#tin
By Roger Turner and Miike Hauser
I don't know where I'm going
But I do know where I've been
They say the road is paved with gold
But my road's paved with tin
There's a dark cloud hanging over me
It's there each and every day
It doesn't matter what I do
I think it's here to stay
I live beneath a dark cloud
Looks like it's gonna rain
I live beneath a dark cloud
It gives no joy just pain
Nothing ever works out right
I'm Murphy's Law for real
Toss out the banana
Save the peel for later spills
If you think everything goes wrong
For me you would be right
All I do is play along
I do it out of spite
Feb 12
Feb 12, 2026 at 10:28 AM UTC
The kitchen cupboards empty, there nothing much to eat
But I spy a round of soft white bread and tin of luncheon meat.
A bit of sauce, a cup of tea now this will do just grand
So off I go to start my lunch, butter knife in hand.
The bread is soft the butter hard but still I get it spread
A little bit unevenly but I cover all the bread.
A tricky start I’ll give you, but I’ll take that little win
For now I face the challenge of the luncheon meats **** tin.
I break one nail before I can remove the ****** key
So the butter knife is utilised to prise the ****** free.
I thread the key like needle hole around the tins small tag
And start to turn but suddenly the key begins to snag
I turn with force and now the coil of metal starts to bend
It spirals off the little key long before the end.
So standing with half opened tin I can’t believe the strife
This little tin of luncheon meat is bringing to my life.
So I grab the nearby butter knife and insert it in the tin
And push and bend and wiggle it, the ******* will not win.
So here I am still hungry with a towel wrapped round my thumb
In Accident and Emergency my whole hand feeling numb.
I swear again as I’ve done before, I’ll never buy again
The tin of ****** luncheon meat that always brings me pain.
Sep 21, 2025
Sep 21, 2025 at 8:19 AM UTC
You bought me metal sheets
bent in the shape of a heart.
after days of leaving me in the dark
wondering what I was going to eat
Sweet and bitter lumps I crush
between my hands
I eat my heart tonight
because maybe you’ll love me
You loved me enough to steal me
Under an unconditional facade
I forgave you every time
Hoping you’d hold me when I’m down.
But I will eat my heart gratefully
because you told me to
because that is all I can do
because that is all I am worth.
You can take nothing when it is left.
-Percy
Feb 15, 2024
Feb 15, 2024 at 2:26 PM UTC
get your hands off of my mouth
feel the smoke in my lungs while you burn down our house
ashes litter my hair, scratches litter my skin
drowning in this love drought
watching the new cycle begin
is love as destructive as a fire?
why is my heart as malleable as tin?
I thought it was ok before the light started to dim
Feb 4, 2023
Feb 4, 2023 at 11:10 AM UTC
There are buckets made of plastic
There are buckets made of wood
The former are fantastic
The latter not so good.
There are buckets made of metal
And canvas buckets too
But metal for durability
I'd choose if I were you.
There's a bucket on a digger
And buckets made of leather
The former are the bigger
And the latter not so clever.
There are buckets made of tin
And with a little ***** in hand
Kids can build sand castles
When playing on the sand.
There are buckets made of rubber
Or with a wringer for a mop
And some in white enamel
With a blue ring round the top.
There are so many buckets
And some I may have missed
But if anyone should ask me
That's my bucket list.
Dec 7, 2022
Dec 7, 2022 at 2:27 AM UTC
died of an enlarged heart
rode in on the wings of a Seraphim
to tell you it was actually broken
that it just grew a few too many sizes that day
and honey,
it burst into a quasar
a bouquet of sound like a tin balloon that
explodes inside a tunnel full of quiet winds.
but now here comes the rain
a holy baptism half past a broken heart.
we’ll sew it up together
with a quicksilver spindle of celestial threads.
golden yarn spun from the Oversoul inside my head
the seeds of my holy heart-mind
sewn beneath my lotus feet.
ceramic shards of a broken heart
woven whole again
showing only golden cracks and seams
below the clouds the sun is brighter than it seems.
inside this fire we laugh so loud
the tunnel full of silent raging winds
are giving birth to embers
and steaming into clouds.
hard hearts will expand with a smile
as we float along the wake
of the Prince of Wands -
bathing in the fire.
by jordan
May 21, 2022
May 21, 2022 at 5:18 PM UTC
Tin man, on the eve of tin,
your apology rings hollow.
I think that you
were only trying to
crack a window,
find a space to crawl back in,
attempt to
erase me some more.
Meanwhile, the police
are off investigating
crimes that happen in
real time. They like
to catch their perps
red-handed. Even with you
cast in the limelight,
confirming that what you did
to me was real,
it was my own nightmare.
I know, we fall into
that grey area.
In a garden of blooms
you walk freely,
inhaling and dreaming
of touching
those yet untouched
pink and yellow buds.
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 7:39 PM UTC
Gold shines just as brilliantly as silver or bronze
achievements for the greatest of them all
standing on podiums, they show-off their medals.
Well gold, silver, and bronze shine
just as much as tin or iron
even the cheapest of plastics can be made to reflect light.
Will your champion know what is really gold
or will they be distracted by how it glitters?
No, not all winners are fools.
But the best of them all can determine
the metal of their medals.
May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 at 1:41 PM UTC
Stream of consciousness
traveling down tin cans and a string
going on about Romulus
and ramblings, vibrating in between
half a world away
keeping each other awake
thanks again
for the company
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 8:23 AM UTC
symbol of contemporary life
packaged, preserved,
instructions on the side.
simplicity of modern day,
pop stamped symmetrical;
hunter gatherer.
collect them into rows
italian chopped tomatoes
best before date, barcode.
tin can still bites,
like bramble thorns,
to repel against harvest.
boxed up comfortable living
adding edge to expectancy
countering convenience.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 6:09 PM UTC
a tin sky
my love
dances
around
a garden
my eyes
roll
into
my skull
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 10:48 PM UTC
It's that time again.
When rangey youth
in wounded utes
are sent to pick up tin.
Eyes peeled for
shiny mangled bikes
and steely bits
of thing.
I want to see
the crucible
they put it in.
Behold the pearly
metallurgic
mess unfold.
A gleaming steaming
mass of brassy storm
So cooked
and cooled
and coaxed
and clicked
and jewelled
into mercurial form
Then moulded
bright and fine
once more.
This is the
Copper loop
of life we mine.
Eternal
Circulated
Alchemy
Divine.
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 2:30 AM UTC
daily one looks and looks
to find the daily poem
so judiciously chosen
for the daily poem's nook
unsuccessful
one's search has been
it's as though
the daily poem
has just sauntered off
the computer's screen
one's radar finder
cannot seem to reel
the daily poem in
nor catch a trace
of its keeping tin
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 12:38 AM UTC
*Perhaps I am mistaken
Perhaps you are not as you seem in the light of day
Glimmering like the Pyrite on the infinite cliff
On the edges of which you keep me, ever at bay
Because after all of the crystal
And shale has been stripped away
And the quartz, the granite, the limestone pale
Have fallen to the earth beneath
To be crushed underneath the walking waves
Perhaps then I will see you shine on a barren day
And my eyes will be better for the sight
Even if your worth is not in gold
But as I fear it might be, in clay*
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 10:58 PM UTC
swarming in to burrow
beneath the skin
this a plague of much
chagrin
the locust band
had moved in
with a harmfulness
in its whirling spin
they'd not been detected
by the radar's pin
so unsuspecting were
those who dwelt within
as they stayed
we'd hear but their din
that was full on
regarding the clamorous tin
of the epidemic
which swarmed in
there'd be no possibility
for the kin to gain a win
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 11:45 PM UTC
She wears a sterling silver lie on her finger,
A Christmas gift, unintentionally leading her into Fraud,
months after the wrapping paper had been torn away.
Never gifted with piano fingers, hers pulsated with words waiting to pour through her pen
Having passed faith tests with flying colors, she looked at the rounded Christ less crucifix, Jesus replaced with fashionable jewels,
She believed it was a medal for coming out alive and in faith
Little did she know that the test was a mere three months away
Not unfamiliar with temptation,
She knew her weakness,
Knowing herself only to be human,
Seeing the ins and outs of her fragility,
Still pushing onward into hope,
Bordering on the suburban developed atheism, but always landing on the grassy faith.
But as one who was too old to be young forever, there was one whose failure
Would drag her out to the desert littered in nihilism.
She feared how at home she felt there,
Seeing her reflections not in any oasis, but in the land that once held such promise
But had been drained of breath and water
The dry ground being undistinguishable from her feet,
too tired to keep going, too broken to stay,
Ignoring that lone piece of metal, glaring from her fingers,
Being covered in the dried and drained land,
Hiding away the lie that was stuck to her,
Fingers swollen with the untapped sap,
Too thickened with sorrow to be drained easily,
Growing into her skin, scarring over,
Ingrown faith, digging itself under her skin,
Unavoidable metal in a desert so bleak,
A Medal that brought prior pride
Now a blood clot in vain of surviving.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 11:05 AM UTC
I want to live
in a tin roofed shack
with a cooking fire underneath
that curls up its smoke
from under an iron ***
watch blue dark clouds
Roll in over the hours
so I can hear it's music
beat a rhythm out on my tin roof
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
Tin can busses fill rapidly,
Stop.
And bleed like tuna.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
The shadows dance their waltz with glee, among the floor of dead leaves and animal bones As the sun glistens among the tin hearts, and copper tears
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 9:32 PM UTC
The tin warrior,
Stands tall and strong,
His creator looks in horror,
As his new creation has gone terribly wrong.
The tin warrior was suppose to have no heart,
But no, he came out with a part,
The tin warrior was the key to victory,
Now who ever wins the war is a pure mystery,
Who do they blame for this new creation?
Obviously the one who created all this frustration!
The tin warrior has a half a heart,
Not the best, but it is a start,
Instead of stone cold,
It became pure gold,
Only one person knows why,
And it most certainly wasn't the creator guy.
The daughter of the creator,
She was the one,
She may be a traitor,
But she knows what she had done.
The tin warrior was better than a weapon,
The daughter knew that,
She doesn't regret her choices for a second,
The tin warrior was even better than her father was aiming at.
The tin warrior was build for peace,
His sword pure white,
Not a speck of blood upon it,
To walk he used all his might,
To keep his heart pumping,
He struggled greatly,
What the daughter witnessed,
Make her quite shaky.
You see, a heart was meant for man,
And the tin warrior just wasn't it,
The tin warrior went out with a plan,
So he left a dent in this world,
Letting himself shut down,
Knowing his plan was unfurled,
Everything would be fine without him,
As he did his part,
The daughter was grim,
But knew this was just the start,
The tin warrior saved many souls,
And now it was her turn to achieve the tin warriors goals.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
Black
Smooth
Held together with a strand of pearls
Unimportant whispering is common place
Practices laughing
Will touch your hand at the end of a conversation to show she is listening
Running for pleasure on a sunless day
Stuck in
Pulled out
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC