The twenty nine foot bloke
ordered an organic sandwich.
When it arrived it was far too small,
so he trashed the funky cafe
and swallowed six hipsters.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

His hands were great.
They could build,
they could break,
they could take
my pain away.

They could dig,
they could bruise,
they could sooth
my soul today.

He hand the hands of a fighter
but his touch was much lighter;
as he held me,
and stroked me,
and choked my
problems away.

They day his hands left
I’ll always regret;
as my actions put gloves
on his love.
I can’t reach them,
I can’t kiss them,
my body can do nothing
but miss them.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Sean bagged himself a trophy wife.
He booked an open top bus to parade around town
and lifted her above his head
by her massive ears.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Monty died for the tenth time.
He thanked the Gods for his survival
and began pondering what other lies
the human race had spread about his kind.

© Carl Burkitt 2014