Stuart Miller-Osborne

There was nothing But then God Made a mistake He created pederasts To prey on the innocents He created blacks And other corrupted races To bleed the world dry Would I have made The same mistakes Probably not But then again I am not God

You have always stolen my share of happiness My God is weak against your rough advances Marke Marke prends soin de moi Je ne t’oublierai pas Nous partagerons nos réflexions

Summer has just arrived On the coast of Kent The days are longer And the nights pass Without praise Alice as she sits In the half light With an early coffee Blackbirds sing gulls swoop Her cat returns She tightens her cardigan Against the early morning chill All seems right with her world Within these…

I am going to tell you Something that will Make you cry That is what I have paid for Hurt me Chalkie Hurt me Your dog is dead It was run over this afternoon I want my money back Why Because I do not own a dog Then whose road kill is in the road…

The long drawn shadowsAcross manicured lawnsAre nothing but memoriesThey matter only to the blind

These unclean races From violent cultures Have drawn blood What beasts they are Not worthy of life

I cycled to my church Through the morning mists But found that it was no longer there Its connections with the past Had been totally severed

My cousin Jully often sunbathes On the west jetty Reading her favourite magazine The Odeon is not to my taste As it full of celebrity nonsense I often sit on the opposite bank Watching her relax in the sun These hours are recorded In my many pencil and charcoal drawings Which I sell once a…

I can see the mill from my window The mill has recently been converted Into a rural hotel The hotel can no longer see me Nor does it know that I exist

You were wearing a red tee shirt Whilst travelling on a red bus On the final day of your journey You had chosen not to wear a bra As the air was humid and still The bus was not wearing a bra