have a wank by e.a.b.


HAVE A WANK

have a wank
and see how you feel afterwards
that’s the best advice i can give

it will help
for four minutes
like those cigarettes

if life comes at you
in a public space
worse still the public spaces where you can’t smoke

then i’m out of good advice
sorry mate

get home safe


e.a.b. is a writer from Tottenham, north London. A graduate of the Courtauld Institute and former editor of Freedom newspaper; she owns an extensive collection of Princess Diana memorabilia and is married to her cat, Scooby. Her new poetry magazine, G.O.B., is due for publication at the end of September 2019.


For George by Lydia Hounat

FOR GEORGE

I-am-grateful-for-your-unidentifiable-object-eyes-plain-dark-brown-and-boring-because-they-express-nothing-and-I-cream-off-the-tongue-that-you’re-not-that-big-a-deal-but-for-two-years-you’ve-been-one-long-word-to-me-so-this-is-my-apology-for-loving-you-with-the-overwhelming-stress-you-find-in-London-Victoria-line-rush-hour-and-in-the-colour-of-carbonated-cranberry-lemonade-this-is-my-sorry-for-sexing-you-so-hard-so-good-that-you’d-paralyse-haemorrhage-stumble-weakly-smiling-and-this-is-the-open-door-I’m-leaving-you-because-I’m-as-bored-as-a-moth-ball-I’m-done-remembering-how-we’d-always-form-two-walls-with-fleshy-backs-like-a-door-hinge-and-bend-on-each-other-with-a-sweat-swarming-the-eyeballs-so-thick-we-thought-we’d-never-see-each-other-again-steam-tongued-out-for-my-honeycake-underwear-tangled-and-a-ripple-in-your-black-jeans-sounding-off-like-a-pigeon-giggle-I-recall-your-tears-blanking-the-pillowcases-the-smell-of-your-housemates’s-shit-and-d’angelo-singeing-the-car-seats-like-hearty-yummy-thick-soil-in-my-eardrums-and-you-“innocently”-fucking-up-women’s-lives-cheesing-us-out-like-some-great-emmendale-and-you-forever-coming-back-to-me-like-leftover-cheesecake-so-don’t-pretend-you’re-fine-because-you’ll-always-be-my-roadkill-stuffed-into-the-padding-of-my-bra-I’ll-always-be-caramelising-these-wounds-of-mine-and-savouring-the-emotional-blood-of-that-brown-sugar-album-and-laughing-at-how-you-made-pasta-for-all-the-throwaways-like-me-but-significance-is-the-paint-I’ve-brushed-to-my-nailbeds-and-my-daddy-would-be-proud-of-me-for-sticking-to-my-guns-even-if-it-meant-ejecting-my-dignity-from-the-F-drive-of-this-sad-life-and-yeah-I-am-grateful-for-you-like-I’m-grateful-for-bin-bags-because-they-carry-all-the-shit-I-don’t-want-in-my-house-anymore



Lydia Hounat is a British-Algerian artist from Manchester, England. She edits the poetry section at REALITY BEACH magazine and SOBER. zine. She is currently a Poet-in-Residence at Manchester Metropolitan University, and resides between Cornwall and London.

Check out Lydia's website

blue balls at the end of humanity by e.a.b.

BLUE BALLS AT THE END OF HUMANITY

i used to be terrified of nuclear war
some sadist showed me protect and survive
when i was eighteen, it fucked me up
maybe antibiotic resistance will get us
or a big, tasty comet
crash
bang
wallop
what a way to go

we’re living through a slow death
a self-inflicted, festering wound
of environmental catastrophe
that’s not very exciting
a profitable apocalypse
it’s just rude

i’m not scared of nuclear war anymore
i want to be well in there
balls deep in the blast radius
no doomsday prepping for me
the human sandwich board
“you and i have a date at the end of the world”

i think kim jong-un has stood me up
motherfucker


e.a.b. is a writer from Tottenham, north London. A graduate of the Courtauld Institute and former editor of Freedom newspaper; she owns an extensive collection of Princess Diana memorabilia and is married to her cat, Scooby. Her new poetry magazine, G.O.B., is due for publication at the end of September 2019.

G.O.B. Magazine


This Man by Lydia Hounat

THIS MAN

this man is your simple next-door-neighbour
reading Stanislav and Freud,
this man is a qualified doctor,
“a nice young man”,
this man has turned many a key in my door
and changed the locks to myself,
this man coughs shit wit,
unreasonable unreadability,
unfathomable good kisses,
reduces the ladies to digital cum-buckets,
wages imaginary numbers,
smokes his dick out like a haunch of pork,
gaslights his grandmother in letters,
this man spiritually reawakens in a tent admiring his fingers,
who he will choose to sink them into next,
contemplating his Peugeot tyre, slashed by a karmic vibration,
signalling his life is already over.


Lydia Hounat is a British-Algerian artist from Manchester, England. She edits the poetry section at REALITY BEACH magazine and SOBER. zine. She is currently a Poet-in-Residence at Manchester Metropolitan University, and resides between Cornwall and London.

Lydia's website