Stuart Miller-Osborne

I purchased this vintage book Whilst visiting a southern city I sat in a vivid green park As the summer winds faded I touched your face You touched my thigh

think of me in an erotic light as you sit near the colourful flowers this is the last day of summer

Hidden near the surface She is easily seen But retains her secrets Her gossamer garments Reflect the colours Of the nearby flowers

Whilst travelling in Wisconsin  I found a newspaper cutting Hidden in a book of town records Ir reported that a man had been found Frozen in blue ice near Lake City It was assumed that it was Jack Taylor Who had vanished in the area After going for a hike in early 1963 But the […]

It is all a game Nothing but a fucking game Treat it as such There is no sense in it Everything is absurd

About a year ago the daughter of my friend Decided to come to London Whilst there she visited me And gave a camera That I had lent him Before he left for Saigon He wanted to record the city Before it changed forever My friend mysteriously vanished Just before the fall of Saigon Leaving his […]

I found a glove in the street It belonged to the female assassin Phil Two days previously she had shot The President and was being hunted By the cops and the secret services They need not have bothered As Phil was holed up in my apartment

A theatre in the clouds Was hindered The audience remained silent

A dream flew out of the skylight And partied with the stars Blue blue blue dreams blue

Although I am quite alone on my boat I feel that there is a stowaway I have searched for this intruder without success The sea haunted is a nest of pathetic ghosts