My mouth is on fire.
I no longer have a face.
I’m taking a vow of silence.
I’m allergic to words.
To be honest mate you’ve done the bare minimum
and I’m struggling to juggle everything in my life
right now and it wasn’t planned to not say thank you
I just had to get into the café quickly and sort
something out that I’m not quite prepared to share
with a stranger and I just hope you have the patience
for another human who you don’t know if their life
is falling apart or not.
I didn’t see you there.

Carl Burkitt 2024

I attended a course about songwriting
taught by Gary Barlow and the two of us hit
it off like a house on fire. I was useless at
the writing lyrics bit but Gary seemed to just
enjoy chatting me over a brew in the breaks
about beard length and our preferred
thickness of gravy on a pie. He told me he
didn’t quite remember his appearance
outside ASDA West Swindon as a teenager
in Take That and I had to admit I wasn’t
there either. We never talked about taxes or
COVID Zoom gigs but I did admit to crying in
a Sainsburys bakery listening to The
Greatest Day a week after being dumped.
He tickled my Adam’s apple and said ‘chin up’.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Wow. There they are. The Dawdlers.
Tight black jeans, oversized black puffer jackets,
matching black backpacks. The Dawdlers.
Right in front of me. A pop duo famous
for tracks like, ‘Don’t Worry, No Hurry’, and
‘Ain’t No Bars Like Staring At The Stars’.
The Dawdlers. Wow. Look at their shoulders
roll with the rhythm of a stranger’s head
doing its best to not nod off on the train.
The Dawdlers. Right here. “Walking”
through Euston train station
discussing the lyrics for their next track:
‘Tuts are just an applause of the teeth’.

Carl Burkitt 2024

A boomerang is a stick
that can’t bear to leave you.
A spicy curry is a meal
that is desperate for you to remember it.
A broken lamppost is someone
reminding you to look at the moon.
A motorbike accident is an accident
is an accident is an accident.

Carl Burkitt 2024

The two nine year old lads
are arguing outside the school gates
about which one is Batman
and which one is Robin.
‘You’re Batman and I’m Robin.’
‘No! I’m Robin! You’re Batman!’
‘No! I’m Robin! You’re Batman!’
On and on it goes – a nose to nose battle
for the chance to be unseen in red and green,
the pride of having the other one’s back.

Carl Burkitt 2024

You’re better than flat pack.
Don’t pretend you know me,
think poster on the billboard.
You’re better than flat pack.
What if flat pack furniture
is the only furniture I can get up to my flat,
thin poster on the billboard.
You’re better than flat pack.
What if I like my flat pack furniture,
thin poster on the billboard.
You’re better than flat pack.
If that’s true,
thin poster on the billboard,
why do I see myself in its frustration,
cheap quality, left over bag of unneeded screws?
You’re better than flat pack.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Sat still.
Facing forward.
Feet flat.
Arms crossed.
Unblemished trench coat.
No headphones.
No tea. No coffee
No looking left.
No looking right.
From 7.13am to 9.20am.
Doesn’t show train ticket when asked.
Smiles when ticket inspector nervously leaves.
Doesn’t remove food from his teeth.

Carl Burkitt 2024

He’s sitting in the cinema seat I paid for
with his feet resting on the one in front of him,
so I sit silently further down the row
and try writing a poem about courage,
but it’s dark in here and I don’t want to
get my phone out for my notes app
so I do what I can to remember, when I get home,
to write something
about how anger is popcorn kernels exploding
one at a time in a shut microwave
with nothing to do but smack into each other
and how the man in my seat dropped his drink.

Carl Burkitt 2024

The football lads are talking about football
and how the way they think about football
makes them good at playing football
and watching football and ignoring
what each other is trying to say.

Carl Burkitt 2024

Jack Johnson is on the radio singing how
he thinks I’m such a pretty thing
and that he wants to take me and make me all his.
He’s saying he would steal me
from this patient world, let it chase us,
and how he could never take me back.
He says we’ll watch it from the clouds
and likes how sweet I am to him,
even when I beat him at double solitaire.
He thinks the more I love, the more my heart will
ache, but it doesn’t matter because love is
the only thing that carries on. Jack Johnson is
on the radio singing how I am such a pretty thing,
which is kind, but I’m busy this week
remembering to never get too high or too low
and that car crashes or sunrises are not my fault.

Carl Burkitt 2024