the man had a secret
it was quite dark, actually
so he never told a soul
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Secret
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Category Archives: Poems
Sometimes
Henry was
all over
the place,
which
was really
quite stressful, until
he
met
Donna
who
kept
him
on
the
straight
and
narrow sometimes.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Attention span
She peeled her orange
to reveal her own face staring back at her.
She pondered her very existence
until her BFF texted her a massive ROFL
And she pegged it to the night club.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
The day I murdered seven men
The day I murdered seven men, I was grumpy. But that doesn’t tell the whole story, you see. I was very, very sleepy and I’m rarely happy when I have a bad night’s rest. I start the morning all slow and dopey, but then the smallest thing can set me off. This day – the day I murdered seven men – it was that precious little “princess”. She always acts so bashful and coy, but she’s not. She’s manipulative. She has all the guys clamouring over her and gets them to do all of her dirty work: filing, proofing a Word Doc, franking the post. The other day she even got one of them to clean and dust her desk, fully aware he has allergies! Poor sod was all puffy and sneezy. Unbelievable. She’s like it with all of them, but they just put on a brave face and whistle away their day. Well, they used to. The day I murdered seven men, I was grumpy. But I like to think I put those little guys out of their misery. Not everything is as black as coal or white as snow.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Green Garden
Laura fulfilled her dream
And flew on the wings of a butterfly.
She took her shoes off as
They danced through the garden
As high as a tree tall and down again.
The green velvet carpet
Invited them down to bathe in the sunlight
But Laura’s human weight proved
Far too heavy for the tiny insect (obviously)
And they crashed to the ground
In a pile of blood and chipped bones.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Inspired by Laura Mvula’s Green Garden
The hoarder
The hoarder hoarded everything:
His hopes
His dreams
His heart
And the stamps she loved from the ’50s.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Tough gig
Dave Celery climbed off stage.
He apologised to the venue owner
For the poor turnout
Before fucking the oldest
Of the three crowd members.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Disgust
Leather Trevor
Couldn’t believe his eyes.
He scooped the ball out of his mouth,
Loosened his chains,
Grabbed his mother’s lead
And stomped out of the party
In disgust.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Thriftiest dish
The man with little money made
soup from things he found,
Like hair and glass and
chewing gum off the ground
But the thriftiest dish he was proud of,
the one he loved the most,
Was a bowl of his boyfriend’s thigh skin
and a side of shinbone toast
© Carl Burkitt 2016
Shoebox World
The little tiny lady
Climbed inside her shoebox
And mixed her thimble of tea
With her miniature spoon.
As she nibbled on her biscuit crumbs
She dreamed about being bigger
And stressed herself out
Thinking of all the admin.
© Carl Burkitt 2016
