There were just two of us....

There are just 2 of us,

but that's still 2 many of us,

4 the nations new laws to allow us,

so the plod come n prime fine us.

£30 sheets 4 standing in a 2 man group,

stupid fine for not obeying hypocrites n dupes,

a fruit bug magic vaccine full of gloop,

it's apparently gonna fix the whole UK troop.

But don't dwell on any of it side effects,

let the old n unhealthy take it 1^st encase they defect,

then a new virus will grow n have the same effect,

millions of peeps stuck in home prisons unelect.

I don't really care for this new police state,

even the WHO said lockdowns were a mistake,

Dr Fauci made millions working in Wuhan on the take,

and I wouldn't be surprised if it weren't natural an a fake.

So go home, disperse or you'll be banged up,

and the masked cops don't socially distance as ur tucked up,

all they want is money, locations n your privacy's sucked up,

n if u ask me or others u'll find consensuses that it's all fucked up.

© 2020 – All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid

This Is A Shit Show....

Do you believe the countries gone insane?

Fruit drink bugs gonna eat your brain,

Please someone come feel my pain,

Coz I'm alone, stone broke and afraid.

So many unnecessary people dying,

And big men are heart broke, dropped crying.

Dickhead selfish off panic buying,

An all police want to do is fuckin cite me.

Because my health is a fucking shit show,

On more meds than ten Grannies I know.

Blood eeks from the leaks, legs on show,

An bubbles pop from the snot on nose blows.

It's a sweat tank, drip drop, sorry state to be,

And Gandalf's beards half grown face on me.

Grey whiskers and no razors I can see,

Sofa dove already, one two twenty pee.

All tin cans, been scanned, and bin bagged,

Rotten fruit but it's the best meal I've had.

Got no idea if I'll ever see my Mum and Dad,

When I go out, scarf wrapped face, tight clad.

Coz this Town is a fucking shit show,

And my mental health is nagging bad, full blown.

My inner brains having a decent chat show,

And I'm socially isolated, nowhere to go.

Coz I can't even make some decent Ps,

Nags aint running, bookies closed on high street.

I need some soft paper to wipe my underneath,

But got no petrol to fly off to the heath.

Coz it seems like this worlds in martial law,

It's a sign many have seen years before.

I'd be surprised if they relaxed all new laws,

Get used to sweating hot all summer indoor.

I swear I got bugs sucking thoughts from my brain,

Not a days passed that I've been half sane.

Only got a Pot Noodle and half a can of K,

And not a single neighbours asked if I'm okay.

Coz this countries a fucking shit show,

BoJo clown, Tory fucking road show.

Every booked ops gonna be a no show,

And I'd risk ten new fines to make some quick dough.

So this rope here is going to stay,

You never know I might need to use it one day.

I let it swing back n forth an give it a play,

Then kick the chair, doped choked, merry on my way.

© 2020 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Fuck Facebook....

So go fuck Facebook,

    fake friends,

    and fucked faced,

    Facebook wannabes.

Your profiles prob all been cloned,

    so I only seen,

    what I wanna see,

    yet never seen.

20 year old dole blogs, arguing, musing,

    I could have been,

    I should have been,

    why wasn't I a “been”?

And decades year old school friends,

    Snapshoted and crop shotted,

    where I wanna be, could have been,

    yet never seen.

Fuck fake face pretends,

    big bell ends,

    past wanna bees,

    and ancient beauty queens.

Facefuck's trade is soaring,

    scammers' is roaring.

    posters selling, fake post pretending, miss-telling,

    but never ever, sending.

Southern beauty Queens,

    spots never seen and endless video streams,

    of automatic wet dreams,

    could have, should have beens, but sadly never to be's...

Got a dozen more “friend” requests to send,

    then I'll have tons more “friends”,

    in my "fiend list" than your "friend list", even if it never ends,

    but sadly from clicks you didn't, but wish you'd really sent.

And now every Thursday night,

    is weekly indoors street party night,

    support health workers rights,

    nurse our Boris Johnsons tight.

Otherwise society will get offended,

    because when society isn't shaped and bended,

    and when it's time to rhyme along, we get along, so sing along,

    and clap and salute, right?

It's 8 O'clock no?

    The Sun says so, so it must be so,

    porch or window, put on a good show,

    coz it's patriots time and not clapping could never be a crime....

But shouldn't the NHS be funded right,

    for all times, all come, day and night,

    not just in case of virus times,

    like this emergency fruitbug crime?

So sorry Mr OAP,

    your name forgets me,

    but the Mail,

    always kindly, and daily, reminds me.

I really don't appreciate being told,

    daily, needlessly re-sold,

    about your patrioticy, your charity,

    lapping your lawn as I drink my morns cup of tea.

You'd be sitting in silk slippers son,

    drinking pints of Rum,

    not in photos with Daily n Scum,

    if was up to me.

But you're not, you're just another Facebook meme,

    been sent off the best team.

    A striker Besties never seen,

    yet just more Facefucked news to read!

© 2020 Robert Reid – All Rights Reserved

Finally They Come....

They finally come out to my homeless park BBQ, 

Get to the back jack, be quiet, and just queue queue queue,

Burned meat and charcoal but at least it aint your Mum's chunky stale stew.

So just stick it in your mouth peeps, and just chew chew chew.

It's a summer time rhyme with plenty of nonsensical lines,

Plenty of time, so we pack the bongs nice, fat and tight.

We pass the tube round and round til the moon fades at night.

Staring at the birds looking so so fine, getting a smile if you glance just right.

Summer time crew and we all say “Fuck the boys in blue”,

Put four cops together and get the brains of just two.

Let them run round, fining unmasked devils in shops and queues,

Sticking our fingers up as they pass, coz we all hate hypocrites in blue.

Coz we're all here lying out in the shinning, beaming hot sun,

And its double hard now trying to get some real fun for some.

Boys n girls are raving to the max, all popping molly one by one,

And that blonde in the thong has got my dong throbbing like a drum, bom bom.

We're out all night til the moon comes up, and then it leaves and goes,

Lying on the grass letting weeds grow through my ten duff toes.

Night changes to light and the crew whittles, as peeps start to go off home,

But I wake up on my own, with no home to go back to, all alone.

© 2020 – All Rights Reserved - Rob Reid - Competition Winner

This won The Creative Writing Groups bi-monthly Competition for Best Poem August 2020