The Witch

The Witch is a bitch,

She lies n she snitch.

Won't even grant a dead man,

A dead mans, dying last wish.

It seems I'm all alone,

With tons of "mates" on my phone.

But even my Facebook friends,

All give me a big fat no.

Seems there's no one I know,

Who will even give it a go.

So there's nothing 2 stop me,

From that death tunnels white glow.

The mates that I thought,

Gave me a 2 fingered naught.

Never pretend u got friends,

Even the ones that you've bought.

Coz the worst mates in the world,

Blow hot shit, then ice cold.

U thought you were friends,

But their friendship had to be sold.

All their lies to your face,

Never ever seemed out of place.

You pour ur heart out to them,

But they then walk off in haste.

So Fuck all them FaceFuck friends,

Your friendships all pure pretend.

Screw that chat log in the bin,

N admit ur friendships a dead end.

So it's all downhill from here,

I've got loads of prison 2 fear.

So when the reaper pulls the trigger,

I'll happily bleed out like a deer.

© 2025 - Robert Reid - All Rights Reserved

Smell...

This Skr3w is new, and I dunno wat 2 do,

Bashed ten blues, but my minds still on u.

Tried 2 get up but my duvets stuck like glue,

Lying here cashless thinking who to sue.

Ur just a lovely brunette and I want 2 smell ur hair,

Give me 5 mins, I don't give a toss wat u wear.

Don't wanna get close, n I'm always aware,

That peeps think a bloke like me, cud never ever care.

I don't hav the words to spit to u online,

N u'd prob be miffed if u ever heard this rhyme.

Can't write love songs, they wudn't hv that chime,

And I run 2 much to even have the time.

I jus like that smile when u don't even know,

Flick of that brown, putting on a show.

Your the sort of girl that I'd really like to know,

But the chance of the bet is I'd prob let it blow.

So I sit here alone n just twiddle wiv my phone,

Hoping every min that u'd catch the dog n bone.

Coz the truth of the matter is I'll prob end up alone,

N that Facefuck profile I stare at, is prob just a clone.

© 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