There once was a sleek silvery sardine
Who dreamed of marrying a svelte eel queen
With his heart ever lurching,
Swimming through seaweed searching
In an olive oiled tin, he was last seen.
In "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,"
I felt my fingernails digging into his back during an intensely charged moment.
I was surprised to see tears rolling down the cheeks of a strong man—he wept!
He sighed! He reached his climax, time and again.
Was it a display of sportsmanship or a sign of injury?
I pried with a screw-driver driven into a lid
sealed with age, and rust, to crack open a
callous retribution, set aside, tombed over.
I was curious to learn how much remained
and in what condition. Up came the lid with
a gurgle, fizz, hiss, expelled with age smell.
The paint on top, had dried, to a skin, a curd,
a viscous scum of strange foreign color that
did not auger well for its pending redemption.
I poked through the thin skin, scooping it out,
to reveal the paint separated into its primary
colors. Once, thrice stirred, it slowly rejigged
into its original color and form, ready to adorn
marks on the wall, scraped and sanded ready
for a fix, now all's done dusted, and forgiven.
tin cup music
life’s story was etched on her face
carved with pocket-knife memories
rubbed in with grammar school erasers
and colored like heavy wet fog
on a stinson beach winter’s morning
.
smiles were kept tucked in her pocket
until a coin rang out like handel’s messiah
hitting the bottom of her tin cup
a reminder of how far she had fallen
in a life written like a fourteen-line sonnet
noise from darkened streets and shadowed corners
became comforting street sounds
as she curled in her coarse wool army blanket
now clutched to her chin and pushed by her toes
until she found sleep in her cocoon of warmth
.
then a little girl jumped on chalk-drawn squares
skipped rope and laughed while running into the wind
and peeking around corners in games of hide and seek
oh, she chased her puppy and hugged her kitten
in dreams constructed with yesterday’s pieces
awakened, she wondered when she last cried
tears no longer fell easily
and the gurgling complaints in her belly
reminded her that morning erased dreams
as easily as dreams erased the pain of living
tolbert
The eating of pie before dinner,
It isn’t on point to get thinner.
It’s best to let go
That tin pan of woe,
And be a calorical winner.
i'm whiskey beats outta country
jazz, too classic
old's city in LA
high damn
runnin up you like water
all most hiding skin
and overatures
lest i grieve through absurd
trist's with confi, daunting
clapper town
east block alter girls
choired saints lost frames
too paint
sorry bouts
runnin up like water's mam
I was but a tin man,
A cold and heartless can,
Frozen solid stuck on my feet,
But then I heard a beat,
It was you that oiled my joints,
Many unrivaled selfless points,
You cared for this piece of tin,
To give life where none had been,
Caring for me with little rest,
Until again a beat from my chest,
Showing me what true love was about,
Recovering a can when he was down and out.
There once was a man made of tin,
Whose joints made a horrible din.
“I need oil,” he’d plea,
“Or a heart, possibly,
But rust ruins romance again!”
The Tin Man of Wizard of Oz
is kind but don't know it because
though shiny and smart
he's made with no heart-
but finds one to pump up his cause!
That wicked old witch made me the Tin Man
Sans a heart, I'm like a rusty tin can
I creak like a screechy hinge
Making my many friends cringe
A spritz of oil keeps me going again
The Wicked Witch was Tin Man’s fantasy
He'd never seen such a beauty as she
It rained and his joints seized
Left poor Tin Man quite peeved
Every step that he took was misery...
They stopped at Yellow Brick Rd gas station
Asked the pump jockey for lubrication
He sprayed Tin Man with grease
So, he could move with ease
Tin Man jumped up and down with elation...
He held the witch’s hand but wanted more
But didn't foresee what fate had in store
Something hadn't been greased
Tin Man wasn't too pleased
When his rusted man thing dropped on the floor...
When Dorothy and Tin Man were dating
She didn’t prepare for the mating
Til’ she heard a bang
And shouted out, “Dang,
Something inside there’s inflating”
Since Dorothy’s one chick he lusted
Poor Tin said he was disgusted
Coz there was no oil can
Nearby them at hand
To free up his zipper now rusted
As Tin was kissing Dorothy’s lips
He sadly knew he had to come to grips
‘Til she yelled, “My man
I’ll open your can
Coz in my purse I brought some tin snips!”
I’ll be keeping this one rather brief;
my arthritis is causing me grief.
Now I’m not one to coddle,
but Bobcat’s a good model
and grease fittings would provide relief.
he breaks the window
he hates the trees
he shot the deer
he knows where they hide
he carves
the face of death
on the surface of life
do not be silent
be as loud as you can
he knows where you are
and you may never speak again
His tin cup held out
the coins jingle in
~ Yet again Faith wins
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