tagNon-Erotic PoetryWe Are Not Violins

We Are Not Violins

bysweepthefloor©

We are yellow toy trucks.
And we know where the dump is.

We are rusty brillo pads
And we sit on the porch.

We are water pistols
And we know who the bad guys are.

We are four inch by four inch wood posts
And we are all filled with rocks.

We are faded ripped flags
And ride dirt bikes in the woods.

We are moldy trailers
And sometimes live in brick houses.

We are garden hoses and guns
And break into fire hydrants in the sun.

We are wild dirty dogs with ticks
And we live on chains in the city.

We are thin and we are hungry
And we live off peanut butter from the church.

We are ripped soft tight jeans and flannel shirts
And we smell like cedar wood saw dust.

We are crooked toothed grins
And we got acne.

We are your parents worst nightmare
And please do not fall in love with us.

We can swear or read poetry
And we do not have televisions.

We are the bleeding cuts on your arm
And we heal without band aids or kisses.

We are pale lips and black eyes
And we don't cover it up.

We are fiddles and punk and banjos and spoons
And we are not violins ever.

We are the neighborhood news reporters
And we do not know who the president is.

We are mattresses on wooden floors
And we got bed bugs.

We are holes in every wall
And we stopped filling them in.

We are a fridge full of malt liquor
And we know that is liquid bread.

We are broken down cars
And we do not need keys to start them.

We are the New Jersey turnpike
And we do not know what exit.

We are coffee and tobacco for breakfast
And our growth is not stunted.

We are cobwebs and attics
And we know how to hide.

We are railroad tracks walked upon
And we know trains never go by.

We are spray paint on walls
And we don't know any artists.

We are honey suckles growing in alleys
And we actually taste really good.

We are the late bell at school
And we ain't got our homework.

We are the child study team
And we don't want you investigating.

We are dilated black pupils in green eyes
And we like to slip through cracks.

We are three on a match is bad luck
And we burn the whole pack at once.

We are all legs and knees with no torsos
And we pick our scabs and eat them.

We are dried craft glue on fingers
And we like to peel it off.

We are a pack of Marlboro Reds
And we do not wear cowboy hats.

We are phones made of tin cans and wire
And we hear each other whispering.

We are telepathic wonders knowing
And we do not need the story to know.

We are nephews older than uncles
And we know who the mothers are.

We are the fire down the lake
And we did not start it this time.

We are the brightest teeth you ever saw
And we brush em with baking soda and peroxide.

We are left over wire spools for coffee tables
And we sit on empty milk crates.

We are little red wagons painted primer gray
And we know how to steer down the hill.

We are wooden rulers and wooden spoons
And we chew on our pencils.

We are runny noses all year
And we never get sick.

We are pennies thrown at your window
And we are up all night.

We are mosquito bites itchy
And we know how to cure it.

We are light bulbs hanging from ceilings
And we constantly flicker.

We are dolls without heads
And we like to perform surgeries.

We are hand tools and power tools
And we know how to use them.

We are steaming hot irons
And we do not use ironing boards.

We are dirty romance novels
And we still blush.

We are the leaky roof when it rains
And we empty the bucket every hour.

We are hot sugar water without tea bags
And we are not tired.

We are toy trucks and fiddles and dirty finger nails forever
And we do not ever want to be called violins.

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