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Just tangled myself up even more
Poems
zebra Jun 2016
DEATH DANCE...sexual dark explicit
zebra
Jun 2016
rhythms en trance
***** princess dance
come **** me cruel
eat me like ants
wont you hurt me sir
out comes the dagger
her eyes get so large
she wants me to bag her
she knows im in charge
wont you rip me sir
foot arched **** puffed
where are the whips
she moves like fire
and slink-ally strips
my ******* bleed love sir
howls like the wind
for **** and the blade
begs for it now
***** **** in the shade
the knife between my legs sir
*** shakes and prance
to the congas beat
eyes flirt wild
as she whips her own feet
won't you cut my toes sir
***** *** aches
whirling dervish
break me my love
as she dances the curvish
use my mouth sir
her ankles clamped
legs spread wide
arms pulled back
theres no where to hide
smother me sir
head *****
gut ***** spleen
eat it all
devour the queen
my belly is yours sir
she looks in my eyes
says thank you for my fate
spreads her legs wide
i take the bate
disembowel me sir
oh lover bleed
im up deep inside
i work you down
and cruel is the ride
my ****** sir
she cries and writhes
and she **** so hard
she wants to burn
and is slathered with lard
my rose **** sir
i break her in half
and lick up her ***
she cries and she squeals
as she starts to pass
pluck my eyes sir
i crush my love
to finish her off
she begs for more
and starts to cough
take my ******* sir
face to the the floor
the music turned down
baby death dance
in water to drown
remove my head sir
I did the dance
i love to be slain
stretched flat by a roller
i loved the pain
dinner is served sir
thank you sir
may i **** you **** sir
drink your **** sir
lick the toilet clean sir
you've crushed me to nothing sir
beaten me dead sir
****** me a thousand times sir
is there anything else sir
yes sir
thank you sir
what ever you say sir
your so good to me sir
ill be right back from the dead sir
i love you sir
***** princess dance
come **** me cruel
eat me like ants
wont you hurt me sir
out comes the dagger
her eyes get so large
she wants me to bag her
she knows im in charge
wont you rip me sir
foot arched **** puffed
where are the whips
she moves like fire
and slink-ally strips
my ******* bleed love sir
howls like the wind
for **** and the blade
begs for it now
***** **** in the shade
the knife between my legs sir
*** shakes and prance
to the congas beat
eyes flirt wild
as she whips her own feet
won't you cut my toes sir
***** *** aches
whirling dervish
break me my love
as she dances the curvish
use my mouth sir
her ankles clamped
legs spread wide
arms pulled back
theres no where to hide
smother me sir
head *****
gut ***** spleen
eat it all
devour the queen
my belly is yours sir
she looks in my eyes
says thank you for my fate
spreads her legs wide
i take the bate
disembowel me sir
oh lover bleed
im up deep inside
i work you down
and cruel is the ride
my ****** sir
she cries and writhes
and she **** so hard
she wants to burn
and is slathered with lard
my rose **** sir
i break her in half
and lick up her ***
she cries and she squeals
as she starts to pass
pluck my eyes sir
i crush my love
to finish her off
she begs for more
and starts to cough
take my ******* sir
face to the the floor
the music turned down
baby death dance
in water to drown
remove my head sir
I did the dance
i love to be slain
stretched flat by a roller
i loved the pain
dinner is served sir
thank you sir
may i **** you **** sir
drink your **** sir
lick the toilet clean sir
you've crushed me to nothing sir
beaten me dead sir
****** me a thousand times sir
is there anything else sir
yes sir
thank you sir
what ever you say sir
your so good to me sir
ill be right back from the dead sir
i love you sir
Francesca Anderssen Oct 2016
Captive
Francesca Anderssen
Oct 2016
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
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
I write of what I know from life as I have lived it. ***** yes, but in the company of liked minded people who have invariably been kind and courteous
My book of collected verse is on Amazon (Francesca Anderssen)
on kindle and paperback
My book of collected verse is on Amazon (Francesca Anderssen)
on kindle and paperback
Raj Arumugam
Aug 2011
You want me to talk, Sir?
I’d relax and you can paint better, Sir?
Maybe, Sir…maybe, but what shall I say, Sir?
For I am not used to talking
to important people like you, Sir…
Why do you laugh, Sir?
It is true, I’m just a girl from the village, Sir
attending to Laxmi and Ganga –
those are our family cows, Sir;
and I milk them; and my father
and I bring the milk to the market
and to neighbors who can afford to pay for them…
We don’t carry them in these fancy pots Sir,
you make me pose with
but just earthen jars, Sir…
But this morning, Sir, my father said to me:
Come, Mina – you shall pose for a famous artist;
India has never seen such an artist
and he shall pay well
and perhaps with that I shall buy a third cow;
three neighbors owe us money
and will never return them in this life;
and the old woman in the sixth house has died
owing us money for these last four years…
You just have to stand there
before the artist in your cleanest sari
and use borrowed milk pots…
And that is what my father said, Sir…
I normally don’t dress in such clean clothes, Sir;
the saris I have are saris my mum used
but she died when I was little, Sir…
Sir? You want me to keep talking…but I am boring, Sir
and I talk simple words and I am sure you’ve heard…
Oh Sir, I’m more used to talking to cows
than important men, Sir…
All right Sir, I will tell you…I will tell you…
I do have dreams, Sir
and it is just the dream of all the
girls in my village:
I’d like new saris and jewels
and I’d like to be married
before the year ends;
Arun from the next village
always looks at me
in our town fairs
and Oh, would that he’d marry me
and we’d have a home and a farm and cows
and we’d have children
and we’d live our quiet lives
in our secluded village…
Sir, that is my dream…I have nothing more to say, Sir…
I hope you are done…
Or maybe you should talk, Sir…
I’d relax and you can paint better, Sir?
Maybe, Sir…maybe, but what shall I say, Sir?
For I am not used to talking
to important people like you, Sir…
Why do you laugh, Sir?
It is true, I’m just a girl from the village, Sir
attending to Laxmi and Ganga –
those are our family cows, Sir;
and I milk them; and my father
and I bring the milk to the market
and to neighbors who can afford to pay for them…
We don’t carry them in these fancy pots Sir,
you make me pose with
but just earthen jars, Sir…
But this morning, Sir, my father said to me:
Come, Mina – you shall pose for a famous artist;
India has never seen such an artist
and he shall pay well
and perhaps with that I shall buy a third cow;
three neighbors owe us money
and will never return them in this life;
and the old woman in the sixth house has died
owing us money for these last four years…
You just have to stand there
before the artist in your cleanest sari
and use borrowed milk pots…
And that is what my father said, Sir…
I normally don’t dress in such clean clothes, Sir;
the saris I have are saris my mum used
but she died when I was little, Sir…
Sir? You want me to keep talking…but I am boring, Sir
and I talk simple words and I am sure you’ve heard…
Oh Sir, I’m more used to talking to cows
than important men, Sir…
All right Sir, I will tell you…I will tell you…
I do have dreams, Sir
and it is just the dream of all the
girls in my village:
I’d like new saris and jewels
and I’d like to be married
before the year ends;
Arun from the next village
always looks at me
in our town fairs
and Oh, would that he’d marry me
and we’d have a home and a farm and cows
and we’d have children
and we’d live our quiet lives
in our secluded village…
Sir, that is my dream…I have nothing more to say, Sir…
I hope you are done…
Or maybe you should talk, Sir…
Poem based on painting: The Milkmaid (1904) by Ravi Varma