Driving With My Blinker On Again

Driving in my car in the middle of the day
Hoping that I’m able to remember my way
I start and stop can’t recall is it left or right
So I pull the switch and there goes on my signal light

Chorus:

I’m driving with my blinker on again
You never know how this will end
Will I make a right or left or even turn you’ll never guess
I’m driving with my blinker on again

Well at one point I’m sure I did intend to turn
Now you’re asking me where my driving I did learn
Well I’m pretty sure it was the school for the crazy
Directionally challenged and curmudgeonly old ladies

Chorus

Bridge:

You were getting pretty hopeful down on Ave B
But now that we’re on M you’ve nearly given up on me
That light is winking at you and it’s driving you insane
You’d try to get around me too bad it’s a single lane

Well it’s finally time to lose me at any cost
Might go mile out or you could end up getting lost
Try to turn right but suddenly out of the blue
I decide to make that right, right in front of you

Chorus

Not as rock themed…but possibly another for the AOL!

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To The Young, Dark Lord On His 14th Birthday

The fire’s burning bright
And the air is blowing cold
The robed one speaks in tongues
A vision to behold

He holds the knife above
And still the flames do smolder
And taps it on each side
Of the young one’s shoulder

The blood begins to pour
And so awash with sins
For midnight strikes the hour,
The ritual begins

The music beckons low
The chanting starts once more
For the young dark lord
Who now reaches ten and four

And so the door flies open,
And so the music ceases
For the dramatic entrance
Of she on high, the priestess

Mother of all evil
And of the chosen one
In haste she breaks the chalice
And kneels before her son

But he just rolls his eyes
Says “Don’t know why you make
Such a big freakin’ deal
Let’s just cut the stupid cake!”

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#mommyanddaddystillworshipsatan

Happy Birthday to my son Jesse Bergen!

 

And sorry for the shameless self promotion, but I see no better media attachment than that of our family band’s video for Mommy and Daddy Worship Satan. For those who didn’t see it yet, enjoy!

Wake Me When The Show Is Over

I used to wait til midnight then it was time to rock
Now I’m frightened if a band goes on past 10 o clock

Pre Chorus:
So find me a nice corner
Safe from the mosh pit
Throw an MC over me
Whatever you see fit
And you can call me old
And you can go ahead and mock
Just tell everybody else
How hard I friggin rocked

Chorus:
Cause it’s hard to get your kicks
When you’re waking up at six
Call me old, call me a poseur
But just wake, oh wake me, wake me, when the show is over

Well I have seen Black Sabbath, The Rolling Stones and more
But every time I just end up passed up on the floor

Pre Chorus
So put my somewhere safe
A little out of touch
If they ask just tell them
That I drank too much
Fill me in on details
So I can give my take
Of how it would have been if I
Were actually awake

Chorus
Cause it’s hard to get your kicks
When you’re waking up at six
Call me old, call me a poseur
But just wake, oh wake me, wake me when the show is over

Bridge:
Well it used to be I didn’t even wake up until noon
And I didn’t leave my house until the rising of the moon
But now that kind of living well it’s showing me no mercy
Especially when I am having dinner at 4:30.

Another, and quite possibly the last for a while…for The Angsty Old Ladies!

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Squeezin’ Into Spandex Again

The chain mail bra the leather skirt
I tug and pull and kvetch
And after all the time gone by
I’m lucky these things stretch
Cause I will not reveal my weight
And I won’t tell my size
But I’m trading in my mom jeans for
Some skinny fit low rise

Chorus:

I’m squeezing into spandex again
I’m having a night out with my friends
I’m thinking that I’m cool but maybe no one’s fooled
I’m squeezing into spandex again

Lie on the bed and summon family
Tightening my grip
And tell them all come on and help me
Getting these things zipped
Then stuff my legs in platform boots
And help me get upright
I’ll hobble round and not sit down
For the rest of the night

Chorus

Bridge:

I’m an aging metal momma
Lookin for a some brand new tricks
And I’m getting down in leather
Right until the lining rips
Gotta anaconda smile
And it’s all around the town
And I’m a hottie with a body
Least until I turn around
I’m a leather and lace lovely
I’m hood top dancing baby
Til the fuzz will lock me up because
They’re thinking that I’m crazy
All you young ones step aside
Because I’m joining in the ranks
And I hold it all together with
A badass pair of Spanx

Rockin’ out for the Angsty Old Ladies!

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I Broke My Hip In The Mosh Pit

I broke my hip in the mosh pit
I don’t remember that it ever was so rough
When was it that 13 year olds got so goddamn tough
I broke my hip in the mosh pit

I broke my hip in the mosh pit
I know they told me that I just should stay in back
But I could not resist and then something went crack
I broke my hip in the mosh pit

They lifted me above the crowd
To an ambulance I’m hurtling
But half the people thought that I
Was doing some crowd surfing

I broke my hip in the mosh pit
I didn’t know it would have been so damn ferocious
‘Specially with early onset osteoporosis
I broke my hip in the mosh pit

Another one for The Angsty Old Ladies!

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Botched Botox Blues

I thought that I was getting an
Injection near my mouth
I never did expect it when
It all just traveled south
And though my lips don’t pucker so
Who’s really gonna snicker
Because although my mouth may sag
My boobs are looking bigger

Chorus:

They say it ain’t malpractice
So I can’t really sue
Guess that I’ll just settle
For those botched botox blues

So next they told me that I’d need
Some filler near my eyes
I wear now an expression that’s
Of permanent surprise
My eyebrows look a bit like Spock
My smiles a bit spastic
But I guess that’s the price you pay
When your completely plastic

Chorus

Bridge:

Hoping someone thought my son
Would look more like my brother
Instead it turns out that I look
More like Joan River’s mother

I’m shocked that they don’t cut me off
Cause it should be illegal
I’m sucked and plucked and overtucked
Can’t even feel the needle
I’ve bumps and lumps and red spots and
My wallets getting thin
And once it heals I have to do it
All over again

Chorus

Thank you all for reading my articles but I think maybe some of you may be missing my poetry. I really haven’t been writing poems much but I have some song lyrics I’ll be publishing over the next few days. I’m thinking of starting a band with female musicians of a certain age called The Angsty Old Ladies. These are the lyrics to one of the songs. I’m actually not sure I’ll be able to get the band off the ground due to certain logistics problems, but it will sure be fun writing the lyrics.

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To My Husband on His 46th

It’s been years and we’re still together
Outlasted doubters and bad weather
But with these handcuffs I’m still tethered
Though many said I should know better

I say to hell with their opinions
And laugh about their lack of vision
And stand firm ‘hind my decision
Marrying a devil’s minion

Our house may smell of rotting flesh
Hints of decay and mold and death
But babe I still think you’re the best
Well beyond my dying breath

Forever in the bowels of hell
A blissful life in which we dwell
The flames of burning bodies swell
I’ve gotten quite used to the smell

Dismembered heads, our home’s decor
We dine with sinners, ghouls and whores
And I could hardly love you more
Here’s to 6 hundred twenty more

Every year I pass the torch to my husband at midnight on Sept. 14. It’s his birthday now. Happy Birthday darling. I love you!

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Damned If You Do…

I’m getting sick of Mary’s selfies
Who’s she think she is
I’m getting sick of Violet’s nonstop
Pictures of her kids

And Danny with his attitude well
He deserves a punch
And thanks but I don’t want to see
What Linda had for lunch

Don’t really want to hear Faye’s Af-
firmations or reflections
Or see all Grace and Justin’s public
Displays of affection

And Sal we know you love your dog
More than words can say
There’s no need to remind us of that
Every single day

And Micah’s updates range from simply
Boring to mundane
And Val, just post a picture once
Your weight loss goal’s attained

Don’t want to know how much Kaye’s daughter
Loves the One Direction
Or watch the Blake’s soap opera unfold
In the comments section

And Jenna rants political
And Jon is downright odd
And Donna I don’t think I need
To go get right with God

And Dan’s son is the next Cobain
So he’d have you believe
As Miles posts up articles
That no one ever reads

But nobody has problems with
What I post on my wall
Of course that just might be because
I never post at all.

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The Great Ice Cream Caper: A Horror Story

The eggs fry on the sidewalks Mother
Nature has a fever
Dismayed am I at the abyss
That is my empty freezer

On days like this when forecasts for
The week just say ‘real hot!’
It seems a bit of ice cream would
Be best to hit the spot

So off in my jalopy I
Head to the grocery store
To thus procure a pint or two
Or maybe three or four

Transaction done back in the car
Scarce time for my seat belt
Priority to get these darn things
Home before they melt

With burning rubber hit the gas
And out the lot I swerve
But there comes old Ms. Flannery
Can you believe the nerve?

Totally oblivious
To my sweet dairy needs
She crosses right before my car
At a turtle like speed

I honk the horn she startles and
Then scurries out the way
I’m glad she didn’t fall I might
Have been there the whole day

And now on to the avenue
I near taste sweet cold bliss
But push the brakes into a halt
Oh what fresh hell is this?

I honk the horn and target a
New source for my aggression
For now I see I’m in back of
A funeral procession

Maneuvering I nearly nudge
A long sleek darkened limo
And squeeze myself right in between
The hearse and grieving widow

I tell her that condolences
Are very deeply felt
Now could she get out of the way
My ice cream’s gonna melt

But still slowly they crawled along
Despite my aggravation
I tell you that these people just
Have no consideration

And finally I’m almost there
The sweat seeps on my brow
I’m so close I tell you I can nearly
Taste the ice cream now

But suddenly my hopes and dreams
Just slowly start to droop
For now it seems a little waif
Sits crying on my stoop

She sniffs out a narration clogged
With snot proceeds to tell
Some story of skinned knees or is
Timmy caught in a well

I tell her “Child I have no time
To help you with your plight
There’s ice cream in the car might melt
Before I get a bite!”

She looks at me in disbelief
And then scurries away
So so much so for the compassion
Of these kids today

But ‘nough lamenting the misfortune
Of the little punk
For I’ve got more important things
Awaiting in my trunk

But as I open it I stare
In utter disbelief
And in just minutes go through all
The five stages of grief

Because inside my car there is
No ice cream that I see
In all my haste guess I forgot
To take it home with me

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The Retirement Of Maybelline May

It was Mabelline May’s retirement day
It came on the first of September
And may or may not go down in history
As a day to vaguely remember

Some photos were posted on Facebook
The crew sitting round looking dumb
Centered round congealing Entenmann’s cake
And slightly obscured by a thumb

Would show them all awkwardly gathered
Their postures were stiffened with fear
To crouch clumsily to be caught in the shot
But hopefully not get too near

Conversations attempt reminiscing
Around a pathetic potluck
The best they could do was come up with
The time that the stapler was stuck

And everyone said they were hoping
She’d stop by once a here and now
But everyone knew that she wouldn’t
Or wanted her to anyhow

And so the clock ticked well past noontime
She stared at a gluey croissant
And thought of strained hugs, sticky kisses
She hoped not to offer nor want

Anxiety crept in her chest then
Until the point of downright scary
She scurried to the nearest restroom
Neath the sign that said See Ya Mary

Resolved she rushed right past the stalls and
Past mirrors and sinks she’d continue
And without a pause she proceeded
To crawl right out the bathroom window

And once her feet met with the pavement
Without a turn back she moved on
Cheap champagne flowed in the office
They never realized she had gone

This blog is dedicated to Bitter Ben, even though he’s not retiring, just flying the coop. Nevertheless, I imagine his goodbye party to be something like this.

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