and the guns do nothing but make it easier for someone to facilitate that culture and you want all guns to be outlawed and banned, or two people freak and think the only answer is for everybody to be armed so that we can ooze and perpetuate fear. It's like a cancer... you can't just simply cut it out because it's spread everywhere...

Lost-and-found In Thought

Anxiety
you cold flame
I can feel your hands stifling me
the hard clasp struggling to maintain it's hold
to cast upon me the woes of worry
the pains of thoughts I can't hope to even control
I feel the bonds of madness
"I refuse you"
"I shall defeat you"
I deny your hands upon this throat
though you have found me
and as you dwell in my weakness
lingered upon the lesser states
your captions emblazoned upon my sweat
you, who wake me up 2 hours at a time
out of a dead sleep
dizzy and tingled
you don't deserve to rob me of my sanity
the pull and twinge of heart strings
I refuse your offer
the municipality of your palpitations
No...
Stop!
With your heavy-headedness
with your words spewing from my lips
your thought-control
I feel the cloak of your horror-tipped fingers
squeaking down the chalkboard of my last nerve
I refuse to accept thy invitation
to become trapped by fear's voice
to de-evolve myself in your plight
and succumb to this fight or flight
because I will soar
I will rise
and are rising...
I will overcome
I will succeed
I will empower my thoughts
I will infuse them with a positivity so bold
so harsh
so angelic by design
so as to completely overshadow
the tallest building in the Chicago skyline
I can beat this...

The Dis-Chord of Dreamland #1

...soap
quotations
self respect
new shoes
steampunk
celery stocks
opium
butterscotch
peppermint
fig leaf
Robatussion
pot leaf
silicon
decaffeinated
dopamine
dream...

Meanwhile at the debriding agent's office...

""Last chance - romance
forty years well spent
thinking about wherever else I thought we'd be
like burdens to a plan
with a stone in my hand
I'm going to skip it 'cross the water, baby""

""I wake up to see your smiling face
in a sun so bright
that it makes me see
that there's nothing left to say
when I see you glow that way
it must be something in the water, maybe""

""Hideaway streamers
on a lakeside hearse
Ding Dong Douglass
knocked him out in the first
it's a really silly tune,
a quirky little melody
'bout something in the water, baby""

""ripped all the weights
with the clothespin fingers
imagine your face, when you see
that no matter the look
it's something we took
every time we're in the water lately""

""who cares - no chance
judge ya at a first glance
and they'll tell you who else that they think you'd be
like burdens to a plan
with a stone in my hand
I'm going to skip it 'cross the water, baby""

...like an activist on a bus

That wander...
it's glide through a meadow
three inches from the ground,
like demons in heat
those road-weary leather-men
smelling of scorched Earth
and a thinly-vailed lust
which implies a repression of the singular
in a cadence of co-dependency
we've rested those zippers on ruby red slippers
while sipping the proverbial scotch
coffee break
off having some minute of your time
...and he'd say,

"fuck those boys"
"I fuckin' own Illinois"
"I remember when this shit was all forest and farmland..."
"...back when surviving meant a good tilled Earth"

and he starts carrying on
about how the lands been taken away

"by Freddy Mac and Fanny May"
"...and you best speak their names with God's reverence"
"like Pharaohs, you best-believe it"
"what chance do we have..."
"...now that corporations are people"

and he's stammering on
this perfect little ode to derision
Mr. Crazed Ratcheted Eyebrow... a skeptic
coming back from a talk he said
was with a God who "ain't" there:

"lovely conversation with oneself"
"a nice sort of meetin' where we discussed why it's necessary for science..."
"...to not become some superstitious religion"
"afterall, human beings always have to build their pyramids...
"we best make sure it be for the right reasons"

Mystic Holy Moley

You are bathing
in the aspirations of free floating wonder-bliss
regardless of whether you prescribe to The Jesus Manifesto or The Jesus Conspiracy
I have seen
beyond the blue door of their thinly vialed libertarianism
shrouded in it's staunch colors;
crying at the help to restock the tea
like Crisco for coffee; they lube those veins
slick those venomous little side notes; my appendices
you know the kind,

coyly sympathizing, narrowly acute
Splashing down - Sloshed - in the same damn river
for the third weekend straight

or typically the kind muted throughout history.
And to all it's ugly-inferred paraphernalia...
the political institution -to read: asylum
the religious institution -see above
set on the wings of a manifesto so curmudgeonly
that even Hitler's innuendo took the hint...

Villainy - Acoustic Reboot

To listen, follow the link: http://soundcloud.com/antony-mores/villainy

Over the course of the last few years I've written a lot of music that focused on relationships, politics, and inner-turmoil. The last ten years have been fraught with both elation and sorrow, and music is a conduit of health for me. It's a way of being able to say what I otherwise wouldn't be able to through words. The catharsis of writing music and learning how to express the things which words can never fully relate is definitely it's own reward. It's a way of allowing one's self to walk out into the world completely naked, humbly revealed, without having to worry about the double standards of ideologies or the burdens of an intimate context. The music itself supplies it's own in this manner. Every now and then, however, something comes through the grand third eye of musical composition that goes beyond what normally manifests in an average session. It was during one of these (extra-ordinary) sessions where I crafted the song Villainy. A self-imposed walk through some of the things I didn't like about myself and my personality. This song contained things I had both noticed and things that had been brought to my attention over the past decade, and while I'm committed to the betterment of self I also have to be cognizant of the fact that I live in a world that has taught me how to live in a deep state of denial.

The process I use to write is very personal to me, I don't use a big studio with all the refinements (not that there's anything wrong with that). I find that a smaller intimate setting is more akin to my creative process. The same goes for my style of playing, as my guitar is generally tuned to lend itself to the lyrical composition, that is to say, the lyrics are generally the first thought with everything else coming after that. This is where you'll see my style represented by the term "anti-folk" given the attention paid to the vocals and lyrics. The reason I preface this song with a little more insight is that I believe it captures the essence of the sound I wish to strive for every time my finger meet the chords.

So I hope you enjoy this latest effort and feel free to check out my facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/antonymores

A Mayor In Bohemia

You don't always partake of Bohemia by choice... sometimes... just sometimes...

in that same way that sometimes 'crazy' just finds you

life takes a backhand to that area 

at the base of your skull, 

 delivering one of those awkward kicks that makes decision-making more difficult, 

it's a brutal business...

and you face yourself, your PO$$E$ION$, 

what you consider to be your essence, 

and no one deserves to be            the messiah...

Nope, you gotta be martyrs for your own damn causes 

or you're sellouts... every single one of you 

this space for rent

they use poverty like a tool... like a weapon 

aimed at the middle class                            "your money or is your life"

and every day "the system"    grows.    more.    broken.

like a country full of crack-addicted-toddlers 

                               and sometimes... just sometimes

         you have to allow yourself to go broke in order to stop it...       

you have to think: No longer-

                                                   will i feed this machine

                                                                          -will I walk blindly into the belly 
                                of some corporate-cronies-cubist
                                                                           abstract view of "how it all works"
                               like how Gods often necessitate religion, or the reverse even 
   ...and if you thought Zeus was powerful 
               apparently you've not seen the types of mountains a Ben Franklin can move 

   "when he's gotta get it done now"

It's far easier in this system to mobilize for war...

than it is to say, respond to a natural disaster... 

   it's easier to overdose on legal drugs  

       than the bad-evil, illegal ones...
           they started it with sugar in the kool-aid 
and the most disturbing part, 
           is for those of us here, under the star spangled canopy, 
                                                             who are not even making it 
                              at the 14k crime they call a poverty line
                 is that we're more stricken by grief
    at this notion that economic relief... trickles 
                                                            down...
       and they attempt to victimize you with scorn 
to shackle your life with a servitude so hollow
             that the only type of medication
             is some morally imposed preemptive invasion 
of Gods against Gays
   cause masked under the stench of that ideology   
          is a senator with a lifetime pension 
leeching off the system, costing us more money than welfare babies 
                     and health insurance benefits... which never expire
   but they point to the poor as if their abuse were less dire 
                            in this ass-backwards system that asks me to submit 
   I will never relinquish my role
                    as a mayor in Bohemia 
                                           I will fight... and I will die 
                                     to make it so love is not some dollar sign

A Snug Sip Of Joy - That Didn't Quite Fit

 
I remember first being drawn to a girl at the age of 10. I was sitting in my grade school classroom with my third grade musings, feigning attention at the teacher speaking before the bell sounded. It was the first day of school, and I was in my prim and proper, wearing clothes so stiff and shiny new that bending would have been considered a chore when she walked into the room... the flowing blond of her hair was caught in the wind of the shutting door, and I knew something was different. I felt a need to indulge, to ask, to ingratiate myself with her every need.

She was oblivious for the first few weeks, of course. Even when the teacher's assigned seating chart pulled off, what could only be coined, a divine intervention and sat us directly next to each other. Her name was Kim, she liked to chew on her pencils, and when she raised her hand to answer questions she did so with vigor and authority (even at that age, I was drawn to strong women). I did every conceivable thing to garner that girl's attention over the next two weeks, I sang in class, told jokes, acted out (all to the teacher's dismay, I might add)... and in the end it was a playground game of tag, amongst several of us, that inspired our getting to know each other. She was tagged by one of the older boys and skinned her knee on the asphalt. She sat there, examining her bloodied appendage, when I reached my hand out to lift her back up she beamed the widest smile back at me. She took my hand and, very lightly... so as not to rely too much on it, pulled herself up.

For the next 3 days, we were inseparable. We ate together at lunch, I sat with her and all her friends, we worked on our school projects together during class... it was perfect... or it was perfect until the first time we truly held hands. Now it took about three days for me to work up the courage to take her by the hand. That's how things were done back in those days. Holding hands in early grade school was like kissing, it was as intimate as one could be while still remaining under the cloak of adolescent innocence. When I held her hand in mine I noticed something, though. She liked to tuck her last two fingers together so that my ring and pinky fingers were left out on a lurch by themselves with no support. So I readjusted, re-interlaced our fingers, and looked up to see that her eyes had tightly clinched at this maneuvering as she quickly reasserted her original hold.

That was the moment I remember thinking "this wouldn't work" because the way she held hands was different. It was also the moment where my first relationship ended as she had also taken great insult to the fact that I didn't want to hold hands like she did, and that was that. I wasn't all that upset over the ending of the relations. I was more befuddled with how the girl wanted to hold hands. It was a greater metaphor for how people, sometimes, just don't fit. Of course, this was grade school and while our split was mutual, she sounded off on it first, and in those formative years that meant she got the credit for doing it. C'est la vie...

Soundtracking Life

Music happens usually whether we want it to or not... it's like a gift from a higher plain of existence that graces us with it's beauty while keeping much of the muse behind the creative curtain... if we had privy to that sort of information, everyone would be tapping that tree, creating record players with pine needles and putting shame the great composers and songwriters of history. Music is a fluid thing, some of it's best writers have known little about it's theory, however they speak it's rhythms fluently. It's like quantifying spirituality in an emotion or like summing up a vast adventurous dream in one word. It speaks a universal language that is incorporated into every facet of life... like the soundtrack, your soundtrack to existence.

Musical Interludes: In Dream

This is the first preview off the new album (still as of yet untitled), slated currently to hit your local itunes and cdbaby store on May 7th. I wanted to give you all a taste of what's to come with a brand new song that rolled off the press last week entitled, "In Dream"



Antony Mores - "In Dream"

In the coming weeks I'll continue to post new songs and free previews up until the May release, and we'll probably fill it all in with some lovely banter along the way.

You can join me on twitter at
@audasticity
@airscale

or on Facebook at:
facebook.com/antonymores