"francesca" poems
Photography,
Photo journalistic,
Everyday, realistic.
Commercial, architecture, landscape, artistic,
Industrial, fashion, ethnographic, pornographic.
Big Brother, fallace, stealer of souls, vouyer.
News seller, instant gratifier, man pleaser, woman abuser.
Barthes, Sontag, Cindy Sherman,
Virginia Woolf, Warhol. Weegie, Francesca Woodman,
Leibovitz, Adams, Arbus, Tina Modotti,
Nan, Evans, Hoffer and even the Paparazzi.
Cheap ***** digital manipulator, image poser,
Center fold, coupons, Jackie O and Marilyn Monroe.
Where did they go:
Lifeless paper product, painter's picture mess,
C-type, digital archival,
Sepia, black and white, hard drive retrival.
Image addict,
Image taker,
Image maker,
image seller,
image buyer.
Newspaper, magazine, graphics and ads,
TV, dreams, even the trash.
Billboards, subways, phones and buses:
Utopia:
Surreal, crop, stretched and air brushes.
Modern ideal.
Surface manipulator.
Brain conditioner.
Consent manufacturer.
Oh Photography,
I got you in my eye.
A few thousand dollars,
A BFA, A critical scholar.
Or maybe a nerd,
Just boys with toys.
Telephoto genitals, with motor drive action.
Studio lights, umbrella traction.
Oh Photography,
You proprietor of obscene.
Detailed, de-sensitized.
Court ordered, jury analyzed.
Click, image, copy, edit, paste, print or post.
Myfacespace, twitter, flicker,
An internet media overdose.
Pry, spy, your friend's friend's acquaintances.
Parties, picnics, reunions and shows.
Visits, vacation, style, shoes and clothes.
Pics, photos, images, jpegs and giffs.
Snap shot, portrait, panoramic, Kodak kiss.
Exacerbate:
Divorce, break-ups, jealousy, envy, love and fears.
Devour and captivate society for years.
Slaves to Western and Capitalist desires,
Destruction of Earth with psychological, monetary empires.
Jan 11, 2010
Jan 11, 2010 at 7:05 AM UTC
where are the bonds you used to use
upon me who was so willing
do you tie another now
and is she just as thrilling?…
I miss the ropes that were my own
They lie here still beneath my bed
Perhaps you will return one day
And tie me once again
There has been no other since
You were too good at what you did
Such love comes by but once
To share a life that is now dead
I reach and toy with them sometimes
Sweet memories of what was
Of nights of perfect loving wild
to rekindle thoughts of us
But they are to be no more I fear
Despite my wanting so
So I must lie and shed a tear
For all we used to know.
******
From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses 2016
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 4:24 PM UTC
This book of verse by which I live
as Valentine gift to you I give
the lines across its pages white
express my deep desire each night.
So master read of disciplined need
as I follow my submissive creed.
Each page you turn will tell of me
and the ways I seek your cruelty
there is no pain I will not forebear
imprisoned in your dungeon lair.
This book of prose gives freedom to
do all that you’ve a mind to do.
So at random take each page you see
and create all that’s there for me
as ev’ry suffering there ignites
a passion that your bonds be tight.
So that my consuming fires be lit
this gift of words I do submit.
From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses 2017
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 7:07 AM UTC
When I try to move
the ropes upon
my wrists and ankles
bite with sharp reminder
that I am Your slave.
Yet I test them
because my mind
demands I know that
I am owned and worth
nothing unless I am Yours.
My freedom being unwanted
You have left me bound
knowing that Your skill
with ropes will hold me fast
until You return.
Yet still I squirm and fight
Your hellish cords
wanting them to hurt me
in ways that You intended
when You left me bound this way.
****
From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses 2016
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
The rope that you’re using to hold me
I crave as my very own,
for I am your woman desiring
and submissive is now what I am.
Your whip might hold such terror
for one who knows not of pain,
for me it’s an object of wanting
that drives me to seek it again.
The gag that holds me in silence
so my protests cannot be heard,
arouses me more than I tell you
as screams are held deep inside.
So much of me needs all this from you
making me want in this way,
I cannot find it with others
only you can control how I play.
The torture you give is sublime now
such suffering drives me insane,
my mind goes deep into meltdown
and beyond anything I can explain.
The force of your lash overwhelms me
with agony driving so deep,
yet I must take all that you give me
as you dry the wet tears when I weep.
‘Tis then that you hold me so softly
with arms around me so tight,
to know that I am your slavegirl
and suffering for you is so right.
*******
From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses 2017
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 1:24 PM UTC
We talk of taxes, and I call you friend;
Well, such you are,—but well enough we know
How thick about us root, how rankly grow
Those subtle weeds no man has need to tend,
That flourish through neglect, and soon must send
Perfume too sweet upon us and overthrow
Our steady senses; how such matters go
We are aware, and how such matters end.
Yet shall be told no meagre passion here;
With lovers such as we forevermore
Isolde drinks the draught, and Guinevere
Receives the Table’s ruin through her door,
Francesca, with the loud surf at her ear,
Lets fall the colored book upon the floor.
9.6k
your softly breathing sleep
allows me to muse on times of love
of how you care to devise for me
such pleasures that I know not of
with softly tested link of chain
that holds me to your loving bed
to know that you are there to
shield me with your tender bonds
before slumber claims my eyes
I want to feel your hand in mine
That I may know that you
Lie close by for all our night.
I need to feel the tight confine
Of my captive self that lies within
full knowing that I am
your slave at every sunrise wake
to do your bidding here by morn
and seek your use of me in ways
that have not yet seen light of day
so you shall know me as your own
but dare I risk your wrath by want
of something in this darkest hour,
and think of all you did to me
that brought me to my frenzy here?
my fingers stray and find such wet
as you in passion full create
with desire for you now so intense
that I cannot but divide myself
and guide with care your sleeping hand
where I can ride it in my thrall
and pillow-stifle screams of need
at thoughts of being used again
your touch though sleeping forces me
into that driving ecstasy
that has become my life with you
with no other than this torment wild
that makes me use myself like this
shameless as your wanton *****
needing all you do to me
in ways that you need me to be
....Francesca Anderssen 2016
From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses (Amazon)
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC
_To Polina, my anchor, through all my lives_
Between dawn and dusk
on the precipice
in shades of scarlet
stood a magnificent house
Strangers and I were enthralled
by the neon red foyer where
Francesca and Paolo welcomed us
to the house of a thousand doors
Each door an invitation
to delicious desire
each room a seduction
of perilous passion
One door opened —
three bare women holograms
drank from a small lake and
brandished wicked, feline smiles
At my feet a church of cardinals
glowing with tears, heat and sweat
whimpered in their prayers
but the pope watched from afar.
He speaks—
the mouth at once is an eye, an abyss
and a hurricane from Pandora's box
Then I am I no more — a cardinal in crimson —
but no shame or guilt guides me
when blood-red lips land on mine
"Do you not see
there is equal courage
equal purity
in giving
into
temptation—
the kind
that appals the devil
to revel
in the hurt, the open wounds,
and the agony
to dive deep—
into the depths
and say all the yeses
to embrace the darkest demons
of your soul?
Enter—
and you shall find
hell or heaven within yourself."
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 1:37 AM UTC
My hands are tied behind my back
you love this helpless look,
my mouth so open wide for you
to take your deepest ******
Yet my tongue is free to torture still
so you can but suffer of it,
it curls itself around you so
while forcing me to take it.
I look up and watch you writhing wild
and bite so gently harder.
I make your hand twist in my hair
and ****** a little deeper.
Your use of me this perfect way
says that you control me.
But can you stop right now my love?
In that there seems a doubting.
So where does the root of torture lie
with you or with your slave?
For I am here and tied so tight
but you can never leave.
*********
From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses 2017
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 8:59 AM UTC
it's difficult to describe
why your body chooses to spend weekends
alone surrounded
by the slimy tongues and bottled self esteem
take another hit
while your mind explores the chip on his front tooth or the sweat dripping off his eyebrow
your body takes the pounding while it whispers in your ear how little you mean and you tremble at the thought of being handcuffed
you wonder if he remembered your middle name
Francesca
or noticed the way that when you breathe in your collar bone protrudes
ill ring for you
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 5:02 PM UTC
Now tell me such a tale sir
while I am tightly bound
of captive maidens held sir
where evil knights abound.
Then taken to be used sir
in their castles of renown
of tortured girls so sweet sir
who are forced so to kneel down.
Then tell me of the dungeons sir
within the fortress drear
with chains upon the walls sir
where I might be held in fear.
Then show me what it means sir
to be such a prisoner
where nothing else is real sir
but myself as a damsel fair.
Then make me live the thought sir
that I might so lie within
and tortured all day long sir
for each imagined sin.
Then secretly find pleasure sir
in all that’s done to me
while my knightly captor sir
has me on my knees.
Then eventually confess sir,
to all my worldly sins
while my sadistic lord sir
is making me more commit .
Then tie me even tighter sir
with every knot aware
rough ****** I now need sir
to think myself as there.
Then make me taste your whip sir
to force me to submit
of the marks you leave sir
you care not a single whit.
Then take me as you will sir
and drive me really wild
make sure I’m deeply kissed sir
where I feel it burn inside.
Then hold me in your keep sir
and bend me to your will
and use my body more sir
for my needs are never still.
Then stand me on the brink sir
and show me just the edge
of where I shall be pushed sir
with just the slightest nudge.
Then tie me up and leave sir
to dream and squirm at will
of the ways I might be used sir
in your castle on the hill.
********
From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses 2016
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
What is this force that is in me
That drives me now to submit
I cannot understand its power
nor my need of wanting it.
so I seek you out as Master
knowing the pain you will bring
as I beg for the slightest attention
to reduce me to less than a thing
....Francesca Anderssen 2016
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
You cannot leave me
with the ropes you left
trailed across
the bed where you
loved me to exhaustion
You cannot leave me
with just the
thoughts of
wanting yet more
bonds restraining me
You cannot leave me
wanting such pain
as you gave to
me when you bound
me in your special way
You cannot leave me
needing cords to
hold me down
while you look at me
with tender lust
You cannot leave me
with freedom I do
not want or need
unless you are here
to give me your restraint
You cannot leave me
free to crave
Your ropes
till you return
to tie me yet again
You cannot leave me until
I beg for you again
to force me to
be what I want to
be for you my love
Francesca Anderssen 2016
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
Take me as your very own
tie me as your love demands
use me now and use me fully
force me down to your commands
I need to know your chains upon me
such craving there will always be
to want your ropes to hurt my body
so your bonds will set me free
Submission is my total needing
wanting you to make it so
taking me to places strangely
where I cannot help but go
You’re the one who now must hold me
I’ve sold myself to your control
with my freedom gone forever
now that you possess my soul
so tie me tighter yet and tighter
my screams must bite the gag you give
use my mind to make me suffer
this is how I want to live.
.....Francesca Anderssen 2016
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 4:30 PM UTC
I did not know such thoughts
till I lay here tightly bound
and pleasures that I knew not
till I felt your ropes around.
I did not know the freedom
that ******* could so bring
or of eager anticipating
how a riding crop might sting.
I did not know the beauty
of being in your chains
as nothing but a slavegirl
to use as you intend.
I did not know the silence
that a leather hood could give.
locked in isolation
where nothing can intrude.
I did not know the feeling
of fingers touching so,
bringing deep caresses
to inflame my inner self.
I did not know the flowing
that would be drawn from me,
as hands I could not see there
might reach so deep within.
I did not know the warming
that would so rise inside,
to make me gasp with wanting
as I your knowing fingers ride.
I did not know the parting
so widely of my thighs,
that would accept your loving
as you hard against me rise.
I did not know how deeply
you would slide into me,
as my moist and eager welcome
would take you in so free.
I did not know that *******
could make me feel like this,
to be loved in this special way
was my need you see.
I did not know the rising
that comes from deep within,
with unstoppable explosions
that blow my mind away.
I did not know of subspace
that place you send me to
where I am in another world
until I return to you.
You have been my teacher
of things I did not know,
and that I was unaware
of the need I had of them.
I thought myself so worldly
yet was so innocent,
of such dark pleasures
that you brought to life for me.
You have taught me much
of things I did not know,
that freedom’s an illusion
and incarceration’s me.
Francesca Anderssen 2018
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
I was not free
until you brought me
to this secret place
where you intend to keep
my desire for you
I was not free
until the chill of steel
enclosed my neck
and bore the sign
that I belonged to you
I was not free
until I felt your cord
pull my arms behind my back
to make me suffer for the
want of you
I was not free
until your gag was
shoved into my mouth
so that I could not
cry out for you.
I was not free
until the darkness of your
hood closed off all senses
but the touch of what
I need from you
I was not free
until I heard the cut of air
before your whip
curled round my helpless form
to leave the marks of you
I was not free
until I felt the bars of
the cage that now
encloses me and keeps
me safe for you
Francesca Anderssen 2016
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
I am left
in quiet solitude
knowing nothing
of where I am
save my body pressed
against this tree
and the bite of rope
so that I know
I am his naked ****
left here at his whim
bound tight with
rope cutting into
me as I squirm
in futile helplessness
bringing myself such pain
so that I know
I cannot scream
or plead for His release
however it should come
his gag has left me
silent and unknowing
with no sound of him who bound
me thus, naked, alone
so that I know
I cannot see
his blindfold gives me
only blackness and a fear
that it might not be Him
who finds me thus.
that hands that touch me
might not be His.
So that I know
I am his and
that I have given myself
to him to dispose of
as he pleases.
forcing desires from
the very depth of me
with arousal I cannot hide
So that I know
I must listen for footsteps
softly treading on the
fallen leaves around me
and straining against his
ropes will drive me harder
to mark my skin
and make me wet with need of him
So that I know
I want the kiss of
His lips or his lash
to caress me, the hands of
the stranger who will come
and give me what I want
while I am here, so helpless
while I am so tightly bound
so that I know
******* Francesca Anderssen 2016
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
You came in out of the night
And there were flowers in your hand,
Now you will come out of a confusion of people,
Out of a turmoil of speech about you.
I who have seen you amid the primal things
Was angry when they spoke your name
IN ordinary places.
I would that the cool waves might flow over my mind,
And that the world should dry as a dead leaf,
Or as a dandelion see-pod and be swept away,
So that I might find you again,
Alone.
4k
Hoy que danza en mi cuerpo la pasión de Paolo
y ebrio de un sueño alegre mi corazón se agita:
hoy que sé la alegría de ser libre y ser solo
como el pistilo de una margarita infinita:
oh mujer -carne y sueño-, ven a encantarme un poco,
ven a vaciar tus copas de sol en mi camino:
que en mi barco amarillo tiemblen tus senos locos
y ebrios de juventud, que es el más bello vino.
Es bello porque nosotros lo bebemos
en estos temblorosos vasos de nuestro ser
que nos niegan el goce para que lo gocemos.
Bebamos. Nunca dejemos de beber.
Nunca, mujer, rayo de luz, pulpa blanca de poma,
suavices la pisada que no te hará sufrir.
Sembremos la llanura antes de arar la loma.
Vivir será primero, después será morir.
Y después que en la ruta se apaguen nuestras huellas
y en el azul paremos nuestras blancas escalas
-flechas de oro que atajan en vano las estrellas-,
¡oh Francesca, hacia dónde te llevarán mis alas!
2.8k
I bet you thought I didn't have anything left in the tank. Bet you thought that I was done giving mind blowing advice on how to approach this crazy thing we call life. Well...you were wrong.
1. Often cases, how good a story you end up with is inversely proportional to how good a decision it was that led to it. Don't be afraid to make some bad decisions every once in awhile, because those are the stories you're gonna be telling for years to come. Even when you know it's a bad decision. Sure, you might wake up naked in a ditch on the New Jersey turnpike with a some blurry memories, a hangover, a tattoo of some girl named Francesca on your chest, and an ounce of black-tar ****** shoved up your ass...but you know what? You started this little adventure at a black-tie dinner party in Santa Monica, so I'm willing to bet some interesting **** happened between here and then.
2. Don't be someone who never breaks the mold. When you're lying on your death bed and someone asks you to tell them about your life, do you want to lean over and whisper to them that you always did exactly what people expected? That you carefully listened for society's cues on how to represent yourself at every point in your life? **** no. You want to tell them you broke off the road and went searching for the oddities that this world has to offer. You want to tell them that you gave the middle finger to society and did what you wanted because, you know what? It's your fuckin' life and you only get one shot at it, so you might as well make it memorable. Being normal is boring as hell.
3. Talk to everyone. Talk to them about uncomfortable things. Talk to them about their hopes and dreams. Talk to them about their fears. Just ****** talk to them. Real conversations always leave you with something you didn't had before. Real conversations make you think about your positions. Get passionate when you talk. Challenge their views and allow yours to be challenged as well. Do you think you know everything? Yeah, I bet you do. Why aren't you out solving everyone's problems then, you selfish *******
4. Whoever you are, be proud of that. If you're not proud of who you are, chances are you arent happy with yourself. If you're not happy with who you are, change something. If you're still not happy, change something else. Still not happy? Guess what. Change another fuckin' thing. Are you happy? Good. Now change something else anyway, because an interesting life isn't built on stagnation.
I hope you've all learned something today.
Also, I'd like to remind you to never take advice from strangers on the Internet. That's just stupid.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
you offer me your whip to kiss.
to wet it with such eagerness
that cannot be disguised
for I am just your wanton ****
who makes her needs so plain
in wanting what you give me now
to be the cause of pain
Why can I not do without
the torment that is you
or torture you inflict on me
in ways I want you to
can there be no end to this
I think that may be so
my flowing juices tell me of
the need I have of you
You are my cruel master now
you own all that I am
there can be nothing more than this
to feed the **** I am
I beg and crave your tortures all
debase myself to have
yet more of what you force on me
to drive me to oblivion
a suffering that takes me in myself
deeper yet and deeper in
till nothing else seems real
only the thought of all your love
that keeps me here to feel
.....Francesca Anderssen 2016
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 6:20 AM UTC
As Hermes once took to his feathers light,
When lulled Argus, baffled, swooned and slept,
So on a Delphic reed, my idle spright
So played, so charmed, so conquered, so bereft
The dragon-world of all its hundred eyes;
And seeing it asleep, so fled away,
Not to pure Ida with its snow-cold skies,
Nor unto Tempe, where Jove grieved a day;
But to that second circle of sad Hell,
Where in the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw
Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell
Their sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw,
Pale were the lips I kissed, and fair the form
I floated with, about that melancholy storm.
1.6k
it is that look
that makes me offer
what I am to you
and grovel for your pain
forcing my shredded self
to submit to rope
and lash
and biting chain
the sadist that is you
controls me now
my love is yours
no other life is mine
so leave me here
that I may scream into
this silent gag
bound till your return
Francesca Anderssen 2016
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 5:35 PM UTC
The craving for your whip
wanting it to mark me
to feel its hellish sting
screaming to force it on me
and the pain that says you own me
I feel its curl around my flesh
and strain at ropes that hold me
yet cannot hide
the moistening flood
that forces me to want you
the lines across my body red
will force my needing further
yet when you cut me down
and take my body to you
my wanting won’t deny you
For this is torture quite sublime
here in your darkest dungeon
your willing captive evermore
draining all you have to give
and wanting still more of you
....Francesca Anderssen 2016
Sep 4, 2016
Sep 4, 2016 at 4:57 PM UTC
Her bookshelf to the brim and bursting
With pages worn, and well
Remembered for the virtues
Lost
And husbands in the war
Fallen woman--fall, and women
Harvests sown and reaped
Moon of full, of wax, of
Wane
Her heart of Shadow's seed
Hand of diamond and of band
Ashes, ashes, dust
A love once lived and now, one
Lost
The pages' faces face us
And sages burn, away
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 8:16 AM UTC