A mother wrapped a tartan scarf around her son’s neck,
thus embarrassingly completing the exact same outfit she had on.
Upon finishing the excrutiating, skin-crawling awkward, daily ordeal
she looked down at her boy
wondering why on Earth the sad little prick
insisted that the pair dressed the same.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

The tube train was packed when
Eric sneezed.
“Bless you,” said a stranger, smiling,
before the God of Etiquette
struck the heathen down.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Sam Smitherly married a lady called Sam.
The fights they had over the post
were absolute jokes.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

The three leopards went clothes shopping.
They all bought human print miniskirts
and looked fucking tacky.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

The busking saxophonist played
Spandau Ballet’s ‘Gold’
and earned £673.
She had deft finger work,
a seemingly bottomless lung capacity
and wasn’t wearing a bra.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

I am Minky.
I am yours.

You use me for them.
You burn my soul.
That is why I was born.

I am Minky.
I am yours.

*Minky is an ironing board.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

The Olympian got a personal best
and took home the gold
in her home town.

The crowd cheered for her,
Clare Balding high-fived her
and Colin Jackson wept.

As her proud husband took her out for her favourite meal,
several hundred people tweeted her death threats
and called her a bloke.

© Carl Burkitt 2014