Category Archives: Analysis Paralysis


Sartre told us what to think said some Frenchwoman, who wants to be told that?

Not even my cat.

How dare you, Karl Marx, your thoughts are a farce.

Freedom at gunpoint, no thanks.

Stalin robbed banks.

Closer to home so did the I.R.A.

They have not gone away.

Are the Mafia here to stay?

I mention Sartre at the top, will these idiots ever stop?

I choose a lesser evil, thank you all the same.

I understand your game.

Tich Ennis

12th November, 2018



I don’t know who you are who agree with me.

I don’t try very hard, you see.

Poetry comes easily to me.

In real life I almost do not act.

That’s a fact.

Still, its nice to know some are of one mind with me, one mind.

The truth is hard to find.

But yet easy, everyday.

It never goes away.

Some of you are damaged goods and some are not.

Whoever you are, thanks a lot.

The last line of a poem is often hardest to write, the last line.

The truth is yours and mine.

Don’t try to write a poem, let it come.

Write some.

Tich Ennis

8th November, 2018


Ghostwritten in invisible ink.

A book to make you think.

Now you see it, now you don’t.

You think you get it but you won’t.

A mystery for you to solve.

Grit your teeth with firm resolve.

This book is your life story too.

It may include a kangaroo.

It has a cast of characters of every race and creed.

It says a lot to those who learn to read.

Others may be unaware, not knowing it is there.

Look up the index, there’s your name.

Aren’t you glad you came?

Read on, read on until the end.

It’s a neverending book, my friend.

You may find this meaningless.

More or less a mess.

God bless.

Tich Ennis

7th November, 2018


Am I advertising myself or God?

I am an ordinary bod.

Is ordinariness enough?

Have you enough of that stuff?

I speak in a silent voice.

Rejoice, read Joyce.

I know that second last line doesn’t mean much, I just thought it sounded well.

People who use the words just or well should go to Hell.

I mean in excuse, what’s the use?

God, speak for yourself your humble spokesman begs.

I will succeed when a cripple wins running without legs.

In other words never.

Miracles happen hardly ever.

Still I live in hope.

An unrepentant dope.

Shall I advertise the skies?

Blessed are they who don’t tell lies.

At last I shut up.

Enjoy your coffee from your cup.

I know this poem is not bad, not good, not quite.

Its morning now, I slept last night.

Tich Ennis

25th October, 2018


Its too hot in the Sun and too cool in the shade.

Is this the best October day God made?

Far be it from me to mock your beliefs if you have any.

Beliefs are two a penny.

Will I vote blasphemy should not be a crime?

Is that a waste of time?

I do not favour insults and put downs.

In the circus watch the clowns.

I met Joe and my brother today and saw no snow.

Pending the penultimate, here I go.

Am I a poet or a holy show?

I don’t know.

Tich Ennis

15th October, 2018


The truth when perfectly stated is irrefutable.

Is that disputable?

Who says, you?

What am I to do?

Is one and one two?

Does the truth lie only in facts?

What about people’s acts?

Do you say motive matters, so do I.

May the truth lie in a lie?

A lie is the mirror opposite of the truth, as Shakespeare might say, forsooth.

So therefore yes.

When the truth is spoken is anybody’s guess.

I know I am not Plato, Plato is dead.

I speak instead.

Tich Ennis

12th October, 2018


I delay over a cup of coffee or a pint or a kiss.

I’m in no hurry when I’m experiencing bliss.

Delay seems to be a habit of mine.

Slowly I drink wine.

I admit I prevaricate and procrastinate.

In other words delay, if you want something from me, wait.

I admit I disappoint myself, I am not proud.

Will I do anything before I wear a shroud?

Tich Ennis

12th September, 2018