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
Trophy wife
Reply
Category Archives: #2014tales
A race of liars
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
The heebeegeebees
I love the Bee Gees
But Barry’s beard gives me
The heebeegeebees.
© Carl Burkitt 2014
By name
“But does he really?”
“Trust me Alistair, Darling,
Eric Pickles. Loads.”
© Carl Burkitt 2014
Smooth
He cried. She consoled.
Her touch like a soft whisper;
Smooth and chocolaty.
© Carl Burkitt 2014
Constraints
“Can you write Haiku?”
“I try, but rarely succeed.”
“Me too. The form is hard.”
© Carl Burkitt 2014
Social butterfly
Like water she moves
Smoothly, gracefully, moistly;
Slipping into cracks.
© Carl Burkitt 2014
God’s greatest creation
I was lost, like a car with no direction,
Then you appeared; God’s greatest creation.
You are the stars to my Milky Way,
The fog lights to my misty day.
You are the plaster to my cut,
The buffet to my Pizza Hut.
You are the twinkle to my eye,
The sunshine to my sky.
You are the wrapper to my chocolate Flake,
The rising agent to my cake.
You are the pen to my paper,
The drink to my Don Draper.
You are the Worcester sauce to my cheese on toast,
The gravy to my Sunday roast.
You are the bowl to my soup,
The toilet roll to my poop.
You are the Fergie to my Man U,
The tramp to my Special Brew.
You are the strings to my bow,
The comb to my ‘fro.
Your are the sentences to my story,
The spoon to my knickerbocker glory.
You are the end to my masturbation,
You are God’s greatest creation.
© Carl Burkitt 2014
The chase
The man fell in love with the woman.
The woman didn’t fall in love with the man.
The man changed every single, possible thing about himself.
The woman fell in love with the man.
The man felt smothered and fucked a prostitute.
© Carl Burkitt 2014
Romance ain’t dead
Come gather fools, come gather I say,
For today is the day the lovers will play.
Some will be straight and some will be gay,
But all will be filthy on Valentine’s Day.
Legs will be splayed for every card that is made,
Whilst the bored are unleashed and deliciously depraved.
Tits will be licked and pricks will be pricked,
Whilst chocolate is spread on a whole host of dicks.
Pulses will race and genitals shall cry
As lovers pound each other and splurge in their eyes.
Young hearts so grateful for their thoughtful, cheap gift,
Sweet nothings they shall whisper as their spirits lift:
“Flick that and fist this and give those holes a big old kiss,
Then grab the whip and grab the chains
And you make sure I never walk again.
Go on my sweet – you horrid old
Fucker – squeeze this bit, bend me over,
And let me thank you, for that yummy Yakisoba.”
© Carl Burkitt 2014
Carl tells tales 