Category Archives: Adulthood

Apple

An apple fell from off a tree right into my lap, lucky me.

You can’t expect everything to fall into your lap, you sap.

At least sit under the tree, like me, why not pick one, one that’s ripe?

Don’t believe tripe.

Its not all luck, you make your own.

Call the right person on the phone.

Hermit, alone.

An apple waits for you, you’ve got to do.

I was like you, look at me now.

Under the bough.

Tich Ennis

12th January, 2018

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Rubbish Man

What do I want, I want the truth to be.

To Hell with me.

I write and sing for what its worth.

I want peace and happiness on Earth.

Joy, let joy be unconfined.

I am imperfect, do you mind?

So where is the perfect man, nowhere I suppose.

In the meantime may I wear his clothes?

I speak truth, I hope to be it too.

I waited everlastingly for you.

Some clown here says he wants the truth to be.

Who? Me.

I well know I may be misunderstood.

The rubbish man says swap bad and mad for good.

I want to make it perfectly clear.

That’s why I’m here.

My aim is for perfection, may I not aim in vain.

The world is in pain.

May my words not go down the drain.

The rubbish man would like a holiday in Spain.

Tich Ennis

10th January, 2018

Best Friend Dead

Michael O’Brien has died. There is a best friend shaped hole in my heart. I’ll have to make everyone my best friend. Tall order.

Tich Ennis

8th January, 2018

Cruel God

Is God vengeful, vindictive, a sore loser? Getting his own back on us?   What did we do wrong?   What did I do wrong?   Is being born a mortal sin?   Our mortality rate is very high, a hundred per cent. We’re here for a good time, not a long time said a man in a pub.   And I quote.

Edna O’Brien, who is a good Irish writer, not of Mills and Boon type though we have some of those, said her mother said we are not meant to be happy. Another man in a pub said there’s no such thing as happiness. He said his wife went off with a million pounds. I recommended my sister marry him, she said she doesn’t want to marry a man who drinks whisky at ten in the morning.   He has a nice house but my sister has one already.

Why marry? Find a woman you don’t like and give her your house. I’m full of quotations, some Irish comedian said that first. Another man said he tried being a comedian but no one laughed.   That’s a joke for a start.

Now where was I, God. Don’t get me started. I asked my nephew, who does not believe in God, if there is a God could he have made people with a burning desire to be an artist, with the soul of an artist but not the talent?   Yes, my nephew replied. He is an artist, my nephew, not God. Ok maybe God is an artist. A piss artist. Will I go to Hell for saying that? Is God Van Gogh, passionate, I would say so. Is he misguided? Who has he to look up to?

As a young person I had interaction with a paedophile but he didn’t do anything. He said I was too innocent. He did with other boys. Duane Eddy, guitarist, had a piece of music called last moment of innocence, which I didn’t like. I mean the name. I thought it was too close to the bone, being then a teenager, innocence left behind. And lamented.

God, do we have to do it all for you? Do I? Okay, joke. A man asked another why do you always answer a question with another question and the other man said do I?   He was a Kerryman. Has God a dirty mind? What can he have been thinking of when he dreamed up sexual reproduction? Porn movies?

My title here, Cruel God, may be ironic, sardonic, sarcastic, whatever, or just a grab your eyes headline, speaking as a former journalist. Are you buying? A newspaper should make you fall out of your chair in amazement said William Randolph Hearst, newpaper magnate. See tabloids, red tops, comics. Or any other paper, posh or otherwise. We read newpapers which support our prejudices. Judge not lest ye shall be judged.

Is God a psycho? If so, what hope is there for us? Some boys like pulling the wings off flies. Are those boys made in God’s image, as we are told at school we all are? A fight broke out in a jail during anger management class, I think that’s funny but that’s just my sense of humour.   Would psychiatric help help? Help God, I mean. After all, he is a serial killer. He kills us all. Can he reform or be reformed? You have to want to give up your addiction. Are you persuasive?

I’m dying to meet God, so are many others. In fact all, believers and non believers alike.   Does God believe in God? Do you believe in yourself? Do you believe yourself? Can you believe your eyes? Are you hallucinating? Is God a drug addict? Or has he left us to our devices, devilish though they may be?

Imagine for a moment that I am God. What do I say? I’ve done my bit, now its up to you.

Call me mad, call me non-existent, but call me. Wars are waged in my name. Who’s wrong, who’s right? You figure it out. I’ve got better things to do. Sudoku. Karaoke singing. Whatever turns you on.

Life is a joke but you don’t get it.

Sorry God, I’m only joking.

Tich Ennis

8th December, 2018

Anonymous Letter

I am who you don’t know but I know you.

I saw you through the keyhole too.

Be not afraid, I shall not spill the beans.

Do it yourself by all means.

Headlines in the paper inches high.

People will know your name before you die.

In the meantime carry on.

I’m watching you, I’m here, I’m gone.

Tich Ennis

27th December, 2017

Eye

There’s more to things than meets the eye, I ask myself, I wonder why.

Is life a lie?

A commoner seems less than a king but is he really, what’s the thing?

They have arms and legs and walk and talk, have you heard a jackdaw squalk?

Who is less and what is more, a window is not quite a door.

When you see things as they are, the planet Mars, the morning star, then maybe you realise its time you opened both your eyes.

Can you tell truth from lies?

Lies do not fool the wise.

Tich Ennis

21st December, 2017

Every Son

Every son is a heartbreaker, every mother is a peacemaker.

How was I, how will I be, my mother is ancient history.

If I said I would do something when I’m good and ready when would that be says I to she a very long time says she to me.

So I had my feet on the table and she said she would rather I had not, I thought of girls and rock’n’roll that was all I got.

Now I am the oldest, my older brother died, there was a break in my voice, I almost cried.

I was there when my mother died.

My brother, I have more than one, said to my mother how good she was to look after us when she was left alone.

She said she thought others had done it so she could do it too, from a choking dog’s throat she removed a bone.

Everyone’s life is their own.

Need I say more, must I gild the lily?

In my life I have been silly.

My favourite singer is a hillbilly.

My likes vary from time to time, that is no crime.

My favourite music is what I’m listening to right now.

Well chosen, yes, I love it anyhow.

That’s all for now.

So how on Earth is this poem about every son?

I don’t know, I am only one.

Many are called but few are chosen may be said as many are cold but few are frozen, so my father said.

He is also dead.

Well I’m not quite.

Alright.

Goodnight.

I never quite know when to stop.

Am I the good or bad cop?

Have a lollipop.

Full stop.

Tich Ennis

19th December, 2017