Stuart Miller-Osborne

You are up early Long days short nights The air always seems to be cool The cooler it is The hotter the day It is so nice Sitting beside the glass water Of the swimming pool Watching the wind ripples I prefer the vapour trails High in the vacancy above They are already bathed orange […]

You think I am asleep A victim of the previous night As you swim in the pool But I am awake And wait for you To climb out of the pool Before I speak You show no embarrassment. This does not surprise me Erotic Poems of Summer

My father disappeared Some years ago His body was never found But I feel that he can see us As his likeness frequently dreams I sometimes watch the sea

The sea could swallow us up At any moment But it chooses not to do so As we are in friendly terms

At the very last minute I decided to record our voyage As well as write about it Which I thought might be fun I will download the unedited content Directly on to my website Along with any new poems or fictions But you will not see me (perhaps only in reflection) You will however see […]

Joe Josie I have just watched A public information film Made in the nineteen fifties It was made in the US And mentions Bobby Rest rooms Possible violence and murder Mental illness and other fun things Have you ever seen it Not that I can recall Why are you telling me this No reason You […]

I like to think that I am apolitical As I have fucked women From all the major parties Jill from the Lib Dems Asked if I might eat her slowly From the garden upwards Moira from the Conservatives Was obsessed with watching me piss Into all her important holes I will not discuss what Issy […]

I will wipe my arse On socialist magazines As they are fit for nothing else The same can be said About socialists And their grubby flags For as they plan Pathetic revolutions In draughty church halls They are obviously harbouring Unclean and illegal thoughts As pederasts often do

Do you remember the days When one could take a train From anywhere to nowhere As long as one changed at Ashford Just Ashford and not Ashford International As it is no longer International This said it is a handsome station In a modern sort of way to be continued on another day

An artist friend of mine Once told me That it was his ambition To become a portrait painter On the surface of the moon It is obvious that this Was an impossible dream As there are no shops That sell artist materials Anywhere on the moon