Okay so when i originally wrote this poem it was because i couldnt sleep very well and i had just remembered a grizzly tales for gruesome kids episode i once saw. (for those who dont know what grizzly tales for gruesome kids is, its a cartoon that aimed to scare children into being good by saying stuff like if you refuse to go to sleep mr peeler will come and rip off your eyelids because he thinks you dont need them.) . Out of all the characters I saw on grizzly tales for gruesome kids I liked Mr Peeler the best. Which leads me nicely back to my poem. I wrote this as if I was a little child who didnt want to go bed so Mr Peeler ripped off her eyelids. Let me no what you think, also i'd be interested in knowing who else has heard of Mr Peeler before now.
For almost two years we’ve been sitting on a conveyor belt Heading straight for the potato peeler, which will Slice right through our thickened skins and puncture our vitals; A cold cruel machine designed to sit In industrial kitchens Waiting for Sodexo’s next batch.
But we— We’re from the farmer’s market and we are not Four inches in diameter and six inches in length. We are clunky. We are knobbled. We are Purpleyellow and we are waterysweet. We are not Iowabland or a poem of rhyming couplets, yeah We are free verse and we
Had *** because we’re friends. Or maybe because We love each other In one way or another. Or maybe because we’re lost Or maybe all of the above, yeah—I don’t know, I just know
The potato peeler won’t accept us for a second. That mechanical grip, slicing slicing slicing, A fumbling tumbling in countless browntowhite progression, It won't accept Our color, our flavor, our beautiful swirling eyes, And for a while I didn't either. But whether we have two more months on the belt or twenty years, I know that our knobbled progression to nowhere Will have been one of everywhere.