Autobiography

Man, creates his operations, whilst machines just evaluate them (mathematically).

A poem

The karma of catharsis.

It was around the time I'd got into debt buying Marxist literature. I intended to sell it on, without profit, but couldn't even give it away. Nobody believed in politics anymore.

How I covet the stucco fronted lives;
soft lighting, desirable postcode
of those who had chances
and better parents. The acerbic brew
spilled from my cups
filled pages with resentments.

tells of the stark contrast in life

When Oedipus killed his father
he had a choice of three roads:
one led to Corinth, one led to Thebes.
And the third ?

Roads can blind you with their complexity.
Step off, to pick flowers

This year is drawing to a close
A new one waits to rise
And so I look back on this year
With quiet reflective eyes
It started for me long ago
More than a year it seems

The barge trips with a bike, asleep on wet grey green tarpaulin valleys,

Well.. nobody's perfect. A little piece of free verse

A poem written in and about Nepal. It's a tripadi, an Indian form.

You'll find me counter-balancing the opposites,
at the core of all experiences
and in the dark, underneath the objects you
bang into
and on the other side of good and bad.

Another long new years day remembering. A time for nostalgia.

“Toronto Ho” cried the lookout early on a Thursday morning. Toronto Island, just off the shore from the busy port, hove into view.

A little peice of prosetry

Have you ever had a date with the demons in your head?
Have they paid a visit, whilst you're laying in your bed?

I never new about them,was unaware they were,

Another little poem

Happy New Year.