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

The tired kitty walked into the room.
She yawned and looked at the surrounding humans.

One man put tonnes of brown liquid in his mouth,
Another was dribbling on the sofa.

Some girls wiggled their bodies to strange loud sounds,
Two were being sick off the balcony.

A snoring man had his eyebrows shaved off,
Another man did a wee in a glass.

A woman was slapping a crying man’s face,
Another flashed her boobies to the room.

Two boys wrestled and smashed glasses on the floor,
Another two took photos up girls’ skirts.

‘Funny old bunch,’ the tired kitty thought,
As her brother licked her arsehole clean.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

It was the chocolate cake’s 4th birthday.
The lights went out and his family began to sing
as his father carried in a human baby;
its guts riddled with burning candles.

The baby screamed as melting wax dropped on to its skin
before the birthday boy
blew out the flames to an
almighty applause.

The father chopped off the baby’s arms, legs and head,
diced up its torso and
handed it out to the crowd.
All of the elders bitched about how sweet the flesh tasted
and how they preferred jam
over blood.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Bald Agassi went back in time to play tennis
against long-haired Agassi.

The whole affair was a white wash.
Bald Agassi beat long-haired Agassi in straight sets,
stole his car,
and then banged his girlfriend.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

Pork. Apple. Chicken.
Mince. Shepherd’s. Cottage. Steak. Fish.
Banoffee. Game. Cream.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

James Bond killed a man,
shagged a few sexy women,
then brushed his spy teeth.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

The building was high.
Much higher than the others.
‘Shit, that’s high!’ said Ky.

© Carl Burkitt 2014

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