Wallpaper

You've torn it off,

N you've ripped it off,

Now its blood sport,

So you better run sport. 

My best knifes out,

So I'll cut ur hearts out.

Hang em round my neck,

In a chain of disrespect. 

But you better run fast,

Coz i throw my darts fast.

You've taken my paper away,

N now my demons on display. 

I'll kill each one slow for fun, 

Let lil Tommy see Daddy burn.  

Blowing each one to dust, 

You can try hide if you must. 

You tore my skins wallpaper apart,

Now my essence is cast.

So whats keeping me here,

I got no fucking idea.

@2026 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid 

SKЯ3W 2

SKЯ3W Epstein, n screw the news,

Vampire Satanic shiz, giving me the blues. 

Skr3w the elite, n Skrew the u know who's,

This GoySlops makes us not know what to do.

Right this is a Skrewball all bout SkЯ3win, 

It's flesh rot bog clot, hot pot stewin. 

I don't care what u might now be doin,

It's time 2 get rap tight, wrong write, SЯ3wball Skrewing.  

So the main man ain't 2 happy,

Got a goggled eyed baby, whose turned too dappy.

His wife's asked him 2 change his nippers nappy,

Coz his baby's assholes, gone all crappy. 

Sloppy gloopy sunny side ups,

His misses needs a proper measuring cup. 

She can't cook eggs so wats da fux up, 

Man needs a woman, 2 clean up his muck up. 

 So fuck this, he's off for a drive,.

But got blue lights flashin, right behind,

TBH he don't really mind,

He shudn't B driving, wen he's legally blind.

So he gets pulled over by the dibble,

There mouths R frothing wiv spit n dribble.

He's getting nicked by PC Wibble,

So cold out here, he's got beach bra nipple.

Man is 1 that don't take shit, from might right bissies,

So gets right fightin tight n silly. 

Then some cock cop, whacks him in the willy. 

N now gettin clobbered by their extended Billy's. 

 

So now he's in a wagon with a piss head,

Blood splattered alchie, drunk ol dick head.

Get 2 the station 2 get his rights read,

Put in a box 4 a night's free blue bed. 

 But at midnight he gets a real cop treat, 

3 blue come in n he g3ts a mattress beat.

One cop gives him a feather tickle on his feet, 

N another 1 gives his balls a mighty ol tweak. 

Black blue bubbling cop rot shop,

Escaped from jail, nearly got shot. 

Black eye, red eye, nose n snot, 

Base balled legs n bloods runnin hot. 

But that's the fun of the cops, 

Get 6 o'clock knocks on his battered door box. 

Rushes to hide all his stolen sox, 

N hides his stash like a sly ol fox. 

Now got s chicken soup, hot rash, nut sack, 

Seems 2 hv got cock rot, from lovin his slag, 

But she's in a hump coz she's on the rag, 

So off 2 da clinic, 4 a spatula down his crack. 

Smallpox, chicken pox, hd em all, small pup, 

Bone rot, head blok, now got a sore Cock, 

Balls hot, pants dropped, dox got a real shock, 

Now it's pecker slot, red hot as in goes da spatula pop.

So this is a bubbled up, fucked up, mental Skrew,

Wat it means I ain't got a fxxking clue. 

But I'm jus Skrewballing, all Of u,

N that's my homework for u writing crew,

 

© 2026 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid

 

WILD

In the alley’s gr8 escape,

My souls caught on a deadly hook.

A needle whispers 2 my veins,

“I’m that one you chose n took.”

Dub smoke curls like ghostly fists,

Choking on my forgotten sin.

Pulse rapid like some time bomb,

It's too late, I can't begin.

Smacks a warm lovers embrace,

A kiss that stopped my heart beat.

My brain skipped 2 a dead man’s groove,

The drums banging constant defeat.

My lungs collapse like paper bags,

Every breath a stolen prize.

Eyeballs roll back 2 meet the void,

I forever close my bloodshot eyes.

OD’s shadows claim the weak,

Coffins filled with lifes regret.

Mourners weep in pawn stores,

Debts they can’t escape or forget.

Pain’s a nasty 4 letter word,

That claws beneath my itchy skin.

Screams echos thru holes of pain,

Where daylight’s worn it paper thin.

Anger brews in shot glass swigs,

Double Vodka shots of hate.

Crime’s the only language left,

When fate slams the entry gate.

Police sirens wail like lullabies,

4 the damned n forever lost.

2 the grave or 2 the cage,

Either way, it's a deadly cost.

© 2025 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid

Willow

Staring through double glass,

At our tall white willow.

Thick window pass,

As I sink into pillow.

I want this to pass,

A painful memory.

Slipping school class,

To avoid my young enemy.

Stared into my mirror,

A double blot reflection.

Never run with scissors,

A youthful infection.

I can't help to believe,

My youthful distractions.

Only wanted to receive,

Less school letter infractons. 

Fighting playground bullies,

To stop unhelpful young males.

I'm pulling endless pullies,

A maze of dead end sales.

Sold out the American dreams,

No REM sleep for my head.

Rub my rash with Mums creams,

And time pass wishes in bed.

I don't know what this all makes,

Apart from a head full of pains.

A life full of heart breaks,

And nothing is to be gained. 

© 2025 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

I wanna

I wanna punch, I wanna hit,

I want to fight n I wanna be bit.

Any takers I'll fight you all,

The leg-shaking vibe is breaking walls.

That club is shit and the bouncers bent,

Steroid freaks that I wanna end.

Broken bottle to the neck,

I don't mind a few glass flecks.

Or a chiv in the gut-deep sliced,

Made from a pen n razor blade ice.

But I'm stuck in this black chair,

Adrenaline rushing life's just unfair.

I wanna go out and kick at my black bag,

But my legs won't let me they just sag.

I wanna hit the fucking wall,

And wanna hit bricks till I ultimately fall.

I wanna hurt, I wanna feel more pain,

But I don't need to slice meat off my leg again.

I wanna someone else to take a shot,

And I wanna let them hit me like a rock.

So do I wanna live or do I wanna die,

Or I do I just wanna make myself cry.

I dunno what I really wanna do,

My mind doesn't even have a clue..

I just wanna make myself feel real,

But I can't even finish this poxy 2 line reel.....

© 2023 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

An Ode to My Bed

This is an ode and poem to my very own double bed, 

A prison cell maybe, but it’s home n a place I never dread.

I do get tired from climbing steep stairs with broken legs,

N I get to the top n need to lie down to rest my creaking pegs.

I’m in my bedroom n through the windows I could see blue sky,

But the curtains R always closed tight n only my paranoia knows why.

Like hospital, I’ve spent days and weeks just lying on my bed,

Waiting for ops or recuperation time, I am the walking dead.

I can hear cars screech early doors, N planes N trains fly by.

N I can block the sound of little barking dogs out if I really try.

I have a nice NHS air mattress on my bed after my thigh was chopped,

It's nice and hard and keeps me waking to find my back broken N flopped.

With my TV on the wall, I watch YouTube N Netflix all day N night,

But the cops do love me so when I hear the doorbell ring I get a fright.

After the deadly ruck I had, blood stains the ceiling N now I have a camera doorbell,

So if blue do come a knocking I can always look at the screen for an early tell.

But I do love my bed it’s the space I have suffered, loved, and cried,

And one of these days it’ll probably be the place I finally rest to die.

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Got To Find A Way....

Just because I was hating,

Secretly seething and baiting.

No-one knows what the big deal is,

When I'm alone sick n naked.

So I got to find a way,

A better way, a healthy way.

Got to find a way a better way,

Some other day, another day.

When I was a lover,

There were always others.

Girls and barmaids everywhere,

For a life without self care.

I got to find a way,

A better way, a clever way.

I got to find a way.

A nicer way, a different day.

When I was a fighter,

I'd burn candle wax with lighters.

Dripping wax on fingers,

Licking blood off fingers.

I got to find a way,

A better way, a better way.

I got to find a way.

A nicer way, some other day.

When I was a loser,

I was a locked up bruiser.

Fighting cops in high streets,

Waking up in beds with new meets.

I got to find a way,

A better way, a better way.

I got to find a way.

A finer way, but on another day.

When I was forced on the sick,

Life was boring as shit.

Hated way people got funny,

When I asked for money.

We got to find a way,

A better way, for a better day.

We need to find a way.

All of us need, a better day.

Freedom is like a flower,

Blooming to speak truth to power.

Never let them cage you for speaking,

This life aint meant for weaklings.

We got to find a day,

When we say, what we want to say.

Got to find a way to fight to say,

No Twitter cancel sway.

We got to find a way,

A freedom day, no backing away,

We got to find a way, don't let them say,

What we are not allowed to say.  

So we got to find a way,

A better way, a better way,

Got to find a way, a clever way,

No fighting today.

Got to find a way, a better way, now today.

Got to find a way, a better way, now today.

Got to find a way, a better way, now today.

Got to find a way, a better way, now today.

(repeats until almost a scream)

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

This Song was also published on the Mary Frances Trust website > https://www.maryfrancestrust.org.uk/movember-song-got-to-find-a-way/

As well as on their Twitter account > https://twitter.com/MaryFrancesTrst/status/1592168577624584197

Our 3rd Movember blog is a song called "Got To Find A Way" & written by Robert from our Creative Writing Group about struggles of a life without self-care & trying to find a healthier way of dealing with hurt by opening up and saying what you want to say: https://t.co/xCY1zC4Q92 pic.twitter.com/diJQvuquLa

— Mary Frances Trust (@MaryFrancesTrst) November 14, 2022

And Instagram Account > https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck8fSzTt5tR/

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Scumbag......

It's a world of mad sensory silence,

My head is full of memories of scraps n violence,

Come on I ask "Whose got a blade"?

"Why?" Well, I've got plenty of numbers to shave.

I'll always be quick n very close up,

Silent and deadly, like a hot shot dose up.

Why wud u pay 2 C me in a cage?

The whole world is my story's mad stage.

I never did kill a man for his giro today,

I waited a whole month n took a whole company's pay.

Black n blue my eyes still shine thru,

However, what I picture I can't even describe 2 u.

I got many wounds, many too deep,

Picking dead flesh out always sends me to sleep.

I reckon I'm just a low-down scumbag,

Ready to shake ur hand before robbing ur shot bags.

Postcode blacks always come down from town,

Think they can rule till we run them all down.

Clawhammer to the jaw n someone takes them gold teeth,

Cars being rammed n runners being tortured as they carry out St beef.

It can be a whole world of terror n fear out there,

N it's all daily news that your local paper will never ever hear.

They fight in the dark, taking alleys one by one,

But the really sad thing is that they think it's all good fun.

2022 - All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Funeral

I can't leave my bed as I'm always half asleep,

Got no nice munch so I never eat.

N I toke like a chimney til I can't breathe,

So I'm a mental wreck n I've always been.

But I hate myself but that's alright,

N I drug myself to get through the night.

And I tell myself that's its no blight,

That I'm a paranoid mess but I'm always right.

I used to 2 b a bandit n always on the run,

Slept in cars but only if I had a gun,

I had cooch on call if I wanted some fun,

But I hate the light so I stayed out the sun.

See the life I lead is pressure on the soul,

N I think I've spent half of it, on the rock n roll.

Need to love myself coz my bodies getting old,

N it only takes an hour to spend 2 weeks dole.

I think I've been put, on too many ban lists, 

Even the NHS ban my rhymes, it takes the piss.

Yanks think I elected Trump, what a bunch of tits,

Of course I'm a disinfo agent, on multiple no-fly lists.

So everybody hates my guts n that's alright,

I sometimes get mardy, so I like to fight.

Hopefully I'll take enuff meds to sleep 2nite,

Don't count on it, coz my brain keeps on a light.

I'm a pale white anaemic, other people's bloods flowing in me,

Been stabbed so much, got far 2 many scars 2 see.

N when I cop a charge I always bag a plea,

Coz blue mattress cells seen 2 much of me.

So nobody loves me but that's alright,

N someone might love me n that's their plight.

I love the pain of being stuck with chivs, n that aint right,

But TBH no1 gives 2 flyin fucks, about my shite.

So I don't give a shit, what ppl think no more,

But I'm still a gent n will hold open a door.

I may no longer be rich so it's hard being poor,

But cud be worse, at least I don't sleep on the floor.

 

© 2022  - Robert Reid - All Rights Reserved

Miss Communication

Hi there, I don't know if you remember me but I was up town last Saturday at the anti-lockdown protest. I saw you choke out that cop and then give him a good boot in the head. I filmed it on my phone and put it up on TikTok. It's already got over 100,000 views. I don't know if you saw me but I really liked your cahones. Get back to me as I am going up next weekend. Here's my address and mobile no.

Yes, I was there on the South bank giving the coppers a good beating. They deserved it. I didn't realise it was you who had filmed me and put me up on the Internet though. I saw myself choke him to the ground on Twitter the other night about twenty times and wondered how it had got there.

It was great, it was me, you are famous. Everyone in the anti-lockdown movement thinks your a hero for what you did. You really showed them we won't take any more. Are you coming up town next weekend?

Well to be honest I wish you hadn't had filmed me doing that at all. Once it was all over the web, I was facially recognised by those modern cameras cops all have in London and I had my door broken down in the week and got nicked for ABH. I have to go to court on Monday now, probably looking at a 5 stretch for assault on old bill. You really fucked my life up by putting that film online, you twat. When I get out I'm coming for you.

No reply.

Based on a lockdown protest in Germany...

Lets' have it, love to see blue get a taste of their own medicine. Bloke sure has balls to choke out a copper and now hes all over the web, cameras have their downsides. Hope he doesn't get into much sh!t for fighting back. https://t.co/KioRWxYIiD

— DarkPolitricks (@darkpolitricks) March 15, 2021

© 2021 – All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid

A Prison Ting

He was just a stupid young kid, jobless and broke,

But the prick tries robbing me and I think it's a joke.

Then a shank is produced, I see the blade through the smoke,

So I snap his arm in two and let him sleep in my choke.

Think nothing of it, coz it happens all the time,

But stupid plod cops want to nick me, for a non-crime.

Get a 6 o'clock knock, and see a long blue line,

And I'm remanded to Reading, to wait for court time.

Got nothing in my pockets but I kept a penny cheeked,

Least half an oz passes on visits, from week to week.

Throw cash devils way and he'll give you what you seek,

But guards beam on touching, so we pass cheek to cheek.

Got a smelly cell mate, who don't wash or pull the chain,

And another white yoof, talking black without no shame.

My tackles plugged 24/7, unless the boys have gone to play a game,

So I straighten tin pie wraps to smoke on, til a screw came.

Got a kicking in the cell and batons shave my shins,

A mattress beating at night and cell mates never see a thing.

I poke a screw in the throat and he chokes on my fings,

Then I'm stripped beat n battered, whilst I hear the screws sing.

A month in solitary, and I'm shitting in a hole,

Got roaches for company and a dark hearted soul.

My foods mixed with crushed glass, so I can't eat at all,

All coz a screw got a taste, and a heart black as coal.

Finally I'm acquitted, on a plea of self defence,

But the screw gets me nicked, just on offence.

Thought half the jury, would have sat on the fence,

But they all send me to chokey, to be confined with the dense.

So I'm back to prison, but this time it ain't no remand,

A crime I wouldn't call it, but still the record stands.

Hear that kids bredrins on the wing, shanks pass hands,

And I end up dead in the showers, stabbed on demand.

© 2020 – All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid