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?

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!

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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Mommy And Daddy Worship Satan-Official Music Video

Folks! You’ve read the poem,you’ve seen the band, you’ve heard the music…now here it is, the official music video! (Lyrics below for those who haven’t already read them a thousand times).

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.

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.

Extra, Extra, Read All About It

A lady weds her guinea pig
With an alien mother
Woman married 20 years finds
Husband is her brother

Body of the Loch Ness found
On bottom of a lake
Man grows beard which strangles him
Since it’s made out of snakes

Baby born with lobster claws
And beach ball for a head
Elvis rocks with Jackson once
They’re brought back from the dead

Two children have a staring war
Go 10 days without blinking
200 hundred year old man that claims
He is Abraham Lincoln

Woman slaughtered in world’s largest
Rodent infestation
Boy eats 19 hot dogs claims
That he’s possessed by Satan

Girl hooked on computer so
Her family sues Twitter
Grandma murdered by her cats gets
Buried in their litter

Child’s finger paint of poop
Gets displayed at the Getty
ZZ Top guitarist says
He’s actually the Yeti

And so it goes eternally all
Written to entrap
Whoever is naive enough
To buy into this crap

Though there’s some consolation to
The articles enjoyed
Lest readers smarten up and I
Find myself unemployed.

I have such a busy weekend, my attendance may be spotty at best. My apologies in advance… you probably shouldn’t even bother blogging.

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