Marjorie Razorblade

Edge of Insomnia

  Insomnia Finally Wins- Do not Disturb - An Atonement for the Hopeful- Emotional Bus Ride to Interstellar War - Snow in my Pockets

Insomnia Finally Wins


I slept for five hours in seventy two

You say you think about me

I don’t think about you

My mind is not with you, it’s with someone elsewhere

Yes there

But you say you’re not bothered

I don’t really care

I’ve been awake for four days now

I’m tearing out my hair

Expect for the grey ones…

Those ones are still there.

Working is chaos and I’m not that excited

My assistant is useless

My boss is delighted

I now work two jobs as I pick up her pieces

A new satchel faced trout

And her face has more creases

Than an Elephants arsehole

And the shit never ceases

To amaze me my friend bought me tickets to Rome

She collected her ticket

And I left mine at home

In order to cheer me up she phoned me from Naples

I asked for some paper clips

The trout ordered staples

I asked for oak furniture

She ordered



And now icing my cake the linguistics run dry

I’ve just said hello to him

And it’s nearly goodbye

While being given the come-on by a mime artist today

In sign language I said grumpily

“Fuck off- Go away”

An old lady lost her purse and I said I’d pay

In a week from Satans arse

This is just one more day

Tomorrow will be midnight

My hair is still grey

My friend is in Naples

My assistant will pay

Roll on tomorrow you fucker! I say

The repeatingly cheating ex boyfriend had snot

On his shirt sleeve I howled

“What a shit life I’ve got”

He said It’s not that bad really it just been a week

(well cock a doodle do)

And what’s infinitely worse is I can’t really speak

My stutter has come back and I fall over nouns

I speak to mime artists who dress up as clowns

In the paper

“Old lady with no wallet drowns”


And snot covered ex boyfriends are now out of bounds

But hey

At least that’s one thing less to worry about-

Tomorrow I fire the silly old trout

My friend calls from Trieste her money’s run out


My grey hair expelled in one chemical clout

And tomorrow Carpe Diem!

And have faith ye sceptics, lack any doubt

That I’ll be perpetually mental

I’ll run naked and shout

About "paper clips, furniture, elephants arses!"

About robbing old women and beating up mime artists

And be holed up in prison for ‘own protection’

Which is fine if I get a white walled room with connection

A padded cell is quite necessary and rent is not cheap

Maybe I’ll curl up on some feather

And get some fucking sleep


I’m now counting cows


I ordered sheep.



© Marjorie Razorblade 2007 silly o’clock


Comments: Arg. Common sense, co-ordination and power of speech have been compromised. I may be arrested soon for talking to fruit in the supermarket or possibly combust from over consumption of hot milk and eating too many singular rice crispies, I found the newspaper in the fridge this morning and my toothbrush in the oven maybe if I’m lucky aliens will fly up my arse and I’ll be eaten by giant ants. I haven’t slept in so long I can’t remember what word goes in front of cheese. Is it yes? Is everything meant to be orange? What’s wood made out of again? Nytol gives you a good Nytol? I think not tomorrow I’m going to write a strong letter about Beavers living in igloos and how disgusted I am with the price of canapés in Kwik Fit.





Do not Disturb
Insomnia style sleepwalking through hazy mornings
Alarm clocks call unanswered
Grope for the silencer,
Closed off in my cotton wool world
Muted buttons pressed
Oblivious to outside expectations
Seamless and unending; another ball of wool on an oversized jumper
Havoc wreaking in dull throbbing corners
Fingers tapping on lips trying to place the forgotten muffled voices
Deeper cocooned in stifling closeness
And when I do eventually sleep

Do not Disturb
And when I do eventually wake,
   I'll try my very best, not to scream.

(c) Marjorie Razorblade 2007






An Aside for the Hopeful
I walk on hopeful.
One day clouds will part overhead and lightening will strike me down dead.

Dogs and cats will live side by side in harmony and birds will deliver the mail.
I will finally solve the forth and most impossible tower of Mahjong .

Its a fucker.

I walk on hopeful that those who have shattered dreams, find all the missing pieces.
I walk on hopeful that after a sudden realisation that war is neccessary to end war it will finally be dismissed by government sardines in pinstripe suits.
I walk on hopeful that one day all mistakes will be rectified by genuine acts of human kindness .

A red bus sails past my window

A bird delivers my mornings mail down the glass
The blue sky is brimming with invisible snow
I walk on hopeful that i'll always be loved by those I love
I walk on hopeful that he'll always know.

(c) Marjorie Razorblade 2007






Emotional Bus Ride to Interstellar War

Too many assaults on the senses

An emotional battleground where the Four Riders once joined and waited for the Rapture.

He was late

I was tapping my foot until he eventually arrived.

Hurried- disheveled and no flowers clumsily offered.

how dissapointing.

I came in at number three and the others were never released from the foreground of my frontal lobe

War led the way and I would have loved him for an eternity but he was a soldier and much older than I

And Famine took everything

And Death never ever came for me

So the Rapture followed in the ascending order of Archangels

The Rapture... hhmm... was he what I expected?

I don't think anything could be further from the truth

I still have blank canvasses which capture only imagination and fickle flights of fancy which hop on board and jump off on the corner of Oxford and Bond Street,

And the colours came back to the centre of the black hole

And the white light was snuffed out by Hastur and other hellish demons of the pit as the Moon screamed at me under her soulless sky

Come back to me she says I won't let you down this time

This time I swear

This time

And the buses sweep past me in the high street as I imagine stepping off the kerb without even thinking; eyes closed arms raised

Waiting for the number 14 to pass and the number 1 to stop and hit me like a big red fucking bus right between the eyes

To lay down and sleep smiling on the railway line as the 5.45 thunders to Cambridge with one small bump and no-derailment.

The sandwiches are too expensive

The train thunders on

I missed the bus

I let the train shoulder on

And the Rapture

Is late.


I've lost the will to live.


(c) Marjorie Razorblade 2007





Snow in my Pockets


Planes soar overhead and push all the flowers back into the soft old earth

And the dead rise up

and begin Spring cleaning their tombs

I walk under London Planes and giant Oaks

Lost in a world of purple handwriting and bottles of chardonnay

And the freckled nose of summer hides under a coat of white paint

I still feel trapped by the sky

And freedom comes from Birds I can never become

Yet I no longer feel the urge to die

It comes and goes

Still, I carry on walking

I'd run but my heart beats twice when I think of you

Be careful what you wish for

London Planes and giant Oaks

Climb the sky like living rockets

My heart beats twice

I think of you

And I discover

          I've got snow inside my pockets


(c) Marjorie Razorblade 2007