Stuart Miller-Osborne

A lone poppy has appeared in our garden Such are the deep mysteries of the sea

When I was growing up I suddenly realised That I was a country lad I became aware of country lore Especially about sheep on their backs It was all bollocks they do not die* They are just obsessed with astronomy But this helped me no end as I was obsessed the breasts And I charged […]

I travel to Cannes once a year To tie in with the film festival Some years I am sponsored by my label Normally when I release a new album This year I am travelling almost incognito Which suits me well As it gives me more time To enjoy my southern journey

Fluid soft streams of light Dominate the night sky The air is slipping towards summer

I recently came across A clip from an Indian movie Which details the assassination Of a politician or a bad guy On an express train It is all very stylish And is accompanied By Tourner Dans Le Vide From my beloved Indila At present I am contemplating The assassination of a senior politician In this […]

La guerre est finie Tomas Really nobody told me I find that very strange Did you not notice anything Not really maybe a decline in suicide missions And Berlin is lets say a little strange Your uniform What about my uniform It is very tatty How long have you had your uniform Since 1943 I […]

I am sitting on the upper deck Of my morning bus It passes the building Where I used to be employed Before I experienced redundancy The building has not changed at all But it is no longer illuminated I am holding a bottle of clear whisky It has not been opened Nor will I consider […]

Sussanne always sailed Close to the dangerous rocks It was an irrational fear Buried deep in her superstitions She thought that she would fall From the edge of her known world

This will be the last Joe for a while It will also be the last Josie and Sephine I think that some of you have suspected That something was going to change How right you were In a couple of weeks it will be the fifteenth anniversary Of the loss of our beloved father Who […]

History passes those who let it pass I have no quarrel with these words As I sail towards obscurity