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You’ll Be Lucky If This Is The Only Poem I Ever Write About Trains

by Gus Stephens

People on trains are all so different but they have in common that they are not in a car

The difference between two number plates Is hardly the difference between two blades of grass But if I were a number plate I'd be V429 NOH And you'd be something else

The people on the train travelling in the other direction would rather be where I already have been, but I left

#don't be shit #idiot #Gus Stephens #poetry

NEWS

Hi!

We here at Shit Zine have up till now been "the royal we", but not any more...

We are delighted to say that Marie Collins will be on board as another editor for future issues of Don't Be Shit

You can find everything she has contributed to the zine here and her own site here

#don't be shit

I haven't written anything new since the poem I wrote for Issue 1 which feels kinda crappy so here is an older one that is still pretty relevant

Dexter's Lobotomy

by Gus Stephens

I heard about a guy who is missing part of his skull. They needed to get to his brain so they put that piece of skull in his stomach to keep it fresh, but it got infected and ruined. Now he's waiting for a special helmet, because if anything touches the space where the skull should be he would instantly die. It's like a real life version of the big, red self-destruct button from all of the inventions in Dexter’s Laboratory.

It's really windy outside while I remember this and I have an agonising, unbearable pain in my toes which I can't understand but it had woken me up twenty minutes ago and now a draft is causing a door in the flat to slam open and shut.

I can't stand the wind, I can't stand the slamming, I can't stand the pain in my toes, I can't stand that I want to press my own big, red self-destruct button. I hope for a piece of a tree to find its way through my ceiling, through my window, through my wall; whichever point of entry is easiest, so long as it crushes my fucking skull.

He can press his self-destruct button at any time. Well I bet birds hate the wind too. And I can't just fly away

#don't be shit #idiot #poetry

Cal Donnelly thinks these are shit but I think they are great and so is he

#don't be shit #issue 1 #Submissions #Cal Donnelly #illustration

Traffic is Romantic

by Zach Roddis

Maybe I should explain; I don't know how to drive. The only experience I have of being in a car is getting a lift from my Dad going from A to B in everyday life, and the occasional holiday. As the last five years have passed this has been less and less, as I live in a different city, have been to university and graduated. The only time I am a passenger in a car now is when I'm lucky enough to be going on tour with a band.

There's a certain nostalgia to it. As a child I used to be amazed at what seemed to be endless lights of neighborhoods distant to motorways whilst travelling through the night.

When I'm travelling from city to city doing spoken word gigs alone (on a train or a coach), I kind of switch off from it. I pretend it isn't happening... but in a car or tour van you're there on the ground with it.

Day to day I listen to songs and they are appropriate for the occasion. That's not to say that songs can't be fantastic. On a spoken word level for instance, you have stuff like Scared of Everything - highlighting harsh emotions such as regret in the lyrics. Another great work is Lancaster Market by Shakusky – an American emo band who also use spoken word fearlessly in their songwriting. A relevant lyric being;

put my fucking organs in a vending machine at some gas station and try to convince someone to fish the correct change out of their pocket so you can afford to assemble a new me right then and there

That's just it though, when you're on the road you have more of an opportunity to really get into the guts of a piece of work. I often find myself more involved in a novel I'm reading if I'm in a traffic jam. It's like I travel through the characters. I think spoken word has the potential to do that as well. Poets Lenni Sanders and James Varney just this month released a four track EP. Often lines are said overlapping between the two of them, giving a different sense of meaning on each listen. This reflects the human condition; we are all overlapping each other, stuck in traffic, waiting for a train, listening to a phone ring... and then we all speak at the same time.

Scared of Everything https://scaredofeverything.bandcamp.com/releases Shakusky https://shakusky666.bandcamp.com/album/lancaster-market Lenni Sanders https://lennisanders.bandcamp.com/releases James Varney https://jamesvarney.bandcamp.com/

Tour staples also include: The Kermode & Mayo Film Review Podcast The Book Slam Podcast

Zach Roddis is a DIY spoken word artist who writes about human existence and takeaway food

#don't be shit #issue 1 #Submissions #Zach Roddis

Identity App

by Lynn Pilkington

My new phone Is smart. 'There's an app For that' They say. I downloaded Said app Because I wanted to know The chat. Out the small-town loop Too long But I'm beginning to think I like it that way Rather than Synced beyond sanity. A new ringtone Means I no longer know Who I am answering to. Contact list Containing Chapters of lives lost. I can't believe All those humans Still exist. The clubber Who had a girlfriend Was active an hour ago And I don't fucking care. Not comfortable Peering into the soul Of intentionally lost Contacts Waitresses Flatmates Volunteer peers Inpatient pals All of you Sending me a photo Of your new lives Making me realise I like who I am now. I will not apologise For being here. For changing. For becoming who I was meant to be. I am coming of age And I didn't need an app For that.

Part-artist, part-activist, Lynn Pilkington is a Glasgow-based poet, writer and performer who aims to use her creative expression to change the world. She copes with the pain of being an imperfect human being via the spoken word and you can follow her journey of self-discovery on her blog www.projectlynn.weebly.com.

#don't be shit #issue 1 #Submissions #Lynn Pilkington #poetry

Issue 1 is now available to buy online! I'm charging £1 plus postage which is exactly how much it cost me to make

If you buy this I will also include some extra stuff which will be fun and maybe I will write a personal poem for you

Select postage option United Kingdom & Scotland £2.00 GBP Rest of World £5.00 GBP

#shop #don't be shit

Middle Aged orphans

by Kate Adrian

White white white White Noise Noise Noise Boys Toys Move in the bleak black snow the tar covers us from head to toe never moving stumbling so slow over our words and highways overpasses passing clouds and cities and dreams Of daybreak and sparrow kings wings beating us we cry - FEED US PORRIDGE - it'll make us strong as birdsong jogging deeper into sleep painkillers freeing grieving widows old orphans sit silently on leather sofas as satires plat out on televisions and airwaves.

The gods stopped dancing long ago when they quit their monsters and fed them to the sparrows.

We are forsaken. It's for the best. We are forsaken. They lay us to rest

Kate Adrian is a filmmaker and writer whose master plan is to assassinate the novel and rebuild it as a river. Find her in Bristol based watering holes

#don't be shit #issue 1 #Submissions #poetry #Kate Adrian

more "Shit Poems" by Eilidh McMillan

"I wrote these poems in the park in summer when I was homeless and jobless and recently got dumped"

#don't be shit #issue 1 #Submissions #Eilidh McMillan #illustration #poetry

Here is a poem I wrote for Issue 1:

I Always Buy A Return Ticket Just In Case We Can Travel Back Together

by Gus Stephens

Transport me to so far away That with a huge telescope I can see the earth thousands of years ago. Maybe even millions.

You did that thing I like. Taking just a step back Makes me realise that There might be a future Where I find out if you did it for me. But in the perpetuity of now I will never know if you did Or if it was by some cosmic accident.

A cry for help (or even just a call to quell your loneliness) When written intentionally in my language Never goes unheard. However, I'm afraid, My own insecurity means that It often gets misinterpreted Or the meaning gets questioned Because I didn't know if you spoke my language

Transport me So I can see myself in the past, maybe. From not so far away as before But still pretty far And I think "I am so small and alone" Relative to the rest of all existence But look at how big I am Relative to this breadcrumb. I can hold it between two fingers And squash it To make many smaller breadcrumbs. This is my idea of a holiday. Lets take it together. So maybe, next year When we go on the same holiday again We will be looking back at both of us Together. Together

Gus Stephens is an idiot and the only reason his poetry is in this zine is because he also happens to be the editor

#don't be shit #issue 1 #idiot #Gus Stephens #poetry