Court

Beep, beep, beep, 

Got no sleep.

My fams outside, 

2 collect the black sheep. 

Coz court is sport, 

But judgement aint short. 

3 hour time 4 a crime, 

Mad circus, I'm fraught. 

Statements of fact, 

Contain bull crap. 

Was medically frazzled, 

Now it's a lethal attack. 

Stuck with no defence,

All my shrinks were bent.

Paper files all destroyed, 

Now a new beak has bn sent. 

She's read no dox, 

Admitting from her spot.

So I'm looking at a stretch,

From her eyes 2 the dock.

Would hv gone down, 

Never seen round town.

Guess it was my health n shiz, 

That got me out of the pound. 

I thought life wud get better, 

But drama with each letter.

I'm in a black hole of depress,

Tryin not to think of the big shredder.

Dunno what to do, 

Doctors got no clue.

Gettin sent round the houses, 

It's all givin me the blues. 

What is the point of this life, 

If all I got is pain, trouble, n strife. 

Got to find a reason to breathe, 

Coz it's just mad stress all the time. 

@ 2026 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid

Head Shrink

Do you internally think?

Thinking you need a head shrink?

Twenty one eyed wobbly blinks,

Coz a voice in ur heads linked.

I'm schizo, rizo, paranoid dizo,

Anxious, rancorous, mentally smart tho.

Twitchy itchy, living in a kill zone,

Always searching, looking 4 my birth clone.

Has ur brain gone wonky?

Working like a 3 legged donkey?

Planning to throw a ghost party?

Led astray by your monkey?

Coz depression is a constant mission,

Brain atoms split like nuclear fission.

Bed sweats from constant pillow kissin,

Want 2 take a dive n go forever missing.

Got bed rot, n old blood clots,

Never gonna be back at top spot.

Get arrested 4 a hot shot,

N nicked 4 murder by dumb cops.

So go and get ur meds filled,

I'm over scripted like a cow field.

My chemist always has the good pills.

But nothing takes away my brain ails.

Maybe ma heads always gonna be fucked,

Internal plumbing needs a plunge suck.

But what can I do about this head fuck?

Maybe I've just run out of luck?

© 2025 - Robert Reid - All Rights Reserved

Give Me My Meds!

Wheres the coffee lady?

I'm Choca moca crazy.

Drink at least 10 a day,

N then I piss it all away.

On the headphones, 

Locked in a music zone.

Coz Golden Brown,

Used 2 lay me down.

N Sweet Child of Mine,

Gave the devil a fine. 

But I just want 2 bet,

But NHS WiFi won't let. 

Ran out of mobile data,

Opera VPN hater.

Hanging out of windows,

Get a 4G signal if close.

I still just wanna bet,

Am I a gambling addict yet? 

Weekend racing sun, 

Only betting is good fun. 

Wattsapp calls,

A patient falls.

I can b happy like herb,

Still use fuck as a verb.

Medical notes on me, 

Paranoid schizo I'll be. 

I ask pls get my clonazepam, 

Or I'll b talking 2 an invisible man. 

The pregabs n benzos, 

Keep me calm n mellow. 

But don't give em 2 me, 

We'll see how psychotic I can B. 

Don't want 2 hurt no one, 

But I can kick off n run. 

Security r just in my way, 

Get beaten but they'll pay. 

Broken spoon spike chiv, 

Not a nice gift to give. 

Don't tell me u ain't got my meds, 

Coz u won't put me 2 bed. 

NHS strapped cash, 

Always hv my own stash. 

Can't trust em 2 hv my pills,

Wud just screw wiv my will. 

So it's NHS v Rob Reid, 

N u expect me 2 not to feed. 

Sweets, gabs n Morphine, 

Keeps Rob nice n clean. 

Call me an NHS junky,

At least I'm not robbing ur Granny. 

Call me a hypocrite, 

See damage of constant hits.

Now I'm ending this Skrew,

N hope u learned something new.

© 2023 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Guess Now This is Life

Dying men,

Crying friends. 

Here 2 mend, 

Near their end. 

Hot coffee,

N sticky toffee.

Don't cry n plea, 

Let's look n see.

Open PC consoles,

Have a nose.

Blood pressure rose,

Coz my Mum showed.

Mental health,

List of wealth.

Psychotic dealt,

Depressive melt.

Just met a girl,

Used 2 bang n whirl.

Now a twig hurl,

Health dealt a curl.

Nepalese nurses,

Abandonded purses.

Mooching curses,

Open hearses.

Don't pay a fee, 

NHS is free.

Nice nurses 2 see, 

All helping me.

Not that they can, 

Off 4 a scan. 

This wasn't my plan, 

But I'm on life's ban. 

Guess now this is life,

Won't be getting a wife.

Not joining lowlife, 

I'll end mine with a knife.

© 2023 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Prickles

I am awake but now I'm sad,

For coming out of the vivid dream I had.

For now this time is really real,

And no one can imagine the pain I feel.

I have nothing to really live now for, 

And my past is a closed dusty history door.

Time has flown past way too fast,

And the status quo will never last.

I know that I am going to die alone, 

N when I feel down I have no one to phone.

I only want to stay asleep in my bed,

Just have sweet opiate dreams til I'm dead.

Coz conscious me is having no fun,

Nobody has a clue about the mental pain I've done.

It seems this life has no place for me,

It seems I'm just a thorn on a prickly tree.

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

A Pointless Task

I put those leads to my nips from the battery in the car,

Hoped for the best but just ended up looking at stars.

So I drank 250ml of that lovely oral morph,

Did squat all so I wanna be squashed down to a dwarf.

A jump from Ben Nevis 2 the floor but it’s up Scotland,

N I can’t afford the petrol for my body to land.

Once I tried a blade just to try on my wrist,

But I got no blood inside me so it was a worthless risk.

I took a box of blues and then a bottle of zans,

Woke in an airbag halfway through a wall in a stolen van.

I’m running of ideas to try and top myself,

My body just doesn’t wanna seem to kill itself.

So I’m depressed n mad n sad n can hardly move,

But my bodies got something in it that won’t let me lose.

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Deaths Rattle

I got cold sweats, in full sets, but feel too hot to feel wet,

These duff pegs, are half dead, but they still keep me rolling around in bed.

My pain is immense, but every doctor’s 2 cents, seems too dense,

So I’ve got to decide, no offence, which way to fall off, this spiked fence.

I have dead teary eyes, coz I know there’ll be no happy goodbyes,

That dark fear I feel inside, was only meant for the wise.

Coz my bodies a true mess, n I've got a head bulging full of stress,

As an old teacher, once said in jest, I can only attempt, to do my worst best.

Coz I’m really at rock bottom, and every future’s been truly forgotten,

To be an EastEnders' Nick Cotton, my brains had to get half rotten.

It’s a death spiral snake’s hiss, n a chicken bone cracked wish,

A hopeful one-way ticket 2 everlasting bliss, I'll def not risk a goodbye kiss.

So many pills are taken full hand, so I wobble n slobber, here as I stand,

I definitely don’t feel like a man, coz death rattles always harder than planned.

Whisky washed back, full gack n I got more scalpels, full pack,

I plunge demon juice into my thigh's crack, n within a minute my head lies flat back.

So I slit my wrist’s cord, with a scalpel like a sword, n say a prayer 2 any listening Lord,

For all I have aboard, by law, is a single coin on my tongue to pass Styx's river, by Greek accord.

Coz this bed is my sled, and deaths rider Charon is led, pls driver take me down, full brown bread,

My eyes swirl in my head, rolling n red, n I look forward to the afterlife, pray kind dead. 

But like every time, the coin’s not payment enuff, n the riverman pulls up my body, full bluff,

I’m yanked up to my bed, from Styx’s rivers guff, n wake up panting, feeling real head ruff.

For is this my life’s long fate, to never get past, or pay the toll, to enter the underworld’s last gate,

I’m full 365, dulling my soul’s ache, I cry n quake, as sit here now, smoking "bake n shake".

For if I cannot end my time, on life's painful line, I must punish u all, with tales of my life’s crime,

So let hell’s bells, chingy, chime chime, as I once again, deliver this forlorn rhyme.

And I just hope, proper no joke, that one day, I’ll finally choke n fully croak, 

I hope 2 B found lying on my bed, blood soaked but with not a riverman's coin, stuck in my throat.

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Mr Mentalist

Mr Mentalist please, can u let me get out of my bed,

Mr Depression has called and I want 2 go back 2 the dreams that I had.

He always calls when I fail, and makes me wish I was dead.

Please Mr Mentalist please, can you let me rest my own head.

But now I've dragged myself up I'm freaky deaking right out,

Old friend Mr Anxiety has visited n given me a hard sharp clout.

Please Mr Mentalist can u give me some pills to calm my self-doubt,

I can't find my phone or keys and I'm flipping right out.

I go from zero to a hundred in a flick of an eye,

People think I'm crazy mazy when they hear me swear n cry.

All I wanted to do was get my laptop 2 work n comply,

But now I'm a swearing freak and people look at me n sigh.

Oh please Mr Mentalist can you sort out my paranoid feelings,

I keep hearing ppl on mute just thinking I'm not worth dealing.

All I want is someone to come n give me some proper mental healing,

But I don't trust nobody to come in here n walk out without stealing.

I know the old rhyme, that Paranoia will destroy ya,

But I hear silent ppl on my screen bitching and laughing "ha ha".

I got that feeling that all the ppl r just looking at me jotting all my flaws,

I can't relax at all, n my paranoid shoulder monkey is ripping, bear claw.

So please Mr Mentalist, can you do me a massive favour,

I got the schizo twitcho ithcos, with no sign of a saviour.

Leaves r raining down with flashing lights n my mind is all misbehaviour,

I'm scared I'll do something crazy n stupid, and I need a lifesaver.

All the shrinks say I'm just screwed up and they can't even help,

I'm ashamed to be ashamed, coz I just wanna it all dealt.

I get letter after letter saying I need to do my own self-help,

If I could sort my own crazy out, I would have if I could have, but it's pure agony to self.

So please Mr Mentalist can you make people understand me,

That I ain't angry on purpose and I just want people to like me.

It's seeming more n more like this world don't have a place for me,

And for anyone to relate it's 2 late, I'm just a thorn on a big mad tree.

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

This is also published on the Mary Francis Trust Website for their Mental Health, Time To Talk Day > https://www.maryfrancestrust.org.uk/poem-mr-mentalist/

POEM: "MR MENTALIST"
To support #TimeToTalkDay our Creative Writing Group led by Michele has come up with a series of wonderful and heartfelt pieces discussing mental health stigma.
This fifth piece is a poem called “Mr Mentalist” written by Robert.https://t.co/Vnww2X0Uk5 pic.twitter.com/nmolTPsXGb

— Mary Frances Trust (@MaryFrancesTrst) February 3, 2022

Please share these links......

On Twitter > https://twitter.com/MaryFrancesTrst/status/1489252342943956992

or Instagram > https://www.instagram.com/maryfrancestrust/

or Facebook > https://www.facebook.com/maryfrancestrust/posts/3145716732330079

Mental Health Week....

Someone told me it was mental health week,

Apologises that I've not even made a tweet,

The health of my mind at the mo is pretty unstable n weak,

It breakable n shakable n I don't really want to speak.

Take ur pills, take ur pills, is all I can remember,

When I was depressed n psychotic for 20 odds years Jan 2 December.

Bi-polar, Schizo, told I'd be paranoid 4 forever,

No med reviews, so stopped takin those sweets, GPs ain't so clever.

Life on Olanzapine, Rispirodone n other Fluorine based meds,

Only make u fat, slows u down n fucks with ur head.

Prob why Hitler, Stalin, CIA used it 2 cold walk enemies dead,

Slept 23 a day, even behind the wheel, so lucky not 2 b dead.

So I take what I need to get me up every day,

But I could easily spend life under the duvet wishing it away.

Cops n stitches, n a 5 stretch for jus getting thru the day,

But I dont give a shit coz I'm in prison either way.

Dont ever sneak up on me n surprise me from behind,

Probably find out how quick 2 fingers make u blind.

I can't handle stress n my bodies only half kind,

Had more holes put in me than 3 whore houses combined.

Now I'm falling apart n COVIDS blocking my health,

Multiple ops cancelled coz DAVOS trebled their wealth.

So I hv to cop block, runnins daily, sneaky n stealth,

But every non prescribed med slowly corrodes my health.

So mentally or physically I'm wrecked beyond prime,

N wen I run out of p's n ill I'd happily do the time.

Courts local paper journos wud only see a standard crime,

Mitigating circumstances wouldn't even warrant a line.

Coz my mental health needs fixing but no1 seems to care,

N I stay stuck in this flat alone no1 2 talk to or share.

My mental health nds mending but shrinks wont get out there chair,

N that's why my minds goin 2 b the end of me, pls God hear this prayer. 

© 2021 Robert Reid – All Rights Reserved