Tomorrow

I think I’m going to die tomorrow,
But that doesn’t mean I want to.

I’m yet to eat some haggis
Or punch a grizzly bear,
I’m yet to kiss a Chinaman
Or shave my pubic hair.

I’m yet to ride a penny farthing
Or sell my Tracey Island,
I’m yet to run for president
Or buy my girl a diamond.

I’m yet to burst a white head
Or wipe an old man’s bum,
I’m yet to write a lullaby
Or truly thank my mum.

I’m yet to break a door down
Or paint a boiled egg,
I’m yet to make a Jaffa Cake
Or throw a turkey leg.

I’m yet to drive a motorcar
Or write a decent book,
I’m yet to win a poker match
Or dress like Captain Hook.

I’m yet to say that big “fuck you”
Or buy myself a pig,
I’m yet to tickle Bill Murray
Or wear a silver wig.

I think I’m going to die tomorrow,
But that doesn’t mean I want to.

© Carl Burkitt 2013

Coconut

It’s not very often you remember the name of an actor (or the film they’re in).
You know the one,
The one in that thing.

You remember the times of doctors appointments
And work presentations.

Boxing day is a massive deal,
Thank you cards are a must.

Coconut is nowhere to be seen,
The smell makes me gag.

But when an old film comes on,
It’s like it’s completely brand new.
I guess it doesn’t matter,
That’s just you.

© Carl Burkitt 2013

The rapper

Keith, the rapper, was not having a good time.
He’d been on stage for over three minutes and not a single hunny had shaken their ass.

Keith grabbed his crotch and flicked the Vs as he bumbled into his final verse.

Silence

Keith heard a cough from the back of the room.
It was Margeret,
Tapping her watch and waving her car keys.

© Carl Burkitt 2013

Flying with BA

I sat in my seat,
Awaiting the announcements,
As what looked like a small stag do came on board the plane,
Bringing a cloud of cigar smoke with them.

Judging by their attire,
The party’s theme was either 80s or Armed Forces.

The man,
Who I assumed was the groom,
Was drowned in tacky gold jewellery and clad in camouflage.

His party forced him into his seat.
He wasn’t happy.

The groom was shouting how he didn’t want the plane to take off
And tried to climb out of his chair.

The group laughed
And pinned him down.

An air hostess,
Worried about the rest of the passengers,
Warned he’d have to leave if he didn’t relax.

The handsome guy,
The face of the group,
Charmed and calmed her down
While the mad one of the four squealed and howled as the grey haired member,
Old enough to be the groom’s father,
Although racial differences between the two suggested otherwise,
Took out a white bottle from his bag.

He poured liquid,
That he claimed was milk,
Down the groom’s throat.

The groom wiggled,
Smiled,
And drifted off.
‘Bailey’s,’ I thought.

An hour later the party started drawing on the sleeping groom’s face in marker pen.

One drew a cock either side of his mohawk.

I couldn’t help but pity the fool.

© Carl Burkitt 2013

Sad, narrow mind

I stepped inside my local store,
Where Fred the owner had strange things galore.
“Hello there, sir, what’ll it be?”
“I’m not sure, reveal your stock to me.”

“I’ve several crates of strawberry wigs,
And multi-coloured marble pigs.
Perhaps you’d like a cauliflower ear?”
“Heavens no! How would I hear?”

“How would you hear? Just listen please,
I’ve hearing aids sculpted from cheese.”
“That’s OK, my hearing’s fine.
Do you have some nice red wine?”

“I’m afraid I’ve sold all of my drink,
But do you need a kitchen sink?
I’ve got one here I think you’ll like,
It’s made of plaice and cod and pike”

“I’m sorry, Fred, I’m left confused,
No-one sells such things, I’m quite bemused.”
“You’re right young man, what you say is fair,
But look at me, do you think I care?!”

I looked at the man from his head to his toes,
I noticed he was wearing peculiar clothes.
“What have you got on, you funny old man?”
“My sushi shorts, they’re from Japan!”

“Well they smell rotten, just like your scarf,
Please remove it, or I might barf.”
“What’s wrong with my scarf? Just have a feel,
It’s made from genuine, jellied eel”

I tried to walk away from the stench,
As my eyes saw what looked like a garden bench.
“Dare I ask, what’s that over there?”
“A bench,” said Fred. “Made from old underwear.”

The bench was brown and stained all yellow,
“What’s wrong with you, you disgusting fellow?”
“What do you mean? They’re all the rage,
Just like this stuffing, it’s chocolate and sage!

“If you don’t like that, then look at these;
They’re fluffy gloves designed for knees.
Maybe that’s not quite your thing,
So how about this bacon ring?

“If meaty jewellery is not for you,
I’ve Klingon copies of Winnie the Pooh.
A thousand eggs sit on my shelf,
All were laid by a Christmas elf!”

“You can stop now, Fred, I must get back,
I only came in for a quick, little snack.”
“A snack you say? What do you desire?
I’ve humbugs here that taste like fire.

“Or how about some sugared squid?
It will only cost you 25 quid.
And in the back I’ve a special treat,
Lemon custard, smeared on meat.”

“Shut your mouth, you silly old freak,
The things you’re selling are rather weak!
They’re weird and gross and in fact quite dear,
Just give me a pizza or chips or some beer.”

“Get out!” he yelled. “If you don’t like change,
In here it’s you, not I who’s strange.”
He used a sausage to slap my face,
Before I ran outside with haste.

A dark cloud opened and rain hit my head,
As I started to think about the old owner Fred
It’s true he was odd, but I was unkind.
I just stood there cursing my sad, narrow mind.

© Carl Burkitt 2013

Heart

I knew a girl who had the biggest heart in the world.
She used to fill it with gallons of kindness and love.

Until one day it all became too much and her heart
Exploded.

The gallons of kindness and love came oozing out, drowning her friends and family.

Not a blob landed on me.

© Carl Burkitt 2013

Lust

67 people gathered outside Matalan
(Most were teenagers but there was one old widow)
They were all staring at the gross young man
Who was sexually assaulting the 20 foot photo of a model stuck to the shop window.

He was slapping his penis against her giant face
Whilst resting his scrotum on her chin.
PC Chambers sprayed the guy with a can of strong mace
Before PC Cole twatted him against a litter bin.

They scooped him off the floor and plonked him in the riot van.
“I love her!” the guy screamed, as his eyes began to burn and fizz.
The teens and widow all laughed at the strange little man
As the window cleaner tutted and started scraping off the jizz.

© Carl Burkitt 2013