The Metaphysical Journey of The Rock n’ Roll Supermom

Hello friends of the blogging world! The Rock n’ Roll Supermom has been doing some calendar consulting and I realize that I’m coming up on my 3 year blogiversary and you know what that means… I look nothing like my profile picture anymore. It also means I am getting pretty burned out on blogging so I’m taking a break. I may publish if a moment of brilliancy hits, but I’m actually going to try not to. I need to refuel. I will still be reading your blogs but maybe not to the point that I had been.

From June 7-14 I will be going on a spiritual pilgrimage to the holy city of New York. There I will be undergoing a metaphysical rejuvenation which will consist of shopping therapy, the ingestion of sacrificial chocolates and pizza, and deep healing sessions with Subway Station Stan. It is during this time that I will be away from the blogging world completely, so you probably shouldn’t even bother publishing anything during this time (mark your calendars). When I come back from this soul searching journey, I may be blogging less or experimenting with different formats and genres which may or may not include a collection of zen writings in limerick form.

On a more serious note, I have not been back to NY since pre-911 so if anyone has any recommendations as far as non-touristy things to do, and relatively inexpensive places to eat and (thrift) shop, I’d love to hear. I’ll be staying in Harlem and plan to spend a lot of time in the East Village and some visiting the boroughs. I don’t think many of you are from the area but if you are and would like to meet up, let me know.

A more recent pic.

Mommy and Daddy Worship Satan

 

I hoped they wouldn’t notice but
My friends suspicion’s roused
They ask me why I never let them
Come play at my house
It looks as if I may have to
Invite them to my home
And pray dad doesn’t greet then when
He’s wearing his black robe

The coast is clear they wonder what
The worry on my face meant
When suddenly a chanting starts
To rise up from the basement
Why can’t I be a normal kid
It’s so much less complex
To say I think it’s just my mom
And father having sex

My mother says “I guess I just
Don’t get your generation”
And that’s what life is like when mom
And daddy worship Satan.

And before I know it they
Are running to explore
And follow the odd noises that
Are coming from the floor
And soon they find my parents
In their favorite recreation
Conjuring up spirits in
An evil incantation

And daddy says “Oh visitors
Well isn’t that just nice?”
I hope he doesn’t think them virgins
To be sacrificed
But mom ignores my gestures and
She sports an evil grin her
Mouth waters as she says “We’re happy
To have you for dinner!”

I fear they will accept her offer
And agree to stay
Do they not know she means to have them
As the main entree?
I’m just about to tell them run
But briefly I think twice
A break from eye of newt and toe
Of frog would sure be nice

My mother says “I guess I just
Don’t get your generation”
And that’s what life is like when mom
And daddy worship Satan.

This is the second single release from my family band The CheeseBergens. I actually wrote this as a poem some months back and edited it a bit for the song version. Hope you enjoy! Also, if you care to make a donation, all proceeds will go directly to The Rock School Scholarship Fund.

Photobombing The Prom

Knocks on your door at 6PM
I’m waiting in the wings
You look into his eyes and take
The corsage that he brings

You mother waits to take a picture
Of you and your dude
And then he clumsily proceeds
To stab you in the boob

And just as she has got it framed
Ready to take the shot
I pop out from the branches and
I give it all I’ve got

Some bunny ears a stuck out tongue
The uglier the better
Is all it ever takes for me
To ruin your forever

Now here we are the lights are low
I’m counting down the minutes
Until they play the opening chords
Of Green Day’s Good Riddance

The principal is snapping pics
But eventually
He’ll find not one is usable
Since they all feature me

He’ll probably be offended that
I’ve turned them into smut
Cause that was not your girlfriend’s hand
That was pinching your butt

Now things are hot and heavy as
The evenings winding down
They pile into limousines all
Afterparty bound

And it will be on Facebook just
Who couldn’t hold their liquor
And they’ll be wond’ring how I got
To show up in each picture

They’ll struggle to remember their
Hungover memories
But I’m sure to go down in the
Annals of history

As each teacher, student, daughter
Father aunt or mom
All will comment on the girl
Who photobombed the prom

A picture’s worth a thousand words
And mentally embedding
But if I slip your mind then I’ll
Just see you at your wedding

PUBLISHED by catsmob.com

The Bar Mitzvah Song (With Music Video)

With added music video! Check it out!

Glorious Results Of A Misspent Youth

Little Abel Rochenschwarz
Is all dressed in his suit
His yamika is on his head
They say he’s looking cute
He memorized his ayliyah
Who knows how long it took
His mother beams at him and says
“You had me at baruch”
But we all know it’s gonna be a hitsvah
I hope you have a great Bar Mitzvah

And then into the hall comes all
Of his Bar Mitzvah guests
As if competing for who’s who
Of whose nose job is best
Little Stacey Mandlebaum
Has drained her glass again
It seems that she has got a taste
For the kosher champagne
She’s on the dance floor shaking like a shiksah
I hope you have a good bar Mitzvah

There’s Manichewitz flowing like it
Is the holy manna
The dance floors packed the deejay busts out
With Copa Cabana

Then Mr. Smith is asked if he
Would like to…

View original post 105 more words

The Bar Mitzvah Song (With Music Video)

Little Abel Rochenschwarz
Is all dressed in his suit
His yamika is on his head
They say he’s looking cute
He memorized his ayliyah
Who knows how long it took
His mother beams at him and says
“You had me at baruch”
But we all know it’s gonna be a hitsvah
I hope you have a great Bar Mitzvah

And then into the hall comes all
Of his Bar Mitzvah guests
As if competing for who’s who
Of whose nose job is best
Little Stacey Mandlebaum
Has drained her glass again
It seems that she has got a taste
For the kosher champagne
She’s on the dance floor shaking like a shiksah
I hope you have a good bar Mitzvah

There’s Manichewitz flowing like it
Is the holy manna
The dance floors packed the deejay busts out
With Copa Cabana

Then Mr. Smith is asked if he
Would like to dance the hora
Fists raised he says “just what the hell
You say’n’ bout my daughter?”
But then the conga line starts up
Let by Ms. Annie Rosen
Stuffed like a kosher sausage into
The latest Zac Posen
And little Abel’s staring and her titsvah
I hope you have a good bar mitzvah

And we all know it’s gonna be the shitzvah
I hope you have a great Bar Mitzvah

So I’m reblogging with the video. Sorry I made a lot of mistakes but oh well…hope the song gets across at any rate. Also, thanks to Michael at Spahr Plops for the inspired last line.

 

A Wrinkle In Reality

“Hello my dearest watchers! Now
I’m sure that you have guessed
We’re back with a new episode of
Who can Mom The Best

Where we attempt to find the finest
Mother in the country
Judged by Frankie Heck, Marge Simpson
And of course Peg Bundy

We’re down to the finale round
Just one can win the trophy
So we remind you ladies you
Were being watched quite closely

Ms. Applebaum you were so close
To having been the winner
But yesterday we saw you serve
Your boy a TV dinner

And when your daughter screamed and screamed
And wore on your last nerve
We thought there was a second when
You looked a bit perturbed

Peggy liked it but Marge thought
You should keep your composure
So I’m afraid your days of Who
Can Mom The Best are over

So now it’s down to Mrs. Stubner
And to Mrs. Macklebee
Only one can win it all
Let’s see who it will be

Stubner we’ve dug through your things
And have reviewed the facts
And saw that you have let your PTA
Membership lapse

And saw on Monday little Joe
Was off on a field trip
But it seems that you never did
Sign the permission slip

Ms. Macklebee a benchmark by
Which all mothers should stand
You rule the roost with vision clear
A firm and steady hand

And time and time again we have
Put your skills to the test
It’s clear you’re this year’s winner of
Who Can Mom the Best!”

**********************************

So Macklebee would soon enjoy
Her 15 minute fame
Inevitably brought on by a
Reality show reign

Until the meddling media found
A technicality
It seems that she escaped a mental
Health facility

And so investigations ran
And came forth the fact checkers
Who found that her kids actually
Were mid age midget wrestlers

Poison Pens

They say our love was toxic and
It ran it’s fated course
It’s no surprise we’re headed for
A quite ugly divorce

I didn’t like the way you breathed
I drained your life of joy
I cheated with the chauffeur and
You slept with the pool boy

You took the dog you took the yacht
Said you were unfulfilled
But I think it’s a little much
To go and have me killed

But if you want to play that game
Then go do as you please
Cause now you are a victim of
Venereal disease

You should have got that looked at but
You thought you would be fine
So now I’ll have to castrate you
Right there in chapter nine

And maybe that’s a little harsh
Or maybe downright evil
But you don’t even want to know
What happens in the sequel

Where there will be no limits to
The ways in which you’ll suffer
You just may lose your job and have to
Move in with your mother

Followed by such grievances
And all in my defense
Let’s talk about a series of
Unfortunate events

Most venomous of poison pens
That ever did exist
And leaves yours in the dust trails of
The Times bestseller list

The royalties are rolling in
But you have the last laugh
For your well planned hesitation now
I have to give you half

 

My Mom Will Probably Kill Me

I don’t want to do my homework today
My mom will probably kill me
I don’t care what she say
I know she’ll probably kill me
Luke and Lea
Dragon slayers
Rock n’ roll and
XBox consoles
My mom will probably kill me
Today

I don’t wanna go to school today
My mom will probably kill me
I don’t care what she say
I know she’ll probably kill me
Surf the net
TV set
I just wanna
Listen to Nirvana
My mom will probably kill me
Today

I don’t wanna be good today
My mom will probably kill me
I don’t care what she say
I know she’ll probably kill me
Guess I’m just
Misunderstood
If I’m bad or
If I’m good
My mom will probably kill me
Today
I know she’ll probably kill me
Anyway

This is the first release from my band The CheeseBergens. Hope you enjoy. You can listen to the song for free or if you want to make a donation, all proceeds will be donated to The Rock School Scholarship Fund. http://rockschoolfund.org/ Thanks.

 

A Bagel for Her Birthday

Twas Anjelica’s 6th birthday as
She woke up from her sleep
Rushed to the breakfast nook so sure
That she would find a treat

A cupcake or a brownie waiting
At the breakfast table
An early morning treat but sadly
‘Stead she found a bagel

Her mother tried to make it cool
A breakfast like no other
And smothered with Nutella even
Added peanut butter

And stuck a candle in the top
As a sweet after thought
But as she saw her daughter’s glare
She knew it was for nought

The mother never lived it down
For still the girl’d persist
“Oh come on mom, a bagel served
For my birthday breakfast?”

Each year that followed the mom went
To sort through cakes and pies
Muffins pastries all the best
That her money could buy

Hoping that that gaping wound
This would somehow salvage
And save her daughter irreparable
Psychological damage

A downward spiral she’d reverse
Here on these shopping trips
Lest the girl bear unfulfilling jobs
And bad relationships

Her daughter’d scarf the treats with glee
As quick as she was able
But nothing stopped her lament of
The birthday breakfast bagel

Then many birthdays came and went
And soon the girl was grown
Considerably well adjusted with
A family of her own

Eve of her daughter’s birthday twas
About to go to sleep
It dawned on her that she’d forgot
To buy a breakfast treat

She scoured pantries cabinets and
Still came up with nothing
When in the freezer she did spy
One single English muffin….

For Anjelica on her 9th birthday! Happy Birthday my little Jeli Bean!

Going Coastal

Name’s Howie Quark water park cop
Shame so few feel the beauty
Of what it takes oiling the brakes
As I report to duty

My job’s not for the weak of heart
But for more rugged sorts
And tows the line sharp as the crease
In my Bermuda shorts

For if you’re in my line of work
You must be strong and brave
To battle what lies neath the depths
That lurk at Wally Waves

Like yesterday we had a near
Fatal emergency
What we here in the biz might call
A class 21c

A large man gets caught in the tube
I say that is some issue
I do not break but calmly call
“We’re gonna need the Crisco”

And no guests reel upon the rides
Reeking of gin and scotch
No one vomits on the Tiki
Tundra On my watch

And no sweat breaks out on my brow
Nor do I lose my cool
As children wash up on the shores
Of Wanda Wink’s wave pool

I fish out Little Timmy’s arm from
The drain in the showers
I see it’s about so much more
Than the 12 bucks an hour

For as we mop rank puddles up
And as the last guest leaves
The manager near meets my eye
And tells me “Nice job Steve”

I wipe a final bit of snot
From ‘neath the Splashy Slide
And sprinkle in the water one more
Drop of cyanide

Inspired by my weekend trip to Great Wolf’s Lodge (a water park resort).