Marjorie Razorblade

Love and Garbage


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”



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,


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:


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,





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 was Something.

(Thank you for my black book)


While  we are being
I might have said something I regret...
I really do like you
I might seem to you that I don’t need you
Well, I might just do
You see I don’t really want to be seen as a pathetic female who needs a man to give
                                    her direction
But without you,
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...
                                    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
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.

Heart Shaped


Tipping Point

I sat, lazy sunshine basking at my arm

Remembering the way he would smile.

Lost on the same paragraph of the book






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



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



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
None. I have nothing left to say, it won't make any fucking difference to him.
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!

'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
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
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


In "It was Something" I borrowed a phrase from my favourite poem with the a line
"to have seen you and your unforgettable face" (G.K Chesterton)
this poem was an indescribable feeling if all I could think of was my  favourite poem while I wrote this it must have been something to have used that phrase in my own poetry about someone I