Walk On

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso


Photo A.M Moscoso

Photo A.M Moscoso


It’s so simple-

finding  out who you are

what lives in your head

what doors to open

what doors to close


It’s so simple-

to be who you are

like who you are

It only goes wrong

when you

stop to ask,

‘ Is this okay’


Daily Post Prompt:Simple


Taken Words

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

When I write a story I want to smell ink,

I want to see a stack of pages fill up a tray

I want to feel the world I created

word by word in my head.

The internet took all of that away

word by word

Stories cast out into a dark

electronic world

leaving me  in this one to wonder

were they ever here at all?



Daily Prompt: Filter

Everything Has a Purpose- Even Facebook

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

I’ve been using Facebook a lot recently- I go on there and mostly address the currant cluster F*&! that Trump AKA Twitler has unleashed on our country as well as the rest of the world.

I even reached wrote an open letter to the Queen of England- it was in fun but I did do some homework before I did it- which I’ll explain in a bit.

Here’s the letter:

Letter From America To The Queen of England

May It Please Your Majesty

I wish to inform you of a terrible occurrence that has happened in the United States of America, a former colony of the much respected and admired Great Britain.

Recently a select group of citizens ( refered to as The Electoral College) voted to put a crazy man into the highest office in the land.

The man in question displays delusions of grandeur on Twitter at three in the morning, is barely fluent in The Queen’s English and the only skill he has managed to master is the one of, to put it in polite terms, is Cat Grabbing.

Please consider taking us back your Majesty.
We will be easy to find should her Majesty choose to save us- we will be the huddled masses yearning to be free at the end of We are all Screwed and What The Hell Is Going To Happen Next Street.

We hope this letter finds your Majesty well.

Please save us before he kills us all.

Yours Truly,

I actually tried to follow the correct form when one writes a letter to Her Majesty.

You know- just FYI


Where The Magic Happens

My Friend Lori created a space dedicated to working on her art.

What I found inspiring was that she didn’t need an entire room or an office or even a moat filled with sharks. She just put together what she needed and there you had it- a creative enviorment.

I decided to do the same because with more space I just goof off.

This is what I did:

I asked myself- what do I really need in my space when I write.

It was simple-

A laptop, something to set it on, a  comfy chair a cat ( in this case it’s Carl Kolchak ) a file cabinet and a few shelves which are part of the table I use for my desk and something to listen to music on:

So here it is:


For such a small dedicated space I actually have everything I need to feed the Muse here.

Let me show you:

My Laptop has Anubis on it- he reminds me to  respect the process and I do. I’m not embalming people anymore but for me writing is a gift,  and it deserves to be treated like the important art form that it is. After all it’s how we share the human experience.


You need something comfortable to wear- meet my current lucky writer’s sweater- it has bones on it- My Enduring Bones see what I did here? Ha, right. I know:


Music- I must have music when  write- otherwise my brain flat lines.

Mozart, Robert Johnson, Django Reinhardt, Electric Light Orchestra- they are all there when I write.

My BFF Hamish Macbeth is always around- he hates it when I talk on my phone. He will try to lick it, knock it out of my hand or breath so loud that the person on the other hand of it will have to ask me to tell the heavy breather to leave the room because they can’t hear what I’m saying- ‘and who is that anyway’ they’ll ask.

” My dog ”

” Sure he is Anita- sure it is.”

Hamish keeps me on task.


And as a rule- I keep the books I’m reading or that are on my list ( which I’m proud to say I do complete- reading before Tv. ) close by my lap top.

These are my books for February- top book is what I’m reading now- the rest will get their turn and believe it or not, by the end of February I’ll have read them all. I love reading as much as I love writing and music.


Sometimes though, I do need to do something just because its fun, so I color.

It’s supposed to relieve stress  but I do it because I can’t draw at all and this brings me as close as I will ever get to being able to do that.

Did I mention it’s fun too?


And there you have it- my little corner of heaven where everything I need to be who I am is right at hand.

Thank you for the fabulous idea Lori!

Inspired By ” Tour of my Creative Corner

Her Name Is Anita (updated)



One of the most powerful images to come from the hearts- and hands- of Americans who are not on board with a Trump Regime is this one:

The  defiant lady in purple- or as she is called ” Resistance Auntie “

Her real name is Anita.

 I took it as a sign.

As of late, I’m more inclined to say what I think because I am  sick to death of patiently listening to people tell me, ” that’s nice Anita, but THIS is what WE need to take care of  today ( this comes from my white Democratic friends who don’t want to deal with what they call ” identity politics “)

Here’s the deal.

We ARE going to deal with things like race in the Democratic party and race in the Progressive movement right now- not later because I am going to bring it up, wirte about it and Facebook book about  every chance I get.

Why NOW?

Because I said so.

that’s why.

I have smiled and indulged your excuses when you ‘white ‘splain ‘ Politics to me and  I  tried ( God knows I have tried )  to see things ‘ your way’ and guess what.

It did not work.

So go patronize a Chuck E Cheese or your favorite Coffee House.

There is work to be done because of that crazy man squatting in the White House.

As the saying goes,

 ” Shit just got real.”




Anita Marie Moscoso

Daily Post: Resist 

In The Olden Days


Back in the days when I used to do research in libraries, I used to spend hours upon hours reading, taking notes, asking questions and when I was done I’d take a carefully selected  stack of books up to the counter.

One day in my  stack I had  book about Funeral Customs from around the world, a book about cannibalism and one about forensics.

The Librarian asked me if I found everything I needed.

” Oh. Hey. I forgot, I need one about organic gardening.”

He tried to not look back down at my books.

” I’m writing a cookbook.” I  offered by way of explanation.

I was a regular in that Library and it’s funny but that Librarian managed to never check my books out again.

The Wrong Door


Heavy footsteps

made their way to my door

demanding, insisting, they tread over bones

sleeping corpses

tell me your story, feed me your words

I heard a whisper in my ear

before the scream

tore it’s way

to forever.

Daily Post Prompt: Oversight