From here to San Francisco

Sunday, October 20, 2013


You the son of a mother You; made from LOVE A young Black Man You stand tall You will make do A young Black Man You here on the earth You in this world to make your mark A young Black Man You with questions getting answers You getting that education A young Black Man You have a voice You stay strong A young Black Man You are who you are You are what you will be A Loved, Tall, Strong, Educated, Determined, and Vocal MAN LADYM MOORE-2013


bopping down the street rocking side to side hips swaying singing out loud strutting like a peacock smiling as bright as the sun headphones ipods beats by dr.dre earbuds now I understand the rocking from side to side hips swaying singing out loud strutting like a peacock smiling as bright as the sun music moves feet in rhythm uplifting spiritual high soul souring he struts she struts bopping down the street LadyM Moore-2013

Sunday, October 13, 2013


(This is a very short story that I am testing here to see if there is a interest. If you could be so kind as if to let me know that you would like to have more of this story; I would be greatly appreciative. Thank you in advance; my loyal readers from here an abroad. WITH MUCH LOVE Mozette) <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The room was lightly lite and the place was full of people of his same walk of life. Sounds of conversation, glassing clicking with a toast being made, and the distant sound of a piano tickling the ivory playing “Just the Though of You”. How ironic and I am sitting across the table with someone that I don’t want to have a thought of me nor I him, but here I am forced to keep his company. I look around the room of the smiling faces and wondering if they’re as happy as they appear to be, for I am not. My mind was wondering off as I was sipping my red wine. When you are married to a man with a lot of power in industry as well as having more money more than God; you do what you have to do to keep the peace. I am called a “Trophy Wife”, amongst his friends. Amongst my friends they call me a fool. When I met him I didn’t think it I would be with him, nor did I think my life would be like this; a wife that felt more like a kept woman. He was a kinder gentler man when I met him. I was working for his firm when we met. I had found that during my time there I was being watched and received bouquets of flowers to my desk. I enjoyed them without being aware where they were coming from. What woman wouldn’t? They were the most elaborate and exquisite bouquets. One day I received an invitation to lunch with the owner of the firm and I went. I thought it was a business meeting, but he had a hidden agenda. It was all beautiful, friendly, and innocent at first. Our meetings were always discrete. He admitted I was being watched at the firm and that he was taken by me. He was effusive with his compliments of my appearance. I explained that he was stalking, but he explained that being in his level of business, he was particular whom he met up with. He knew more of me that I had put on my resume. We went to fine restaurants, took flights to places I only dare dream of, and over a bit of time we were intimate. Every now and again he would have fits and that should had been my first clue, but being wined, dined, and shopping at exclusive shops that I didn’t dare walk into when I was on my own. I ignore the signs. His taste was impeccable. It was like a dream that any woman would want to come true. I was the envy of my friends. I kept the secret from my co-workers as I had promised. Then one day on one of our getaways he asked me to marry him. Sitting here now I question my love for him or was it more than just a marriage of convenience for myself. I guess I did sign my soul to the devil. I had heard the saying, “be careful what you ask for; for you just might get it.” I see now I should had been more specific on what I wished for, but then again I didn’t wish for him; he just came to be in my life. Our wedding was on a remote island. It was one for the books and actually in top magazines including Forbes. I agreed to marry this man that was older than me and treated me like a queen. The word was out amongst the employees that I was now Mrs. MonClaire, the Queen Bee, or the Owners property. It is amazing how people treat you when you are married to money. The doorman now knows my name, his office staff just about kisses my feet, and all the people that know him think they know me. Did I like it? Yes, but at the same time I hated them for not noticing me before I married to Mr. Whole lot of Money. So I play it up to the hilt. When we go to dinner parties I am there but not there, for they are really talking to him. The only ones that really keep my company are in my same degree of label as I. If I had any sense I should start a club. Money can be worthwhile as it can be destructive. I watched his lips move but I didn’t really cared what he said, for it was the same business; who is was going to destroy or what company he was going to take over. He never really cared about my day. Oh, he ask from time to time, but he didn’t really listen, for if he did he would hear my pain; like my shrink. One time before I was not so focused and my night became an unexpected evening of horror. After being married for a short while after or honeymoon stage of our marriage; we would go out and if men were fawning over me he would get so ridiculously jealous. It was embarrassing when he would get distort. I tried to leave him over and over again and found it wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t pay close enough attention to the prenuptial agreement that I couldn’t ever leave him. Divorce was not an option. It was till death do us part. I am a modern day Rapunzel. I am living in a massive Mediterrian style glasshouse prison waiting for the man that sits before me to die, or my knight in shinning armor that doesn’t exist, or for the glass to shatter me into shreds until I died. Life isn’t a fairy tale. It is real. The books I had read as a child; never told me of this. I was taken out of my daydream with him coughing. His face was red and his temper about to flare, so I snapped to action and did what he loves; gave him my undivided attention and a stroke of his leg with mine. “Were you listening to me my dear? Or were you thinking of that young stud that was serving us?” I had to be convincing. I took a slow breath in and out, “No, dear. I was thinking of our trip that we are supposed to take this weekend. I am so looking forward to being alone with you; no business just time spent with each other like in the beginning. I have no interest him when I have you.” “Yes you do and don’t forget it.” I was grinding my teeth, but showing a sweet sincere innocent smile. My thoughts felt so wrong, but I knowing they were right. “Never my dearest.” “It would be a enticing to see you with him though. It is has been a long time since you have delighted me in that way. I remember the very first time you indulged me in that way. I am a lucky man to have you, as you are to have me. Should I ask him over this evening?” “I thought you had enough of those games? You know how jealous you get when you think I am enjoying it with the other man.” “You are my wife to do as I wish. True, it delighted and unsettled me too. If you weren’t so beautiful; like a lovely work of art, and if men didn’t want you so; I could probably keep my composure. I have fired men from fawning after you so when we have gone to dinner parties.” I could feel the anger build inside of me. I kept my composure. “I am beautiful because of how well you treat me dear, but if you don’t mind dear; not tonight. I want to be alone with you. It has been a hard week for you and I have missed you. I want to help you relax. We can have this fine dinner and then it can be just you and I.” “You missed me?” This game worked in my favor every now and then. I had to put on my best performance even if I didn’t want to have his touch upon my skin or feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. Over the years he has become grotesque with his lovemaking. It used to be something I enjoyed, but of late it was like torcher. To have a man being intimate with you when you prayed he would have a heartache; then I could be free. “Of course dear. I have the prettiest lingerie just for you. True, I am your wife and what is it of a wife but to please her husband.” With ever word I spoke I wanted spew. “It is comforting to know you still love me.” Oh, I love you. I would love to see you drop dead. “Always; till death do us part dear.” Tonight was going to be the end of this charade.