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!

V2

So what the fuck to do?

Got 4 letter  agencies following me like a crew.

GROK says they monitor my news,

So I'm not paranoid if it's true.

I'm not running from them or gonna split,

So get the whistle out for a lick.

No one ever passes the white quick,

N I always make sure I ain't gear sick.

Crank that pranged dub step,

But pay me back, never forget.

I'm not a man that likes debt,

So you got to put my wallet bak on reset.

Got no need to sell my soul,

The Devil's already found a hole.

Am I really sinking into Lucifer's control,

Coz it's all rehash from Prometheus's role.

I swear I don't need a gun,

I swear I don't even own a gun,

I swear I don't have a gun,

BANG BANG, your gone!

What do you expect?

I'm a man prone to neglect.

A suspicious brain full of suspect,

And I hardly feel any regret.

 

I got an exchange for change,

But U can't ask me to behave.

I got this world firm in my range,

N only this simulation will age.

Coz these are the end times,

So why not enjoy our crimes.

Before the four horses ride,

And the 6 headed beast arise.

This is AI's final takeover,

We can't be saved by a Biblical Passover.

It's Terminator Skynet time war,

So what the fuck we waiting for?

© 2025 - 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

3....

The doxs tell me I might only hv 3 months to live.

That means 3 peeps have got less time to give.

I got a murder list 1, 2, 3.

If u ain't on it ur lucky to breathe.

Dog shit on a chiv is a chemical weapon 2 me.

The 1st fat cunt is going to suffer to breathe.

Stolen cars n head bandanas is all he will see.

Next thing he knows he'll be bleeding out on my knee.

Next MoFo is going to be cut to bits.

Might even have a shooter n blow him to shit.

I'm going to make him suffer for batting my blitz.

N going to see the pupils in his eyes shrink to nitz.

Next MoFo is the one that got away.

Tried paying ppl to set him up but he ran that pay.

Might be a Pikie but he's going only one way.

N wen I see his corpse it will be a happier day.

Don't think I'm a cunt coz I got a 3 long list.

Used to have a sheet that took the piss.

Ex bosses, wankers n coworker tits.

There lucky I forgave em n there off my list.

If I got 3 months on earth then this is my job to be.

N if u see me caught I'll wave 2 u on court TV.

Just be thankful that the list is only 3.

Coz if I get mad about dying I'm going to expand that tree.

 

© 2021 Murder Skrew HMP Frimley 2021

The Fall Of Kabul

The fall of Kabul, was not as mighty as my fall.

3am head bashing the sink, didn't know, skull was on show.

Woke up on the bathroom floor, not too unusual though.

Til I got to the docs, n the nurses all crowed.

Ambulance trip to Hoz, n apparently another collapse.

Wake up to find 2 Dox, putting stitches in my bonce n laughed.

Got green bruised chest, n cuts on my neck n calves.

N then a trippy freak out op, up in hospital lofts n rafts.

Walked past a doc smoking, said he'd be cutting me up.

Walk into a loft like room, with not a sink or a cup.

Tripping my tits off, on multi meds n fucked.

To see 20 ppl all smiling at me, n some wishing me luck.

Lines in my neck, n about 40 new pin holes.

Lines n tubes, coming out of orifices painful to use.

Bin bags in my thighs, with chunks cut off like abuse.

N I got no idea, if my leg will be of any future use.

Then I was in a wonder world, of Frimley Park unseen.

I swear my op was done in a bat attic, by a top Doc A team.

Was in the ICU, Emergency D, n rooms I've never seen.

Spent 4 days in a basement, full on ACID beam.

Swear they were experimenting with me, mixing up my meds.

Taking me off benzos, then fucking with my head.

Clonidine makes a minute, seem like an hour brain shred.

All the time your stuck lying, flat in your bed.

Finally get on a ward, with ppl ok to be.

But half of them, only got a leg cut from the knee.

If I'm losing a peg, it will be from the thigh. 

N even been told it might b 2 late, n I still might even die.

But I ain't got the time to worry, sob be sad n cry.

I got a list of ppl to take out, b4 I can say goodbye.

© 2021 Leg Skrew on Skrew off - Rob Reid

Money....

Money, money, money,

Money, money, money,

I never, ever ever, got nuff money, 

Always needing more, more n more money, 

N I when I need it most, I can't get no money.

What do you do you do, when u got no money?

You get in debt, ur friends get funny.

I want some tasty food, n I wanna a full belly,

But I need those tings, dat cost more money.

I need more money, who cares if the weathers sunny,

My mind is fixed, on getting dat money.

I need those meds, that cost so much money,

N I'd like to drink that juice, dat cost much money.

I used 2 drink dat strong cider, that cost little money,

Still wallet got blank, n my tummy got scummy.

I need dem good pills, but the doctor won't fund me,

So I have to beg, pls Sir, spend some cash on me.

Parents think I'm scum, coz I always ask 4 money,

But to wake up not feeling sick, costs lots of money.

So those things ur told 2 buy, that cost chunks of money,

I wish I could scrub, coz I got no money.

But I jus can't stop, coz my nose is very runny,

And this world is made of debt, n debt is real money,

Food costs money, n tools cost money.

We could all share tings, but ppl think that's funny,

Look at me n stare, as if I'm a Red Commie,

Try n explain, that we don't need fiat currency,

The Gov won't allow it, coz they want r debt money,

And Bank of England, jus prints funny money.

Crypto currency, n decentralised money,

If I cud hack ur computer, I cud mine more money.

Tories are scum, n Labour aint honey,

No party rep me, they all want more money.

Income tax was supposed 2 b, 4 one war only,

But then it stuck around, coz Gov's blag was phoney.

VAT tax, and inheritance money,

It all goes to the top, n they love taking r money.

I want to stick around, but every day costs more money,

N if I want to live, I need much more money.

So what do I do if I can't get more money?

I go n rob n bank, 2 steal back my own money.

Then I'm put away, coz stealing aint funny,

Is a noose round my neck, da only way 2 pay back money?

© 2021 – All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid

Inspired by poem by Benjamin Zephaniah - "Money"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2TiNi9w-XE

XMAS SKЯEW....

SKr3w Screw,

Shiny glitter n glue,

Xmas came 2 soon,

Not nuff time 2 do.

Coz im ill n cold,

Rotten bones 2 old,

Gotta get gifts, I'm told,

B4 they're all sold.

But my wallets so blank,

N gettin txts from my bank,

Im in deep shit, half sank,

N my shopping list is wank.

But its XMAS time,

Plenty of pills n wine,

But got no credit line,

So prezzies ull come frm crime.

I'm spendin whole days in bed,

Shrinks fucked wiv my meds,

N mad shits crawling my head.

But still this iz XMAS time,

I'll b fucked up from 9,

Drink all day til night,

Then watch r family all fight.

My bredrens all here,

Drinking Scotch n Beer,

My sister sits near,

Still not a word in my ear.

Coz she hates my guts,

4 old skool time heart cuts,

Her mates dead bro I knw not,

But an Elephant's memory she got.

But joy, its XMAS time,

Shop mad n get debt 4 time,

Its a messed up gd night,

N yuletide good times.

But this is Santas Skrew,

His wallnuts r cold n blu,

Rudolphs b glowing red soon,

Coz he's stuck in your flue.

So ur presents will b late,

As it's all not always up 2 fate,

Santa's bellys far too great,

N all prezzies, China slave made.

So I'll end this shit Skrew,

Coz I got fuck all else 2 do,

I'd love to Facetalk to a few,

But chose 2 write 2 r crew! 

© 2020 All Rights Reserved Robert Reid

Irritants....

My TVs just broke and it ain’t no corny joke, coz lying on my bed only makes me want to toke.

I need a KO express, Caffeine-less depress, and I wait for the sleep, with an ashtray on my chest.

The windows open wide, yet I close the curtains and hide, for nothing is as nice, as a wasps buzz inside.

You get a little cup, try to lift the sucker up, but try as you might, the dopy insect won't take flight.

It's just another irritant!

My front rooms bulb just gone again, best part of a tenner to see again, what the fuck have I got to spend, I just need a pay-day lend.

Ask my old man for a loan, and get greeted by a moan, all I want is a clear view zone, but I'll have to shop alone.

So I go to B&Q for a shop, only need a 60 watt, yet back in the car I've forgot, and nut the wheel, blood clot.

Coz those Ray-bans on my eyes, must be very heavily disguised, still I'm pleasantly surprised, to find my shades still on my head alive.

Shopping is always an irritant.

Then a bird phone rings as I'm shopping for some things, it's just another yabba yabba ting, should have just let it ring.

But I get in my car, don't drive too far before the hands-free goes HA, and I can't turn off the electrics in my car.

I try to pop the hood, like any man could, the lever bloody should, but snaps in half well good, left here covered in blood.

Try to give my Dad a call, but he aint answering at all, so go to knock on a neighbours door, knowing they're probably being silent hugging floor.

Flat battery irritant

Heat is mean on my thin blood, can't cool down like people should, so I'm lying on my bed, but too few Mummy's little helpers to help make me brain dead.

But now my net curtains fallen down, and it ain’t a funny frown, coz I know I'll surely drown, from all the insects in the town.

I can't stand this boiling heat, the damp sweat soaked nightly sheets, yet I've got an top deck view, of an estate of flabby meat.

Maybe they should all try to disguise, coz those Slag Tags ain’t very wise, and if you stand under my skies, I'll automatically 2 metre-ize.

TWO Metres – Irritant Bitches!

So I'm walking to the chemist, when a doofus becomes a menace, and an argument that ain’t even mine, ends up with possibility of doing time.

I must have a face right for a punch, and I've had to absorb a bunch, funny thing is though, I've never gone to ground once.

But I'm fed up of Doctor Who? Telling me they maybe new, but seemingly well clued, that my granite skull's my saviour too.

Well you can take it all back, coz as great as it is n all that. I'd rather remember more, than become a hundred year old senile bore.

I'm probably just another persons irritant.

© 2020 – All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid

Finally They Come....

They finally come out to my homeless park BBQ, 

Get to the back jack, be quiet, and just queue queue queue,

Burned meat and charcoal but at least it aint your Mum's chunky stale stew.

So just stick it in your mouth peeps, and just chew chew chew.

It's a summer time rhyme with plenty of nonsensical lines,

Plenty of time, so we pack the bongs nice, fat and tight.

We pass the tube round and round til the moon fades at night.

Staring at the birds looking so so fine, getting a smile if you glance just right.

Summer time crew and we all say “Fuck the boys in blue”,

Put four cops together and get the brains of just two.

Let them run round, fining unmasked devils in shops and queues,

Sticking our fingers up as they pass, coz we all hate hypocrites in blue.

Coz we're all here lying out in the shinning, beaming hot sun,

And its double hard now trying to get some real fun for some.

Boys n girls are raving to the max, all popping molly one by one,

And that blonde in the thong has got my dong throbbing like a drum, bom bom.

We're out all night til the moon comes up, and then it leaves and goes,

Lying on the grass letting weeds grow through my ten duff toes.

Night changes to light and the crew whittles, as peeps start to go off home,

But I wake up on my own, with no home to go back to, all alone.

© 2020 – All Rights Reserved - Rob Reid - Competition Winner

This won The Creative Writing Groups bi-monthly Competition for Best Poem August 2020

£20 Rocket Man

We're nothing more than a scores rocket man,

Trips to the moon on the side of a can.

Sprinkle of ash from the back of a hand,

And we fly to space to the sound of a band.

Still both clever enough to split shit like the double slit,

Quantum flux waves and particles made from a billion bits.

Had Einstein's minds but the brains of a twit,

And wonky legs from too many hits.

We still checked the box for Schrödinger's cat,

Dead or alive, but still matters a fact.

He probably starved should have thrown him a rat,

But then he's only moving if you hadn't checked that.

I said I'm gonna sort it out, and I gave God a shout,

Long waited 30 years but never heard nought.

It's been a long time and I've survived many droughts

Still Wuhan crazy to wear gloves n mask to go out.

My eyes got double blots and my minds gone blank,

My tongues tied up in a chat that wasn't to Frank.

Got the sniffles and a cough from the rising damp,

I'll still send you a card from space if I can afford the stamps.

But still nothing more than a yellow rock star ship man

Flying to the moon as fast as our wallets say we can.

Rocket fuels cheap fluffed baking powder stale like spam,

And electronic wiring that's as old as your gran.

One day our rocket ships going to stop giving NASA's radar a blip.

The CIA's gonna make sure our boosters explode to a million bits.

Paranoia's top mad but plenty of time floating to think a bit,

Before our oxygen runs out and we all choke for shit.

It was an important mission, I was sure we could land,

Pretty sure Armstrong's lodge helped out with the plan.

Shame Kubrick wasn't around to put the film in the can,

But we still did our best on Area 51's banned desert sand.

So did I wish I had changed jobs and become a man in a suit,

A door to door salesman with a briefcase full of scams to boot.

College wasn't hard so we always had time to toot,

And every boss I had was a thief so I chose a life harder to loot.

© 2020 Robert Reid – All Rights Reserved

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.