Thank you for submitting your literary work to us. We are delighted to share the exciting news that our team has reviewed your piece and it has been chosen for publication on Spillwords.com. Congratulations!
We are currently finalizing the publication details. In the near future, you can expect another message from us with all the necessary information, including the publication date, time, and the link to your published work. Make sure to mark your calendar and share this wonderful news with your friends, family, and fellow writers.
We are eager to celebrate your publication and witness the impact your words will have on readers worldwide.
The Mean Streets of Bombay
One wild night in Bombay, India,
I walked into an evil bar
20 drinks too sober
on the wicked-wrong end of
a Friday night booze run.
On the bad side of the Moon
where Martian men drank,
ogling the Venus girls and leering
at Earth women in skin-tight pants
that made their eyeballs hurt.
I gave into the spirit
and decided to join them,
getting drunk on Martian whiskey and
smoking that good old-fashioned
Mars dust as well.
Next thing I knew,
I was on my way to Jupiter,
on a lark with a gal who
said she was from Saturn.
Didn’t learn she was from Pluto
until I woke the next day,
naked and in jail somewhere
near Alpha Centauri.
A million miles away,
a thousand years in the future,
with no money, no honey,
and no fucking way home.
Still 20 drinks too sober,
I just pissed away my time
with fine Pluto whisky
and cold-ass alien wine.
Then one day
I found myself outside that bar again,
enveloped in the miasmic mists
by the old Martian whorehouse,
down near the Gate of India.
Walked up to my Pluto babe
and said, man,
that was some bad shit;
let’s do it again sometime.
Knew the day
would come again,
I’d be drinking with
those Martian men.
Something bad
my way would come,
another night
of wicked fun.
On the wrong side of the Moon,
on just the right night,
in the mean streets
the Ugly Writer has published a number of my poems including my poems about “Sleaze” and “Searching for God”
Heading Back to the Past
While the rest of the world
Embraces the energy of the future
Our great denier of the truth
president trump
wants to boldly take America back
To the 19th century era of oil, and coal
Yet perhaps it does not matter in the end
As long as we have one another
We will overcome
The darkness will flee the land
It Has Been Done Before
Before Trump’s Wall
There were many other walls
trump’s wall
The Berlin Wall
The Great Wall
Hadrian’s Wall
All the walls of the ancient world
All failed
To keep the enemies out
The enemies of freedom
The enemies of the state
Still came across the border
To loot, steal, rape and plunder
And nothing could stop
The flood of history
The Grim Reaper Is late
the grim reaper
is late
he is behind his quota
so he unleashes
the ravens of death
the ravens of despair
the ravens of madness
they spread out
all over the world
infecting all
with madness
as the world descends
consumed by hate
the grim reaper
smiles his sardonic grin
thinking of all the souls
he will harvest that day
as he carries out
the mandate
of his satanic majesty
The House of the Damned
deep in the woods
in the swamps of the deepest bayou
lies an old abandoned cabin
few have ever visited
it looks long abandoned
but there are stories
legends
of a creature
from beyond time itself
who lives deep in the swamp
devouring everything he comes across
But he hungers for human flesh
once in a while
he keeps a human slave
who goes into town
and drums up business
for his master
the hunters are recruited
and they are brought to the house
where they are commissioned
to go into the woods
and hunt down prisoners
and shoot them dead
and bring back the bodies
for the bounty
and the hunt is on
and the prisoners are caught
and the monster of the deep swamps
has a feast
and the hunters
are added to the fire
a few are left alive
zombies under his control
and so the house of the dead
continues to haunt
the deep swamps
Searching for God
a homeless man
camped out
on the streets
of any city
just another broken down soul
looking for something
and then I see him
painting the face of God
on the ground
and I know
that God is everywhere
and sometimes
only the down and out
can see and feel God
The rest of us
are blind to the divine
SLEAZE
Sleaze Sleaze Sleaze
Sleaze Sleaze Sleaze Sleaze Sleaze Sleaze Sleaze Sleaze
Nothing but Sleaze
Surrounds me 24/7
S
L
E
A
Z
E
Led by the evil Sleaze King
King Donald Trump
the one true sleaze King
The Sleaze King from TV
Are we doomed to live
In a world run by sleaze kings
And ruled by sleaze values
Are we addicted to sleaze
And need our sleaze fix daily
As we turn on the sleaze TV
And see nothing but sleaze
Oozing out of our TV sets?
SLEAZE 2
Sleaze surrounds us 24/7
Lots of sleaze on the TV
Everywhere we go nothing but sleaze
All the time 24/7 sleaze rules the air
Zappa had it right calling it the slime
Everything is nothing but slime oozing out of our TV’s
They are Next God Says
God is in his cosmic control room
The ultimate situation room
Where here he watches over mankind 24/7
One day he reads
About protesters
Protesting the operation
of Emergency helicopters
Because they’re too noisy
they stir up dust
and damage their properties
And are just inconvenient as hell
just too bloody inconvenient
the protestors are demanding
that the helicopters be grounded
Disregarding the fact
That they save lives
Given the hellish traffic conditions
God is furious at the callous attitude
The casual disregard for human life
And the pettiness of the protesters
He calls up his chief angels
And reads them the recent articles
All of the angels
Are furious at the callous attitudes of the protesters
God calls the grim reaper
His contractor who handles the details of death
God says I have a commission for you
The Grim Reaper had read the article
As he too monitors the world 24/7
He laughs
and says I know what to do
Obviously, they all have to die
In a horrific accident
and can’t get to the hospital in time
Because they are stuck in traffic
Now you’re talking God said
But I want you to break protocol
Just before they die show up
And explain to them why
They are about to die
That would be poetic justice God said
And you know I’m all about that
Everyone laughs
God has a sense of humor after all
The grim reaper mordantly salutes the boss
And goes about his grim task
