"siting" poems
who the hell doesn’t want to be a Jedi
seriously you can control the force and **** siting
on you couch playing cod all you want is the Mt due in the fridge an don't want to get up
force that **** over to you
like really come on you think this stuff is for nerds
no its not don’t think for one seconded that you didn’t liked something nerdy
hid it from your friends *** they thought it wasn’t cool because you have
you may not remember but you did.
there had to be a moment were you wanted to be a Jedi or join the rebellion or even the empire.
But now you all act to cool for ****
why not go back to you child hood and remember how much fun you had
playing lightsabers, wands and Nurf stuff
also when you came upon an automatic door an acted that you used the force on it
am I right or am I just a fool
I know every generation had their wish to be’s.
Maybe you weren’t a WARS fan
maybe you were a Treckie
or one for the Doctor and his big blue box
or a Wizard with an owl
but at least once in your life you were a nerd
or a fanboy or a fangirl over what you saw as the coolest thing.
Now once again who da hell wishes they were a fracking Jedi,
star fleet officer, a companion of the Doctor or even a student of Hogwarts
Raise yo hand now.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
Sometime everybody's gonna throw you down
Talk **** and look at you as a clown
Life is just a big bowl of soup
Everyone's in a group and I'm siting in ****
Well I couldn't give a ****
And I wouldn't give a ****
People spike their ego and stick to it
There wasn't a clue
Not a person knew
Emotions were starving
When I needed help, I used to look for you
It's like you didn't exist
Not a single trace
Wish I could still say a lil' somethin' to your face
Always when I needed you, you were never there
You were living a dream and I was in a nightmare
Everyone is never who they seem
You and I were never on the same team
Just sugar coat it with cream
My milk and cookies are there for me
No one else is around
To pick me up off the ground
But I don't give a ****
Cause I got milk and cookies
It's been a while since I heard
Last time it somehow resembled a ****
Things used to be so great
Right before I walked out that gate
This was only a one way ticket
After that all I heard was a cricket
But I still wanted to hold on
I turned to look back but you were gone
This problem was never solved
All my friendships dissolved
Guess I didn't fall in orbit to revolve
My milk and cookies are there for me
No one else is around
To pick me up off the ground
But I don't give a ****
Cause I got milk and cookies
I'll never submit
Cause you'll never admit
To all the ********
These cries seem unfit
Jan 25, 2011
Jan 25, 2011 at 2:08 PM UTC
Constitutional
Morning constitutional
What does it have to do
With the Supreme Court?
If it's been a few days
While siting reading the news
It's a great ruling coming down
Vacating the lower courts ruling
And wiping the slate clean
Is a release to enjoy
I'll start my day
Flush with success
Copyright 2016
Richard L Ratliff
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 7:25 PM UTC
All the passion became nothing but insanity siting there in the shower
Staring you down letting you know you cannot scrub it off
Knowing every inch of your body and mind are infected
Feeling so lost and confuse
Yet at the same time feeling nothing
It just stares at you with without saying a word
Staring deep in to your soul with does eyes
Eyes some might call beautiful
However, you know they are more than that
They are the eyes of everything
The eyes of hope
The eyes of blame
The eyes of the beautiful illusion called love
Siting there under the water that turns darker every passing moment
It just stares at you waiting,
Waiting for the moment when you look away
For the moment you blink
For that one second
So that everything humans know as insane, chaotic, delusional
Even evil, it can all come to you
Just letting know how bad in the head you are
Because after all….
There is no one else…
It is just you and the running water
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
It used to live on the hilltop
where a lone bell tolled
by the temple:
but the Deity is long gone
and the bell mourns
in the valley wind on empty
afternoons, now.
I went searching for it:
in late summer, the koel
would sunder open the vaults
of heaven and bring
some down for us mortals
haunted by death.
The koels are long gone now.
Peace,
peace.
Lady siting silent in the evening
staring vacant into the sky,
after a day of labour:
can you give some to me?
I thought it was in education.
But that is stored now, in
almirahs where moths
eat way what humidity cannot.
I thought it was in a position.
But they don't matter, now
a ladder ascending
to nowhere,
vanishing mid-air.
Old man, smiling past hope
that has broken like
your lost teeth:
can you give some to me?
I asked the urchin
playing in the ditch after the rains,
he said: 'follow me, I know where
it lives', and he led me to
a ***** pond lined with plastic
and all our civilization's refuse,
and jumped in.
I returned, disgusted.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
Condotti, Setting in a street named after someone mysterious in this century, or what more no one cares, filled with history, cared by the worst and the best hidden stories, those streets are filled with voices of the past mixed with noises of the future, siting here in the steps of Condotti staring at the people that about to become from the past, at the people that will be the study of the most mysterious and un-logic humanity, even me i'll be one of those lost voices that been lost in the streets of Condotti.
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 8:10 PM UTC
"These days
I'll sit on corner stones
And count the time in quarter tones to ten, my friend
Don't confront me with my failures
I had not forgotten them"
Jackson Browne
<>
these days,
you can come by tween
the mostly soft warming cracking of Dawn,
and the early born-ing of
the first peek of a full grown
but yet
sleepy sunrise,
you'll find me siting on a
asshard dock,
two seagulls staring at the
human interloper,
alone with the threads in my
hardened head,
beating time in casual rhyme,
because that's what poets do,
to warm up their
tongues & toes,
clear their eyes
and
sniffling nose,
their partly opened,
party closed,
throats, eyes and
give up, sacrifice
the longest list of little lies,
that makes (forces) us to get up in the undimming earlies,
when it's just me, the gulls,
& the minnows poking around,
the fluke,
smarter but not wiser,
further out in deep water,
waiting to be caught
and
the cool blood barely flows,
until the rising orb warms
our fragility,
and we review the stories old,
that make us cold at night promising ourselves that
today you'll do that thing(s)
you've been putting off for years,
"Don't confront me with my failures"
Jackson pleads, but I concede,
thinking tell me them
one
mo' time,
make me unrighteous,
make me whole,
then take me,
holy displayed fully,
and the
first poem of the day,
will be my
confession total,
without reservation
and yet muse on
honor
something I thought I knew,
but needing a
closer examination
it might've been
dishonor
that was what
I was truly
knew
<>
Sunrise
July 5
'25
*sitting on the dock
by the bay,
would I*
lay down with a lie?
Jul 6, 2025
Jul 6, 2025 at 2:52 PM UTC
If it's to be
It's up to me
Everything in me wants to flee
To the top of the tress
Where I can live and be free
Connect with nature
Be a baker, teacher or a Sergeant major
Rule the kingdom
With baby Lincoln and a trio of fearsome pilgrims
Swing from branch to beach
The sand, the water and the sea
Is this where I'm meant to be
Siting under a coconut tree drinking Chablis
Sunning with sea creatures
Feeling like a cheater
The heat and the sun
Making this a home run
Knowing it's where I'm meant to be
Me and all my heart is set free
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
poisoned well of the antichrist littered with ground cover
picking out ****** flecks of gravel
blacktop kneeskin
patience pieces of scattered space time
to go back to the future of continuity
lack of genius ingenuity
and the suckling of the pig entourage
riding in a flat top hatchback
cadillac of the daily grind
upperclassman japan onii-chan
brother in arms from anotha motha
hug from afar colliding with crackpot theory
terrible fantasia cooling bricks in soggy sun
swallowed his pride with a glass of self-worth
and these ***** don't cook like they used to
I don't look like I used to
warped veil of camouflage chameleon leather
with a ****** level of automobile salesman
tried to get closer to god
ground him up, picked out the stems
twisted him into thin paper
touched flame to his finger tip and a son of Adam was born
gum shoe gaze
or the emptiness felt at the end of reasonable doubt
correctional text messaging system
sent from hoarse corpses
tenderly poignant in their ****** coffins
will think for food
cries from an outdated MENSA
over ***** and under-appreciated
siting on hunched shoulders to get a better look
to be a martian in a plain port
wharf warehouse whaling boat
red tide in a Shanghai **********
floodgates made of bitter premise
that last bit of purple yam
**** Okonkwo
Things Fall Apart fell apart due to faded highschool ambitions and bloodshot eyes
cruel like the shade of off-cerulean
champagne fizz tickles at the soft meat of his tarnished throat
and silver tongue
as the matchstick framework
so fragile in comparison
fizzles out on drenched sidewalk
while cigarette ash floats by
like gray gnats
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
Beat,beat,beat goes the drum
The heart quietly lerking in the shadows
Time paces and the day will come
Siting waiting listening to the echos
Beat, beat,beat goes the drum
How does it feel the drummer boy says
Soundly and coldly you feel destroyed
Listening as the drum plays
Left feeling empty and broken hearted
Beat, beat, beat goes the drum
May 7, 2012
May 7, 2012 at 11:11 PM UTC
the haze of summer hung in the air
blurring the lines between our bodies
buried in the white sheets
on the three-season patio day bed
where i learned how
your body felt when i moved my hand across the light skin of your torso
and no matter how warm the temperatures got
i'd still wrap my arms tight around you
like you were a towel in need of wringing
we shared iced tea
siting in the chaise lounges
the sun setting a crimson outside our window
you told me of the time you landed yourself out on the street
strumming your guitar for money
until you finally found your footing
when i came and took you in
which is where we found ourselves on this porch into the early hours
summer haze billowing the curtains as a breeze rolls in
the night the only illumination in your eyes
you revealed to me that you were in love with me
the idea of what i had become to you
and how you love the sound of my voice at two in the morning
scratching the surface of your rough facade
breaking into something that was seemingly impenetrable
you meant the world
to someone so little and unimportant
that as the fall came and went
and winter set in
your imprint on this bed still lingers
even though your feet left my threshold
too many days ago
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 1:03 AM UTC
Can you tell me have I lost my mind?
Seeking other lonely to be my guide.
Streetlight prophets have all your answers for a price
Turning all your coppers into fortified signs.
I keep on dreaming of you and of you only
Speaking your name as though it's something I hold holy
But can you tell me does the sky get lonely
.. Siting all alone up there
Sing me songs of love and revolution
In a rage of fury and absolution
The alley oracles keep searching for solutions
To find fortune in hearts weakened by contusions.
They sing...
Find me love sweet like sacramental wine
For my penance I'd pay any price
Give me strength to pursue my paradise
And the wisdom when I find it to recognize
That the only thing missing in my life
Was someone to walk beside.
They sing...
Can you tell us have we lost our minds
Seeking other lonely to be our guides
To navigate and hide us in the streetlights
As we lay awake looking for a sign.
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 8:56 PM UTC
Holding onto the old days that won't repeat
Excepting a magic to happen
But at the end everything goes downhill
Maybe letting go of the old memories doesn't hurt much.
But hoping those memories to repeat is a mere imagination
Because
Memories happen not created
You made me feel that remembering those doesn't hurt.
But here I'm siting alone for seeking your precence
while I stare at the sky filled with stars
Now moon is filling your company
Walking with me and hearing my rants and talks.
Dec 15, 2021
Dec 15, 2021 at 7:05 AM UTC
I remember the first time I laid my eyes upon your dark, golden-highlighted ringlets siting haphazardly on your nimble head. They were positioned above your flat, south Asian face, as if some wayward artist took his paintbrush and, in a fit of creative chaos, splattered and sputtered paint across a blank and endless canvas. Your hair represented the kind of sweet, quiet entropy that people needed in their lives. The great offense the artist had committed by being so reckless with such a delicate subject could be forgiven, however, because he surely acted as such simply because he had previously exhausted himself whilst meticulously creating your enrapturing eyes. Round cerulean orbs, speckled with bits of yellows and greens with a péridot ring centered around a pitch black pupil that represented the contents of your dispassionate heart. This is not an accurate description of the man who holds my unrequited love, however. You have achieved this sort of romantic, majestic rendition of beauty through the bias of my foolish heart and through my patronage of the arts. A typical person would do much better to portray you as nothing more than a hellish brute who is in desperate need of a haircut and a perhaps a larger assortment of clothing rather than torn, raggedy jeans and hand-me-down heavy metal t-shirts.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
Sitting by the sea
What a site to see
waves the gulls the rocks and shelves
a volcanic sea
places for life to hide themselves
from the coming tides
looking to the sea helps me to think of friends
to think of things of past
Help me to relax and find the hidden treasure siting by the sea.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 6:37 PM UTC
**It's for me on the tree He endured agony,
What a beautiful thought to my soul;
It was love and for me, what a sight Calvary,
It was there that He ransomed my soul.
Dearer than gold , dearer than gold,
Yes , the Saviour is dearer than gold,
Dearer than gold , dearer than gold,
There is no other plea, and for sinners like me,
How enticing Thy Word to my ear,
When Thou came seeking me that as mortal to be,
Perfect love hath now cast out all fear.
Through the stripes laid on Thee, there is healing for me,
Balm of Heaven my sickness to cure,
Thy compassion I see, reaching wide as the sea,
For Thy promise is steadfast and sure.
Though the ages I'll know of the sufferings , He bore,
Mercy soundeth like harps out of Zion,
And the sages of old , they shall sing of this lore,
All the glory to Judah's great Lion.
Let the sinner now know, Christ hath crushed the great foe,
Cruel Satan, thy siting is no more,
Hoist the banner to show that through faith we shall go,
And that boldly , through Jesus our Door.**
,
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Pardon me miss I was just siting in the wing
Observing how you tend to check your phone when one rings
Now I'm no expert on that, at least what I mean
Is if I was the one comeing id not stop for anything
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 4:33 AM UTC
never felt a body so hard,
muscles
rippled every inch of you,
your hands so strong,
molding me to you,
caress deeply massaging my body.
i feel you on top of me-
solid hard pressing down,
touching me here mmm and here.
playing with my pressure points,
dancing over my egregiousness zone.
you've seductively molested
my mind while secretly
tantalized my pleasure zones,
your a walking talking aphrodisiac.
sleek like a dark panther,
flexing your biceps
as you work my body,
teasing me as your pelvis
and manhood softly grinds
up on my buttocks,
where your half sitting.
i feel you rise swelling and all
i can do is lay here guessing,
thinking impure thoughts
of what we could be doing,
your half siting on me,
knees bent
close to my waists,
my arms at my sides
Sorry baby i had to touch you,
feel your power as
you stroke me seductive.
Sweet gentle sexy masseur
your
technique has me craving
your hands on my umm hmm,
I want to now feel you between
me
flexing as you probe in me deeply
with your
"Afro"disiacs
flex with in me as you move
in sync with me, harder oh please
YES!
caress my velvety walls as my own muscles
constrict & contracts pulsating from your
cunnilingus'tics touch and tense up.
Sir please, Sir move deeper
while i move with you.
that's what I want toy say
&
beg of you to do,
thats what I'm thinking
but I wont say a thing.
I'm going to lay here on my stomach-
enjoyably mesmerized at the care you take
with me & your expertises
as you massage peace back into me.
relaxing me while i lavishly day dream
of us becoming more then just a 1 hour session
of You the sensual Masseur
&
I the lustrous wishful thinking client
whose mind has already taken
a leave of absence
Only when it comes to you.
Mmm Day Dreaming.......
Always me Ayeshah
Apr 7, 2010
Apr 7, 2010 at 12:24 PM UTC
Siting quietly at the
crowded station.
Waiting for
this feeling
to stop racing like
a train.
On the tracks of my strung out heart.
I'm trying to forget your name.
Just let me get my drink on
and
I
should
be good on that.
Colder than January's breathe,
the silence of our empty room
has made me bitter.
January's Breathe. I'm cold cause you left my heart open.
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 6:14 PM UTC
I found myself siting in the sand, my back against a Hesco bastion, writing on an old familiar note pad. I imagined myself at home, sitting against the old oak tree that grew in the back yard, grass tickling my bare feet in the humid summer breeze. The old cheap pencil I was using had bite marks on it and the eraser was long gone but it wrote just fine and made a scratching sound against the grain of the paper that I found soothing as I filled the page. It was my escape after all…writing. It took me away from the day to day stress of southern Afghanistan. I thought about that as I wrote…how people needed a way to escape. I’ll admit to thinking about all kinds of things, that’s just what writing does for me. It makes me think. It makes me want to tell stories of love, pain, sorrow and joy. It makes me want to abuse my notepad with doodles and tear stains long after I forgot what I was doing in the first place, which wasn’t the point anyway. It wasn’t important “what” I was writing. It was important “that” I was writing, because the joy is in the doing.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 8:32 AM UTC
I'm tired of me looking at myself and hating what I see.
I'm tired of crying when no one is around.
I'm tired of waiting for that one person to see that I'm hurting.
I'm tired of hoping, praying, screaming that someone could hear me.
It's like I'm in this big white box that has enslaved me.
Unable to see if anyone is looking at me or crying for me.
Unable to hear my screaming cries that ties me to this...cold and damp earth.
This earth filled with people dying, crying trying! trying so hard to fly away from all this.
I'm tired of pretending everything is going to be alright.
I'm tired of lying to myself, hiding, tying to fight my own mind.
Striving trying to laugh at those small but big things that are cutting me down, and tying me to this chair beating me.
All those colors I used to see in that big wide open space is gone.
Those stars bring me deep into my mind were I'm lost and wounded.
I'm tired of hurting.
Seeing anyone else hurt with me like this.
I break for them.
I can't do anything about it.
So I'm here writing this down, siting on my small bed and trying to block out this world.
Crying to myself.
Writing again and again and again.
Is that really all I can do?
I'm painting myself a picture of how I wish everything was.
And it's draining.
I'm failing.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
"You never get closure in an abusive relationship"
the advocate looked at me, softly, as she could waiting to see the hard news
soak in
the other women in the room were silent
Their "hes" were still around town, coming in and out
interfering, lying low, but at least paying attention,
abandonment is worse than punishment I thought
I was on the other side of the world, a reverse time zone
falling into the abyss
He took my wedding ring and engagement ring out of my luggage
then brought it up the stairs to me
and waited for the shuttle to come
I hugged him, but he didn't hug back, he shoved the bags inside
I was crying, he was stone cold, he payed the driver of the "sherute"
the shuttle to the airport in Hebrew, people stared but I didn't
care anymore, I was so used to people staring as he now
spoke to me and offered me a cigarette in front of the Mercez Horev, the mall
siting on the ***** concrete benches watching the line of people having
their bags checked before going in
Here I was smoking like I'd done my army service and gotten bored
and smoked to relieve the boredom and the stress
then something would go wrong and he'd get up, screaming at me
in English, and I'd run after
I didn't look at anyone in the sherute but I just knew they felt sorry for me
as we pulled away, after twelve years together, the last I saw of him
was him heading down the stairs
and now, the people at that job
I am learning new things in my classes
and, for one crazy moment I think:
I want to share this with them
so I write to my former boss
and that's the last thing he would ever want from me
He is the smart one, I am not, no one is smarter than him
He will never listen to me
Like I hugged my husband
not knowing he'd stolen my engagement ring and my wedding band
just like the Tel Aviv lawyer told me he would
the end. you never get closure in an abusive relationship
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 8:00 PM UTC
My plant is siting
on top of my desk
and silently growing
without evidence.
It never tells me it needs to be fed
so it sits there and grows
until it is dead.
My lover is sitting
on top of my bed
and talking of loving,
but my thoughts remain unsaid.
I know our relationship will not survive
he has no chance,
all that I touch dies.
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 9:04 PM UTC
*I don't know why tonight was so bad
I was doing fine, save for a few bumps in the road
Loneliness hadn't visited me in a long time
But now I'm siting in the garden with her at 2am
And she's watching me break
I've always been happy to be alone
But I hate being lonely
And it feels pathetic
And it feels humiliating
But right now all I can think about are the stars and the salt on my lips
Everything else is long gone*
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC