Moonshine Greenberg and The Bad Acid Trip

Little Marcie Greenberg, a nice little girl from Queens
Her hometown didn’t have enough for her big city dreams
She hopped into a flowered van that said ‘Death before disco!’
With a group of hippies headed west to San Francisco

And in a psychedelic trip she swore she wasn’t dreaming
When a small fish came to her to tell her of life’s meaning
He said “The prophets of the day will make you see the light
Thou shall rock n’ roll all day and party every night!”
Then the fish puckered his mouth and gestured with his flipper
Which I guess meant ‘lose the Marcia, Moonshine is much hipper!’

She kept up with her family though I guess it’s kind of crummy
That she checked in to tell them only where to wire money
She swore it was for food and clothes but we know that instead
It all went to pot, acid, shrooms and tickets for the Dead

But then one day while tripping she saw friends eating a pizza
She swore the very head torn off of dear Jerry Garcia
They thought maybe some pot would make her feel more in control
Convinced was she it was her holy fish ground in the bowl

So as not to call in pigs and make an ugly scene
They put her on a train they hoped vaguely headed for Queens
She clawed and punched and kicked and spoke profanities all night
But when she sun fin’lly arose she knew she’d be alright

And so she did return back home and everything was fine
She rarely talks about the time she was known as Moonshine
And you would barely recognize her from her crazy days
Cause now she works in Jersey as a high end CPA.


And The Geeks Shall Inherit The Earth

Eugene Lobo, long time, I
remember you quite well
The nerdy boy with the vaguely
Mentholated smell
I think of your high water pants
How awkwardly they fit
And your greasy skin that was
So often prone to zits
And though twas few and far between
The friends you might have made
Was there a consolation in
The average of your grades

But I was never one to see
A book just at it’s cover
So often I would talk to you
Yet only to discover
That your persona seemed to be
What one might judge as cloying
And to talk to you for long
Would prove to be annoying
But even if you made it up
In personality
It would not account for much
The bad boys were for me

Eugene you might be shocked how oft
I think of you today
And wonder if you might had been
The one that got away
For I’m sure that by now you have
Increased tenfold in worth
And count yourself among the geeks
Inheriting the earth
Living in a penthouse suite
With a sexy blonde
And brunettes and redheads, Bet
you’ve got two for each arm

Alas your fate is something that
I never would have guessed
When just the other day I came
Across your friend request
You can’t imagine my surprise
To find that there was no
Current state of employment, No
relationship to show
And it has not escaped me that
Your present situation
May all be owing to your lack
Of college education
But in all other circumstance
Except a few less zits
Oh poor, dear Eugene Lobo, It
seems you’ve not changed a bit

Oh Eugene I’m sure you’d have been
Much better off by far
If you had acted like the loser
That you truly are


A Brief Foray Into Superherodom

If I was Invisible Woman
Whenever I got the chance
I’d go up to random strangers
And I’d pull down their pants

If I had Mystique’s powers
I’d decide what the hey
I think I’ll go morph into
Kate Middleton for the day

If I was the Black Widow
I’d go to any ends
Of hacking all your emails
And then spamming your friends

If I were Wonder Woman
With the Lasso of Truth
I’d make Audrey tell me
What she really thought of Ruth.

Because great power brings
Great responsibility
Which is why they’d probably
Take mine away from me.

rock n roll super mom

Love Schmove

The way she puts up with his morning breath
The way he puts up with her indecisions
And when they swore that they would part at death
Did they consider bodily emissions

The way his underwear stays on the floor
The way her voice is just a bit too shrill
The way Saturday nights became a bore
And then he asks her if she loves him still

The way she rolls her eyes, screws up her mouth
And moves a little closer on the couch

I’d like to thank Christy Birmingham for challenging me in the Love in 10 Sentences challenge. I honestly thought I’d never write a poem about love.




Excess Is Overrated

On supermarket superstores we’ve all been made reliant
As carts and bottles, boxes seem more suited for a giant
Careening through the aisles as I search the frozen food
And buying random pallets of whatever fits my mood

And after a few choices my cart’s quickly weighted down
I maneuver a monstrosity that weighs 100 pounds
Perhaps if I thought twice I would have brought along The Hulk
But worth it for the bargains surely earned buying in bulk

As acquisitions pile on my take-home load is ample
I push through families who obtain a free lunch on the samples
And to the lines that grow ten deep I finally am done
With shopping though it seems my trouble has only begun

For is it a degree you need or just a dying art
To reassemble items so they fit back in the cart
But then a thought crosses my mind that’s even more bizarre
Just how do I imagine I will stuff them in my car

Maybe a muscle man somewhere who’s able to assist
That they’ll send out with tanks and guns and flatbeds and forklifts
But alas no help they gave so I am truly sunk
As tooth paste and granola bars peek out of my trunk

For sure a bargain shopper and if you’re looking for proof
Just witness the juice boxes that are tied on to my roof
Which my children fasten on using their hands and feet
And just as well since they no longer fit in the back seat

But as I pull up to my home a task equally gnarly
As to get it up my stairs I fear we’ll need an army
Dedicated to the task no lesser or no greater
Than fitting all this food into my poor refrigerator

And shelves will warp and lights will dim and all the eggs destroyed
It hums and clicks and leaks and makes a very funny noise
A miracle to make it through which can only be beaten
By the unlikely chance that even half of it is eaten.


The Blushing Bride

The bridesmaids dressed in pink chiffon
The bride saw to it that
The dress designs were such it made
The skinniest look fat

She changed the menu 30 times
And then was heard to scream
How dare they make the salmon grilled
Or the veggies creamed

And cosmeticians were called in
Lest she throw a fit
For under pancake makeup deep
She swore there lurked a zit

The planner in a bathroom stall
Was hovering in fright
Her dear old granny she sent home
For daring to wear white

She picked apart the gifts bestowed
She threw out half the guests
The keyboard player saw her and
He turned around and left

The wedding cake sliced in advance
To keep her from the knife
The minister crouched in the pews
Was praying for his life

Two bridesmaids would hold her veil down
Lest it would become tilted
The zinnias went out the door
Just because one was wilted

And hard to get her to the church
In the limousine
She angrily insisted that
She ordered pink not cream

But despite all the drama they
Would somehow make it through
And so relieved the guests to hear
Her say ‘I fuckin’ do!’

And future brides may think of this
As a tale of caution
This wedding would see friendships lost
As well as a small fortune

And in two years her father would
Manage to pay it off
Which would make it ’bout 18 months
After the divorce.


Driver Beware

Perhaps it is the yogi who’s
Teaching your class today
Parents of your child’s friend
The neighbor down the way

A teacher, boss or coworker
Your sister’s cousin’s niece
A nun, the pastor from your church
Or the chief of police

Perhaps it is your physician
Or, no, heaven forbid
The teller from your bank who says
Those nice things ’bout your kid

We know that road rage often leads
To action best deferred
So take note of the driver before
Flipping them the bird

This poem is dedicated to my husband who ended up giving the finger to my son’s friend’s parents while driving in Hollywood. He got called out on Facebook because of it. Luckily all parties had a sense of humor.