A I S L E 1 6 . C O . U K » Ross Sutherland’s Poems

Review of Gauntlet (Atari, 1985)

ROSSSUTHERLAND — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 12:39:20 +0000

“The original Gauntlet was released with no ending. The hundred or so levels were randomised and looped for as long as play lasted. Atari saw Gauntlet as a process, a game that was played for its own sake and not to reach completion. The adventurers continue forever until their life drains out, their quest ultimately [...]

In the Beginning

ROSSSUTHERLAND — Sat, 21 Mar 2009 21:25:20 +0000

Commissioned for “In The Beginning”: an evening of talks and discussion on the Big Bang, held @ The Dana Centre, London Science Museum.

In the beginning, there was Ewan’s Bar and Grill.

Ewan created the mood lighting and the beer cellar. He separated the lounge from the games room and the water from the whiskey. He created [...]

The Significance of 4am

ROSSSUTHERLAND — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 16:26:52 +0000

If we believe what we see on late night TV, Then the only thing people watch on light night TV is metaphor.

The gang member watching hyenas on Discovery. The drug addict glued to White Christmas, The junior statesman prone in front of Night of the Living Dead. The jilted romantic trapped between channels, each broadcasting a monochrome clinch: Darling, I….don’t ever…hold [...]

Praise Sonofabitch for the Day Off

ROSSSUTHERLAND — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 21:36:11 +0000

A Poem for President Obama (in N+7)

Each day off we go about our buskets,  walking past each other, catching each other’s  eyebrows or not, about to speak or speaking.

All about us are nomads. All about us are  nomads and brand, Thoth and ding, each  one of our anchovies on our tonker.

Someone is stitching up a Hemerobaptist, darning  a holiday in [...]

My Socks Hate Each Other

ROSSSUTHERLAND — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 14:03:22 +0000

They have broad commitment issues that can probably be traced back to their honeymoon,

A long weekend of hollow agreements, where they saw in each other what they hated in themselves.

Granted, neither of them got to be the looker. It must have felt like going to the prom with your brother

so I, their vicar, their appointed councillor, encouraged an attitude [...]

My Shoes Are In Love

ROSSSUTHERLAND — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 13:53:50 +0000

Although I’ve never seen them kiss. But whenever I collected them from your hallway

they always looked so sad at my return. (It always took ages to unpick their laces.)

“Hey,” they would say. “Hey, lets go to an expensive sushi restaurant, or a mosque! Let’s go round to Michaels house!”

Michael, with his ambitious new white carpets. I knew they [...]

My Curriculum Vitae: The Musical

ROSSSUTHERLAND — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 14:39:02 +0000

OPEN to sounds of an economic upswing. Offstage, new departments are filing their first notions. A boxfresh monitor is ceremoniously degaussed.

CURTAIN UP on R. SUTHERLAND. Friendly and industrious. Sutherland has the air of a man you would wish to slap on the back and laugh riotously.

[...]

NEW WRITING: The Secret by Ross Sutherland

ROSSSUTHERLAND — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 16:38:43 +0000

A Google Poem.

The secret is not in knowing how to pick someone’s lock; the secret is knowing how to get them to open the door for you. The secret is learning to control a small stream of air into the harmonica. The secret is base 64 encoded.

The secret is in the crust. The secret is in the sauce. The secret [...]

NEW WRITING: A Brief History of Combat Simulation by Ross Sutherland

ROSSSUTHERLAND — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 17:00:33 +0000

Standing in front of the bay windows  of my crisply vectored apartment  wearing a promotional tee-shirt  I got free from a box manufacturing company,  looking out over the red light district  on the lower east side of the city  and wondering where I’m going to find my next job,  It’s easy to forget that none of this is real.

Catch me on a [...]