I’d Like To... - It was Something - While we are being Honest-
Spring of Anarchy- Tonight
Tonight-
Love's Reprieve - This
is You -
4.5 Seconds of Idealism-
Tipping Point- The Autobiography-
An Isosceles Triangle- Palm of My Hand- Heart- 8 am Strawberry Line –
Date with Disaster- Sleeping Beautifully- Silent Corners
I’d
Like To.
I’d like to
once more listen to a man snore..
I’d like to be snapped out of my sleeping coma by a mans
disgruntled lullaby
Shaking my soul
Wrenching me from the underworld
Warming me
And allowing me the opportunity to touch their bare shoulder
and say
“Shhh baby”
yes
I’d like to listen to a man snore beside me.
I’d like to be able to float away.
And not like in the movies; arms outstretched or like superman
And not with wings
And not in no goddamned pissant plane with stupid sardine tinned
windows offering me one layer of a cloud at a time, like a deli counter meat slicer that I always feel compelled to put my
fingers in,
No
I’d like to be able to levitate.
If people are talking out of turn, my parents, or my boss or
my friends wants to talk, and I don’t want to listen;
While people look on in horror
I’d like to be able to levitate and float away.
I’d like to
Climb trees at night, sing in the bathtub at dawn, shake the hand of someone I admire, count chickens in a farmyard
before the cockerel crows in a new morning through a misty blue field, sleep in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar place,
at an unfamiliar time which does not exist in my imagination:
Wow
that would also be Something...
I’d like to shed my skin like a snake
Wriggle out of my exoskeleton like a crumpled concertina
I’d like to
Be Reborn
Like a Butterfly
Like a Supernova
Like a Phoenix
rising from the ashes of a thousand burned books
Like a mountain rising from a volcano
I’d like to
Be More
I’d like to
Own less
Travel light,
Raise a family in my mind,
Marry a man who isn’t perfect, goddamn it I’m not
perfect either but together we could be
I’d like to
Save the Blue Planet
Wash my windows in the rain
Wield a sword
Dance a Waltz in Vienna
Scream from a rooftop across the sky
But what I’d really like to do,
Is
Do it all with you.
© Marjorie Razorblade 2007
Comments: I've never felt
like this about anyone.
As an aside: My best friend
has just asked if I have written ‘his’ name on my pencil case yet. Ha ha. Very funny.
While most of my friends are all genuinely happy
about my new fangled grinning buffoonery they also are finding this highly amusing thus giving them an opportunity to point
laugh and make me feel awkward for fun...*grins like buffoon, goes scarlet...gets pencil case.* The rest of them are getting
ready for the fall out...your time will come thanks for sharing my enthusiasm though.
It was Something
It was something to be alone with you,
It was something to be the only person in the room
You may have noticed too how everyone else stopped moving
It was something, but for me, it was something which ended too soon
As time speaks loudly while your love offers silence
There is something in your move, in your way
A passing cloud of judgement evaporated, and it was something
You are something to think about each day,
And when the moving clocks are spinning, when my 24 hours spiral out of control
It is something to have touched your unforgettable face
It was something to want to share my soul
It is something in unveiling sadness
It is something
You will never know.
© Marjorie Razorblade 2007
Comments: It was, is, could be, won’t be, can't
be, should be, I would like to be......it was Something.
(Thank you for my black book)
While we are being
Honest
I might have said something I regret...
I might seem to you that I don’t need you
You see I don’t really want to be seen as a pathetic female who needs a man to give
her direction
My life will be meaningless
This is what I really wanted to say,
But I can’t be direct like that when I need to be…
And whenever I have it’s just taken badly
It’s just something I wanted you to know
It’s painful for me to be so direct
But I like you more than you could probably know...
© Marjorie
Razorblade 2007
Comments: *shuffles feet*
comment number 2: Apologies from the drunken Zebra harlot.
Spring of Anarchy
It’s Spring:
Can you hear the bluebells ringing baby?
Don’t be stupid,
Flowers don’t ring
So let’s kick their heads off
Just because they don’t do what they’re supposed to.
I love bluebells, they smell…like only bluebells can smell
But they’re not blue
And they don’t ring
And it’s just plain rude
It’s Spring:
Can you feel the grass growing under your feet?
I like it, it feels nice sometimes, but people always want to:
Crazy pave it
Shingle it
Watch the weeds poke through and chop them up. Well I hate that.
Grass is a redwood forest for ants
They say Ants are fascists; they welcome deforestation, they build concentration camps for earthworms, they
eat their own body weight in leaves- But I don’t agree
Let’s mow the lawn with razorblades, baby doll, it’s Spring.
It’s Spring
Can you see Lambs gambolling honey?
My God you’ve got a vivid imagination.
Lambs can’t play poker or roulette, and they obviously lack opposable thumbs so the wheel of fortune never
spins for them.
The Lambs grip on life is tenuous
The girls grip on reality is like the bird in a cuckoo clock
Sometimes I bang my head on the doors of normality
But don’t be scared baby
It’s just the Spring
When this Spring is over
And I can fly away forever
And be reborn.
© Marjorie Razorblade 2007
Comments: I don’t know where
that came from. It was in there, just sort of kicking around with the dust bunnies in warm fluff filled cavity of my mind.
Tonight Tonight
I think I could be in love with you.
Yes I definitely think I could fall in love...
I think I love you
I think... oh what does it matter what I think?
I think...
Oh, I love you
Or at least
I think I might,
Or maybe all I really need, is someone to hold me tonight.
© Marjorie Razorblade
Comments: Contrary to popular belief,
I don't fall in love easily, lust yes quite possibly, love no. Love/Lust - apples and oranges baby doll,
you can't compare the two. I hope i'll be in love again- but not fall in love... Falling denotes ending up on your arse and
i'm not doing that again...
Love's Reprieve
When
I shut my eyes at night and listen to the seagulls screeching into the sky, I imagine you standing before me, always in front
of me, with your suitcase in your hand, a song in the air, a bird on a rooftop, a pulse in my vein
Nitrogen and frozen
juice orange concentrate
If one were so inclined
But through my own sadness, I may make you leave,
Because
I just cannot face a love's reprieve.
(c) Marjorie Razorblade 2006
Comments: It's true. If I don't give it all away, nothing can go wrong...can
it? Hmm...there once was method in the madness- now I see this as just plain madness...
This is You The Telephone Rings
This is You.
Calling me to discount Darwinism
I love this, how do you know which buttons to push? How?
Practise I suppose. And you had plenty.
The Laws of Stupidity come into focus
"Do not look down a double barrelled shotgun while cleaning it"
(In case I had forgotten.)
An envelope appears on my mobile phone
This is You.
Texting me with a random quote from Hunter S Thompson
How do you do know I feel miserable?
Today of all days?
"If you're going to call someone a thieving Pig Fucker,
you'd better be prepared to produce the Pig"
Ha ha.
My Inbox is full of messages- one name jumps out at me
This is you.
" Did you know Shelley lived down the road? We must investigate, we are duty bound as Poets."
We must of course break in wearing ruffled shirts, and off our tits on Opium
We are looking for a supplier, if you know of any please call me.
I overdosed last week- accidentally of course, guns are expensive and people ask too many questions when
requesting a lady browning/snub nosed mauser/winchester etc etc etc etc.
My fancy was Arsenic but it's difficult to procure under strict government legislation these days
A promise of Calvin and Hobbes comic books Lucozade a personal teas made service milk honey and sympathy
is offered
Fuck my life is a mess
Mostly it's your fault
The doorbell rings
This is you.
(C) Marjorie Razorblade 2007
Comments: The Rebirth of Marjorie Razorblade stemmed from the absence
of one person from my life who was my world. However Some things never change. He is once more a presence in my life-
not my world but definitely a small orbiting planet.
Future boyfriends of the world ( and i'm hoping there may be at least one looming on the horizon) this
is for my Ex- DC. A really crappy Benchmark for you all.
Just don't fuck it up and make him look good.
4.5 Seconds of Idealism ************************* I sat down at the table wrote
this really great poem about him It had two clever lines in the middle...or maybe at the end Something about Amber
being like his smile And me being stuck in it like a mosquito wading through treacle Well, you get the idea metaphors
and similes And now, I've forgotten it. I lost the piece of lined paper I scrawled it on Fuck It's really
annoying when that happens I liked/like him enough to write three poems about him One inside One 90° below And
I've lost one of them It was my favourite And I haven't changed my mind. Anyway, I rolled a cigarette and smoked
it out of the back door It was freezing cold out there- white clouds - no sky And I was happy for about 4.5 seconds
in my own skin Until I remembered that I could not live in a poem no matter how good it was And life was waking up
around me, above me with black birds singing, children screaming and red kites flying stuck in telegraph poles I counted
the lines on my hand (four) and shut the door His poem had a watertight case But this was neither the time for immature
sentiments, Nor the appropriate place
© Marjorie Razorblade
Comments: All true.
Tipping Point
I sat, lazy sunshine basking at my arm
Remembering the way he would smile.
Lost on the same paragraph of the book
I
Could
Not
Put
Down
Re-reading the words: ‘To be God’
He would eat everything really fast
Spear it on his fork in swift stabbing motions
Before forcing it into his mouth
“Aren’t you hungry?” he would ask,
Only because I at slowly and pushed the food around my plate
And afterwards
He’d want something else
Dessert
Cakes
Anything bad,
He liked things which were bad for him
Perhaps that’s why he didn’t like me.
And the sun started to burn my arm
And the words ‘To be God’ I could not get past
And I put down the un-put-down-able-book
And I thought about him;
Miles away
Living in a world
I would never know.
© Marjorie Razorblade
Comments:
Written at critical mass- the point at which everything becomes something else and decisions are
finally made. Written for someone who is an un-put-down-able-book; possibly on throughput performance of the personal variety.
The Autobiography ********************* Don't pick it up in the middle.. It's been
sitting on the top shelf for far too long Sick of having pages flicked through As casual readers glimpsing at the
small print, choose the latest best seller Favourite books should be read cover to cover ' 1984 ' ' Chrome Yellow ' '
The Velveteen Rabbit; ' Too many others to mention, Handled with care Added to a private library Remembered
occasionally provoking a single thought and secret whisper And for the collector Close your eyes And read the
autobiography
A woman's collection is written in Braille.
(c) Marjorie Razorblade 2005
An
Isosceles Triangle
Between two equal matched parts A duel of straight lines. A heart diagram twisted to a point The eternal triangle
of internal affairs in vulgar rigidity
No
matter which shape I draw Which conclusion I come to It will always arrive at a point interrupted by straight lines
of ineffable circumstance. Logically this is where I should abstain and choose science fact over science fiction And
disseminate the facts of life in an equation And as hard as I concentrate When I look at you My pencil snaps and
I am lost; Alone In mathematical melancholia As you look into my eyes, you break my ideal of absolute perfection
(c)
Marjorie Razorblade
Palm of My Hand
Articulating words I wish I could say Nothing emotional comes easy, I wish I
could tell you what this has done to me Empty and Lonely with you in my life As a matter of fact, my feelings
are dismissed And articulating words I wish I could say... When I look at you, my eyes speak volumes My mouth doesn't
speak your language Nothing emotional comes easy Words I say are hidden by your inability to simply understand If
I could have the words i've written down in my head
I'd capture your love in the palm of my hand.
(c) Marjorie Razorblade
Comments:
None. I have nothing left to say, it won't make any fucking difference to him.
Heart
The heart is a funny thing; Not capable of direct feeling, Living merely as
an extension of emotion, And i've stayed awake recently at night analysing mine, Sunsets and Oceans have brought it
no satisfaction Words are of no consequence, And fingers cold to touch never penetrate Maybe i'm turning cynical
I ask my heart, Is it any wonder?
(c) Marjorie Razorblade
Comments: The Cynic inside.
8 am Strawberry Line |
Hello angry nose love faced doe eyed stranger I've fallen in love with you. You sit
opposite me on a train As I look out of the window I can see you looking me up and down out of the corner of my eye
Take your time, but don't judge a book by its cover No dont get off here pleeease! Stayonstayonstayon 'Excuse me' you say, wrenched from my daydream about
us together, you brush by me to stand by the doors Your'e behind me, I can feel you staring at the back of my head I
can't help but smile, I can see your reflection in the glass, You're smiling at me and pointing at your face Ok, you're
a liitle strange, but I still think you're beautiful You still point. You should stop that now before I get scared
You shake your head then lean over and whisper in my ear.
'Oh my God.'
I look in the glass at myself and horror strikes me You give me a tissue from your back pocket.
I have jam on my nose.
(c) Marjorie Razorblade |
Date with Disaster
So passionately we kissed last night As you tore off my clothes My structured
scaffold bra hook Tore a big chunk from your nose Then you threw me cautiously onto my postered bed The legs all
snapped The posters broke And smacked you on the head In a whispered mention I heard "my name Marj, ISN'T
Paul" As the harmonics of my vocals shook the plaster off the wall Then at last with failing passion I was flung
against the door But the rotten wood gave way at last And you fell through the floor.
(c) Marjorie Razorblade
Comments
And that's exactly what happened. Sort of, It was a long time ago.
And he was rubbish!
Sleeping Beautifully I watched you sleeping.
Your chest rose and fell, your lips pink and puffy like a child's What were you thinking while the world outside the
room spun As the stars lit the amazing sky? Were you dreaming about me I wonder, I watched the absolute calm of
your face Sailing away to places I can only close my eyes and imagine As you lay sleeping watching a film on the canvas
of your eyelids
You are what I could only dream of painting with nothing less than perfection
You simply are
what no words describe
And nothing I say could do justice to the beauty of you sleeping
(c) Marjorie Razorblade
2004
Silent Corners Watching my silent corners What do you see? For a second I'll watch
your beautiful eyes following the lines and curves of each vowel and crossed t's and dotted I's. Do I say everything in
such short sentences? Or say nothing? Do I realise I'm doing this? What do you think? I imagine you sat in the corner
of the room Whispering to yourself as your pen scratches over the surface of a notepad Subject number one 'Jasmine.'
Studying and dissecting perched on the back of an armchair like a crow Illuminated my the moon as you watch me sleep
Mumbling gently Scratch scratch goes the pen And I imagine you with wings I would love to hold you and bury
my nose in them And then let you go and watch you take flight No-one should be without their wings honey and Id hold
you close But not so tight You can't cage what is ultimately free I've only got three feathers, maybe I should
walk to heaven Will you be there to meet me? With your golden horn and wings spread across Gods throne? Watch my silent
corners lovely
And you'll never be alone
(c) Marjorie Razorblade 2004
|