Mystery

Are you ready to witness and turn the key, for we are about to glee,

Allow your pupils to let you see, a real man of mystery.

He has crickle cracked skin, and hair slap dashed back,

Simmered red hot tiles, crawled til flesh turned black,

Running down the evil, criminal bent few,

Has a triple sky high, birds eye view.

He secretly caught, the Royal Jack the Ripper,

Princesses thanked him, kisses down trouser zipper.

Always bow tied, clipped chin for the mighty,

Piss alley soaked, wet poor for beggar plighty.

Dark eyed, crooked nose, rugged and black browed,

He slips nip creep crept, like smoke, through many a big crowd.

Simple acts he creates, wonder papers high front page views,

Always fighting crime, for the rights of an oppressed few.

Is he merely just a normal man, short or grandstand?

Truth surprise, alas, but no army sits under his command.

So is he shed hedge bunk or huge mansion slept?

Could it be, one of the cleverest secrets ever kept?

Are you ready, to hunt down, thinly kept whispers of a man unseen?

Following cold alley damp dank info, like a soldiers latrine.

But if you find a clue, follow the thread, pull and strike prey,

Might just find a good man, ready to save your day.

If you're ever stuck, nicked, nuck rucked, or ever miss viewed,

He'll fight might, all right til peeps are unconfused.

He'll never bow down, cry, accuse or even plea,

Cos he's a true stories hero, a real man of mystery.

© 2024 - All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

This won The Creative Writing Groups bi-monthly Competition for Best Poem Jan/Feb 2024.

The Deepest Scratch

A scratch or two on your back,

You take a few more if you can.

She's an open red raw book,

And we always go it full hand.

Hands on a hotel window dare,

As I stand from her behind.

She likes the night-time stares,

With a constant cold slight remind.

I don't know if I trust her,

Lies and deciet rivers run deep.

I still penetrate on offer,

But paranoid rumors I keep.

Til I catch out a slight lie,

One I can't keep inside.

It hurts like a knife,

A deep cut from the side.

So I act like the Alpha Male,

Blade slipped in my back pocket.

I knock on the flat front door,

Then rampage like a sideways rocket.

There's too much blood on the floor,

And an ex best friend lying in the red.

Suddenly I don't blame him no-more,

She's deliberately set me up in bed.

Those red scratches run deep,

The ones you can never hide.

I look in the 6 by 4 cell mirror,

Still wishing for one more ride.

© 2023 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

I overheard....

I overheard, that u were no longer my bird,

U been sleeping around, the thought was absurd.

Then I came home, 2 catch you in my bed,

With another bloke, I wanted him dead.

You were up the duff with my kid, little did I know,

Soon as I was out the picture, he got to watch them grow.

I'd like to to hav a kid, 2 bunk off school n hv a lark.

I'd like to hav a kid, to play wiv me in the park,

I'd like to get to know them, b4 I'm brown bread,

I'd like to 2 hav some1 cry, at my funeral wen I'm dead.

But I can't hv any kids, even tho I might hav a few,

N I can't hav a kid, n it saddens me that's it's true,

I got no money, n no notes for toys,

I got no dolls, or playstations for boys.

If God was real, I'd hv b normal wiv real emotions to feel,

But God must be dead, can't see no truth that he's real.

I wish I had some sense, but it's been battered out my head,

N that's why I won't see my kids, til maybe when we're dead.

© 2021 – All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid

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