Stuart Miller-Osborne

All philosophy is just mental masturbation Really Ludwig Yep Thanks for that my friend That’s okay but what are you thanking me for For telling me the reason why I need stronger glasses

I have know Jack Henley for many years but had never visited him in his flat in Tangier That was until last month when he invited me to visit him as I was in Morocco on business Although he has been one of the Angry Young Men he had not published for over twenty years…

And still the summer goes on I was greeted by a southerly wind When I walked to the beach this morning   A number of people were in the sea Which according to the local black boards Was still just over twenty degrees   Migrating birds were swooping above me Confused by the late season…

I had studied history at Cambridge And was considered an outstanding student Much was expected of me but then I vanished It was possibly because I understood history far too well So well that I could see into the future and this frightened me Rather like the Stone Age Man who watched fast trains  …

It has been brought to my attention that the above named poem offended a number of small people as well as some taller ones For this I am truly sorry It is so difficult being a poet and a fiction writer these days As I feel that God has abandoned me and without his guidance…

In the early days  I used to write music  On the naked backs  Of my girlfriends  These pieces were very very  Short  As they were all dwarves    This is an offensive poem Outlaw Do I give a fuck Anna You should give a fuck Outlaw Why Because dwarves has feelings So do lobsters but…

When I was very young I would enjoy a beach funfair Which was not far from the harbour railway station This place of amusement has now been lost to the hunger of time And only a bell that rarely tolls and a snaking wooden boardwalk remain Neither remind me my childhood hours or the soft…

Mary Parker promised To show me her tan lines If I assassinated the president This I did but I was unable To enjoy her exhibition As I had been born blind

On Folkestone Sands I can connect Nothing with nothing   I thought of this poem When sitting on the lowest step Of a multi coloured sun terrace   The tall Hawksmoor was to my right Handsome and erect A lighthouse without a light   People passing people chatting Cyclists cycling walkers walking Seagulls screeching history…

Late Summer I spent a quiet afternoon Watching the wild grasses glow As the hot September winds Caressed the concrete beach   Fin de l’été I knew then that my summer was fading Very slowly without theatre And that the darker months would leave me Quite alone on her extinguished stage