In the huge crowd, bustled along,
People dancing, sound systems and chicken sales,
The music pounds, bones shake and we smile,
Cops stand on walls, as mollys sold below,
The huge expensive houses, have devalued to love.
Too much gum chewing, and skins on million pound stairs.
The parade is ignored as we dance in off limit streets,
Bass and drums, and a million moving feet.
© 2026 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid
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
Spider, spider, sticky web,
Clever creature, never forget.
One day you will be wrapped in his silk.
Stuck helpless as he covers you up.
Clueless and lonely for help.
He crawls over you with intent.
Tying you up entirely,
Anesthetised you stare blankly out.
That spider put you where he want,
Your soon going to be his snared eat.
So beware of that sticky little spider, spider.
An 8 eyed crawly assasin.
You'll never escape his web.
Everyone ends up trapped.
So just accept your fate.
@ 2026 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid
The tin that held a little life,
Dramatic events, took all day n night.
A break to party for the plane,
Darkness that snuffed out light.
The tin was the only witness,
Became a cannister full of bliss.
It was the only true survivor,
Cracked baccy tin full of hiss.
A faded container wrap,
That saw the animals bones snap.
Tiny metal survival kit,
Scouting 101 animal trap.
A safety pin was the snare,
Balanced over a twig with care.
SAS survival book taught us,
And now we had the hare.
We all sat around the camp fire,
The plane crash was quite dire,
But at least we now had something to eat,
And survivors partied like a Church choir.
© 2026 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid
Once up a time,
Stuck in a room.
A cobweb of death,
The spiders loom.
Covered in wirey thread,
I read a dusty book.
It was a book of death,
As I lay on misery's hook.
I've been here before,
Eons time ago.
A place of darkness,
Flickery neon glow.
Was a place I'll be again,
Waiting for you here.
In the black coal air,
Spun round in fear.
Sound and light fade,
As I prepare once again.
To enter the room of death,
A final place of pain.
@ 2025 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid
Brooding mare, striking hair,
Rebellious our Queen, Boadicea,
Red, white and blue,
She was the English overseer.
Her chariot storms the troops,
Romans shaken with fear,
Arrows fly like sparrows,
Axe weilded against spear.
Her hair browny, red and firey,
Ends plated with blood flares,
She storms the Latin invaders,
Striking Romes soldiers with dare.
Battling for her home and people,
Against the Roman legions,
Smash, blood, and crackle,
She leads the British region.
Faces painted with blue paint,
Rolling bales of tar aflame,
Soldiers run and dive for cover,
"Holy Zeus", Centurions exclaim.
Romans sent by Emperor Hadrian,
Lost became the fate of the 9th legion.
Due to our killer Queen Boadicea,
The Romans were eventually beaten.
© 2025 - Robert Reid - All Rights Reserved
(This won the Facebook Group competition May 2025)
5 dead boys sitting on a wall,
5 innocent souls waiting for a fall.
5 young kids who didn't know fuck all,
5 of us boys, just waiting for deaths call.
First there was Ozzy,
He was my good mate,
But he sucked on gas for fun,
Got frozen lungs for his fate.
Second was my mate Gav,
He took one too many sweets,
Was found dead in his Mums bath,
Fully clothed with sunken feet.
They were both my friends,
Now they're both dead,
No one cared but old bill,
Murder arrests, local papers said.
Then was Mario in Spain,
We toked n walked the sand,
He danced n touched the wrong girl,
Shot by Russian mob, with cut off hands.
N then my old time mate Luke,
Banged, then drunk til his liver was toast.
Cancer spread through him like the plague,
He was a skeleton, dying on the South Coast.
They were all my good friends,
Now they're all brown bread,
I'll be next the Devil said to me,
Making no 5, to join em he said.
5 dead boys were all sat on a wall,
5 dead boys all strutting tall.
Look for those 5 boys they didn't deserve their fall,
But we all die someday, so heed that call.
© 2025 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid
Yap, yap, yap.
Clack, clack, clack.
Rarr, rarr, rarr.
Clack, Clack, Crack.
I pour from the bottle,
The smell is raw n almost burning.
A drop spills out the beaker,
washing machine starts churning.
The cold plastic box,
is full to the brim.
Of recyclable rubbish,
I need to put in the bin.
Cloth damp n dank,
I rub through my fingers.
As I load up the machine,
That raw smell it still lingers.
Brrr, brrr, brrr.
clunk, clunk, clunk.
rurr, rurr, rurr.
clunk, clunk, clunk.
© 2025 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid
So chilling cold,
Ruffle n snuffle,
I'm lying here,
Back to bed.
Take your time,
It's all you have.
Mine is up,
Pass my fuckeries cup.
Choca Mocha.
Rice krispiees,
N a butter crosiant with jam.
I toke the vape,
Eyes as wide as I can.
Got a broken nose,
And blood on my knees.
Full of metal,
Pain and krackle,
Trickee tackle, when I walk.
But a smile on my face,
When I see a bird to talk.
Be a good boy,
Is what my mama said.
But I chose to be naughty,
That's why I'm back to bed.
@ 2025 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid
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
Note: Its meant to be read fast a bit like a song, each stanza quickly in one go. A bit like a Kasabian song.
1, I'm messing with the enemy,
Don't need 2 sell my soul 4 free,
He's already inside of me,
Watching from a gallery.
2, he's just another trick,
Playing the devil jus 4 kicks,
He's making my brain proper sick,
Seems I'm on another trip.
3, he's running my body ill,
So I'm crushing up another pill,
As I watch, my very own blood spill,
He's got me under an evil spell.
4, my mind cant ignore,
The pain inside my inner core,
He's got me rolling on the floor,
Please, find me an entrance door.
5, he's coming 4 me, I got the fear,
Handing me, another beer,
All 2 keep my mind unclear,
Messing with my mind, pls help me dear!
6, he's destroyed my mental health,
I think i need some proper help,
But no1 seems 2 want 2 help,
So I'm stuck on this running belt.
7, it's coming towards the end,
I can't see, around the bend,
So can u find an angel 2 send,
Or I'll be in another Sim again.
Damn!
© 2024 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid
U can call me a joker,
A fent abused smoker.
But I got a good excuse,
This world's a game of poker.
I want to get back home,
Coz this world ain't my zone.
U can all call me mad,
But ur all NPC drones.
My world got blown up,
A nuclear war was thrown.
My body woke in a chair,
Sick, ill, this Sim is known.
I need to get out of here,
Back to the world I cheer.
I know ur all not real,
Want to make that clear.
Half u NPCs don't hv names,
I'm playing PlayStation games.
Stuck as the only RPC,
No offence this Sim is lame.
My Sim is a waste land,
NATO nuke war all planned.
But Russian hypersonics won,
N we all turned into sand.
So pls get me back home,
No more Ukrainian drones.
Need some DMT to see reality
To tell me what is known.
Stuck in a Sim that ain't mine,
U NPCs walk round just fine,
But I know this ain't reality,
I'm stuck with a bent out mind.
Need some help to get back,
Pls help me I'm on a sick rack,
My body ain't even my own,
Go on joke, n think I'm wack.
© 2024 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid
I got no smart shoes, but got food,
You want some food?
I got dark or white, it's up 2 you,
It's food for the soul, and my souls well abused,
My shoes don't shine but yours don't too.
Coz I got no roof over ma head and ma cars ma bed,
I park down alleys, n pull ma coat over ma head.
My friends pretend, but don't let me rest ma legs,
I beg n beg but get ripped 2 shreds.
Coz a friend in need is a friend who thieves,
I've woke before 2 find friends on their knees.
Sifting through ma tings, taking what they need.
My pills n cash your supposed 2 leave.
I'd tell u the truth but never know where 2 begin.
My shoes may not shine, but 100% they're mine,
Never going down 4 a heist on Clarkes, damn stupid crime.
Treds cleaner than my bed n well past their prime,
But if anyone mugs me off I'll happily do the time.
Coz a friend in need must be a friend with greed,
Their needs so deep, they forget you in a heart beat.
A place to stay isn't a doggy treat,
They'd rather call the law than let me rest my feet.
So do you want these shoes, I say exist?
A pair of feet golden from the sun, but moon blessed.
Ten rough blistered toes, that the devils kissed,
Bore a baby from the Gods, but ill conceived, half pissed.
I maybe bat fuck crazy, but mans no joke full toke,
I fill small rooms with fumes ignore signs not 2 smoke,
But I'm still a stand up man, n all round good bloke,
Yet if u rob me once you'll die in my choke.
Coz I done time, thrown lines and stood in line 4 brine,
What's yours is mine, and what's mine is mine.
I got an eye 4 wheels n never paid a speeding fine,
Cash on tap whoever said it don't pay well crime?
So go walk a mile, in my soiled wet shoes,
Go slow, two by two, like rats led by a flute.
Tred my well worn path with a laugh, n give that man a toot,
N don't be the slow fat cow that farmers shoot.
Coz a friend in need is a friend who bleeds,
Shared blood in a stall, passed works beneath.
For a supposed friend, he could had said goodbye with a tweet,
Coz a year then passed before he was found dead in the street.
Coz I aint got no smart shoes, but have you?
Or are your treds worn dead, a sick man with no clue.
A suited fat lawyer, pimping a room with no view,
No win no fee, but still got time 2 sue.
Coz I count the real friends on my pinks, from head 2 toe,
A real friend will lend n don't put on a show,
That's why I don't have real friends, they're a bar set too low,
N I walk these smart shoes alone on da path I know.
© 2024 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid
I cut myself to play,
The red it seeps my shirt.
I stabbed a man like Cain,
Buried the corpse in dirt.
My friends left in a day,
Were threats I couldn't avert.
So I dug my veins away,
But nothing dulled my hurt.
So I killed myself today,
Just to see if it would work.
I blew my brains away,
Perview my bloody herse.
© 2024 - All Rights Reserved Robert Reid
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.
Its Valentines Day,
A total love mass-a-cre.
Heart pumped full of lead
Everyone jump in your car.
Write the date down,
It’s the 14th of Feb.
A day to remiss,
Roses prickly n red.
Rat-a-tat-tat,
Loves guns go off.
Your tied to the chair,
Spitting out a bloody cough.
Your birds ran home,
Nothing left but blood n gore.
Lay your weapons down,
Rest your heart on the floor.
So loves all around,
But just not in your bed.
So pull your hearts trigger,
And lay down with the dead.
© 2024 – Robert Reid All Rights Reserved
It's another Happy New Year Skrew 2 all u few,
N I hope MSRA n Cancer don't get into u lot 2.
The NHS seemingly has more important things to do,
Even though my legs r starting 2 turn green n blue.
I honestly think that the NHS is trying 2 kill me,
Even though I've tried myself more times than 1,2,3.
Seems whisky, morphine n pills don't even get 2 me,
Just wake up hours later needing a desperate pee.
I go 2 every hospital appointment, N always arrive on time,
N 2 b compliant I even force a chin rug on my grime.
Though I might black out halfway down the waiting line,
I still try my best when I'm cold n nose dripping green slime.
Honestly, I got doctors telling me to do my own surgery,
When I ask them why u don't bother trying to really help me.
Guess what the Surgeon said "it's, not illegal to see",
Myself get a blade n start hacking off lumps of cancerous meat.
So thank u NHS for wasting all that inpatient bed time,
I've stayed in the hospital 4 my pegs at least 4 times.
But all they cared about was some mysterious blood leak, deep inside,
N of course it was an invisible one they could never find.
So now I'm back on the waiting list for 20 23,
It does take the piss, N I doubt any1 really cares bout me.
I can't handle the pain no more, so I often scream n plea,
But there aint enuff strong meds in all my drawers 2 set me free.
So I may not be around it seems, for much more time,
N it seems God's given the NHS duty, 2 punish me, 4 all my crimes.
So although this liddle ditty, is only a little Skrew, joke n rhyme,
It could just be one of the few last poems, that I will ever sign.
© 2023 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid
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/
Please login to relevant apps and share, follow and like!
I feel black like a smack and the crack of the back,
Slowly drifting to the end with no coming back.
I am living in the dark coz it keeps me warm,
But I am in pain from the blood stains from the bandages warn.
My bleed is a seed that apparently is making me ill,
So looking forward to that op and the drink I’ll down, pig swill.
Black is the light of the night and sunrise to me,
Go to bed at 5 or 6 and I wake up at midnight you see.
Then everything is chill and I can type away,
The night is my time, if I had to choose when to play,
I only get out of bed early if there is a dox or hoz appointment that day.
Building my BOT, writing, and doing stuff other people do in the day.
And black is the slack in my creaking old back,
With bones and nerves in pain as if I’ve been strung on the rack.
It’s not really a colour but the absence of them all,
But black is the colour that keeps me climbing the wall.
© All Rights Reserved 2022 By Robert Reid
