Hello From the Gutter (Please Vote)

Forgive me bloggers, for I have sinned. It has been over four months since my last blog entry and about 3 years since I changed my profile picture. I don’t even look like that any more.

And now I’m only back because I need something! I need you to vote for my son’s band who is competing in the same contest my illustrious band, The CheeseBergens competed in some months back….but they actually have a chance of winning! So let me put in this plug for them before I give you a reason for my despicable actions.

They are called Diabology and here’s the link:



By the way, for those who are wondering why I’ve been absent, it’s because instead of filling my dull, senseless hours  at work by blogging, I’m now doing freelance writing which I’m actually getting paid for.  It’s been a difficult choice, but blogging just ain’t paying the bills! (By the way, If you want to do the same, I suggest you check out Upwork.com.)

And now, to make this post just a bit less self-serving… a poem…

Look at me
A senseless hack
Gone too long
But now I’m back
Not for the good
Or for the greater
But just to ask
You all a favor
Surely I
Do not deserve
And you’ll all say
I have some nerve
Unfollow me
And call me damned
But maybe vote
For my son’s band.

Voting goes through the end of October only!!

Carrying The Torch

While I decide what to do with the ashes of what has now become my blog, please enjoy some pieces from my new writing project. I’ve been covering local, independent rock artists for an online magazine called Geeks of Doom. You can read my first article here. In the meantime, I will be using this blog to feature The CheeseBergen’s music, more Geeks Of Doom pieces and any moments of poetic brilliancy that might come to me.



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.

The Conveniences of Modern Technology

I once knew a blogger
Who lived so far away
When we finally met
We had nothing to say
She set up her computer
And so I set up mine
And then the conversation
Went along just fine

This poem was inspired by an online conversation I had with Stephanie Mark Lewis AKA Little Miss Menopause, just before I finally had the chance to meet her this past weekend. Fortunately, when we met, no computers were needed. Stephanie is just as fun as her blog is.


The Unfortunate Circumstances of A Rock N’ Roll Supermom

Dear reader please prepare this blog might be a bit upsetting
And I’m sure it isn’t quite at all what you’re expecting
But before I say the news, both tragic and exciting
I want to warn you it’s Marissa’s husband that is writing

I tell you of this incident that sadly did occur
(In a poetic verse that seems, suspiciously like hers)
Unfortunately we know very little at this time
But it seems my wife has gone off and killed a mime

One minute he was building an invisible enclosure
Next thing you know it’s black and white and it’s red all over
I’m sure she’ll be embarrassed, that dear woman of refinement
But now she is locked up in solitary confinement

Muttering his tug of war wasn’t very good
And how could he be eating when their wasn’t any food
An obvious result of this unfortunate new caper
They’ve deemed it dangerous that she be near a pen and paper

And until the day that her sentence be determined
I fear that her future as a blogger is uncertain
And if an urge to comment here may be your inclination
Be warned you may look dubious in the investigation

I suggest you clear your history and to do so posthaste
And remember that a mime is a terrible thing to waste.

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/fool-me-once/”>Fool Me Once</a>

Cheap Plastic Pens

One day my words will dry up,
Like a cheap plastic pen,
Will I proceed to attempt,
To write as I do then?

And will you still find my words,
Marginally pretty,
Comment or give it a like,
Simply out of pity?

Perhaps just as a habit,
I’ll write until I drop,
And no one will be kind enough,
To say it’s time to stop.

Maybe hoping to recreate,
Genius of days before,
Or craving human contact,
Or maybe I’m just bored.

Cranking out a hackneyed thought,
A hamster on a wheel,
And could it really be so far,
From how Mick Jagger feels.


Meter Reader

My creative juices, (6)
Are utterly useless, (6)
Dried up by a reader, (6)
Criticizing my meter. (7)

And yet I must say, (5)
If I had my way, (5)
I’d call it all bull, (5)
that each syllable. (5)

Should count up exactly, (6)
So matter of factly, (6)
Makes me uninventive, (6)
And anal retentive. (6)


Purgatory Of Verse

They litter my mind like so many proverbial
balled up scraps of paper,

Words that I peruse again and again,
whether to discard or to savor,

I can send them to heaven’s gate
of sublime publication,

Or discard them to the trash, sentenced
to hellish damnation,

And though one may be better,
perhaps neither is worse,

Than to be fated to sit endlessly
in the purgatory of verse.




He Who Laughs Last…

If followers become immersed,

In your witty yet subversive verse,

And decide they don’t like the tone,

(Or accidentally hit unsubscribe on their iPhone),

A situation arises most appalling,

As you watch those statistics falling,

And your conscious may prevent the release,

Of a controversial masterpiece.

You wonder who might get offended,

Or leave your page most discontented,

But I just say of those folk,

Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.


Smithson Syndrome

When I began blogging, Sean Smithson was one of my first followers. In fact, even when my blogs were absolute crap, and almost no one liked them, there was Sean Smithson, among the brave few, giving validation to my pathetic publications.

But who was this Sean Smithson? Some creepy stalker? Well perhaps…

But actually, it turns out Sean had a great blog of his own where he would write sordid accounts of his pathetic love life, steeped in humor and self deprecation. Well, the truth is, pathetic may be not quite a strong enough word to describe Sean’s love life. Perhaps, it might be better to say that reading his blog was a bit like watching a car crash, you know, the kind of thing where you want to turn away but you just can’t. And, in case you are not quite getting the jist, if there was a behavioral or personality disorder for people who simply did not have the dating gene, it would probably be called Smithson Syndrome.

Anyway, every time Sean published a blog, it seemed as if the entire blogging community would come out to read what new, horrifically embarrassing episode Sean was ready to unfold, while trying to top each other with clever comments, all under some sort of ruse that they would actually win a date with the author; although why anyone would want to earn this distinction is beyond me.

Recently Sean published a book, “How To Lose A Girl In 10 Ways”. To return Sean’s months of dedication to my blog, I swore I would be the first to read and review the book, but it seems that it was rather difficult for me to get my hands on it, so many other bloggers beat me to the punch. However, after reading much of the book, I was inspired to write a poem in Sean’s honor:

I heard he was smart and soft spoken,
And even a bit of a looker,
Maybe it’s the liquor but here’s the kicker,
He can’t even score with a hooker.
But saved by a sense of humor,
Of which many have an appreciation,
He turns into gold the stories he’s told,
While wallowing in self deprecation.
A subject he’s quite fond of,
And perhaps they were trying to kid,
When told in effect, he could write a book on the subject,
But that’s exactly what he did.
And though I always root for the underdog,
And have a strong appreciation,
A change in luck might totally suck,
For where would he get his inspiration?


A classic tale of boy loses girl, boy loses girl, boy loses girl…this book rocks!

Read Sean’s blog here:


Buy Sean’s book here: