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A "Skrewball poem" , or in short "a Skrew" , is a poem with short lines and multiple rhyming or repeated words, often wi...

Showing posts with label Running. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Running. Show all posts

Thursday, 14 September 2023

Run....

Run....Run....Run....Run,

I got paranoia apparently,

Keep thinking ppl R after me.

Twilight garden mirrors reflect,

N I skrew my body with neglect.

So I,

Run....Run....Run....Run,

From shadows in the dark,

N strangers in the park.

I'm a Schizo says the NHS,

But I blather shit best left at rest.

So I,

Run....Run....Run....Run,

From cold sweat horror dreams,

With no idea what they mean.

I'm a hospital club card member,

Pls don't rip if I don't remember.

My life's been on medical hold,

A hospital annoyance bolshie n bold.

So I,

Run....Run....Run....Run.

My days R getting shorter,

Should I hv bn a 40 yr old aborter? 

But I never know what's coming,

So that's why I keep on running.

Run....Run....Run....Run.


© 2023 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Monday, 20 June 2022

Shopping

Running, running n alley shotting, 

Got a fiend on ur back it's one stop shopping.

Want some food I'll deliver to you,

Send me your postcode I'll be there in 2.

You want some dark, your bird looks smooth,

Have some free white I'll be her 2nd best friend soon.

I got money n rings n blowers n ching,

And an anal cavity that can stash an ounce of ting.

Another 6 o'clock knock n the front doors a flop,

But if they don't find suss I aint goin to their shop.

I got a webcam front door with an eagles eye,

A screen on the wall, that cops always ask why?

Coz tenancy is a loose term to me,

Get thrown from one I'll be a cuckoo in three.

Offer them some white n watch em suck that pipe,

Make em shot 4 me as I play Xbox all night.

Counting the notes as I hold my shank close,

Never know whose going 2 steam the pad n try 2 break my nose.

It's a life full of dealing death out cheap for bank,

N I tell myself I've been forced 2 this coz my life's been wank.

You can all get together to gloat, shout, drill n accuse,

But I'd like to see u try to do 925 after a life of social abuse.

So just read ur Daily Mail n keep giving ur kids pocket money,

Coz it's the rich white flush who always come shopping to me.


© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Tuesday, 23 February 2021

Runnins....

Runnins, runnins, I'm always running,

My minds doing 100 but my body aint responding.

I go to the hospital, it's a weekly routine,

To find out if I get to keep my legs or my spleen,

Yesterday they sent me to the wrong place, but only 3 times,

If they just said the ward name, I'd have found it just fine.

I've been there so much, I know the place inside n out,

As I walk the corridors, even the porters give us a shout.

I'm lying on a bed, boxers rolled up for a scan.

A lovely Nepalese bird is jellying me up, and I'm feeling her hand.

She looks like my ex, and I haven't had a touch,

My hand is pressed tight by her thigh, as she scans up my crotch.

It's only a tease, but I've missed that touch so much,

I don't think I can do this lock-up no longer, without going corrupt.

On the bus home my blower, is blowing me up,

Punters, n runners, n blaggers are fucking my brain up.

I get off the bus n go into my local shop,

B4 I dip into my pocket n my wallet is scotch.

I try to chase the bus, but my legs r too bust-up,

So I ring up Stagecoach, praying to Zeus 4 pick-up.

Explain to the man, other end that my wallets, Bus no 3,

He promises to search, and 2 definitely call me.

My minds going crazy, old mans telling me cancel cards,

Hearts pumping too fast, my bonce is in parts.

I'm road racing my car, to clamp those notes off the dopes,

I gotta be quick or I'll be pulling up, sick, white n choke.

I'm always runnin and runnin, it never seems to end,

Some days when I put sweets in my gob, I pray for a quick end.

Runnins n runnins, been running since 16,

I got the map, the scars, and my streets are mean.

Then I get a blow my on car dash, unknown number scans up,

It's only Stagecoach, who starts convo “Good luck”.

I'm beaming like chud, but still got runnins to do,

Still I handbrake the car, speed off, brand new.

I get to the Bus station, n buzz on their front door,

Wondering outside what scrotes taken my score.

Man comes to the step and hands me my leather,

I pray to the Gods as I open that treasure.

No notes been taken, n all my cards are still there,

I got my cards n my wad, n for once someone’s been fair.

Still I got my runnins, and runnins, I got places to be,

Matey is waiting at One Stop, for quarter past three.

I'm back on the skids and the roads, as I'm toking CBD,

My minds half at rest, or at the least it can be.

I finish my runnins get home, phone straight off.

Take what I can, as I fall on the bed to raise leg up.

I wake up at 1am, get up to hack n code betting tips,

NAPS, Each Way runners, and hopefully an acca to get rich.

Then I dot out this ditty coz runnins define me,

It cannot be changed, it's life long runnins for me.


© 2021– All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid