I’m At It Again

That’s right, just when you thought it was safe to go back in the proverbial blogging water, here I am with my hand out again. I’m trying to get votes for my son’s band. “What?” you say, “We already voted for your son’s band!” you say. Well this is yet another contest and I could bore you with the details but, it may just be better to say, cast a vote for Diabology here:

combatrecs.com

and then read the details if you’re truly interested.

By the way, you can vote as many times as you are able until the contest ends on Dec. 30, so anything you can do is greatly appreciated. Also, because there are so many voters, the site keeps crashing making it even more annoying. It’s usually busiest in the evenings.

In other news, since I have my hand out so often, I hear that there is a poem about me circulating around the internet. You guys don’t think it’s true, do you??

There’s once was a blogger Marissa
Whose poems were really a pisser
She had quite a noggin
But then she stopped bloggin’
And some said they really did miss her

Then one day her blog reappeared
But readers found it a bit weird
‘Twas only the labor
Of asking a favor
Of all of her put upon peers

So politely disguised as a comedy
And sometimes with a lame apology
Here’s another she’s wrote
To elicit a vote
For her son’s metal band Diabology

So be you not fooled by her ditties
Her words may be clever and witty
But she’s really quite sad
And perhaps a bit mad
But at least cast a vote out of pity.

Diabology

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Vending Machine Imodium

Out on the road a week now
And oh, the travelers fate
To suffer consequences
Of what I might have ate

That makes my bowels a liquid
I sit here turning blue
Suspect the eggs from Denny’s
On Route 82

Can’t make it to the drug store
If you know what I mean
I’ll get that cut-rate stuff
From the vending machine

Cost me seven dollars
My stomach’s still a jerking
Why am I not surprised?
This stupid stuff ain’t working

Vending machine Imodium
Oh you’ve done me wrong
Vending machine Imodium
That’s why I sing this song

I don’t know what I done
Stole cheated and lied
It feels like Satan’s minion
Crawled in my guts and died

And though I don’t deserve it
Of that I have no doubt
I’d give anything
If he’d get the hell out

Maybe get some cyanide
To help and get me through it
Because I’ll tell you one thing
This Imodium won’t do it

But out of this is some advice
If you’re traveling please do
Pack Imodium and avoid the Denny’s
On Route 82

Vending machine Imodium
Oh, you’ve done me wrong
Vending machine Imodium
That’s why I sing this song

Written in response to Cold Hand (Craig) Boyack’s Blog: https://coldhandboyack.wordpress.com/2017/06/15/i-could-write-a-country-song/comment-page-1/#comment-27548

Thanks for getting me writing again!

My Girl Left Me For Satan

My girl left me for Satan
She said it was transcendental
When she saw him at the potluck
At the New Satanic Temple
Well she left me with the dog and I
Am cooking all my food
But I guess I must admit that he’s
One charismatic dude

Chorus:

My girl left me for Satan
And I guess it’s just as well
Though it’ll be kind of awkward when
We’re all burning in hell

Well it just ain’t been the same now that
My life became unfurled
Since my baby left me for the king
Of the underworld
I’m tired and I’m beat up and
Well most of all I’m bored
And I’m strongly thinking I should just
Go and worship the lord

Chorus

Well he stole my soul and now I guess
He stole my girlfriend too
But I guess the bathroom mirror should
Have given me a clue
Cause the steam don’t cover lipstick
And the truth is rather mean
But it’s very clearly written there
Says, ‘Satan loves Erlene!’

Chorus

I’m strongly considering forming a Satanic country band. Who’s in?

A Late Lunch

I was bringing Ms. James her Meals on Wheels
She didn’t come to the door
I went on in and there she was
Lying dead right on the floor
I called the proper authorities
They showed up minutes later
To find me eatin’ her fried chicken
And her mashed potaters

Metal Devastation Band of the Month

Hey people! My band, The CheeseBergens has entered a contest for Band of the Month on Metal Devastation Radio and we need votes! To avoid gratuitous self promotion, I’ve decided to also write a poem to help promote the cause. A lot of my blogging friends already voted, I know, and thanks so much to those who did. Here is the link:

http://metaldevastationradio.com/battle

And here is the poem:

If you vote we’lll have a chance
If you vote, I’ll do a dance
Or if you think I’d better not
If you vote, then I will stop

If you vote I’ll kiss a frog
If you vote, I’ll like your blog
Leave messages and you can boast
Marissa commented “Great post!”

And voting isn’t just for you
Your aunt can vote, your mother too
And if they think the format’s foreign
Just log on and you vote for ’em

You only have to do it once
Perhaps we’ll be band of the month
We’ll thank the little people too
And then you know that we’ll mean you

If you vote I will pretend
That you’re my very best of friends
I’ll give you stuff and rub your shoulders
Least until the month is over

P.S. By the way, voting is ongoing until the end of April 2017. If you are reading this blog before the end of April, you still have the opportunity to vote, so please do. It’s very much appreciated!

The Parking Spot

I tried to get there early
So I wouldn’t have to race
For the task nearly impossible
To find a parking space

For surely I’d be lucky if
I happened to have found
A spot twas even blocks away
The hottest club in town

My wond’ring eyes saw such a sight
They were likely to meet
A spot there that did wait for me
And right across the street

No sign was reading ‘tow away
No standing, loading only’
And so I pulled my car right up
To make it far less lonely

But once I pulled in not enough
To just leave for the club
I had to sit there to impress
On every passing schlub

Of what would be my luck that night
A feat much more than meager
And did I mention I’d no need
To feed the parking meter?

And as I sat there basking
In the space that I had took
I thought it best to take a pic
And post it on Facebook

So all my friends could envy me
And have it in their sights
Of all the luck that I was having
On that weekend night

But finally I had to go
So out the car I dragged
But ‘fore I made it to the club
I stopped off and I bragged

To every bouncer, every door girl
All that I did meet
Of how I got to get a spot
Just right across the street

And finally I got in the club
A sight that made me sober
To find the band I came to see
Was now completely over

But it was just a momentary
Downer, no real grieving
I just got back into my car
And now I’m never leaving.

15826239_1307547062638155_3358267485405207925_n

The actual picture I posted from my car on Saturday night…parked across the street from L.A. hot spot, The Troubadour.