Monthly Archives: May 2017

Read Me

Are you known for what you say or what you do?

I could ask, me too?

Does it matter if you are known and if so, who to?

Only you?

Sometimes what a person says more or less is what they do if you for example are or were Mark Twain.

Or indeed Jane Austen, ladies first, must we go through that again?

At least you are not dead.

I take that as read.

Tich Ennis

31st May, 2017

Mad Poet

I wrote two poems yesterday, one called Care. I rang a friend and read them to him.  He said I sounded angry. I don’t want to sound angry.

Me: Do you think I was always mad or am I going mad in my old age?

He: I think the former rather than the latter.

Me: I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t like to think I am deteriorating in my old age.

He laughed.   I asked another friend if I got rich and famous might I become obnoxious?   Do you mean more obnoxious than you are, he asked?

An English girl barmaid in the same place said the Irish are very friendly until you get to know them. She chooses to live here. Is she a masochist? Join the club.

In life we must choose the least worst option. It’s a matter of choice.   My brother and I had a car accident when an English couple drove head on into us. My head hit the windscreen and I was temporarily unconscious. Did your whole life flash before your eyes, a barman asked? It was like a porn movie I said.

An Irish writer said a friend of his swore he saw a headline in an Irish paper, Irish girl killed by English train. They’re still doing it to us said another person.

Being Irish is defined as not being English, said an Irishman, not me. We’re Irish, we don’t do rules, said someone else.

If I am a poet why am I writing prose? What is prose, asked a barman who reads five books a week? Anything that isn’t poetry I said. Is a poet mad to write prose? Quite likely. A politician said we campaign in poetry, we govern in prose. A would be senator who failed to get elected said the people have spoken, the bastards. Similarly, the British voted for Brexit.

Do people know what’s good for them? They vote for heroin, cannabis, obesity, eating disorders and many other fads and fancies, with their feet and their mouths. What is populism? Giving the people what they want, not what they need. They don’t want that. Self inflicted wounds are the hardest to heal.

Populism is popular, the easy option. Its always someone else’s fault. Like blaming the English in Ireland. Who runs this bit of it anyway?

The Irish are an acquired taste. I dislike the term love-hate but it will do to be going on with. Says I who am Irish. Yours madly,

Tich Ennis

30th May, 2017


If you don’t care what words mean you don’t care what anything means including you.

I do.

Politicians and journalists please note, you have truth by the throat.

Is life a lie, a game, a dirty look?

Not in my book.

Do or dare.

If you care.

You might as well not be there.

Why are people fed up with you?

You rotten crew.

Because you are not true.

You steer our ship on to the rocks, give us electric shocks.

Speak the truth for once, you dunce.

For once and for all.

You don’t fool me at all.

That’s all.

This may seem an angry rant.

You do.

I can’t.

Tich Ennis

29th May, 2017

Leftwing Capitalism

What is that?

Does it wear a top hat?

Can the consumer society coexist with socialism or is there something I missed?

Socialism, is it productive, is it seductive?

Economics like, does it mean a thing without a king?

Do we choose baubles, bangles and beads, do they answer all our needs?

Can we be poor but honest or is that too much to endure?

I’m not sure.

Tich Ennis

29th May, 2017

New And Old

Be not afraid of the new, who was once new, you.

Do not grow old before your time, sense may be found in a rhyme.

The old has a lot to say for itself as well, Heaven is preferable to Hell.

Learn as you go along, sing a new and an old song.

When you stop learning you are dead, to quote a song, right said Fred.

Tich Ennis

29th May, 2017

Divine Spark

Never leave me, show me the way.

You turn night into day.

May compassion be my passion, may love never go out of fashion.

Guide the movement of my pen,

May I speak your words to men.

Today is Sunday once again,

I may see a friend, what then?

So I scribble with my pen.

Oh thou, oh you, the Divine Spark,

Let there be lightness where is dark.

Thank you for the children’s park.

My words are simple, may they be.

You mean everything to me.

Truth, oh truth, oh set us free.

Tich Ennis

28th May, 2017


Marx was right. Philosophers try to understand the world, the thing is to change it, of course.

But not by force Karl, you backed the wrong horse.

The first thing you’ve got to change is yourself, someone said to me.

He was right, so I see.

Await developments, my expectant friends.

In the meantime, means are not justified by ends.

I myself waited a very long time.

Is waiting my crime?

I am a poet writing rhyme.

Wasting time.

Tich Ennis

27th May, 2017

All That Is

There’s far too much to know, how can I absorb it all?

In the grand scale of things I am very small.

I mean, where do I start, where do I end?

I ask myself, I am my best friend.

A little knowledge, so they say, is a dangerous thing.

Am I half way between a peasant and a king?

It appears almost pointless to learn any more.

Infinity is a long way off, show me to the door.

Tich Ennis

27th May, 2017

Quantum Computing

When it comes it comes, if it does.

Who will own it, the big boys because?

Will it serve a good use or let Hell loose?

Well both, I suppose.

Heaven only knows.

All that power, holy hour!

For good or bad or sane or mad.

The uranium atom is more or less the same.

To kill or cure, which is your game?

They are absolutely not the same.

Who to shame or blame?

In whose name?

Yours or mine?

May hearts entwine.

Life is a glass of wine.

Tich Ennis

26th May, 2017

Endless Traffic

Going where?

Here or there.

So I travel on.

I’m here, I’m gone.

Is there more to say?

I’m on my way.

The weather may be good or bad, sunshine or rain, happy or sad.

However, we keep going, as I said, where?

Breathing air.

Like, I mean, where to?

Enjoy the view.

Has my journey any point?

My destination is another joint.

Finally, home.

Ballinaclash or Rome.

End of pome.

Tich Ennis

26th May, 2017