In any type of pc, motherboard may be the key ingredient, that retains many crucial portions of the system and connections to many other peripheral devices. It provides a communicating highway. Each individual the main laptop or computer conveys to each other over the motherboard. The purpose of this mother board is usually produce a connection direct for all additional add-ons along with aspects of laptop method.

Small Past of System board
In the instances when laptop had been invented, it once were inbuilt your figure or simply a scenario by using sections connected through a backplane. This backplane made up a couple of slots interlocked by electrical wires. Once the arrival involving produced enterprise forums, the computer, study solely ram, random access memory, add-ons were being attached to this Printed circuit boards. As time passed by in the 70s plus Eighties, a growing number of degrees of parts started out having kept around the mother board caused by reasonable causes. In the Nineteen nineties, your motherboards grew to become capable of doing video,sound recording,web 2 . and visuals capabilities.

Breakdown of System board
Commonly your personal computer motherboard features micro-processor, primary ram along with vital factors, mounted on this. Other parts including training video plus noise remotes, outside storage area in addition to peripheral devices usually are linked with motherboards via plug-in charge cards. In the most recent motherboards, every one of these elements will be attached straight.

Mother board Chipset
Essentially the most crucial piece of motherboard will be chipset. Them settings your data movement throughout the details tour bus of your motherboard. Channelizing the info to the accurate ingredient would be the principal purpose of the actual chipset.

System board Factors
This system board includes ties for those pieces. Growth slot machine games regarding PCI,ISA,AGP,DIMM as well as exterior cable connections pertaining to serial as well as multiple locations,Universal serial bus slots,seem minute card,mouse and keyboard tend to be attached to them.

Key pad & Computer mouse button Connectors
Many occupation key board locations linked to the motherboard. A couple of most frequently employed plug sorts are usually DIN and AT. At present smaller Noise PS/2types with band are generally swapping ST kinds of band. PS/2 model sockets could be utilized on From types simply using a air compressor. Universal serial bus fittings also are located in several Desktops.

Concurrent Interface
Multiple locations are utilized simply by photo printers. On multiple slot, various wiring can be used carrying details information. Any 20 flag feminine DB plug is utilized within concurrent slot. Motherboards straight help parallel plug-ins via immediate link or dongle.

Cpu
The actual ingredient can also be often known as Pc. The item settings most businesses that happen to be conducted in a very computer system. CPUs are just massive scale incorporated tour in block small packages with various relating pins. Central processing unit consists of generally 2 pieces,specifically Maths Plausible Product(ALU) and Control Component(CU). ALU executes math as well as realistic surgical procedures in addition to CU brings information via memory space in addition to carry out these folks.

Browse
Hardware or Universal serial bus is definitely an field regular association pertaining to Personal computer. The velocity of Hardware 3.2, up to date standard involving Hardware, is definitely Five Gbits/second.

Standard Suggestions Production System- Study Merely Storage(BIOS ROM)
A BIOS Range of motion processor, the industry long term memory space,delivers the software program which usually functions the fundamental procedures if your pc is started. In the event the computer system is power upward, the micro-processor seeks fundamental analytical facts within BIOS ROM., for example, what amount ram can be acquired, whether virtually all add-ons operate properly, now of course external drive will be related,and many others. Any time diagnostic information is found to be Alright, in that case only the personal computer commences the operation.

Ram(RAM)
RAM is a non permanent recollection. It truly is employed to shop info any time laptop or computer is definitely driven upward. When the laptop or computer is usually switched off, this specific reminiscence username wiped.

Electronically Erasable Programmable Go through Merely Ram(EEPROM)
EEPROM can be erasable programmable examine simply memory. It is possible to read out of along with write to this kind of memory space. After the computer system is actually turned off, data held in EEPROM is actually held on to.

Slot machines
Normally 2 types of video poker machines can be found with motherboard, specifically AGP slot machines along with PCI spots. AGP slots are utilized for illustrations or photos cards, while devices like locations, circle credit cards as well as noise charge cards work with PCI slot machine games.

IDE Connector
This connection is needed in order to connect devices, CD and DVD.

Weak Connection
The computer's floppy commute is linked by that connection.

Laptop Support
Since system board is made up of countless components, any kind of bad element can make laptop computer nonfunctional. Many on the net network support services are generally portrayal round the clock aid pertaining to motherboards. When the customer faces any issue related to system board, immediately help from PC service suppliers must be needed to be able to abate the issue.

http://www.passwordmanagers.net/ Password Manager Windows 7

The ground beneath the stiff leaves is frozen. The cold, brisk air invades my lungs, I exhale, my breath visible. I step over fallen branches and tugged by thorny vines. A red tail hawk screeches overhead, this is a sign of good luck. There is no path, no trail to mark our way, just an old, flat railroad bed surrounded by walls of shale, blown up for the path of the train so long ago. The only ties to remind of the rail are the rotting, moss covered ties that once were a part of a bridge that would have carried the train over a small creek between two steep hills. I see a fox burrow, and it's escape hatch is one of the hollowed railroad ties. I want to be a fox... The trek down this hill is not easy, thorny blackberry bushes and fallen trees impede progress. At the bottom, the small, bubbly creek is frozen at the edges, traveling under rocks and continuing its ancient path. I look up the hill that I just descended, and wonder how the return will go. Keep moving. The next hill will be easier, there are no thorny tangles, just treacherous leaf litter that will give under my feet if I don't find the right footing. The trick is to dig my boots into the ground as if I'm on steps. These hills are steep. Finally at the top, I look back at this little spring valley, I'm not that high up, but what view. Here, there is a dilapidated tree stand, falling apart from years of neglect and weather. Surrounded by deep leaf litter, there is a patch of rich dark earth, a buck has marked his spot, his round pellets are nearby. The saplings catch my hair as I walk by, and at these moments I am thankful for this cold snap that took care of the ticks. A creepy feeling takes over me, so thankful for this snap. A few feet further, as I watch where I am walking, another tussled bit of earth and I notice some interesting ****. It's furry and light grey; I poke it with my stick and find a small skull when I turn a piece over. Owl. I continue my walk, I didn't come here to play with poo. The last time I took this hike was three years ago, on a similar frigid day. It was a lot easier to make it through the shale valleys. Last summer, a wind storm felled trees and took out power for two weeks. The evidence of that derecho is clear here in this untouched forest. I remembered a tree, which now is a fallen giant, that had lost it's bark. The bark had separated and laid around this tree like a woman's skirt around her ankles. Now the tree lies with it's bark. I pass another tree I recognize whose branch extends out but zig zags up and down, as if it had three elbows. The tree signifies my next move, to descend from the flat railroad bed, down to a creek that flows through the tunnel that would have carried the train. The creek is considerably larger than the last creek I could step across. Descending towards the creek leads me over moss covered rocks and limbs, still bearing snow. Outside the tunnel, the hill walls are large stones, covered in a thick layer of moss, some of which has started to fall off due to heaviness. There's a sort of ice shelf in the creek, it's three layers thick and can support my one hundred and twenty pounds. Laying across the creek is another derecho-felled tree. Some sort of critter has crawled on this, using it to avoid the water below and as a short cut up the hill. His claw marks are covering the the limb, a few are more clear, it looks as if the creature almost slipped off. His claw marks show a desperate cling. I walk through the tunnel, in the mud and water; the creek echoes inside. I look above. There are drainage holes lining the ceiling, one is clogged by a giant icicle. I imagine the train that used to ride over this tunnel, I pretend to hear it and feel the rumbling. The last time we were here, we found cow skeletons. We placed a few heads on branches and one over the tunnel. We stuck a jaw, complete with herbivore teeth, into the mossy wall and a hip bone on a sapling. The hip bone reminded us of Predator's mask in the movie. All these bones are turning green. When I was here before, there was a bone half submerged in the creek; I had taken a picture of it but today, it isn't here. I'm sure it was washed away. After our exploration of the previous visit, we turned back. We are cold again, can't stay in one place too long. I climb through the deep leaf litter and over the rocks back to the railroad bed. Passing all the things I've already seen and spotting things I missed. I find two more fox burrows. They utilized the shale rock and burrowed underneath the jutting formations. Hidden coming from the south, the gaping openings seem welcoming from the north. My friends, the spelunkers and climber, want to descend into the darkness but I remind them, it is an hour to sundown, our trek is hard enough with overcast daylight. Wisdom prevails. We pass a tree, we didn't notice before, that was struck by lightening. The cedar tree was split in two and fell down the shale wall. I see the evidence of the burn and a smoldered residue at the base. Nature has a cruel way of recycling. The downed tree still has snow on it and the path of a raccoon is visible, I like the paws of *****. Though the way is flat, the walls of shale tower above us, limiting routes. At one point I can't see through the fallen trees I have to pass through. I have to crab walk under, crawl over, duck again and find my way around the thorny collections of bare black berry bushes. Finally into a clearing, still surrounded by sharp shale, there is another wall covered in inches of thick, healthy moss. I place my hand, taking time to stroke the furry wall. My hand leaves an imprint. I wonder how long that will last.. Back down the steep hill up and up the thorny tangle. I know I'm on the right path up, I see the fox's hole through the railroad tie, and his entrance burrow up the hill. Going down was definitely easier. The summit is literally overgrown with thorns, there is no clear path through. It is, again, impossible to see through the tangle of limbs and saplings and more thorns. Somehow we make it through. We are close to breaking off this path. We know this by the remains of a cow skeleton that more than likely fell from the top of the shale cliff. Femurs and ribs and jaws abound. On the last trip, we placed a hip bone in the "Y" of a sapling. The young tree has claimed it, growing around it. We add a piece of jaw to the tree's ornamentation and move on. We climb down from the railroad bed to our car - parked on the side of the road with a white towel in the window so that no one suspects a group of people walking through private property, past faded NO TRESPASSING signs.

When I undress for bed later, there are many small scratches up and down my legs from those ****** thorny vines. I'm okay with that, it's better than searching for ticks in my head.

In an instance,
I felt a calmness sweep across my body.
My body free of any restriction.
Her being my release.
Sweet liberties
Utilized by the touch of lips.
A period punctuated by perched lips.
Released in ounces of color.
The way she loved.
My tongue swirled around hers.
Fingers wrapped around her waist.
Brown peach flavored skin.
My addiction a place for her to stay,
Her bag broken down; piece by piece.
A home away from home.
Until the day she left.
I consulted family, I reached out to friends.
They say that she's no good
They say leave her be.
Truth be told
My vacancy left colorless.
Bland.
My tree grown fruitless
Revealed to me in bitter hunger.
The realization of perception.
Nothing left to fill my hands.
This vacancy punishable by death.
A ****** filled by her alone.
My fingers around her waist.
Her love sticky, sweet.
Swirling around my tongue.
My eyes left low
Anticipating her return.
They say that she's no good
They say leave her be.
Truth be told
I haven't spoken to them since

teaching a wild creature to feed from your hand is a feat maybe maybe not Mom taught me from a young age then never let go in June 2013 the estate will cease all the coats hats shoes scarves skirts dresses blouses belts purses from Ultimo Saks Neimans wherever steaks from Gene and Georgetti’s Gibsons whatever will be consumed and she will be forced by the bank to resign her condo on lake shore drive and go live with her sister and i will be left with nothing

nothing feels better than fighting back gathering the strength courage to do that to fight until there is no daylight

the world is a mysterious place it is Sunday December 26th 2010 6AM pitch dark outside in several months daybreak will come earlier a remarkable surprise yet always been this way in several minutes firmament turns light i open eyes stretch legs look out window pink blue gray blue morning skies tree tops mountains watch flock of birds maybe 30 or 40 flying back and forth east west why do they do that how would you like to be one of those birds flapping around searching from above at the earth hmmm what if everyone had a ***** and ****** feathered wings fin distinctive tail floppy or pointed ears what if you could share breakfast or lunch with Kim Gordon Patti Smith work on poem with e. e. cummings James Joyce William Faulkner paint with Mark Rothko Anselm Kiefer play football with Payton Manning Drew Breeze jam with Jimi Hendrix Keith Richards race with Secretariat sniff with Lassie mix with Max Ernst Georgia O'Keefe Donald Judd meet with Gandhi and J.F.K. make love with Charlotte Gainsbourg Kate Moss dinner with John Lennon Friedrich Nietzsche dance with Albert Einstein Isadora Duncan share a smoke with Sam Clemens (Mark Twain) Sam Shepard last drink with Sylvia Plath Virginia Woolf then go to sleep next to Sphinx Pyramids wake with Cleopatra Mata Hari on Bali beach look up at tiny puffy clouds that resemble strange script do you understand the possibilities mysteries of everything

old is lecherous but i’m still trapped in childhood hurting wanting to be grown-up

i think i said i don’t know how to talk i was speaking to this **** greedy landlord trying to negotiate between 2 different spaces long distance and i meant to say i can’t talk right now i’m in a restaurant or shop but instead what came out was i don’t know how to talk he was insulting me bullying hollering at me on cell phone accusing me of dickering about price lease and it slipped out my terror from Dad my childhood fears repression inability to negotiate i froze fumbled finally uttering i don’t know how to talk then disconnected

i’m running scared gasping for breath heart pounding yearning praying crying for love beauty happiness success i’m smart creative powerful yet inept too shy or fearful to know how to properly spontaneously speak in person

what if consumerism is realized as a mental disorder a method to suppress genuine hunger with fetish products

what if money is identified as disease actual legal tender found to source fatal viruses

what if humanity is discovered to belong to an alien predatory race independent from Adam and Eve or monkeys

what if all knowledge is found to be deceptive invention concealing real world truth

what if existence is a chess game or trial enacted by higher forces and your every thought feeling recorded in eternity

what if progress is the enemy and primitivism the remedy

my whole life i’ve learned about infidelity my mom sister dad uncle i don’t understand i’ve never been unfaithful to a girlfriend (one is enough one is more than i can handle) why do people speak those vows then get married only to violate themselves their mates maybe that’s why i am afraid to ever get married infidelity is the most painful betrayal to find out your partner with all your shared secrets compromises them with someone else oh god

April 19th 1995 a bomb explodes in Federal building in Oklahoma City killing 168 people injuring 759 what are Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols thinking did they act alone there are so many lunatics running around out there so much misunderstanding disenfranchisement in America

Arlington Street Asheville North Carolina June 1995 Odysseus and his dog Farina keep mostly to themselves something is wrong with his voice he sounds hoarse when he speaks it is uncomfortable to talk he goes to free clinic and waits half a day elderly doctor attempts to stick long metal instrument down Odysseus’s throat Odysseus gags coughs elderly doctor becomes irritable he warns Odysseus to quit smoking Odysseus wonders what it would be like to be loved possibly married in loving positive relationship to know all the endearing enduring connections between caring couples other people manage it why can’t he? he thinks i’ve never been a good provider nor placed enough value in money i believe in freedom and love i chose to make art and pursue a life of self-discovery experiment dang i am wrong from the moment one’s work hangs in a gallery the artist’s integrity is compromised individuality becomes commodity typically people who buy paintings have so much money they scatter a trifle on art the artwork provides the consumer with a look of ‘soul’ to be shown off to their envious friends the artist becomes needy pet of dealer and client maybe converting one’s spirituality into commercial merchandise is like making deals with the devil he thinks about Native American artists whose work is immediately esteemed and utilized in their culture he has spent his whole life seeking validation in art world he wonders how many other unknown artists feel similarly useless discarded he considers i’m forty-five years old now and i don’t have a penny to show for all my troubles i still believe i have much to give insights to reveal but no practical plan for survival i don’t know how i’m going to get through this existence the world wants young promising talent not some older painter striving for another chance women want nothing to do with an impoverished aging dreamer my dog loves me she knows who feeds her i’ve got academic degrees a long resume of legitimate shows i know how to use a computer solve problems fix toilets sinks strip and paint serve food and liquor but i can’t land a decent job i never learned how to properly market or barter my work and i’m not interested in the position of sacrificial lamb i want a home and female partner like other men have i want to be needed respected loved a creative member of a community instead of an expendable outsider working menial jobs for minimum wage what good are paintings if no one looks at them what good are noble values in a corrupt society the world runs on money and greed not freedom and love

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will be live-*

The revelation will be streaming through your Windows
laptops and smartphones.
The revolution will be blogged
Tweeted, liked, shared, RE-blogged RE-tweeted
and Stumbled Upon in between
midnight ******* sessions
sandwiched between funny cat memes.

The resolution will be HD.
It's evolution will be high speed.
The whistles will be blown at with frequency.
The revolution will be commented on;
Scrutinized.
Vandalized.
Scandalized.
Stylized and advertized.
People will pay attention -
People will forget to mention
that some stand up, occupy, riot
and die.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution be streaming live
through the filter of your choice.
The facts will be democratized.
The democracy will be corporatized.
The corporations will personified.
People, objectified -
Spied on and villainized  
The powers that be will will lie, deny, and try to justify.
The people will be disenfranchised.
Prisons will be privatized.
Death drones will be utilized.

No one will bat an eye.
Because revolution will be multiplied, over-simplified,
The violence, normalized.
Lives, sacrificed
to satiate the Golden Calf's appetite.

The revolution will not be televised
but Jerry Springer will...
Go figure.

Negativity is nothing more than lack of assurance and doubt
This is what this lesson in helping you to work out
It means take negativity and build into positivity
Think on Negativity being only a set back in how one feels
Usually, Negativity comes from Negativity given
It surrounds people that project Negativity because of circumstances that happened in one’s life
They are the one’s that always sees negativity, but never work in seeing life as positivity
You must look beyond your depressed thoughts, and suggest positivity
That negativity causes people to not succeed
Negativity becomes like a forbidden flood needing to reseed
A person is focusing on someone else’s feed
But negativity has no place face to face
In fact, it’s all a waste
The energy that one stresses on negativity, could be utilized on constructive positivity
Negativity is a barrier like a detour, but you are only staying in one place
No movement in a hopeful pace
If you say today, the response would be tomorrow
But what one is saying, they are drowning on sorrow
Negativity is mental, but one must move into motivational
Motivational is the action that will start you on your way
Negative people now should be your getaway
This is your lesson for today
Go and achieve in every way
Live on every day

Yesterday I watched the world get torn away
Clenched my fists until I bled
Closed my eyes and a laugh escaped
I think I'm going crazy
But that's to be expected
Whatever happened to my happiness
Tied it off into a tourniquet
Didn't mind, I was made to forget
What's usefulness used for
If its utilized uselessly?

I
Have left behind
All
The things that bind
I
Have left behind
All
The things that bind

Tomorrow I'll see the reflection of my past
Can't count the days
But I'll watch them slowly degradet
It's all in asking the questions
Maybe the answers will spill out
When I'm not paying attention
What's usefulness used for
If its utilized uselessly?

I
Have left behind
All
The things that bind
I
Have left behind
All
The things that bind

Today came and went
Couldn't tell you a **** thing about it
I cleansed the dirt beneath my fingers
And pealed my skin away
What's usefulness used for
If its utilized uselessly?

I
Have left behind
All
The things that bind
I
Have left behind
All
The things that bind

(Today)
I have
(Tomorrow)
Left behind
(Yesterday)
All the things

That bind

Some people just can't handle driving
Everybody goes mad on this road at one point or another
The consideration is to keep the hatred within your own car
There are tools to be utilized
The escapism of music for one's health
The catharsis of muttering to oneself
Nobody should hold it against you
If you scream inside your car
They should understand
If you wanted to express yourself outwardly
You'd just flip them off
The abbreviated visual version
Of attempting to insert negativity into someone's life
It's healthy to be hurt
Your heart telling your mind that their hatred isn't normal
It is now on you to let sleeping dogs lie
And forgive those that trespass against us
Humor is my exit off the frigid freeway
Children in grown bodies
Their clothes are too big on them
Clearly confused about how to act
Taking every side road that catches their attention
That's funny enough for me

I've never flipped anybody off on the road
I learned from my father's story
She gave him every excuse to be angry
And he expressed that to her
The intended effect was reached
Her susceptible emotions were breached
Leaving a wise man to question his own actions
What was the point of that again?

That's why I try to keep an even keel
While sailing down the highway
There will always be people
Who honk at you for driving down the middle of the road
Remember to let those sleeping dogs lie
Or they'll be roadkill
And it's not nice to laugh at little people
But no one will know if it's from inside your car
And you can cozy up to the comfort created
By the signs on the road
Warning those people
They're driving in the wrong direction

1.
Noong unang panahon, dumalaw ang isang diyosa
Sa bagong kapapanganak na ina
Na ang bagong silang na sanggol ay biniyayaan
Ng mga bertud na may kapangyarihan
(Once upon a time, a goddess visited
A mother who has just yielded
A newborn infant who was blessed
With amulets wherein powers are wielded)

2.
Ang ina ay nagsumamo sa diyosa
Na biyayaan ng mahabang buhay ang anak niya
(The mother to the goddess implored
For a long life to the child she labored)

3.
Hindi sumagot ang diyosa
Pero ikinwintas niya ang agimat sa bata
(The goddess did not answer
But a necklace to the child she did wear)

4.
Sa kwintas nakasabit ay tatlong bato
May taglay na kapangyarihan ang mga ito
(The stones are the necklace’s pendants
A power in them enchants)

5.
Ang isa ay nagbibigay-lakas, sa pangalawa ay bilis naman
At sa pangatlo’y proteksiyon sa kapahamakan
(The one grants strength, speed is by the second charm
By the third protection from harm)

6.
Ang nasabing sanggol si Biuag ang ngalan
Siya ay tubong Enrile, Cagayan
(The said baby is Biuag by name
Enrile, Cagayan is from where he came)

7.
Kaya niyang bunutin ang isang puno
Na kaydali para lang siyang nagdadamo
(He can uproot a tree
Just like weeding so easily)

8.
Kaya rin niyang lumangoy nang matulin
Maging mga buwaya’y ‘di siya kayang habulin
(He can swim so fast
Even crocodiles through him can’t get pass)

9.
Nahulog narin siya sa lugar na mataas
Subalit walang natamong anumang gasgas
(He even fell from a high place
But didn’t obtain any bruises)

10.
Dahil sa mga kapangyarihang ipinamalas niya
Mga tao’y dinayo siya at sinamba
(Because of powers by his showmanship
To him people came and worship)

11.
Sa kabila ng lahat, malungkot si Biuag
Dahil ‘di niya makuha ang napupusuang dilag
(Despite of all, Biuag is desolate
Because the dear maiden he can’t get)

12.
Ang nasabing babae sa Tuao ay katutubo
Hindi tanyag ang nilalang na ito
(That lady in Tuao is indigenous
This creature is not famous)

13.
Noon din ay may binatang katulad ni Biuag
Malakas, makapangyarihan, hindi duwag
(At the same time like Biuag was a man popular
Strong, powerful, not coward)

14.
Malana ang tawag sa kanya
Taga-Malaueg, Rizal ang magiting na binata
(Malana is he being called
From Malaueg, Rizal is this bachelor bold)

15.
Noong labing-walong taong gulang siya
Nilangoy niya ang ilog na maraming buwaya
(Eighteen years old when he was
Swam he the river with lots of crocodiles)

16.
Ito ay upang kumuha ng pagkain
Mula sa malayong lupain
(This is in order to get fodder
From a land that’s farther)

17.
Para sa mga nasalantang tao
Ng nagdaang bagyo
(For the people devastated
By a typhoon that thrusted)

18.
Nang makauwi si Malana
May nakita siyang isang pana
(When Malana returned home
Saw he a bow and arrow)

19.
At nang kanya itong ipukol sa hangin
Sa kanya ang bala’y bumalik din
(And when on air it was thrown
To him the arrow returned)

20.
‘Di naglaon kanyang nabatid
Na ang sandata’y may kapangyarihang hatid
(Soon it came to his awareness
That the weapon a power possesses)

21.
Siya rin ang iniirog ng dilag
Na kinahuhumalingan ni Biuag
(It is him also liked by the maiden
To who Biuag has fallen)

22.
At nang matuklasan ni Biuag na si Malana ang napupusuan
Hinamon niya ang karibal sa isang labanan
(And when Biuag learned that Malana is the beloved
To a fight his rival he challenged)

23.
Nagimbal ang buong bayan
Sa katakut-takot na labanan
(The whole nation felt horrible
Upon the terrifying battle)

24.
Higanteng buwaya ginamit ni Biuag
Babaeng gusto pinagsabihan siyang duwag
(Giant crocodile Biuag utilized
Coward is he said the lady he liked)

25.
Dahil doon, si Biuag ay napahiya
Sa huli, kanyang nilunod ang sarili niya.
(Because of that, Biuag was embarrassed
Drowned he himself at the very last).

-08/17-18/2013
(Dumarao)
*for Epic Day 2013

This is more than “block” or “hide posts.” No, this is permanent, this is calling it Quits, this is “we cannot be civil towards each other after all, we cannot bear to even potentially see each other on our newsfeeds.” Unfriend. We are not Friends. We are Over. Unfriend means “out of sight, out of mind.” Is it a feeling of relief at the finality of something that wasn’t working, or a sinking feeling that yet another relationship has gone down the tubes? Probably a sick combination of both – unfriend means you’ve both finally called a ***** a *****. Given Up. “…I am done trying to be friends with you,” written in the Final message. Is anything really Final? It’s hard to know. Human relationships are messy. We try to cut people off when they hurt us. Unfollow on tumblr, block phone numbers, delete them on skype, unfollow on twitter, but sometimes we run back to each other when we cool off, despite ourselves, we think, no, it can’t be The End, it can’t be Unfriend, we had things in common, we had something, surely it can’t be Over. Can't we try again? But “Every new beginning come from some other beginnings end” as a song goes, and some endings are necessary. What we don’t want to admit to ourselves is that not everyone is a Good or healthy person, no matter how many chances you give them. And maybe some relationships are doomed from the start, maybe it really was your fault and you are just “incredibly selfish,” maybe it was their fault, it was probably everyone’s fault somehow or another in the end. There is a drop down option on facebook called Unfriend and when it’s finally utilized, no one really feels good about it. All it means is that it’s time to move on, once again. Find someone new. There are other fish in the sea.

i disavow my allegiance to the flag,
& to the Commonwealth of the Bahamas.
for we are not one people,
we are not united,
we do not live in love,
& we are unfortunately serviced.

what does the future hold for my Bahama land?
with our resources not being utilized for the betterment of our people...
but being sold to non-Bahama land.
no profits being aimed to,
or sources being owned by
our Bahama man.

as i lift my head to the rising of the sun in this Bahama land,
i see no hope for the future, no hope in my Bahama land.
no one to speak up,
the youth are out of luck.
the elders show no interest,
we are doomed.
still,
we march on to the glory..
but what bright banners do we have to wave high?
the means of the leaders are of no significance,
& i can no longer bear the pain that i witness.
how will we excel
if we do not love,
& unite?
going forward,
will we stand together
for a common, loftier goal?
as i lift up my head to the rising sun in my Bahama land;
i see anguish,
i see fear &
leaders with no care.
all the things i see are broad.
...but may the road that my people trod
lead us to our God,
that will help us on this march to save our Bahama land.

I was an idiot back then,
those trips to Rebekah's hovel.
though they did make me sentimental,
for the days when her dad had taught me guitar
for eight weeks when I was thirteen.

she told me of a suicide dream
that utilized her iron deficiency.
I told her I would tell her parents
if she started pushing it in motion,
that made her cry,
though in retrospect, I wanted her to die.

I was at that misery factory age
when your heart pumps nothing
but razorblades and jealousy,
and the death of some overly-depressed
girl would at least give me a story to
tell.

I was a pseudo-lover,
writing page upon page
of poetry for Sheila,
I used an alias for her:
"Nature's Criminal".
It felt appropriate.
what she did to my
emotions seemed rather
unnatural.

we would kiss on dark, dirt roads,
and duck when cars would passby.
she would always preface
our encounters with,
"remember this doesn't mean anything."

now, Rebekah only writes to tell
of artists signed to Saddle Creek.
she got married to some diabetic,
acne-marred, ***-fiend that
bares the burden of a pet peeve
that revolves around bananas.

now, I only see Sheila,
when some boy is ******* her,
when she feels beyond used.
in her parasitic apartment,
I always remind her
they don't mean anything.

i'm sorry we never made that grocery trip,
collecting ingredients for something simple,
homemade - like us

i didn't want to see you like this
we're aging too fast
you can't back pedal
you don't want to go back to a tricycle
you tell me i'm a little too late

how do you outrun apathy?
without tripping
or needing to

i'll push you in this shopping cart
we'll be little kids again
running in the sun

how did we get so depressed
we should still be able to bake pizzas
you were my sidewalk chalk best friend
and now, it feels like that won't be attainable ever again

they bulldozed through our favourite park
and we didn't shed a tear
and doesn't that just say it all

Better to take a pause,
think again and then decide upon next
No point in doing something in haste
No point in doing the same thing again
Time to think again, think more,
think along the same.

Think, decide and tell what needs to be done next
Time to ascertain
Time to think in present about the present moment in time.

Time to think again
Think possibly about all that’s going on in mind
Time to look upon retrospectively in the present moment of time.

It’s time to decide
Time has always remained precious
Time is spent, utilized, and consumed
It’s all about time and more about time management.

Initially it takes time to understand and realize why so much of time is being spend in getting simple things done
Later it’s realized, it’s always better to get something done only once rather than repeating it twice or even thrice.

Over a period of time it’s realized that mistakes and experience are two different things, different from each other as chalk is from cheese.

As experience is gained from the mistakes that are made, then the same experience is utilized to avoid similar mistakes again in the future.

Definitely mistakes and experience are poles apart from each other.

Over a period of time it’s learnt and recognized,
it’s always better to test your skills, abilities and strength on your own
No point in waiting for that one final moment in time when each and everything and all will be put to test

It’s always better to represent yourself on your own
Be confident about yourself
Think of your own
Better to make the best use of the present moment in time in the present only
Better to think in the present about the present moment of time only.

It’s time to think and decide all that is going on in mind
Time to think retrospectively as to all that's possible in the present moment of time.

.how else? with a variety of histories clinging to the focus and exerting the stamina as coordinator? there's the historiology of Darwinism, there's the historiology of the Big Bang theory (with "god" as a, end of sentence "after-thought", dot, , there's the historiology of scholastic efforts of the study of history of history, then there's the personal history of the individual: as nostalgia, then there's the historiology of journalism... then there's the historiology of your immediate predecessors... at what exact point, are you supposed to begin with, to create a rational creature? i suppose the easiest answer is... ? to have children... and construct a shadow, to hide all these focal points of genesis... never mind the historiological study via the biblical narrative, or archeological historiology; so, as you can see? time is not exactly the replica of space, a beginning a present a past... space is not three-dimensional outside this atmosphere of the grand Orb... because all scientists know that... this, supposed motivational claim of... "thinking" outside, "the" box... at the end... there's no "box" to begin with!

such a recurrent thought,
it stalks me like a shadow,
but i just... never seem to be rid of it...
i was 21, she was 18...
love...
                love...

but an unhinged desire for death
to boot,

******* her for 7 hours one night
in St. Petersburg...
didn't really matter...

a vague similarity to
incubating a cushion...

there was no accident...
if only talk took the place of telling lies...

i could have explored
the latex ***** *** **** outside
the realm of a ******...

sure, i write about Hebrew
theories in terms of phonetics...
but i could never be circumcised...
a caduceus of protruding veins
envelop my *******...
so... no mushroom head
of a phallus to boot...
i'd bleed out...

               but was it so bad of me
to suggest an abortion to
a teenager?
            would she still possess
a masters degree?

she married later,
then "divorced" her husband
and i met her new boyfriend,
when i randomly traveled
back to Edinburgh,
and watched her playing
video games with a slashes
hand...

no... not at the wrists...
along the veins,
from the inner side of the elbow
right down to the wrist...

my ex, my one true decency of
womanhood once said
to me: stop trying to save
these women,
to which i should have replied:
i'm not! i'm trying to
save myself!

sometimes the night creeps in,
and i think of the 21 year old me...
she, taking contraceptive pills,
then stopping,
and then, becoming
pregnant... or at least that's
what it sounded like:

matt, i think i'm pregnant...
it didn't register that well
while on a construction site...
industrial roofing never really
does give you the luxury of
pondering...
i was either about to move
some canadian tar into the boiler,
or cut up a roll of mineral felt,
or transfer some insulation...

she came from a Novosibirsk
oligarchy,
two apartments in St. Petersburg,
one in Moscow,
a mansion in Novosibirsk,
etc. etc....

     just left uni, and was doing
what any son of a manual laborer does,
being utilized in his father's
profession...

but it's not like i could afford
to give her what she expected...
a flat in central Edinburgh...
i might have said:
you might think about getting
an abortion /
you know what you have to
do? get an abortion...

            21?! seriously?
so i'm supposed to drop a job
in London?
the only sort of job i could
get out of uni?
a job i... to be honest...
yes, it was hard... but i enjoyed it!
it would have been a job
that would cover the years
my father went "missing",
from 4 through to 8...

but this Russian lass wouldn't
ever move in with her in-laws,
or to the outskirts for that
matter...

plus... what happened later?
she married...
supposedly divorced,
and there, i met her new boyfriend...

to be honest...
i don't even know if
there was ever a child to begin with...

see...
  hmm...
  the existence of god is not so much
an issue of me that serves
the diligence of plating up a proof...
i have too many personal
certainties in my own life,
to give the concept of god
the "benefit of the doubt"...

agnostics doubt a god,
atheists deny a god...
  big difference...
         i can't do either...
i know so little of my personal life
sometimes, if not all the time,
that... at least:
there's this coordinate
i can focus on...

as ever... it's not the freedom
of speech that bothers me...
i'm more inclined to serve the purpose:
give me the freedom
to think, from what i've said...

and what i have to say?
is found in the comment section...
not here... this is me...
thinking "aloud"...
don't come here expecting me
to be found talking,
you'll only receive a reply
of keyboard clicking...

i can think of a deity,
but, sure as ****: can't pray to one...

deus est cogitatio,
                    non est sermo:

god is thought,
                         isn't talk.

wow... i didn't even shed a tear
writing this...
ah...
               when i once played
my muse... my ex-girlfriend's
younger sister the song
solitude by black sabbath,
and then we washed the dishes together...
it's playing now...
and it's raining...

    a pristine English October.

a conundrum question...
did i chose wisely?
i didn't chose wisely at all...
i made a post-existentialist gamble...
i gambled...
   i simply... gambled...
  although as aversive i am
to casual gambling... on horses...
dogs... football matches...
i made but one gamble,
the result of which,
is confined to me writing, this.

When I was younger, in my elementary years, I wished to be broken. I thought having a horrible past that changed me made me look cool. I thought people would see me as mysterious and intriguing.
Be careful what you wish for....
Being Broken is every sense of the word. Something that is broken can not be put together perfectly like the first time. I got my wish. I'm Broken and I can't go back to the careless child I was in elementary school. What I didn't know when i was younger about being broken was how exhausting it is.
I didn't know that broken had friends. I didn't know broken knew depression and anxiety. I didn't know they were all soulmates.
What I didn't know was that being broken would mean my mom hiding all the knives from my drunken father when they had an argument. That being broken would mean my dad trying to break down my bedroom's door while my mom was on the other side of it screaming at him to stop.
They said make lemonade out of lemons.
Take something sour and make it sweet.
But how am i suppose to make something sweet when the utensils to make it sweet are broken because they were utilized to break down my bedroom's door. They were utilized to make holes in my home. They were utilized to inflict pain.
Oh how I wish i can be put back together perfectly like the first time.

a swinging gavel is coming down,
smashing the glass mirror,
that once showcased,
my stupidity.

it is blatantly clear now.

the mirror is no longer a necessity,
or an aiding constant,
that I never utilized,
to my benefit.

I am Vesuvius.
Beloved and seemingly sturdy and strong and safe.
People mill around my base,
Planting their food and livelihood in my soil.

People trust my seemingly sturdy and strong and safe appearance,
Not even considering the danger within me,
Until I erupt.

The swirling, boiling magma and the intense pressure form a deadly combination.
Everyone around me, everyone I hold dear is gone.
Everyone who talked and played and worked and lived near me is gone.
Everyone who utilized my resources.
Everyone that trusted me is gone.

It is then that I realize something about myself.
Inside that seemingly sturdy and strong and safe exterior,
I am toxic.

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People always say that love will find its way;
that true love will come to those who wait,
but you should know that things aren't that simple.
You can't just assume that this is a fairytale
and that Prince Charming sweeps the Princess off her feet
or a total babe finds inner beauty in an abomination.
This is reality; not some fantasy where everybody wins,
So get ready for a heavy dosage of it.

I was brought up on the notion that true determination
will always win over the woman you desired,
but boy was I ever so wrong.
There are just some instances that you will fail.
Rejection is key in order to grow, so accept it.
You can't just wallow in depression
while you wait for someone to put the pieces back.
So, you win some, you lose some.
I personally can't tell you how many times I've failed
because to be honest, it's quite a lot,
whether it be by my hand or other forces,
but I can assure you this: I keep getting back up.

As for being broken, I can say that it truly *****.
Been there twice and the recovery was not too fun either,
but there are those types of people who use this flaw
to the highest caliber in order to gain love;
a quick act of desperation to acquire this emotion.
Whoever falls for this ruse believes they can save the other,
but here's where it becomes sadistically hilarious:
that person doesn't want to be fixed or saved
because in the end, only you can really fix yourself.
Sure, someone can give you the tools necessary, but
it sure as hell doesn't mean they'll be utilized.

Finally, we get to the ****** of this adventure,
where society equates love to a game of chess,
Always trying to make the right move to win the other over,
to say the right things or make the correct actions
in order to win over the girl/boy's heart.
Who knows if you're staying true to yourself.
As long as you win that beating trophy, it's all that matters.
Get this, love isn't a simple ******* prize.
The growth and process of love is the real prize.

Love isn't just on some linear path.
It is ebb and flow; action reaction.
You cannot force it or becomes meaningless
and you cannot resist or it fades away.
Embrace it, but be humble when it reveals itself
and I'm quite certain you'll have nothing to worry.

In conclusion, this the battle of love
and yet, it only grows worse,
but if I have at least enlightened one person,
then I have succeeded in taking part
in the reclamation of what love used to be:
Simplicity.

This land in midst of mazed vales and meadows,
Of lofty icy Himalayan peaks and forestry.
Unique are the means utilized by the power players,
Be it the Islamists or Hindus on either borders.
Claim of their right to rule this land of the free,
A people distinctly different from their ideals.
Compassion for us seems long forgotten,
As we are constantly crunched beneath boot heels.
Where forth must we look for our liberation?
Has our God also forgotten our stressful plight?

Does this make me look
Deeper, more intellectual
Perhaps I'm a Sylvia Plath
Poems emerging out of me due
To the pigsty of a brain I've obtained
Or even I'm Emily Dickinson
I'll lock these god forsaken poems up
Only to be discovered after
I have died.
Having once again the chance to
Become immortal, post mortem
All due to the poems I thought
Were ****.
I'll just keep writing.
I won't write for the sake of calling
Myself a Writer
But because I can forever exist, to forever be.
All of the personal pronouns constantly
Utilized in these writings evoke a
Feeling of self-hatred out of
My own narcissism,
What else did Emily Dickinson accomplish
That was impressive, before dying?
Simply she died, writing with until her old wrinkled hands
gave out
the pen fell.

Work Ethic

Work requires professionalism,
at all times in all set of conditions.
let an earned knowledge and skills,
an asset to be utilized as maximal.
no regrets even if reward is scare,
go ahead do it for the love of work.

People around need not to be told,
everyone knows who perform well.
real professional does not brag,
seldom claims for recognition.
open-minded to a paradigm shift,
never pessimistic but often optimistic
at anything of value and substance.
let others rationalize to find reasons,
act on the issues with sound mind
no jesting around just do things right.

When I was younger Nanu
Told me bhoot kahanies of
Treacherous masked nishi
That crept on four long legs
Wreaking havoc among
Peaceful village homes  

I sleep with lights on always
Lest the silent boba crept in

In 2001, I discovered bhoot
Wear the mask of friends
With benign, serpentine voices
That sat inside mosques to put
Innocent men in prison and tell
Small children to fear the sky

I sleep with the TV on always
Lest the silent boba crept in

Bhooth walk between us
Tell us to fear each other
Until we cast off our names
Convinced that these are
Weapons waiting to be
Utilized against us.

He called her a **** at dinner
Told she could be thinner
Played the part of being an ***
Voicing opinions deemed crass

A waiter wandered up
Refilling a cup
Gave the girl a wink
But was more of a sporadic blink

Her date stood tall
And turned his fist into a ball
Told the waiter to **** right off
A comment muddled by a cough

Then, in an act of violence
Came a brief respite of silence
The waiter was struck in the jaw
Knocked on the floor captured in awe.

He was then beaten ‘til dead
Over inferences read
The woman screamed
At her date, the blood coated fiend

Police were brought in
The man simply grinned
Cuffs were attached
As the man’s might was matched

A month later
Due to the dead waiter
The man had his day in court
A bailiff acted as his escort

The man was sentenced to 15 years
The woman, in attendance, shed no tears
The man was taken
He appeared visibly shaken

Taken to a cell at Briar Field
A place all go to yield
He was beaten for days on end
By prisoners looking for time to spend

Searching for a sense of hope
Utilized in avoiding a knotted rope
The man found a friend
With a helping hand to lend

Then one day talking wasn’t enough
The man’s friend got rough
After a quick stich
The man was anointed a *****

Sitting for dinner he was called a ****
By his friend, who had become quite blunt
A guard came by and batted and eye
The friend asked if he wanted to die

Said this man was his slave
A poor ****-******* knave
The guard retreated
Victory conceited

But the friend pressed on
Until the guards life was gone
Then walked back after the stunt
And called the man a fat old ****

While we are all just atom snowmen,
sometimes I have to be
the arsonist of your emotions.
To make the atomic bits, flick out, vibrate
in order to light this ether atmosphere,
see what you really are,
to give me that warm feeling inside.

Sometimes I have to be
the stone that breaks your window.
The irreversible souring your view,
of your perfect, affectionate, color.
I take a breath of your summer field
and forests and farms  
and exhale it as winter, deadwood and cold air,
your horses all un-made,
into glue, cat food, and violin bows.

Sometimes I have to be
A spiked cocktail.
Sipped on in words
finding again better, that familiar sweetness
but finding yourself, not yourself, anymore.
All just because you left your love wanting
alone on the side of a bar
and I found it.  

Sometimes I have to be
that step you don’t expect at night.
Of course I’ll act like an accident,
letting the idea slip through
a gas leak flooding the room
silently, imperceptibly, changing things,
I’m good enough you will never know it,
and it’s you who’ll spark it.

Sometimes I have to be
father of the utilized disease.
A cough gives it birth,
a bark and a hack makes it airborne
incorporates a bacteria culture into yours.
This DNA affixed of word nucleotides,
embedded in the head of a virus
which will, just sometimes, exponentially, continually,
manipulate.

I walked in silent isolation
My virtuous heart since birth
Now, stunned at the mass confusion
The world’s reaction to its worth

With faith I held out for a strand
of rope to break the fall
I knew time would now be fleeting
I reached out to one and all

Strangers, friends and family
Every church that I could find
I utilized the “viral” speech
And asked for help to lead the blind

I knew the mountain too high
My shovel would move slow
I needed strength in numbers
To resist the heavy blow

Buddy, Can You Spare A Dime?
Perhaps a pence or Two?

Buddy, Can You Spare some Time?
I’d do the same for you.

Buddy Can You Spare A Prayer?
This will surely do.

(No response.  What could I do?
Your loud silence answered true.
You now avoid me, silly you.
You best thank God, it isn’t you.)

I still walk the path alone
My faith you have not crumbled.
I understand the attitude
We all are weak, we all have stumbled.

You feel that times are rough enough
For many, if not all
You gaze upon your own troubles
Too many to recall

You cannot fathom helping one
Whose pain you cannot feel
You must know it, see it,
Achieve joy inside
Otherwise, there is no deal.

Well, Buddy I must let you know
Now that the day is through
I spared a prayer for you today
That your heartaches will be few

And if you should ever need something
I pray that you will find
A response much greater than the one
You offered, friend of mine.

Buddy, Can You Spare A Dime?
Perhaps a pence or Two?

Buddy, Can You Spare some Time?
I’d do the same for you.

Buddy Can You Spare A Prayer?
This will surely do.

Your loud silence answered true.

You best thank God, it isn’t you.

Sometimes
I feel that Life is a gift that I don't deserve.
While there is abundant beauty and infinite wonder,
there is so much pain, suffering and despair.
While I wish the pain would subside,
I know such a desire is fruitless
as existence requires suffering, or it at least certainly seems that way.
Every action and non-action propagate ripples which may never calm.

Life is a paradox:
Why? Why not? How? How could it not?
Illusory, yet real. Constant, yet with cessation.
Joy, pain, excitement, dread, disappointment, elation, fear, birth, death, now, never

So much that seems wrong to one person
all done just because our circumstance binds us
to things we'd rather do without.

So frightening is the notion of death, yet so painful is the concept of life.
Sometimes death seems more comfortable and desirable than life.

Lost in thought, found in confusion;
I think my life would be a gift better utilized by someone else.
I feel like a failure. A plague. A source of disdain and pain. Confusion.
Mostly to myself, but I've seen the effects of it on others, as well.
Sometimes I hate life too much to live
but some flame yet burns within me
demanding that I feed it oxygen and inspiration
that causes me to yearn for yet another breath.

Besides, what if I were to die tomorrow?
I might as well live now, today,
while I still have the chance.

The heart beats rapidly
An anxious mind makes a note of all that which is possible in the present at the present moment of time
The heart still flutters as the mind keeps racing to find something
All sorts of different thoughts come across the mind.

Something in the present has become much more conspicuous by it’s own presence.
A thing from the present grabs all the attention and takes hold of the present in the present moment of time.
Everything in the present has come to standstill.

Something in the present has got the key to open the doors of the future, which otherwise remains uncertain.
The mind zeroes in on that something and settles on what to do next
The mind focuses completely on that something.

A glimpse of what is there in the future unsettles the mind; however, most probably it does not disturb the mind.

An uncertain future invites the present in the present moment of time.
Now is the right moment in time to explore all the possibilities with regards to future.

Over a period of time it is learnt that experience proves to be a backup, if not a substantial support.
Experience gained over a period of time can be used and utilized in the best possible manner when the need of the hour arises.
Still it’s the present moment of time that matters the most.

All you have learnt belongs to past
All that you want to do belongs to the present moment of time
Always keep this in mind
It’s important to keep your feet firmly on ground and then move towards ascertaining the future.

All the time, all the way it’s not necessary to ascertain the future.
The only time it becomes necessary is when something from the future finds a place in the present,
then the future gets connected to the present,
quite necessarily in the present moment of time.
Hence it’s necessary to ascertain the future.

It’s an opportunity that has come along the way,
definitely not in the form of a risk.
Make the best use of that opportunity
In doing so you will find that every opportunity has got something in hiding.
It’s that hidden secret in that opportunity which will reveal the future in the present
Till then keep going along with the present moment in time to explore more and more possibilities with regards to the opportunity in hand.

Dear Mugger,
I hope you are doing well
and that amount you withdrew from my card
is being utilized to your benefit.

I just want to thank you
for putting me through the ******* on a Friday night,
at 12:35am.

I want you to know that
I had no idea my anger can reach such great heights,
or even such a caliber.
Adding to that, my voice wow my screeching voice
made the rats rattle in the sewers of the city

I hope that pink wallet treats you well
along with all its memories
that might seem like just paper to you

I hope they crawl out of that rectangular purse
and paper cut their way to your throat
I hope they leave a mark on your skin
just like they have on my life

I hope every moment
engraved on a piece of paper
in that wallet
cuts you so deep so your heart feels it too
just like mine

I hope my family pictures
burn marks on your chest
so you can feel how much warmth
they give me when I am alone

I hope my sister’s lucky charm bracelet
embraces your wrist so tightly
that it clots your blood
and hey it wouldn’t fall off

I hope the note my grandma wrote me in 2005
rests on your face
covering it, protecting you from evil
like it did for me
and in the process
suffocates you with all its love and might

I hope my ID cards
melt in your hands
so you can feel the burn of my presence
the impact that I have when
I
AM
AROUND

I hope my bank card
slits your cheeks
so you know that smile I have
at the beginning of every month

I hope

I hope, dear thief
that my wallet gives you a taste
of life,
the life I have
and poison you with how much
I am
blessed and you
are not

****
you!