Monthly Archives: June 2018

Plan

Has God a plan for me?

If he has it is yet to be.

I sing God’s fame but do not use his name.

The name unspoken.

Heartbroken.

Shall my and his hour come round at last?

I am a blast from the past.

A golden oldie, rather mouldy.

I must put myself aside, God died.

Have I failed or never tried?

Has God committed suicide?

Then I’m on my own.

Alone.

Man who never was speak through me.

Eternity.

Infinity is no small thing.

Let your voice ring.

My voice is small.

Why speak at all?

I know I must.

Before I return to dust.

I am made of mud and stars and so are you.

Who seeks the true?

I do.

For you.

Before we kill the Earth and God and all.

I love life that’s why I speak at all.

One voice however small.

Hear the call.

You are not alone after all.

I end my rhyme.

See you next time.

I often end with a joke.

Sorry I spoke.

I mean my word.

Let the dead man’s voice be heard.

Tich Ennis

30th June, 2018

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Girl From My Past

You can knock at the door but I can’t open, girl from my past.

I remember you at last.

Yes, we had good times then you married some other guy.

Not I.

You were like a broody hen.

I made a mistake then.

Maybe I was over eager, an eager beaver.

A true believer.

My inner caveman came to the fore.

I can’t always be polite, what a bore.

It was not meant to be for you and me.

The rest is history.

Looking back parts were very good but not the whole.

Stain on my immortal soul.

It is best that the past be laid to rest.

I did not pass the test.

I hope you had a happy life.

Someone else’s wife.

That’s life.

I represent to you a false start.

You have a piece of my heart.

You are part of my life and I of yours.

Your memory endures.

It would be very strange if we met again.

Would I get it right then?

Hello anyway and goodbye.

Here’s to the sweet by and by.

You and I.

Tich Ennis

30th June, 2018

Can

Can a perfect poem save the world? If so, let it be.

The world should be poetry.

To read means to understand.

People of whatever land.

Don’t have anything worth robbing and you won’t be robbed.

This poet is not double jobbed.

But enough of me, too much talk of me.

Who will make the blind to see?

Some other me.

Could it be I?

If not, why?

Something to do before you die.

How wonderful if everything would rhyme.

For all time.

Sublime.

Tich Ennis

30th June, 2018

Finding Out

I didn’t know I could sing until I tried.

I didn’t know I could die until I died.

I didn’t know anything at all when I was very, very small.

Then I learned to talk and walk and never shut up at all.

I was told at school I could not sing but so was Elvis and he was king.

So now I come back to life, maybe in old age I will get a wife.

If she puts up with me and I put up with her we’ll get on like a house on fire.

What lies in store for you when you retire?

Tich Ennis

28th June, 2018

The Right Thing To Do

If you dismiss the world as rubbish is that the right thing to do?

I say no, do you?

Its not all bad, somewhere there is gold.

Dig deep and you will find wealth untold.

What to do with all the rubbish, all the spoil?

Evidence of toil.

Produce less, or none at all.

God save us all.

Make something of it, something worthwhile.

Beneath the grass you too will lie after a while.

Tich Ennis

28th June, 2018

Make People Think

To write an app to make or help people think is an impossible task like making a perpetual motion machine, which I have on good authority is not possible. Not even the universe is a perpetual machine. Have you heard of entropy? Look it up. There is a finite amount of energy in the universe, use it sparingly.

Some American said do a person’s thinking for them and they love you, make them think and they hate you. Do pupils love school? Not unless it has been dumbed down to their level. Or their teachers’.

Was that American right? Not all Americans are wrong. It is racism to say otherwise. The same applies to all other races and conditions of men and women. And boys and girls. And babes in arms, or men in arms. Delete that.

My brother wishes to make or have made for him with a little help from his friends such an app. He attempts or wishes for the impossible.   Thinking made easy.

Signs of the times. When young I visited offices with this sign on the wall, We work miracles, the impossible takes longer. Also, You don’t have to be mad to work here, but it helps. That last sign was never in government offices, the only ones where it always should be.

A machine to make people sane? Who would buy? Thinking for Dummies.  Remember, the mad think themselves sane.   Are you mad if you don’t think? Don’t all rush to answer.   A Critique of Pure Reason says reason alone is not enough but does not recommend unreasonableness. Do you?

When ignorance is bliss ‘tis folly to be wise. Love is a form of madness, which has many forms. According to some it does not last long, unless it becomes an obsession, itself madness. Most famous mathematicians went mad. Maybe they always were.

Van Gogh did his best work in a mental home, so what’s wrong with being mad? Why don’t people think, is it that they can’t or won’t? Or just don’t want to. See the American above.

Anyway, these are my thoughts on the matter always bearing in mind that thoughts are mad. But always? Cure cancer if you can. And self inflicted or life style illnesses. It’s a matter of choice. Your life style. Have you an attitude problem? Join the club.

Have I made you think? Did it hurt? Take your brain out of cold storage. You’ll be dead long enough, from the neck up or otherwise. Are your feelings hurt?   Do you do outrage? Well or otherwise?

There’s nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so, William Shakespeare. A literary gent.

If you make a think app before my brother infinite riches could be yours. Does that whet your appetite? Fame too. Your name in the papers, on everybody’s lips. Celebrity here you come!

Our brain is the thing with which we think we think. Who said that? I did. Copycat.

Nerds have taken over the world, haven’t you noticed? Swots. Teacher’s pets. There’s no power like brain power. All power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Anyway, if you’re up to it, make a think app. And a perpetual motion machine while you’re at it. You too could invent an atom bomb. Or a cure for cancer. All you need is a think app.

What are you waiting for? Someone to do it for you?

Think.

I think that’s all I’ve got to say, today. Its up to you now. I’ll leave it to you. I know we are in good hands.   I’ll twiddle my thumbs.   Wait and see. That’s me. Thanks for taking this burden from me. I know you can do it.

Does flattery work with you? No, but keep going I hear you say.

I await the future.

Don’t take this literally but I could murder a pint.

Tich Ennis

27th June, 2018

1000 Followers

https://beingaware91.com/2018/06/13/on-1000-followers/

On 1000 followers

BeingAware has become my 119th or 120th follower, I am unsure which, but anyway my most recent follower.   I have decided to follow her in return. She is, I think, only the second blog writer whose blog I have decided to follow.

I infer, rightly or wrongly, that BeingAware is (a) Indian, (b) female, (c) a teacher of children and that (d), English is not her mother tongue. Her English is not perfect, but what is? Whose is? I enjoy her posts anyway, hopefully for the right reasons.

Why has BeingAware 1002 followers and I only 119, give or take one?   Firstly, the population of India is larger than the population of Ireland, give or take the population of the U.K. thrown into the bargain, which it is not. Secondly, there is or are probably other reasons but they escape me at this moment in time. Now.

If I translated my blog posts into Gudjarati and other languages how would they come out? They say poetry is lost in translation, whatever that means. I have read ancient Greek poetry translated into English and loved it. Also Russian, but not so ancient. A poet should translate poetry. Is GoogleTranslate a poet? I have yet to be convinced.

A nephew of mine whom I won’t name in case he is shy but I doubt it said people only follow other people to get them to follow them in return. That’s why I mostly don’t follow others. Also, lack of time. My nephew is not a teenager but may be a cynic, an affliction of the teenage years from which some never grow up. Or, as he might like to put it, a realist.

An optimist wears braces to keep his trousers up, a pessimist to stop them falling down. I wear a belt of the webbing variety which may be shut anywhere, unlike those ones with holes in them never in the right place. Personal detail.

A friend of mine, now deceased, said they had those belts in the U.S. army. They also give a free packet of cigarettes a day, how generous. And you can get drunk in the bar, but not on duty. And they have hamburgers, so its just like real life.

It takes all sorts to make a world. Including me and BeingAware. So get used to it.

This has been a crash course in normality. It’s a big wide wonderful world out there. Now you know. By the way I’m Irish, but that’s not an affliction. Hasta la vista!

Tich Ennis

27th June, 2018