SKЯ3W

Skr3w, screw, barney McSkrew,

Screw them all and screw u too,

Been in a screw job n not 2 few,

Diablo witch screwed r whole crew.

Coz a screws a joe pullin u out of bed,

Stand by the wall put ur hands on ur head,

Open ur pockets and spins out ur bed,

A tru screw never 4gets a word uve said.

Coz a screw in the jaws pain u can't ignore,

Dental abcess my raw jaw is sore,

Too many meds n the floor is my whore,

N I can't even KO headbutting the door.

Coz a screw under my tyre is nothing new,

A skank neighbours plan n I've had a few,

Stuck roadside wiv nothing to do,

Ur wallets blank n ur mates r too.

Coz a screw on a driver is a tool jus right,

Always beware of that tool in a fight,

Plunge that shank n rotate it tight,

Bein pulled close as ur pupils unlight.

Coz a screw with a bird cud be overdue,

It could be the best screw u never knew,

Unthread ur stress the best u can do,

Unpop ur cork as ur nads turn blue.

Coz a screw aint a nail still I nailed it gd,

If u had to Google then u misunderstood,

That the thread of this Scr3w was meant 2 b good,

It only rhymes becoz I Skrewed it good.

© 2020 Rob Reid in pain after the dentist put a filling on top of an abscess!

Sitting Around

I'm just sitting around,

Pounding the ground.

Got too many fears,

To go walking in town.

Social workers ring,

Sayin I need help to think.

But got briefs and lawyers,

And trouble with shrinks.

No one wants to fix my arm,

Guess they think it's self harm.

But no one tried the obvious,

Now I'm left to rot in the farm.

We're all stuck in a human zoo,

Thinking we control what we do.

But we're in a 3D video game,

Zombified robots with no clue.

So I'm sitting around, 

Just pounding my ground. 

I'm just slipping away,

Into a dream, with no sound.

© 2026 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid

Xmas Day

Music wakes me softly,
I rise from darkness to dress.
Champagne and croissants for breakfast,
Now it's time to act impressed.

Pressent wrapping discarded carelessly,
Watching others get gifts they want.
I don't have the money I used to,
And these days I don't get gifts to flaunt.

Alcohol and drugs are my only relief,
A gift I have to give to myself.
Beer is too fizzy I now prefer Whisky,
And I have no time for blasai shows of wealth.

The dinner is the highlight of my day,
Crackers pulled like turkey bones snapped.
I want to stay drinking n eating forever,
I have no time for the TV show crap.

Eastenders drives me crazy,
Why watch misery and death?
I go in the kitchen with Dad n Whisky,
We watch a film n drink without wretch.

Then it's upstairs to bed n a bang,
If I don't wake tomorrow I don't care,
Coz the next month's time is shit,
And I won't have a penny to spare.

@ 2025 - Robert Reid - All Rights Reserved

Fluffy The Cat

I challenged Clare from Creative Writing group to write me a Skrew and I would do her a poem about a cat. This is the nicest you will get from me I guess.....

Fluffy

Clare's neighbours friend had a funny and fat, smelly hairy cat,
It was furry n called Fluffy and it liked lying on it's back.
It liked to roll around in the mud and chase the odd scared rat,
But could never understand why it was always forced to sit on a mat.
It's owner would scream at Fluffy, it was always shouting and yell,
Not that Fluffy covered in mud n poo, could ever really tell.
Whenever she came indoors covered in her stinky smell,
Her owners mouth moved up and down so fast but Fluffy loved that outside garden smell.
It loved to play outside rolling around in the grass and the dirt and weeds,
Chasing things in the air that only special cats could only ever see.
Her owner thought Fluffy was mad as she watched her climb her precious trees,
Then she would come in and spread the newly cleaned home, with all her fleas.
One day the owner got so mad due to the cat ruining her pristine home,
She'd spent all day cleaning it ridding it of cat mess wherever Fluffy would roam,
So she rang up the RSPC and complained Fluffy had infectious mad cat syndrome.
She could handle Fluffy no more, she'd ruined 2 many packs of fresh flea combs.
So one day some men in white turned up as Fluffy was playing in the garden,
Fluffy was so scared she looked and begged at her owner for a pardon.
But her owner had enough of her high jinx, and her will just hardened.
Fluffy was led away, a criminal cat, but she had one more piss on the rose garden.
It was not Fluffy's fault that she was born a fat fun filled smelly garden cat.
And it was so sad that her owner couldn't just see through that.
Fluffy was led off to an RSPCA jail in a cage, with just a single mat.
There was no grass with mud n poo to play in, and Fluffy really hated that.

© 2021 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

The Invitation....

In 2020, our country was given an invitation,

To stay together as one, continue living as one, as a liberty freedom loving nation,

But only a few ppl stayed back, huddled together at the train station,

Waving at full carriages trundling off, travelling to an unknown Chinese destination.

Still some of our people held tight, on to that special invitation.

They chose not to become, part of a true police state, a total surveillance nation.

Too many ppl disagreed, jailing themselves inside, praying for salvation.

More than a few wanted freedom, screw the USA, and bent Joe Biden.

The lobbyists and donors of course, had special back seat, White House invitations.

To witness a lying racist President, bowing down with glorified fake admiration.

He was only in the door a single day, b4 those men sent troops into other nations.

N “Liberals” cheered on, whilst CIA news anchors clapped, and started salivating.

However still some people kept on, wishing hard, holding on tight with their invitations.

But the smiling fat controllers had already imagined n designed great global inspirations.

Peoples bank balances got smaller, some sad few, enjoyed their emancipation,

Governments made sure small businesses suffered, whilst billionaires got full compensation.

A few specially selected, were welcomed with Internet invitations.

They laughed whilst it wasn't them, being de-ranked, with online damnation.

But then supposed Liberals, became free speech censors, with glee and twisted condemnation.

Until it was their time to get de-platformed, with powerful tech, censoring applications.

Only a few were left standing at the station, hoping wishfully with their invitations.

Disgusted by DAVOS, Bilderberg, and all those globalist creations.

Some went rioting, others refused their long term, untested vaccinations.

But many ppl allowed their freedoms to succumb, to permanent COVID regulations.

Myself I said sorry Gov, I don't want any police state, virus infected invitation.

And as for my subjugation, you better dose up my medications.

Coz my mind's splitting in half like cancer, as if bombed with radiation.

And I can't handle your changing logic, n all that Tory miss-communication.

So for the people that accepted, their Governments invitation.

They were told freedom would come, from a single vaccination.

Then it became mandatory masks, booster jabs, and yearly genetic alterations.

And don't forget it will never end, we have all those foreign born, evolving COVID mutations.

So for those of you that think, a magic solution, is in any Government invitation.

You're sorely mistaken, don't know real history, and in need of some proper education.

First they create a problem, and then they offer the people a solution.

Then they stand by to watch and profit, from a divided peoples, self annihilation.

The few that stayed back, threw away the rest of their invitations.

They were left in a bleak unsocial credit world, with no physical real, human relations.

Their only escape became, 3D holographic, fake techno creations.

But soon it became every non millionaires way, to take any kind of trip or holiday vacation.

So BoJo go screw yourself and our “special” Government invitations.

A year I've been imprisoned alone, state sanctioned under your regulations.

I spit on your safety laws, fines, and ordinance mandations.

Coz if the truth is “The Great Reset”, then it should be to REAL human mental elevation.

© 2021 – All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid

This Is A Shit Show....

Do you believe the countries gone insane?

Fruit drink bugs gonna eat your brain,

Please someone come feel my pain,

Coz I'm alone, stone broke and afraid.

So many unnecessary people dying,

And big men are heart broke, dropped crying.

Dickhead selfish off panic buying,

An all police want to do is fuckin cite me.

Because my health is a fucking shit show,

On more meds than ten Grannies I know.

Blood eeks from the leaks, legs on show,

An bubbles pop from the snot on nose blows.

It's a sweat tank, drip drop, sorry state to be,

And Gandalf's beards half grown face on me.

Grey whiskers and no razors I can see,

Sofa dove already, one two twenty pee.

All tin cans, been scanned, and bin bagged,

Rotten fruit but it's the best meal I've had.

Got no idea if I'll ever see my Mum and Dad,

When I go out, scarf wrapped face, tight clad.

Coz this Town is a fucking shit show,

And my mental health is nagging bad, full blown.

My inner brains having a decent chat show,

And I'm socially isolated, nowhere to go.

Coz I can't even make some decent Ps,

Nags aint running, bookies closed on high street.

I need some soft paper to wipe my underneath,

But got no petrol to fly off to the heath.

Coz it seems like this worlds in martial law,

It's a sign many have seen years before.

I'd be surprised if they relaxed all new laws,

Get used to sweating hot all summer indoor.

I swear I got bugs sucking thoughts from my brain,

Not a days passed that I've been half sane.

Only got a Pot Noodle and half a can of K,

And not a single neighbours asked if I'm okay.

Coz this countries a fucking shit show,

BoJo clown, Tory fucking road show.

Every booked ops gonna be a no show,

And I'd risk ten new fines to make some quick dough.

So this rope here is going to stay,

You never know I might need to use it one day.

I let it swing back n forth an give it a play,

Then kick the chair, doped choked, merry on my way.

© 2020 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

What is a SKREWBALL POEM?

A "Skrewball poem", or in short "a Skrew", is a poem with short lines and multiple rhyming or repeated words, often with letters missing or shortened or written in text speech and is a means to convey a story or tale from the Screwed up poet to a Screwed up reader. 

Like a Story, Poem and Screw, a Skrew has a thread to it, however loosely interpreted. It may just be one single word that it used in multiple scenarios, or it may be a whole theme behind the story written in the style of a poem.

A "True SKЯ3W" is a poem, with many nonsensical rhyming lines, often written without any inclination by the author to give a fuck about what words he is SKЯ3WING you with.