Head Shrink

Do you internally think?

Thinking you need a head shrink?

Twenty one eyed wobbly blinks,

Coz a voice in ur heads linked.

I'm schizo, rizo, paranoid dizo,

Anxious, rancorous, mentally smart tho.

Twitchy itchy, living in a kill zone,

Always searching, looking 4 my birth clone.

Has ur brain gone wonky?

Working like a 3 legged donkey?

Planning to throw a ghost party?

Led astray by your monkey?

Coz depression is a constant mission,

Brain atoms split like nuclear fission.

Bed sweats from constant pillow kissin,

Want 2 take a dive n go forever missing.

Got bed rot, n old blood clots,

Never gonna be back at top spot.

Get arrested 4 a hot shot,

N nicked 4 murder by dumb cops.

So go and get ur meds filled,

I'm over scripted like a cow field.

My chemist always has the good pills.

But nothing takes away my brain ails.

Maybe ma heads always gonna be fucked,

Internal plumbing needs a plunge suck.

But what can I do about this head fuck?

Maybe I've just run out of luck?

© 2025 - Robert Reid - All Rights Reserved

Simulation Theory

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

The Contract

Like Robert J I sold my soul, 

It wasn't 4 fame but 2 cut a hole. 

It wasnt at the crossroad, 

And no horned Satan glowed. 

Just a plain man in a suit, 

But that bloke sure chat cute.

That slick speaking devil n me, 

Signed a contract we agreed. 

I jus wanted 2 protect my death. 

So I sold an ounce of my flesh.

Definitely no hell for me, 

So there was no nd 2 plea. 

For wen I croak not to go to hell, 

He had me under some spell. 

There was no blood, no pain,

And yet no one can explain. 

Ambulance men confused, 

Dox N nurses all bemused.

All the old Chaplens here, 

Have been bent on my ear. 

Saying he's a evil trickster, 

There's no kind of quick fixer. 

Must b a psychotic break, 

Or maybe a schizo mistake. 

But why won't u believe, 

If u finally received.

A visit from ur deity, 

Don't u believe wat u see? 

A visit from the Devil or God, 

R u trippin wat do u find odd? 

Jus hallucinating ur belief, 

Or ur religiosity is jus disbelief. 

So don't doubt my sanity, 

Wen over half the planet agrees. 

That those opposites exist, 

Maybe my contract still exists?

© 2024 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

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

Hotel Frimley Park

(To the tune of Hotel California)

Welcome to the Hotel Frimley Park,

Such a lovely place, 

Such a happy face. 

Hardly any room at the Hotel Frimley Park. 

Any time of year, 

You won't find beds here. 

So welcome to the hotel Frimley Park, 

We got lovely staff, 

N an expensive car park.

Such a lovely place,

Smiling happy face.

So welcome to ward F6, 

we're all bed bound,

Lights off at 10, 

don't dare make a sound.

Pls don't piss yourself, 

Or dare shit yourself. 

Nurses just love changing wet smelly bed sheets, 

It's joy for them, they tuck em in prison neat. 

Rolling to the left bar as they yank it out, hard feel the pain, 

Then a roll to the right, and the same shit repeats again. 

Don't get monged out n cause rampages over missing food, 

The nurses will shout about, but they dosed u good.

If you rampage 2 much Security might get called, 

But ur NHS high, so they just get eye balled. 

But don't ever josh n joke with ur bay mates, 

Or flip right out n smash ur dinner plates. 

They will dose u up,

just to shut you up.

Don't even think about leaving Hotel Frimley Park,

You won't get very far, 

Might even break your leg,

in our very own car park. 

I used to love coming to hotel Frimley Park, nearly every year,

3 hot meals a day, power shower n no bed bound tears.

This is a mad n sad, summer holiday for me, 

Roasting outside, our bay all feels the heat. 

So welcome to Hotel Frimley Park,

HMP prison lights off early, so we tap phones in the dark.

I got a mobile, money and a tablet,

Royal Ascots on, so they feed my habit.

My left leg is still leaking everywhere, brown shit,

Not that the nurses can ID, the crumbly bitz.

I got a new big old hole from unknown shit in my left calf, 

Not that I can get anything done, not with these numpty staff. 

So welcome to the majesty's HMP Frimley Park.

We have NAZI nurses, 

that will leave u wet in the dark.

Just don't piss in the bed,

You'll be shipped off 2 another ward instead. 

I think I've been around the block in Hotel Frimley Park. 

Too many wards I've seen, 2 much madness in the dark.  

Life throws u lemons, and u have to make do, 

Just remember those Nepalese names, in case u need to sue. 

They all babble together at the desk in Smurf, 

So I never worry, or give a shit if I curse. 

I swear 4 verbs, adjectives and even nouns, 

N if u don't like the sound of it, go swivel u pussy clouns. 

Apparently Frimley HMP says I'm mentally ill,

I'm paranoid schizo, psychotic n probably ready 2 kill.

So they dose me up in the day to try n keep me quiet,

Turning half my brain off, then complaing about a chocolate éclair riot.

All I want 2 do is itch my broken cast covered leg, 

Still I know they r going to turf me out, with 2 fucked pegs. 

So welcome to Hotel Frimley Park, 

It's a deadly place, n will leave it's mark. 

We have unhappy staff, 

U will get scolded 4 having a laugh. 

It's my summer holiday, 

N I've had too many stayz.

I just etch the wall and count up the days. 

One day I might get out of this ward n Hotel Frimley Park. 

I'll be climbing scaffolding, one leg in the dark.

N if you ever find a broken body, with 2 duff legs,

Just think of me on discharge day only to break my "good" leg.

©2023 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Give Me My Meds!

Wheres the coffee lady?

I'm Choca moca crazy.

Drink at least 10 a day,

N then I piss it all away.

On the headphones, 

Locked in a music zone.

Coz Golden Brown,

Used 2 lay me down.

N Sweet Child of Mine,

Gave the devil a fine. 

But I just want 2 bet,

But NHS WiFi won't let. 

Ran out of mobile data,

Opera VPN hater.

Hanging out of windows,

Get a 4G signal if close.

I still just wanna bet,

Am I a gambling addict yet? 

Weekend racing sun, 

Only betting is good fun. 

Wattsapp calls,

A patient falls.

I can b happy like herb,

Still use fuck as a verb.

Medical notes on me, 

Paranoid schizo I'll be. 

I ask pls get my clonazepam, 

Or I'll b talking 2 an invisible man. 

The pregabs n benzos, 

Keep me calm n mellow. 

But don't give em 2 me, 

We'll see how psychotic I can B. 

Don't want 2 hurt no one, 

But I can kick off n run. 

Security r just in my way, 

Get beaten but they'll pay. 

Broken spoon spike chiv, 

Not a nice gift to give. 

Don't tell me u ain't got my meds, 

Coz u won't put me 2 bed. 

NHS strapped cash, 

Always hv my own stash. 

Can't trust em 2 hv my pills,

Wud just screw wiv my will. 

So it's NHS v Rob Reid, 

N u expect me 2 not to feed. 

Sweets, gabs n Morphine, 

Keeps Rob nice n clean. 

Call me an NHS junky,

At least I'm not robbing ur Granny. 

Call me a hypocrite, 

See damage of constant hits.

Now I'm ending this Skrew,

N hope u learned something new.

© 2023 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Sounds...

I'm just a listener a passenger to Nirvana,

As my feet walk halls on souls made in China. 

Nevermind the specifics just entertain us, 

My Verve always has a "Lucky Man" ready 2 blame us.

There's always been something in the way,

N I hope Lucifer guesses the nature of his game.

It's a Babyshambles of a Shotters Nation, 

Pale white girls queuing outside disused power stations. 

So just come as you are whether a friend or an enemy,

I swear I don't have a gun just sat ready under my knee.

Coz I'm just an outcast and n anarchist,

I've never been just like the other kids.

So try 2 cut my legs off like King Kunta,

Just don't say I share bars like a prisoned punta.

N Fuck Forever if you don't mind,

Its all one n the same n my eyes R not blind.

My ears are bleeding sound like the creep I am,

A man in a can, imprisoned roasting like ham.

But I'm so happy coz today I've finally found my friends,

They're in my head so I'm on a path 2 a lithium end. 

I just playback the sounds that always deliver me,

A quiet sense of meaning in a world that will never be.

A place I can truly share my feelings,

So I'm just a sucker 4 drips of sound 2 give me some meaning. 

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid, Nirvana, Babyshambles, Verve and others..

Funeral

I can't leave my bed as I'm always half asleep,

Got no nice munch so I never eat.

N I toke like a chimney til I can't breathe,

So I'm a mental wreck n I've always been.

But I hate myself but that's alright,

N I drug myself to get through the night.

And I tell myself that's its no blight,

That I'm a paranoid mess but I'm always right.

I used to 2 b a bandit n always on the run,

Slept in cars but only if I had a gun,

I had cooch on call if I wanted some fun,

But I hate the light so I stayed out the sun.

See the life I lead is pressure on the soul,

N I think I've spent half of it, on the rock n roll.

Need to love myself coz my bodies getting old,

N it only takes an hour to spend 2 weeks dole.

I think I've been put, on too many ban lists, 

Even the NHS ban my rhymes, it takes the piss.

Yanks think I elected Trump, what a bunch of tits,

Of course I'm a disinfo agent, on multiple no-fly lists.

So everybody hates my guts n that's alright,

I sometimes get mardy, so I like to fight.

Hopefully I'll take enuff meds to sleep 2nite,

Don't count on it, coz my brain keeps on a light.

I'm a pale white anaemic, other people's bloods flowing in me,

Been stabbed so much, got far 2 many scars 2 see.

N when I cop a charge I always bag a plea,

Coz blue mattress cells seen 2 much of me.

So nobody loves me but that's alright,

N someone might love me n that's their plight.

I love the pain of being stuck with chivs, n that aint right,

But TBH no1 gives 2 flyin fucks, about my shite.

So I don't give a shit, what ppl think no more,

But I'm still a gent n will hold open a door.

I may no longer be rich so it's hard being poor,

But cud be worse, at least I don't sleep on the floor.

 

© 2022  - Robert Reid - All Rights Reserved

Mr Mentalist

Mr Mentalist please, can u let me get out of my bed,

Mr Depression has called and I want 2 go back 2 the dreams that I had.

He always calls when I fail, and makes me wish I was dead.

Please Mr Mentalist please, can you let me rest my own head.

But now I've dragged myself up I'm freaky deaking right out,

Old friend Mr Anxiety has visited n given me a hard sharp clout.

Please Mr Mentalist can u give me some pills to calm my self-doubt,

I can't find my phone or keys and I'm flipping right out.

I go from zero to a hundred in a flick of an eye,

People think I'm crazy mazy when they hear me swear n cry.

All I wanted to do was get my laptop 2 work n comply,

But now I'm a swearing freak and people look at me n sigh.

Oh please Mr Mentalist can you sort out my paranoid feelings,

I keep hearing ppl on mute just thinking I'm not worth dealing.

All I want is someone to come n give me some proper mental healing,

But I don't trust nobody to come in here n walk out without stealing.

I know the old rhyme, that Paranoia will destroy ya,

But I hear silent ppl on my screen bitching and laughing "ha ha".

I got that feeling that all the ppl r just looking at me jotting all my flaws,

I can't relax at all, n my paranoid shoulder monkey is ripping, bear claw.

So please Mr Mentalist, can you do me a massive favour,

I got the schizo twitcho ithcos, with no sign of a saviour.

Leaves r raining down with flashing lights n my mind is all misbehaviour,

I'm scared I'll do something crazy n stupid, and I need a lifesaver.

All the shrinks say I'm just screwed up and they can't even help,

I'm ashamed to be ashamed, coz I just wanna it all dealt.

I get letter after letter saying I need to do my own self-help,

If I could sort my own crazy out, I would have if I could have, but it's pure agony to self.

So please Mr Mentalist can you make people understand me,

That I ain't angry on purpose and I just want people to like me.

It's seeming more n more like this world don't have a place for me,

And for anyone to relate it's 2 late, I'm just a thorn on a big mad tree.

© 2022 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

This is also published on the Mary Francis Trust Website for their Mental Health, Time To Talk Day > https://www.maryfrancestrust.org.uk/poem-mr-mentalist/

POEM: "MR MENTALIST"
To support #TimeToTalkDay our Creative Writing Group led by Michele has come up with a series of wonderful and heartfelt pieces discussing mental health stigma.
This fifth piece is a poem called “Mr Mentalist” written by Robert.https://t.co/Vnww2X0Uk5 pic.twitter.com/nmolTPsXGb

— Mary Frances Trust (@MaryFrancesTrst) February 3, 2022

Please share these links......

On Twitter > https://twitter.com/MaryFrancesTrst/status/1489252342943956992

or Instagram > https://www.instagram.com/maryfrancestrust/

or Facebook > https://www.facebook.com/maryfrancestrust/posts/3145716732330079

Mental Health Week....

Someone told me it was mental health week,

Apologises that I've not even made a tweet,

The health of my mind at the mo is pretty unstable n weak,

It breakable n shakable n I don't really want to speak.

Take ur pills, take ur pills, is all I can remember,

When I was depressed n psychotic for 20 odds years Jan 2 December.

Bi-polar, Schizo, told I'd be paranoid 4 forever,

No med reviews, so stopped takin those sweets, GPs ain't so clever.

Life on Olanzapine, Rispirodone n other Fluorine based meds,

Only make u fat, slows u down n fucks with ur head.

Prob why Hitler, Stalin, CIA used it 2 cold walk enemies dead,

Slept 23 a day, even behind the wheel, so lucky not 2 b dead.

So I take what I need to get me up every day,

But I could easily spend life under the duvet wishing it away.

Cops n stitches, n a 5 stretch for jus getting thru the day,

But I dont give a shit coz I'm in prison either way.

Dont ever sneak up on me n surprise me from behind,

Probably find out how quick 2 fingers make u blind.

I can't handle stress n my bodies only half kind,

Had more holes put in me than 3 whore houses combined.

Now I'm falling apart n COVIDS blocking my health,

Multiple ops cancelled coz DAVOS trebled their wealth.

So I hv to cop block, runnins daily, sneaky n stealth,

But every non prescribed med slowly corrodes my health.

So mentally or physically I'm wrecked beyond prime,

N wen I run out of p's n ill I'd happily do the time.

Courts local paper journos wud only see a standard crime,

Mitigating circumstances wouldn't even warrant a line.

Coz my mental health needs fixing but no1 seems to care,

N I stay stuck in this flat alone no1 2 talk to or share.

My mental health nds mending but shrinks wont get out there chair,

N that's why my minds goin 2 b the end of me, pls God hear this prayer. 

© 2021 Robert Reid – All Rights Reserved

Rain The Schizo Epic

Rain, rain, please come again,

this sticky heat, is sending me insane,

I want to hear drops, on my window pane,

I want to feel wet, n happy again.

So yo boo, what shall we do, 

we all knew, but still got vaccine flu.

Need some penance, but cannot sue,

let's go on a walk, n see what's new.

It's dripping with rain, but not enuff,

I got wet rizla, n only a joint of puff.

Skins r wet, n I've had it tough,

All I want, is some respite from rough.

Stop!

Let's go n steam this shop,

You go round the back,

And I'll do the front knock.

What, your brains full of dry rot,

Look over there, two pandas n cops.

Fuck, we could done One Stop.

It's a one stop job, we cud hv been in luck.

Sorry boo, my mind's 2 screwed on booze,

When I get like this, I got nothing to lose.

The thought of jail, is next years news,

All I want, is some cash for blues.

Well blues n twos, are now coming for you,

Lets skip down this alley, n bunk the school.

We can run down the green, n get back home soon,

The pigs in blue, won't have a clue.

Ah, you, can you feel that rain,

The heat has snapped, and it's thundering again.

All I want, is it to stop my pain,

It's a constant struggle, n always a strain.

Pain, boo, you want to talk about pain?

I've had scalpels in my back, n bats round my brain.

Stabbed in the legs, lots of broken veins,

Cops woke me up, with truncheons in Spain.

Got tied up all night, with boiling water too.

Scars so bright, my tattooist got sued.

Broken hands, n broken bones in shoes,

I can do Vulcan signs, without havin a clue.

Red n black, ain’t this years fashion, no?

But a black-eye on the train, gives me 4 seats to crow.

Passengers walk by going, no no no!

I ain’t done it to myself, so why u being so cold?

I've had chivs in the back, n chivs in the leg,

Now I walk around, with a dusty pirate peg.

Ask me what I done this week, I'll hv 2 check the diary pet,

N never 4get, I've never forgotten ur name, just yet.

But boo fuck pain, let's go dancing in the rain,

Just like Bowie n Jagger, danced so lame,

Get up so high, we can pop cloud membranes,

Watch em leak, see Ethiopian crops grow again.

Coz over there, food ain’t trade, fair fair,

N not too many peeps, seem to, care care care.

It's like Monsanto's spread, GM everywhere,

So let's rain dance, and all do our share.

Some say HARP, controls the weather,

N if it does, Africa's been severely severed,

From CIA plans, that are far too clever.

You can ignore those facts, but never say never.

Ah you, it's the daily conspiracy news,

I love to listen, as u spread them clues.

If only more people, jus listened to you,

They might understand, that this world ain’t so true.

Ah fuck it boo, their brains r in a bucket,

I cannot be bothered, to teach em a nugget.

If they can't be arsed, to Daily Mail fuck it,

Then why should I be the one, to stop those muppets.

Well hey you, we're nearly home soon,

Listen to that thunder, the rains coming too.

Ah thanks boo, its been sticky as glue,

I'm so sweaty now, but it's been a good Skrew.

When I get inside, I'm getting clean in my shower,

A personal rain drain, might grow u a flower.

We can sing together, then fuck forever,

But boo, tell me again, do I pay u by the hour?

© 2021 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

 

Private Record

This private record,

It plays for me,

No-one else.

The words have special  meanings,

Only I can hear.

Everyone else is just blinded by the noise.

Only I can understand,

The hidden meaning of the band.

The secret message is getting me going,

Winding me up.

How do they fucking know?

Why are they singing this about me?

I turn around to see if anyone has noticed.

They haven’t.

Its safe, for a while.

I have received the message and noted mentally,

Every single word that was meant for me.

Now I turn it off.

I don’t want anyone else to hear,

My secret song, my hidden fear.

© 2002 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid