Marjorie Razorblade

Lip Smackingly Terrible


                Good Lord. A woman filled with smut and bile? Now there's a thing.
This page is devoted to the dark side. Imagine if you will Darth Vader on HRT with lady bumps....Now we're cooking with gas.

  Par for Course in the Confessional Box- Red River-Dinosaur from the Late Cretaceous - This Mechanical Hate Filled Monster- Why so cranky Marjorie?- Woman Fuelled with Testosterone (the Drugs Kick in)- My Perfect Sunday
Par for Course in the Confessional Box
(He speaks in low undertones of the dead just in case anyone but God should overhear)
"Tell me my child"
"Well, I've been a bit scathing Father
Venomous and bile ridden
I've been anarchic and poxy
And palsied, my mind in the midden
Born in another life I would have been Sweeny Todd
But I was born too late
The wrong sex
And I don't dig ladies, well, a bit
Something I pointlessly once blamed on 'God'
I'm don't feel religious although my upbringing was full of crosses
I didn't recieve my calling
I took up drinking and smoking instead
I bowed out gracefully -  cut my losses
Who the fuck can trust a Priest who's name is Father Damien anyway?"
We conversed continually about the origins of the three numbered six
I tried to tempt him with red ribena coloured communion wine
And my bare ankles, just for kicks.
But i've been a bit harsh...
"Now I feel like it's time for confession"
Where do I start to dish the dirt though?
My family?
Or my birth stemming from an old profession?
Before you ask:
My mother was a Saint
She's sweet and quaint
My similarity to such a well rounded woman
Distinctly thin and ghostly feint
But I need a confessional to get on my knees
I need some forgiveness....
(And maybe for that person I murdered back in 1993)
You fools
You always believe me
It's prose and nothing more esoteric
Formulated responses albeit somewhat generic
I've already been exposed as a fraud and a heretic
I can't fucking help it
It's something genetic
I'm made up of atoms and spiralling coils
Life greases my axons with musk scented sebacous oils
And it's complex to be such a convoluted torrent of opposing force
"Will my Sins be forgiven?"
"This is Catholiscism...." he says..
Not Hinduism or Norse
And I could murder the queen and defile her horse
I'll still get to Heaven
"...Its Par for the Course"
(c) Marjorie Razorblade 2007
Comments: Five Our Fathers and six rosaries!  Fucking Hell. I should have had a killing spree beforehand.
Red River
The trouble he brings
Birds and Wings
And no man ever made a molehill out of a mountain,
Despite good intentions and philosophical things
Despite him being at the source of knowledge; an astronomical fountain
His Wisdom and Wit
His body
His mind
An impeccable fit
The trouble this brings
Is that Marjorie looses her black and white effortless armoured advance
And her mind is alive with Springs of Ravens and Love
And her Red River flows in torrents of unstoppable circumstance.
(c) Marjorie Razorblade 2007
Comments: The Red River is the blood rushing around my head day and night while my heart tries to keep up.

Dinosaur from the Late Cretaceous

I’m having a Cretaceous period.

My vagina is like fossilised stone

There’s an echo up there

Somewhere I swear,

And old cobwebs from living alone

With a squeaking I walk down the street

And a squeaking I walk down to the store

I confused the poor bastard that worked there

And watched as he oiled the door

My vibrator keeps blowing it batteries

And all I do now is sleep in my bed,

Being a dinosaur sure has its limits

Waist down I just may well be dead.



(c) Marjorie Razorblade 2007


Comments: Pre-Raphelite someone called me yesterday. I think they meant Pre-Cambrian but was just being polite.



This Mechanical Hate Filled Monster

The clanking keys of the Mechanical Hate Filled Monster will not cease their repetition. Ommission of the letter 'A' leads me to question the 21st Centuries motives for creating Apple Macs. I had one, it sat in the corner sulking like a teenage boy deprived of masturbatory silence while his parents are downstairs entertaining guests.

I hated it.

It mocked the Mechanical Hate Filled Machine with it's ergonomical keypad.

And as much as I loathed its spelling mistakes and missing vowels how it

Made my fingers bleed

Coverd my linen paper in black smudges

and weighed a fucking ton,

The Mechanical Hate Filled Machine

Is perfection epitomised.


And is especially good for smashing Apple Macs tiny face in.


My masturbatory silence of clanking keys has been terminated. I smoked and picked pieces of Apple off my chin.


(c) Marjorie Razorblade 1999


Comments: Grrarrrrr!

Why so cranky Marjorie?


Its like putting all your eggs into one shit bastard

And a really small tents erected on a giant pitch

When you need an arse plank to stop you falling inside me

That’s why Mother Fucker

I’m a Cranky Arsed Bitch


When people take offence when I’m really being pleasant

I guess it only serves to make the Cynic in them twitch

(“Marj being nice? She’s got to be joking”)

No I’m not you dumb fuck

Here instead the Cranky Arsed Bitch

(* takes a bow* )


When all the Shit Bastards

Are climbing out from the woodwork

When I cackle insanely like a working class witch

When I’m still in my thirties but haven’t met my match yet

That’s why you fucking retards

I’m a Cranky Arsed Bitch


That I’ve no room for error

When I’m counting up my blessings,

I count my friends on both hands and live a life that’s full and rich

And people like my poetry

For it’s scathingness and venom

That’s how I entertain you

And why I’m a Cranky Arsed Bitch


Marjorie Razorblade


Comments: Now stop asking stupid fucking questions. P.s the Arse plank comment was all I could think of that rhymed before anyone starts asking questions they may later get a fat lip for.





Woman fuelled with Testosterone

(The drugs kick in.)


It has happened, I’m fuelled with testosterone

My balls are finally dropping

I want to be shagging all day long

I don’t want my hair done, fuck shopping!

Shocking revelation but ultimately true

I’m ready for action

I like some with you

Previous fuckwits now get in the queue

For Masturbation is self improvement


Parlance for man-isms is now awake

Is this the result for these pills I must take?

Which make my throat sore which make my cunt ache

But most of all they are for something we never mention…

And I don’t want to be your boyfriend babe

I’m just wanting a little attention


A tall handsome blond, a brunette silently passes

Three girls go jogging I stare at their arses

And no-one can see this, I’m wearing dark glasses

By this time next week

I hope this fucking thing passes


Who the hell needs Viagra when I’ve got this pack

Like driving a four ton lorry down a small cul-de-sac

It’s got nowhere to go, no freedom is forthcoming

The chorus at night time like crickets all humming

And I’ve run out of triple A’s impatience is growing

But fuck am I coming

Or am I just going?



Ladies and Gentlemen, no-one is spared

An unwritten rule like I fucking cared

Both taps in my bathtub are there for a reason

I’m an Alsatian on heat, I’m in fucking season

And I can’t give out or shut up

Without committing high treason?

Oh Spare me your bollocks

(Or spare me five minutes alone with them)






It has happened, I’m fuelled with testosterone

I could call a million people and pick up the phone

To come over here tonight and keep my lips warm

But I don’t and won’t and can’t and shant

So I watch TV and write poetry instead

My ex calls wants to come over


But he’s useless at giving me head

And after a while I give up gracefully

By taking my raging hormones silently to bed.



(C) Marjorie Razorblade 2007



Comments: I should be ashamed of myself, but I’m not. It’s not my fault. I’ve been on hormones for a ‘lady thing’. They are doing things to me I can’t fully get a handle on. It’s a good job I’ve been at home all week and decided not to go out or I’d be in prison by now. I’ve had this before, it’ll pass in a week and then I can stop buying things which are named after animals, and once more be allowed out in public again and have a normal life.





My Perfect Sunday

It might be worth it if I now mention:
I do not shop in DFS on Sundays
Please don't take this as any form of rejection
Its just that my Sundays are too precious and furniture shopping with you my love,
Is really not my intention.

Oh I can meet your mother and be charming and polite
And secretly I'll smile and think
Of what I'll do to her darling son tonight
Another thing I recommend is we do not shop for matching crockery
Beware of women who want to buy napkins, co-ordinated plates
and gnomes for the miniature rockery

I'm just not like that

My Sundays are too precious
I would rather be lying in bed with you
Counting your fingers licking your stomach, and marvelling at the wonder of human engineering,
Its not that I'm particular
It's just that I'd rather be with you
A fact I find quite endearing.

You simply are a work of art, the world outside is not a beautiful enough place to keep you without hanging its head for shame
The Garden of Eden would have been a fitting place for you
Should that harlot not cast it asunder
Nothing I could do on a Sunday would be good enough

Except you sliding inside me

And really,
is it any wonder?

Marjorie Razorblade 2007

Comments: Childless Sunday couples: DFS, The Telegraph, almost-but-not-quite-matching ski-jackets and Timberland Boots, visiting the in laws with flowers to make that 'first good impression'(the rest of the time they can whistle, but this comes much later) roast dinner at the pub- (matching food) glass of white wine probably, home, he watches football, she makes tea and feigns interest in the offside rule, bed, read, do crossword, lights out, go in different directions to work, repeat, end, start all over again...sigh.
My perfect Sunday: Wake up with someone wonderful sleep all day in between other things, which needs little imagination to visualize. Personally I like a shag on sunday and then all of the above...maybe.


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