Stuart Miller-Osborne

i have only ever passed through Cannes Railway Station My name is Olive Green And i once wrote a book Italian Science Fiction Which proved very unpopular in the city And i have been informed That if i ever alight on to platform six That my life will be in danger

In my dream I was in Nice railway station Sketching its beautiful ornate interiors When the owner of a bookstall approached me And asked if I would like to buy a Barcelona scarf I told him that I would although the day was red blue raw But my major concern was that I was still…

Desmond had decided to visit a charity shop As he had seen a book in the window It was as he was purchasing this book That the assistant a lad of about twenty Told him that he had a good British accent Which was nice as he had difficulty in understanding others Desmond who was…

I am in Japan       Where are you         ?

Her shirt is open to the waist She is holding a loaded gun   I am painting an invisible revolution From the safety of my balcony    

I listen to dragonflies   Words are superfluous   Homage to Anais Nin  Life shrinks and expands  in proportion to ones courage   You cannot save people  You can only love them      Dogs bark at what they do not understand Woof Woof   What I hate about you is your wall If future…

Who cares about the side you fought on As you were a mothers son Your stark grey granite cross Is situated in a quiet wood Yet no one knows your name And you are only remembered as An Unknown German Soldier

I am seated at a window with a high powered rifle My target will pass in about fifteen minutes I have not yet decided whether I will assassinate this man Maybe I will let his car pass without incident I have a complete faith in myself to decide the outcome My actions are independent from…

It is often said that January and February are the death months  You are very cheerful this morning Anna  You know what I mean people who you admire seem to pop off  What are you getting at Anna  You know where I am coming from  In a way  Why is it that the people you…

If you were an artist and not a poet my friend I would suggest your immediate suicide under a train As your hand is quite vacant and your eye wretched But you are poet full of wit and have the ridicule of a subtle pen I dare not read your works for fear of my…