Marjorie Razorblade Cutting In

Marjorie Razorblade

Marjorie Razorblade Is | Marjorie Razorblade | Old uns | Real Life Poetry | Moments of Clarity | Forever consigned to the 'Old Poetry File' | Last of the Love Sonnets

Dead and alive
I wake up its 8.30am.
I lie in bed wondering where the mood swings come from. I say something and you whisper "its nice to be loved"
I am now drowing in my own thoughts, my alter-ego avenging wrongs, moving on, finding love, seeking new friends who will not disperse like seeds in a foul wind,
Upstairs I can hear the idiot mother scream at her wayward child;
The clock ticking in the hall- slicing my time here in half
I positively think about the end of the world.
I close my eyes and wish for thunder,
I need a storm to shake me up
Wake me up
Get me out of bed
"Its nice to be loved" you casually mention
And the demons once more rise up from the dead.

(c) Marjorie Razorblade

An Aside
I walk on hopeful
That one day clouds will part overhead and lightening will strike me
That dogs and cats will live side by side in harmony
And that I will finally solve the forth and most impossible tower of Mahjong
I walk on hopeful that those who have shattered dreams, find all the missing pieces
That a sudden realisation that war is neccessary to end war is dissmissed by government sardines in pinstripe suits
And that one day all mistakes will be rectified by kindness

A red bus sails past my window
The blue sky is brimming with snow
I walk on hopeful i'll always be loved
I walk hoping that he'll never truly know.

(c) Marjorie Razorblade