Shit Storm

A poem of whimsy and warning

Mookie Spitz
5 min readApr 10, 2024

Erika Heier is a friend from my home town of Chicago. Two decades ago we cowrote on spec several episodes of a comedy series pilot, taking place in a dentist’s office. With her permission, I’ll soon post those, too.

Earlier today, I got an email from her containing a poem she’d penned ten years ago. “Like everything else I’ve written,” observes Erika, “it literally came flying right out of me. I always get shaky and racy, feel something swirling around me, pick up a pen and start writing. I didn’t even know what I was writing until I finished it. It’s in the air. All I do is pull it down, capture it.”

Her poem made me laugh, gasp, and applaud. Here goes…

Shit Storm

By Erika Heier

The shit storm is coming
Beware — be on the lookout
The shit storm is coming, of this I have no doubt

The shit storm is coming through spring, summer, fall
You’ll see its familiar brown color in winters first fresh snow fall

Prepare all your rifles, prepare all your guns
Even the largest torpedo or cannon ball
Cannot stop this shit storm —
Trust me, it will still come

If you think that you are clever
I can assure you, you’re not
Sometimes others start the shit storm
Other times, not

You see friend, this shit storm isn’t a bedtime fairy tale for kids
It’s an actual reality of all human’s strife deep within

A truth of human grief, a testament, a malady of human behavior
Please sit down on your toilet, whilst I spin all your paper

Oh, I’ve seen some shit that I shouldn’t
It’s even followed me straight home
Couldn’t avoid it — even when I tried talking it
Away on the phone

And to make matters worse
It followed me straight to bed
When I woke up — there lying beside me
On its own soft fluffy pillow
Was a smelly shit head

You can sit at the bar, drink a nice cold frothy beer —
But you simply cannot imbibe all your shit thoughts away
I’m terribly sorry my friend, they’ll all surround you on bar stools —
The very next day

The shit storm is coming
I can hear its rumbling farts in the distance
See an electrical flatulence crack unusual shapes out of your sphincter
Into shit’s dark night sky of shits endless existence

Please take a seat
Think hard or don’t think at all
Because we all start our own shit storm
Whether grand or rather small

You think hurling cow pies at others is justifiable
Listen here darling — this is the truth, I’m not lying
A bucket of bird shit — you ponder, you plot
Better keep that bucket of bird shit on your own property or empty lot

Sit in a church pew and cross yourself
Go to mass, go to temple or even a mosque
That shit storm will surely hit you — if you act the part of a court jester

That shit storm is under your race, name and social security number
You tell me who’s the fool now — your ass is torn asunder

Sometimes the shit comes out of the sky like pellets of brown hail
Best leave it on the ground — lest it gets stuck under your finger nails
I think we all agree what fast running shit is —
It’s called diarrhea —
Not pleasant at all, indeed, even I admit this as well

The shit storm will hit you — especially if you are famous
Watch out paparazzi, the shit storm of celebrity’s flaming

The shit storm will hit you in your place of employment
Usually the case filed under sexual harassment

Sometimes your shit stinks
Sometimes it floats
Go ahead, turn on your engine — take off in your shit motor boat
Because the shit storm is coming to you in your big fancy yacht
Yeah, it’s coming Mr. Money Bags — whether you like it or not
Even Huckleberry Finn found shit surrounding his raft
Thought he could float his way to freedom,
Unfortunately not

Oh, I could label all the shit in your lives
But why should I
The greatest of all shit writhing rancid, living inside us all

Think you can run away from the shit that you’ve done
I’ll click my tongue softly, as I watch you run
You’ll trip and you’ll fall on your own slippery shit
Even my own knees and elbows have been covered in my very own shit

So roll up your sleeves and wash your hands
This shit appears to be a valuable and necessary lesson
For all of Earths men

Think building a panic room will make you safe
At this thought I laugh even harder
This visual is probably the greatest mistake

That shit storm is still coming — I hope now you’ll agree
That shit storm is always the cause of you and most certainly me

A splendid fire a towering inferno
Your shit storm so powerful — you’ll pass swiftly right through it
Shit storms cause so many problems in our lives
Don’t think you are any different or special
Go ahead, if you do — roll the dice
They don’t call it the crap table for nothing
You know, go ahead — continue to gamble
Sell tickets to your own shit show

You know why there are not any breaks during political campaigns
It’s because all those politicians are holding it in
They think they’ve got game

Don’t you see how often shit visits us
It’s here every day
And if it’s too late in coming, you see your physician
He’ll stick a hose up your ass and rotor rooter it out
A colonoscopy rendered — this shits got to simply come out

Well I’ve got news for this country and quite frankly the world
The words of our forefathers have been rewritten
These are very important words
It’s called the Defecation of Independence
This self-made shit storm is our nation’s problem
It’s the nuclear warhead of all life’s oppositions



Mookie Spitz

Author and communications strategist. His latest book SUPER SANTA is available on Amazon, with a sci fi adventure set for Valentine's Day 2024.