Sunday, 27 January 2013

How to Have Effective Traffic Exchanges on One Day in Smart Way

How to Have Effective Traffic Exchanges on One Day by Minimum 1000 Traffic

Everybody want increases in the number of visitors and website or blog traffic. Traffic exchanges is a popular way to use. But how to do this effectively? actually for sure i have try this method and only in 1 day i get 1000 traffic. only in one day remember only in one Day. But remember you must have a blog or a website first. To make this first you must have account in , , , and . All of them are the best traffic exchanges sites from my personal experiences and proven even on the website. I suggested it will be best if you used Gmail for the account creation.

So what you need to do is simple first open in only one window of your browser all of this Amazing and Trusted Traffic Exchanges Sites. : this is the amazing one, you only need to sign up, and download the application then run it out if you download the application you even get 25% bonus and its full automated nod need to click and just click here if you  want to sign up and help me to become my referral : you only sign up and click the traffup in the left up of your page and choose the ads, very simple and the waiting time is 25 second : here is a bit tricky you should sign up and then start surfing. The point is when you surfing after 20 second, click the images that have duplication in the upper left or the other option is  by answering the calculation given : This is what i like the most because The Waiting Time is The shortest one only 6 second, and after that you will se 1 image on the left and you must click the same images out of 4 option given : Traffic G waiting Time is 15 second and after see the ads you must answer the correct words given on the image.

In The First Tab put, the second tab is , the third tab is  , and the last tab is . The reason is the loading time of each advertisement in these sites, So Just open all that 4sites in 1 window like i have tell you. Then you must wait in the tabs of  until you click the second add on it and then reverserly go to Traffic G and then easyhits and then Traffup, and just improve.
So wheres the deal? the important one is the assignment of the credits. You must assign it correctly  and dont forget to make the refferal. The effective way is that in your url in the account just make something like this post and add your refferral link in each links by your own referal id. 
The point is when the advertisement run, the viewer will see your website directly in this post. And if you are feeling that it will helpful i believe all of you who have read this article is the same like me, a person who are kind and want to success so lets be succes together by using this referal link. i will be really happy if you use this referral when you are sign up.
I hope this migth be Helpfull. 

Happy Trafficking Exchanges 

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A Glance of Mathew Dickman Classical Poems Slow Dance Love

Best of Mathew Dickman Classical Poems Slow Dance Love 

I gladly present you some of the best poems from Mathew Dickman and before we start reading his beautiful poetry lets just revised some of His Background. Matthew Dickman (born August, 20th, 1975, Portland, Oregon) is an American poet. He received a B.A. degree from the University of Oregon (2001), and has been the recipient of fellowships from The Michener Center for Writers at the University of Texas at Austin, The Vermont Studio Center, and The Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown. He is the author of two chapbooks, Amigos and Something about a Black Scarf. His first book, All-American Poem, was winner of the 2008 American Poetry Review/Honickman First Book Prize in Poetry, published by American Poetry Review and distributed by Copper Canyon Press. He was also winner of the 2009 Kate Tufts Discovery Award for that book, and the inaugural May Sarton Award from the American Academy of Arts & Sciences.

By: Mathew Dickman

More than putting another man on the moon, 
more than a New Year’s resolution of yogurt and yoga, 
we need the opportunity to dance 
with really exquisite strangers. A slow dance 
between the couch and dinning room table, at the end 
of the party, while the person we love has gone 
to bring the car around 
because it’s begun to rain and would break their heart 
if any part of us got wet. A slow dance 
to bring the evening home, to knock it out of the park. Two people 
rocking back and forth like a buoy. Nothing extravagant. 
A little music. An empty bottle of whiskey. 
It’s a little like cheating. Your head resting 
on his shoulder, your breath moving up his neck. 
Your hands along her spine. Her hips 
unfolding like a cotton napkin 
and you begin to think about how all the stars in the sky 
are dead. The my body 
is talking to your body slow dance. The Unchained Melody, 
Stairway to Heaven, power-cord slow dance. All my life 
I’ve made mistakes. Small 
and cruel. I made my plans. 
I never arrived. I ate my food. I drank my wine. 
The slow dance doesn’t care. It’s all kindness like children 
before they turn four. Like being held in the arms 
of my brother. The slow dance of siblings. 
Two men in the middle of the room. When I dance with him, 
one of my great loves, he is absolutely human, 
and when he turns to dip me 
or I step on his foot because we are both leading, 
I know that one of us will die first and the other will suffer. 
The slow dance of what’s to come 
and the slow dance of insomnia 
pouring across the floor like bath water. 
When the woman I’m sleeping with 
stands naked in the bathroom, 
brushing her teeth, the slow dance of ritual is being spit 
into the sink. There is no one to save us 
because there is no need to be saved. 
I’ve hurt you. I’ve loved you. I’ve mowed 
the front yard. When the stranger wearing a shear white dress 
covered in a million beads 
comes toward me like an over-sexed chandelier suddenly come to life, 
I take her hand in mine. I spin her out 
and bring her in. This is the almond grove 
in the dark slow dance. 
It is what we should be doing right now. Scrapping 
for joy. The haiku and honey. The orange and orangutang slow dance

Classical Poem

 By Mathew Dickman

I’m listening to a symphony where heroes and villains are still alive.
Not a soundtrack of soldiers parachuting into occupied Belgium
but spies in pinstripes. Not a dark forest
lit up by gunfire and the wild eyes of a lost elk
but a dark alley, a cobblestone alley, an alley where important
documents are being passed between the black leather gloves
of important men
near a window where a barmaid is pouring beer into dirty glasses.
It’s the kind of music to make love to
a tall skinny woman who works all day at the public library,
her breasts roaring like the two lions outside.
It’s what I imagine astronauts are listening to
inside their helmets
while they watch a new planet begin to spin,
and then another and another like notes from a cello until the night sky
looks like an aquarium,
full of the mystical and unreal. Space dust
floating through a dark channel, a movable space
relaxing into itself. I’ll tell you
the composer’s name is Valentin Silvestrov
and I know as much about him as the umbrella I bought yesterday
knows about me. The radio program
says that this is the music of existential metaphor, silent songs,
which I do understand. I have them all the time.
When I first saw your feet, for instance. The curve and bright white
of them. The time you walked into my room
wearing your father’s El Dorado hat and said
I am not my father. This is not his hat. Well, I thought,
you must be suffering
and it was life, the crestfallen drive-thru,
that was making you cry. But it was me.
And I’m no one in particular. I’m certainly not
Valentin Silvestrov living in ’80s Berlin, all the West like a giant carrot
dangling in the blue sky and Rilke’s angels
haunting him, following him
into the bathroom at night, waiting for him on the street
after someone the composer knew had died and it had, for this to be
begun to snow. Heroes and villains killing each other in half
and quarter notes. Valentin putting on his greatcoat
with a rip in the lapel. Walking out toward the traffic. Walking home
and eventually laying down, like all of us, in the well-made, unbearable, bed.

Lens District 
by: Mathew Dickman

Whenever I return a fight breaks out
in the park, someone buys a lottery ticket,
steals a bottle of vodka, lights
a cigarette underneath the overpass.
I-5 rips the neighborhood in half
the way the Willamette rips the city in half,
it sounds like the ocean
if I am sitting alone in the backyard
looking up at the lilac.
This is where white kids lived
and listened to Black Sabbath
while they beat the shit out of each other
for bragging rights,
running in packs, carrying baseball bats
that were cut from the same hateful trees
our parents had planted
before the Asian kids moved in
to run the mini-marts
and carry knives to school, before the Mexicans
moved in and mowed everyone’s front yard—
white kids wanting anything
anybody ever took from them in shaved heads
and combat boots.
On the weekend our furious mothers
applied their lipstick
that left red cuts on the ends of their Marlboro Reds
and our fathers quietly did whatever
fathers do
when trying to beat back the dogs of sorrow
from tearing them limb from limb.
Lents, I have been away so long
I imagine that you’re a musical
some rich kid from New York wrote about credit,
debt, and then threw in Kool-Aid
to make it funny for everybody.
I can see the dance line,
the high kicks of the skinheads, twirling
metal pipes, stomping in unison
while the committed rage of the Gypsy Jokers
square off with the committed rage
of the single mothers.
The orchestra pit is filled with Pit bulls
and a Doberman conducts them all
into a frenzy.
In the end someone gets evicted, someone
gets jumped into his new family
and they call themselves Los Brazos,
King Cobras, South-Side White Pride.
Dear Lents,
Dear 82nd avenue, dear 92nd and Foster,
I am your strange son,
you saved me when I needed saving
and I remember your arms wrapped around
my bassinet like patrol cars wrapped around
the school yard
the night Jason went crazy—
waving his father’s gun above his head,
bathed in red and blue flashing lights,
all American, broken in half and beautiful

by: Matthew Dickman

We fall in love at weddings and auctions, over glasses
of wine in Italian restaurants where plastic grapes hang
on the lattice, our bodies throb
in the checkout line, the bus stop, at basketball games
and we can't keep our hands off each other
until we can—
so we turn to rubber masks and handcuffs,
falling in love again.
We go to movies and sit in the air conditioned dark
with strangers who are in love
with heroes like Peter Parker
who loves a girl he can't have
because he loves saving the world in red and blue tights
more than he would love to have her ankles wrapped around
his waist or his tongue between her legs.
While we watch films
in which famous people play famous people
who experience pain,
the boy who sold us popcorn loves the girl
who sold us our tickets
and stares at the runs in her stockings
every night,
even though she is in love
with the skinny kid who sold her cigarettes at the 7-11,
and if the world had any compassion
it would let the two of them pass
a Marlboro Light back and forth
until their fingers eventually touched, their mouths
sucking and blowing.
If the world knew how
the light bulb loved the socket
then we would all be better off.
We could all dive head first into the sticky parts.
We could make sweat a religion
and praise the holiness of smelliness.

I am going to stop here,
on this dark night,
on this country road,
where country songs
come from, and kiss her, this woman, below the trees
which are below the stars,
which are below desire.
There is a music to it, I hear it.
Johnny Rotten, Biggie Smalls, Johan Sebastian Bach, I don't care
what they say—
I loved you the way my mouth loves teeth,
the way a boy I know would risk it all for a purple dinosaur,
who, truth be known, loved him.

In the Midwest, fields of corn are in love
with a scarecrow, his potato-sack head
and straw body, hanging out among the dog-eared stalks
like a farm-Christ full of love.

Turning on the radio I hear
how AM loves FM the way my mother loved Elvis
whose hips all young girls loved, sitting around the television
in a poodle skirt and bobby socks.
that I was born after a long night of Black-Russians
and Canasta while "Jailhouse Rock" rocked.

Stamps love envelopes, the licking proves it—
just look at my dog
who obviously loves himself with an intensity
no human being could sustain, though you can't say
we don't try.

In High school I once cruised
a MacDonald's drive-thru butt-naked
on a dare from a beautiful Sophomore,
only to be swallowed up by a grief
born from super-size or no super-size.

Years later I met a woman
named Heavy Metal Goddess
at a party where she brought her husband,
leading him through the dance floor by a leash,
while in Texas cockroaches love with such abandon
that they wear their skeletons on the outside.

Once a baby lizard loved me so completely,
he moved into my apartment and died of hunger.

No one loves war,
but I know a man
who loves tanks so much he wishes he had one
to pick up the groceries, drive his wife to work,
drop his daughter off at school with her Little Mermaid
lunch box, a note hidden inside
next to the apple, folded
with a love that can be translated into any language: I HOPE

“My Brother’s Grave”
by: Matew Dickman

Like a city I’ve always hated, driving through but never stopping,
my foot on the gas, running all the lights,
wishing I were home. Hating even the children who live there
as if they had a choice. I imagine him
in his ten-million particles
of ash, tied up into a beautiful white bundle of lace, a silver bow
looped where his neck should be,
thrown into a washing machine, set on a delicate cycle
to spin forever under the dirt. The all of him
left, the vegetation of him, the no more thing
of him: his skateboard and mountain bike and beers and cigarettes and daughter
and mix-tapes and loneliness, his legs and feet and arms and brain and kneecaps.
Outside of the graveyard
there is still some part of him
buried in the mysticism of his DNA, smeared across a doorknob
or brushed along the jagged edge of his car keys. Two kids
from the high school nearby
will fuck each other on top of him
and I won’t know how to stop them. Someone, sometime,
will throw an empty bottle of vodka over their shoulder
and he will have to catch it.

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Friday, 25 January 2013

The Scientific Explanation of Immortality After Death in Human Life

The  Scientific Explanation of Immortality After Death in Human Life

Below is a great explanation of immortality after death through scientific ways, it seems impossible but after i read this i started to understand why there are some people who believe in the reincarnation and afterlife. Its intersting and enjoy reading

TEMPO.CO, New York - Life after death so far only considered as a religious doctrine. But now the realm of science to explain the truth of the religion. A recent scientific study shows death is not the last stop. Conducted scientific observations of life and death apparently concluded correspond to the "other world" (multiverse).

Exposure science is explained by scientific theory called biosentrisme. According to this theory, although the body is designed to disintegrate itself, but there is an 'energy' that works in the brain, the 'feeling alive' on 'who am I'.

"Energy is not destroyed when the man dies," wrote the world's leading scientist and author of Biocentrism Robert Lanza, Friday, January 25, 2013. The theory does explain the science of energy conservation of energy.

According to Lanza, energy 'feeling of life' was not created, but it can also be destroyed. So, whether this energy move from one world to another?

An experiment recently published in the journal Science shows scientists could change anything that has happened in the past. Through experiments using a beam splitter (optical devices that split the light beam), the energy particles disconnected existence. Apparently, it can be determined what the effect on the particle is in the past, so that one can explore the experiences of the past.

The link between experience and the universe was beyond human ideas about space and time. But biosentrisme himself stated, space and time are not objects difficult as imagined.

This theory is analogous to time as the air in vain to arrest people because it can never be achieved. "You could not see anything through the skull bone that surrounds your brain," said Robert Lanza. "What you see and feel now is the rotation information to your brain."

According biosentrisme, space and time are merely a tool collector of information simultaneously. That's why, in a world that no space and time, there is no such thing as death.

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Wednesday, 23 January 2013

Unmask The Hidden Power of Human in Yourself

1. Power of Dreams

Sweet dreams
Sweet dreams (Photo credit: Gabriela Camerotti)
Humans have The Power Of Dreams. Every human being has the power of dreams is due to the strength of this we will achieve the best things that will happen in our lives that will certainly be the goal of life is better and obviously we have achieved as desired. As a desire of a person, this power is a major factor of human purpose in life. If we live without dreams, then our lives will run forward without direction and it will be difficult to control.

2. The Power of Focus

Human Statue Bodyart
Human Statue Bodyart (Photo credit: Eva Rinaldi Celebrity and Live Music Photographer)
Next super human strength is focus. This power is to be the best force in human beings. This focus power into a force for you to see the future, dreams that all of our goals achieved. Not surprisingly, this power was a major center of human to begin stepping into a dream destination to be obtained. So for you, start now and develop the focus of these super powers!

3.Power of Learning

Seven Principles of Learning
Seven Principles of Learning (Photo credit: dkuropatwa)
The Power Of Learning this power can make human into excellent human by undergo a learning process in itself. With this power, man can face and create change us for the better. So to you, Keep learning and achieve a better life!

4. Survival strength

centre (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Next, humans have The Power Of Survival. Did you know that the man has the power struggle. Humans are given the strength to face hardship and suffering that humans can face appropriate capabilities, because that's the power of the Lord will also provide difficulties and failures that would surely be facing the man with superhuman strength.

5. Power of Self-Discipline

The Fifth Discipline
The Fifth Discipline (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
This power is a superpower owned by people who are basic human benchmark for excellence is justified by the philosopher Aristotle. According to the info,a  strength of self-discipline will take someone who did it to peak performance. So for you, control the power of self-discipline in order to obtain good performance for the future.

6. Power of Mind

All in the Mind (novel)
All in the Mind (novel) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The power that you definitely know is The Power Of Mind. Yes, humans do have a mind remarkable compared to other living things. With the power of mind, humans can distinguish between good and bad for him and can live their lives well. This power is the power of the super really because it is not owned by other people. With good thoughts, it will live a good life anyway, whereas if the bad thoughts that would run too bad anyway. Therefore, change your mind to be positive in order to become a super power in a positive as well.

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Monday, 21 January 2013

Figth by Marylin Mason

This Lyrics is about someone wo lose faith to a god, take a look and feel it

by: Marylin Mason

Nothing suffocates you more than
The passing of everyday human events
Isolation is the oxygen mask you make
Your children breathe in to survive

But I'm not a slave to a god
That doesn't exist
But I'm not a slave to a world
That doesn't give a shit

And when we were good
You just closed you eyes
So when we are bad
We'll scar your minds

Fight, fight, fight, fight

You'll never grow up to be a big-
They'll just cut our wrists like
Cheap coupons and say that death
Was on sale today

And when we were good
You just closed you eyes
So when we are bad
We'll scar your minds

But I'm not a slave to a god
That doesn't exist
But I'm not a slave to a world
That doesn't give a shit

The death of one is a tragedy
The death of one is a tragedy
The death of one is a tragedy
But death of a million is just a statistic

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So small it could almost be a miniature elephant

So small it could almost be a miniature elephant

elphant is small but it wil be a too small for dinosaur so the elephant maybe a miniature of the mamals in dinosaur era

This Is Some Poem by Wayne Hepburn About Elephant

An elegant Elephant waltzing along
Was heard to sing out this marvelous song.

How grand to be an Elephant, yessireeeee;
As strong and brave as anyone can beeeee;
And smart, and kind, you must agreeeee,
So swell and grand, it simply seems to meeeee,
That everyone should an Elephant want to beeeee.

OH! How grand to be a mighty pachyderm,
It's quite a bit handsomer than a worm.

I could have ended up a bumble bee;
Instead He made me just the way I ammmm,
So big I can unearth a giant treeeee,
And no one dares turn me into a hammmm.

An Elephant, it's truly fine to beeeee;
For nothing else on earth from A to Zeeee,
Quite compares to the lovely likes of meeeee-eee.
I surely must be nature's apo-geeeee.

I've tried to think of a better thing but cannnnn't;
The very best thing to be is an El-eeeee-phannnnnt
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Sunday, 6 January 2013

Zemanta Again

Okay, after inserting picture randomly, now i know that zemanta can be used to give a link back to another blog , and i am sure it will helpfull, i think zemanta promised that it will notify the link owner and give a back link to our blog. here is two  funny article about porn and new year resolution, its good to read and just check it out. :)
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Saturday, 5 January 2013

Beautiful islands Picture in The World

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Because I' don't know How Zemanta Work

That was SO funny!!
That was SO funny!! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The Good Guys
The Good Guys (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Image by nandadevieast via Flickr

Silent Night on Main Street at Christmas
Image by Tom.Bricker via Flickr
Okay, its funny guys because i, myself don't know what i am dong, recently i found this zemanta application but still have no idea how its actually work. what i  understand is it seems to give us more easy way to have a picture in our blog. but whatever, lets try this out.

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whatever live..

whatever live..

by: Haidir Aulia Reizaputra
whatever live is a living..

maybe sometimes we want dead..

but whatever you say that...

exactly you want your live to change..

to be better and better..

to live as good as you want..

but sometimes we fall..

we down..

but don't give your guts out..

whatever live you shold not give up..

coz you still live..

still had a chance to change..

to be good as you wanted before..

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keep shines..

keep shines..

by: Haidir Aulia Reizaputra
when bloods spoil in the road..

when your country needs you..

you must fight..

whatever it happen..

for your country and your faith..

when our land is humiliated..


till dawn..

till our eyes can't be opened again..

fight for your believes..

for your religion..

don't be afraid of death..

god will hear your pray..

maybe now their yelled and smile..

but don't forget the justice of the almighty..

keep fight palestine..

just do it and never get down..

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