Here’s Spit-Er Beauty In Your Eye

We prize beauty.

We have fought wars for it, killed for it, allow doctors to slice and carve our flesh and fill it with silicone, metal, and even magnets to shape it, to bend it and force to make our bodies beautiful.

From The Article: 12 Most Bizarre Body Implants       

Yes his tattoo has breast implants.



I have seen a lot of death and various stages of decay in my life time and this is what I’ve learned about the life expectancy of beauty.

You can change it, redefine it, shame people for having it or not having it.

But if you look at it, if you really open your eyes to it beauty is there is always there in all things  and it takes many forms.

I try to appreciate it and enjoy  seeing it no matter what shape it takes.

I think it makes me a kinder person- to both myself and others.

Photo A.M. Moscoso
Photo A.M. Moscoso
Photo A.M. Moscoso
Photo A.M. Moscoso
Photo A.M Moscoso


Daily Post Prompt: Exposed

I Wrote This. In Ink.

Photo: A.M. Moscoso


Anybody with the Facebook account can be a writer or a journalist.

Anybody with an Instagram Account can be a Media Star.

So I’m beginning to wonder,

what’s the point in it all.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

If everyone is talking

is anybody listening

or are we just waiting for

someone, anyone to pause for a breath

so we can jump in and

for a moment shine?


I used to think that

writing and painting

drawing and singing, acting and photography

was a craft you worked at

dedicated yourself to

learned about and lived all of the time.

It lived in your soul.


Now all you have to do is enter your password

click and flick and there you are

securing your immortality on the internet

among photobombing cats and dogs

clueless  millennials, angry Bernie Bros

superstars all.


I think I’d better keep writing and reading

creating and listening

walking the world,

getting lost, being found

with my dog at my side, and not my phone



Anita Marie

a renaissance woman

app free

Vilhelm Hammershøi

Daily Post Prompt: Better

Not Alone



I write because there are rooms in my head with doors shut and locked with do not disturb signs hanging from the doorknobs.

I write because the rooms are dark and I can hear, at least I think I can hear voices that are talking to themselves, singing to themselves, raging at themselves and worst of all- laughing at themselves.

The laughing is the worst sound of all of the sounds making their way out to the hall.

I write because there are galleries in my head- some are filled with paintings, some of the galleries are empty  except for the paint chipping off of the walls and dusty handprints pressed against the windows. I write because the galleries have people lost in the corridors and all of the people I see look like me when I was young and some are me when I am old and some of them glide through the galleries like ghosts.

I write because of the stories in my head and if I don’t let them out to play, I think they will invite me in and I just might never leave.

That is why I write.


WordPress Blogging U: Day One: I write Because…

Margaritas and Cupcakes

There are two holidays that I will throw myself into, headfirst with  blind gelato bingeing passion:

Halloween and my dog Hamish’s Birthday.

I missed Hamish’s first birthday because I was in Las Vegas- every time I think about that I feel guilty and buy him some new toys. I buy him toys buy Kong- which means I blow some serious coin on toys that he drops into mud puddles or drowns in his swimming pool ( you read that right, he has a swimming pool) when he gets tired of them.

My guilt knows no budget.

So this is how I feel about Hamish Birthday and Halloween as a rule:

They need to be bankers holidays.

I want businesses  to close, I want stamps and coins minted in their honor and if you even think about making gluten free treats on those days instead of real treats that make your teeth scream in agony before the sugar even crosses your lips I will personally show up at your house and kick you out of the human race.

I do like Holidays for the most part- they’re fun, some involve food and music and if you don’t get the day off,  other people do and your commute to work is a light one.

I just don’t want to take bankers holidays seriously, I don’t want to be forced to reflect on the day if I don’t want to and I don’t want to argue about their significance to the world or the community or the greeting card industry.

Who’s with me on this?

I should mention, cupcakes and margaritas are involved in my vision the new Banker’s Holiday calendar. If they were a staple of all the banker’s holidays I wouldn’t feel the need to cut so many of them loose.


Our Random View Prompt#71


Drop Dead Death

Photo A.M. Moscoso


Alone with the Reaper

hello Mr Death

I thought you’d be around one day

and spend some time with me

You visited my


my cat my cousin my friend

You  passed me by without a glance

like my crush back in the eighth grade


Tired of this dance we do,

of the songs we don’t sing, the walks we don’t take

Hello Mr Death

you’re of afraid of me

I think.


Bill Traylor

Daily Post Prompt: Knackered

From My Grave

They buried me deep

in an unmarked grave

near a ditch on a road

with no number no name


I think they dream of me

and I dream of them

I think they hear me calling

from my grave

near a ditch

on the road with no number no name


” She’s nothing but bones,

maybe some hair or a shoe ”

She’s gone forever

they scream in their dreams

swept away like dead leaves

whispering across a road with no number, no name.


But I’m wrapped tight,

held down tothe Earth

from the  roots from a tree

and sometimes I feel cold

when there is a cool breeze


I think that one day

I may just crawl from my grave

I think I’ll find my way back

from my unmarked grave

near a ditch

on a street with no number and no name


Daily Post Prompt: Roots