Flies

Flies, flies, they are everywhere,

They seem 2 be Luicifer of the air,

Don't, don't, open that bag right there,

You might jus get, a buzzing good scare.

Buzz, buzz, that blue bottle buzz, 

2 wake up to that, is jus 2 much. 

Chase, Chase, wave of a crutch, 

Days n nights, it's jus 2 much. 

Bags, bags, I clamber over bags,

All 2 chase that speedy hag.

Rag, rag, hand always with rag,

N in my other palm spray 2 tag.  

Wait, wait, for the critter 2 land,

Approach real deft, with detol in hand. 

Slow, slow, sneak n plan, 

Spray that shiz, empty the can. 

Pick, pick that dead body clear, 

Just a fly 2 add 2 the bag right here, 

Hope, hope, another won't appear, 

Otherwise, I'll be fly catching all year. 

© 2026 - All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

The Flat

Flat, flat,

I'm stuck in my pad,

How long, 

Many days I've had.

Rot, rot, 

Left to rot,

Bored of the stream, 

TVs ear claptrot, 

Toke, toke, 

Just one toke,

Licking that pipe,

It's an expensive joke.

Dad, Dad, 

Tell your Dad, 

He don't even care, 

How many licks I've had. 

Bed, bed, 

I'm tied to this bed, 

Got nowhere to go, 

I'll dissolve in this bed. 

Sore, sore, 

I'm really sore, 

Just rolling to pain,

So can't write any more.

© 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