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Contact：
Company Name:WUHAN GN LASER EQUIPMENT MANUFACTURING CO., LTD.
Address:No.4, 7th part, private science and technology industrial park,quanli first road,economic and techn
Zip Code:430050
Telephone:+86-27-87318320/84658466
Fax:+86-27-83600135
Email: service.vip.laser@hotmail.com

this morning I awoke
with gum abrasions
and let me tell you
it wasn't the happiest of occasions

the bottom set of false teeth
were ripped out
as they'd been wearing
the gum line about

some gum gel
was duly applied to gain relief
the bottom set of false teeth
had given me enough grief

at lunch time
I shall pop the teeth back in
so I can restore
my toothy grin

should the **** teeth
abrade my gums anymore
I shall have to get the dental mechanic
to realign the bottom draw

She cannot be any more for me.
Cannot touch, cannot see or know
What it would mean to lie beside her.
Below or above or inside her.
I cannot kiss her skin enough
To satisfy my tongue,
At root, amid tonsil and gum.
There is nothing between my legs
To satisfy the ache I’ve beshouldered.
Nor to give her what she wants.
And yet to be the bearer of such lofty arms,
I have not the strength
To hold her to me, tight enough
Nor strength to let her go.
Therefore pianist or organist,
No digits can so far reach
To abrade this itch within me.
To what worldly force there is to bray,
No hips move expeditiously
Enough to shake this wanting free
Not rhetoric, charm nor Rationale
Bestow words to dissuade my need.
I have no arms to pull her closely,
Nor shape to fit her skin.

Yet I cannot be any less for her.

through the ring
and previous string
sewing together
these things i feel
a crestfallen sting
why repair what is
already rusted
why abrade soil
when it's already crusted
you found a home
for the words i entrusted
a corner in the ceiling
to one day be dusted

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Read More:
http://www.laservesrus.com/

Contact：
Company Name:WUHAN GN LASER EQUIPMENT MANUFACTURING CO., LTD.
Address:No.4, 7th part, private science and technology industrial park,quanli first road,economic and techn
Zip Code:430050
Telephone:+86-27-87318320/84658466
Fax:+86-27-83600135
Email: service.vip.laser@hotmail.com

Sea pulse asurge, your pores brace for influx:
the scrub of sixteen salts whose rigid karma
scrapes us down. So sound the signals
(likely sales) from shoehorned sleeper
towns. Their patron wasn't long for earth;
a grid (what genius!) takes a bow,
puts slideshow on, and all we hear is how.

When sunlight stirs again we'll chisel
feeble errors, chip a bullet
out of stone. We'll see which skulkers
have a six at home, and toast
the night in sheetery. When devils
drain the foosty runoff of
your prim report to primal center,
sweep up white-horse myths bleached out
of paved-gray lots. Submerge in steam
of favor, frenzied in unseen replies
(no sharper catching eyes as coffees,
tipped to spoon in drowse-A.M.s
from furtive nights) -- Behold (unsold to rights)
uncensored action, living truth!
Untempted nine-percenters,
go-betweens for stunning tens
ground out of poison  pens.
Abrade with noise what was to clean our lens.

Excuse my drifting-
I didn't mean to kiss you like that,
I was just trying to swallow the space between us somehow
because I think tonight the moon was stillborn.
All the tides seem broken.

The space is dragging with plaintive collectibles=
complacency in yellow-teeth cliffsides, and all the empty shells
in which we'd listened for the corners of our ocean
and heard it ebbing, relenting, reaching.
It rippled on our skins and made us twinkle then.

Now I'm missing you, the grating bottle-glass shards
are what my headaches are made of
and are what fill up my shoes.

When our spines unravelled, I heard rain-
letter-writing weather, bathtub weather,
knitwear-perhaps-on-the-beach weather-
but the puddles were coming from the sun.
I don't know quite when summer blew in.

We would have found canvas chairs in the park.
You would be taking pictures of yellow daffodils
in black and white with your big heavy camera,
and laughing at each sneeze because I'm allergic.

There's really no need now to listen in shells
for the clutter leftover in elegy-
platitudinous phrases, photographs, plenty more fish in the sea.
Words couldn't ever weigh the depths of it.
Only abrade and erode it.

Yours is a world that, for immeasurable gaps
and for whirlpools and whale sounds,
I am not a part of anymore.
But please excuse my drifting.
I will always love the echoes
and walk along the beach in search of shells.

Her eyes were smolder,
Black thick charcoal,
Coating her fire burning
A thousand days of sun.
It seems a wonder
Her skin was milk,
Not tanned hide
From the scorch
She held.

Always a lover
But never in love.
The idea she longed for,
But to have - ended longing
Therefore she never took.
In dreams with pining
Was her fun.
The very tongue of lust,
She was the taste,
The desired delicacy.

Stolen away
Were the many hearts
Of men from youth to elder.
She held them in
Her swollen grin
As if to say
I own you.
The affairs were best,
No better test
Than to abrade the strings of love.
And when she won,
(She always won)
She claimed sweet scandal,
*I own you

I dream of sand.
I found it years after the war
in my socks or pants or boots and
it remained with me.

My washer is no longer filled
with it and my clothes no longer
abrade my skin but yet I still
dream of sand.

I have ceased to dream of bullets
and blood.  I dream now of the
glimmer of hope on a weather-
beaten face.  I dream of strength
and courage.

These are not dreams of brave
"American" soldiers doing their
duty, but rather dreams of brave
Arabs making the best of a life
which has seen oppression from
tyrants both foreign and domestic.

I dream foolishly.
I dream that our differences can
be overcome but in life I am
repeatedly shown that they cannot.

I dream.  
I dream and hope that tomorrow
I do not wake

Lattice

At first glance there was such
sorrow entombed in the sun,
honey hued in mahogany
red velvet Terra eyes
the sun rose with them
a soft whisper in my mind,
my heart and soul flies
shimmering of surprise
in waves of sweetness,
it ebbs and flows ever still,
rise and fall,
ever gloaming,
moving like the gentle earth,
restless and milling
it's throngs and streams
a tender abrade
a gentle lapping
the world becomes a wonder
becomes leaf and petal
climbing,
lattice sunshine blooms
dripping in happy tears,
after the summer rain
disappears humming
drumming it's distant
rooftop tattoo.

callous
bruised
I held you
beheld you
with cruelty
with abandon
you
could have been cinders
cellophane
the patina of my absent mind
you
could have been a yesterday
forgotten
one of many
one, yet uncounted
one, lost in a crowd
me,
uncaring, and unbowed
heartless - ignorant

not today

today I saw you
through the window of my heart
vignetted
alone
as I always knew you
alone
without me

then

it occurred to me,
for the first time,
you were without me
and I
was without you
alone
we were alone
and I
yearned to solve your loneliness
your solitude
abrade the fixtures of mutual isolation with warmth
wear down the gloom of silence
with laughter
praise of you
hold you
close,
as if holding myself
loving myself
through you
by you,
loving me
I love you deeper
softer
sweeter
into the cradle
of our love
where we are born
in bliss
fighting the cold
of our darkening world
while the light dies
our hearts burn ablaze
seeking the truth
the higher power that united us
God, who would wed us,
love,
that can save us,
if only we tried,
if only

yet,
for tonight,
I watch you
through the window
of my heart

I shed tears
wishing I were with you
but I will settle
for our dream...

there's no sense in the judgment that we make
concerning all the tricks of the old trade
nor in belief that turns out to be fake
in all those things that are fated to fade
the world is as it is and what must come
is less not more than what we'd thought the sum
of what we earn in simple steady pay
but given to us with little delay
we're far too eager and give in to haste
the infant mind attains its highest sway
so what is human ends up most abased

our duty never got an honest shake
but found its honour hidden in the shade
while we were learning good things by mistake
and wondering why none came by to aid
for our relief we did not earn a crumb
while happy others made off with the plum
meanwhile the foolish urged us just to pray
as if that answer were more than cliché
while our best efforts had to be replaced
and matters finished in another way
so what is human ends up most abased

the truth is clear we could not get a break
from anybody here the whole charade
was guaranteed  to maximise their take
and in the process our spirits abrade
dumping us all down in the meanest slum
because we were so obviously dumb
we were served up upon a silver tray
trapped and devoured to our immense dismay
our skills dismissed and all of us disgraced
moulded and shaped just like the softest clay
so what is human ends up most abased

prince you observe as we suffer this day
ordering whips our tender backs to flay
you think this moment easily erased
yours is the power and the word today
so what is human ends up most abased

On this path obstructed by red rose bushes
Lies the era of our golden dreams
Whose thorns pierce every limb of our body
But whose pulchritude emphasizes on its radiant gleam


And when those thorns disseminate pain
Our eyes are reassured by the blindening red
The kind of red that rejuvinates hope
And enlightens those who simply sit and mope

But for some it may breed new selfish desires
Desires that are capable of arousing compulsion
And desires that gradually exteriorize to lust's
But when such lust's lie with in reach
They simply abrade ,
Just like the iron rusts

Despite knowing the pain it entails
We transition on this path from threshold to terminus.
Combatting incessantly in this unremitting struggle
We allow the gust to bear us along.

yesterday's snow is ***** now and dark
we look for ice and worry about shade
as the sun rises and the long parade
of normal time resumes along the stark
roads and each newly-woken seems to mark
a world made gritty when light must abrade
both faith and fear the horror we have made
there's nothing but the chance of a new spark
from a great distance in another zone
there's news more bitter than the fleeting cold
and nothing that can make it feel more light
since each plain word will cut right to the bone
yet do no more than let us know what's told
which is that all will come to end in night

we do not get the choice to grow or fade
since each of us is placed just where we ought
to find the truth of all the things we're taught
which is much more that what life must abrade
with its rough edges we are ever frayed
broken and blinded knowing that we fought
both hard and well but losing were caught
in the old trap and sent back to the shade
so much to tell about where we were cast
the clawing upwards that's another fight
though none will listen to the loser's tale
nor should they we recall the faded past
while today's children look towards the light
and have no patience with the ones who fail

Sorrow: Unfold your identity.
Laughter: Only balm to heal bruises you abrade on humanity.

must our words
cause so much pain
must our words
cause so much shame
must our words
so much abrade
must our words
so much degrade
watch our words
our words we must

Up on the deck
the pink cascade
of evening stumbled
against a blue stop.
Stars seemed fine
as powder.
The moon was golden,
a Brasher doubloon
nailed to the felted smear
of milky way.
          Night knelt
          into the red bowl
          of Autumn;
          Summer died slowly,
          cloaked all in yellow,
          behind your shoulder.
Fights on the street
scattered under the
water head. Brains
hissed with poetry
as rain dwindled.
We heaped stones
on the truth.
We knew it wouldn't
last like that.
          Night knelt
          into the red bowl
          of Autumn;
          Summer died slowly,
          cloaked all in yellow,
          behind your shoulder.
The world without you
keeps breaking down:
the morning motorcycle
won't stop idling, I can't
cut books from their shelf,
food is an accusation.
Stars abrade, the moon
is sold for scrap.
Where are you?

Rise up, rub your eyes,
abrade the illusion.
You have lost her,
Is the sole conclusion.

So move to wash room,
Wash your stupid face.
Comb your scattered hair,
And tie your shoe's lace.

Run! till you pant and choke,
Beef you up to survive.
She is a poison to you,
And don't let you thrive.

Today is your day to repine,
By tomorrow try to be firm.
Have a pledge, never allow anyone,
To fun with you by their condition and term.

I devour myself
Dissolve myself like acid
Erode myself
Starting at the sides, I move in on myself

corner myself
shatter myself
Starting at the edges, I consume myself

abrade myself
crumble myself
Starting at the ends, I chip away at myself

Break myself
Mistake myself
feed off myself
Inside, I devour myself

Not a human creature stirred, nor seen
throughout Highland Manor,
property carpeted in lush green
gently hilly terrain,
(a deathlike stillness descended un keen
quiet and quite cool April 26th,
deux thousand twenty one).

Vicious rumors circulate wrenching
hammering, and drilling psyche
where mailer demons invade,
that immediate hell fire enfilade
natural hair color made
gray follicular shocks amply pervade
instantaneously turning
Janus faced with Machiavellian

mean streak inlaid
(how word some would say)
"stern", any previous
housewarming aura
experiencing welcome spiel,
nor iota of politesse present,
but Trumpeting her entourage,
asper self important capering escapade

taskmaster known to abrade
even the most stalwart macho,
gung-**, brave appear afraid,
thus oft time tis most
advantageous and optimal
prospective mutineers betrayed
Princess Jan Ger
harridan de jure ushering tirade

akin to a petit grand mal one
woman banshee masquerade
hoop puts on be preyed
upon switching pretentious airs
dead ringer give
away (immediately
points gnarled finger
sentenced to clinker visage),

non verbal charade
hence unstoppable mounting
anticipatory anxiety manifests
as disabling, impending,
oppressing fate
cannot be delayed
if insubordinate tenants
try with futility to evade

officials with truncheons flayed
doth rarely give surcease
renters passing grade
she, the consummate
de facto grande heiress
of Gr*e & Que
inherited plum deal,
where lifetime employment,

and generously paid
analogous as born
(that way) portrayed
maintaining poker face
into royalty made,
now as single mother
to biracial heir
purportedly inhabits castle

abode with parents,
thus no child
care costs paid
expectant heavy foot
falls getting louder,
(oh...no that jist
my heart pounding
whence approaching raid

so please inform this jade
did troubadour if privy to let
(me and the missus) aid
i.e. a safe and sound
place to call home
with this hole in the poetry wall,
I would immediately
make thee a fair trade

in lieu of living, where
mercilessness doth parade
expenses property upkeep,
teaching (two
door ring) English,
or even employed
as a mister minute maid.

Speculative fictitious flirtation imagined
courtesy grown old male offspring (me)
begat when mine late mother and father met
former named, a popular Arthur Murray
ballroom dance studio instructor.

Subtle social cues (nonverbal or otherwise)
relayed, linkedin and exchanged
constituting courtship between
Harriet and Boyce
particularly on Valentine's Day
circa ~ mid 1950's.

Two young lovebirds
oblivious to cares and concerns
of uncertain webbed wide) world
passionately kissed each other
murmuring sweet nothings
within most convenient ear of the other.

Romance blossomed
requited love ensued
avowed marital troth pledged,
a June 1955 wedding planned.

Soon thereafter
bedroom door locked, I presume
unbridled call of the wild
high powered pistol loosed
courtesy soundcloud hit bullseye
with figurative vroom
biological seed of life
and white Lily fertilized.

Thirteen months after eldest sister born
suckling from horn
of good hope
breast nursing done during the morn.

Forthwith brother planted in womb
hereditary characteristics transmitted
eons old traits disseminated
multitude of random chromosomes
deployed comprising frothy spume
housed generations foregone

maternal and paternal genes
unleashed unwittingly bequeathed
by ancestral forebears
anonymous long forgotten handsome groom
memorabilia couched as tintype
(also known as
a melainotype or ferrotype)

treasured analogous as
if relic dug up within ancient tomb,
perhaps clapper and bell foretold whom
yours truly acquired his
mental health predilection
predisposed toward gloom
mindset swirls with nihilistic doom.

Psychological angst chafes and doth abrade
existential crisis rooted psyche with ankh ring
travesty, mockery, and entropy cast charade
circumspection immediately
brings to forefront
of consciousness positive (necessary)

risk taking I did evade
exemplified by failing nearly every grade
inferiority complex insinuated and did invade
mucking up healthy livingsocial buzzfeeding,
when too many cooks spoil the broth,
hence being superfluous kitchenaid,
hence as schnorrer I masquerade.

She cannot be any more for me.
Cannot touch, cannot see or know
What it would mean to lie beside her.
Below or above or inside her.
I cannot kiss her skin enough
To satisfy my tongue,
At root amidst tonsil and gum.
There is nothing between my legs
To satisfy the ache I’ve beshouldered
Nor to give her what she wants.
And yet to be the bearer of lofty arms,
I have not the strength
To hold her to me, tight enough
Nor strength to let her go.
Therefore pianist or organist,
No digits can so far reach
To abrade this itch within.
What worldly force there is to bray
No hips move expeditiously
Enough to shake this wanting free
Not rhetoric, charm nor Rationale
Bestow words to dissuade my need.
I have no arms to pull her closely,
Nor shape to fit her skin.

Yet I cannot be any less for her.