Category Archives: Ancient Greeks

Education

Is education any good?

Some people believe in superstition, touch wood.

To educate means to draw out not to force in.

Look it up, begin.

Half the subjects in university are there to make money for the university, they are not real, you see.

Can art appreciation be taught, can knowledge be bought?

What’s wrong with working with your hands, with tools?

The working class are taken for fools.

Maths and science, reading and writing, they are good. And some few others, use your common sense, you should.

Don’t let them turn you into a fool at school.

Tich Ennis

20th June, 2017

Cosmic

Far be it from me to mention Mars.

Even further away are stars.

They don’t all have names or if they have them I don’t know.

I have not been introduced here below.

I know one is called North, possibly South, the morning star is somewhere about.

Its strange to think they are always there but can’t be seen in daylight, so there.

We are neighbours in the milky way, I know that for a fact, our galaxy, okay?

I could go on for a light year and a day.

I appear not to have mentioned the Sun.

I have not time to name every one.

I notice I mentioned I a lot.

Am I big in the Cosmos?

Not a jot.

That’s your lot.

Tich Ennis

19th June, 2017

 

Serious Matters

It would be funny if it wasn’t so serious.

Am I delirious?

Fake news and all that, is a dog a cat?

Fancy that.

The real thing is Spring, after Winter, you know the thing.

Can you trust anyone or anything at all?

Graffiti on a wall.

That’s not all.

I suppose you’ll have to trust yourself or me.

The truth will set you free.

Tich Ennis

17th June, 2017

My Work

People who are too intelligent won’t like my stuff, its not difficult enough.

You don’t have to strain to know what I mean, I come clean.

I prefer a simple explanation, do you?

Simplicity is true.

The truth is simple and profound and sound.

See you around.

Tich Ennis

16th June, 2017

Spring

Must I write every blooming thing?

Should I recite the seasons, including Spring?

Porn is not my thing.

Porn treats people as things, are you a thing?

Porn of every type is everywhere, to children, of children, with children, its in the air.

Do you care?

People like heroin, would you put in your children’s stew?

Is giving people what they want the thing to do?

I ask you.

My meandery mind is not made up.

Often I am told, shut up.

I say nothing everyone doesn’t know.

I told you so.

The truth is everywhere ignored.

Why heroin, are you bored?

There are many drugs and addictions, of course.

Computer games, don’t get me started, back a horse.

The inventor of the iPad would not let his children have one, ask why?

Does a drug dealer feed his children fantasy, truth or lie?

Very clever people sell their soul.

To part you from your money, make you pay a toll.

For what? For rubbish, waste your time.

A little goes a long way, like wine.

Nothing is inherently good or bad, too much of a good thing makes you mad.

I am sad.

Doing things because others do them makes no sense.

Who says you have to? Get up off the fence.

Alright, someday I will be dead.

These things should not go unsaid.

It’s as clear as day to me, look at our horrible history.

Now is now and one day will be past.

In living memory Jews were gassed.

I do not care about the colour of your skin or creed, I take no side.

Has truth nowhere to hide?

Look inside.

Pretend you don’t understand, what do you want to happen in your land?

How about old fashioned love and peace?

They had more sense in ancient Greece.

This is not my last poem, I guarantee.

You will hear more from me.

When do people die, when they are fed up?

I’m not dead yet, I will not shut up.

Drink the loving cup.

Its all so bloody obvious, I don’t want to curse.

Are you afraid of something worse?

Things are bad enough, too bad, the way they are.

Truth is my guiding star.

If I do not shut up why do you?

If you prefer it, do it, be true.

I am like you.

I’m just another you.

Trying to be true.

That will do.

For me and you.

Now I have a coffee to drink and a cigarette to smoke.

Perhaps I’ll ring a friend and tell a joke.

I’m not sorry I spoke.

I’ll leave it at that, I can’t go on forever.

When will the truth be, never?

I won’t say hardly ever.

That’s it, I’m tired.

I have not expired.

Old, but not retired.

End, begin. Win.

I really can’t go on.

Sometimes I go on too long.

So long.

Au revoir, before you say get out.

I prefer a whisper to a shout.

Leave me out.

I am driven nearly mad by life but not quite.

Before I die I hope to see things right.

Goodnight.

Yes, I do mean what I say.

Good day.

No one thinks anyone means what they say.

How on Earth can you talk to people then?

Am I alone among men?

I know I do have followers, some few.

Thank you.

Followers on my blog I mean.

As a boy I ate ice cream.

I still do on rare occasions when Summer shows its head.

I’m not dead.

As I seem to go on and never stop I now, for now, shut up shop.

I look forward to Spring.

Do your thing.

Tich Ennis

15th June, 2017

Laugh And Cry

Is it alright to be funny as well on your way to Hell?

Oh well.

Yes, I believe in all that stuff that matters most but I have a sense of humour.

I should say and, so what, love is not a rumour.

So, okay I laugh and cry, I wipe a tear from my eye.

I may cry laughing or die laughing I don’t care which.

It looks like I won’t die rich.

Tich Ennis

7th June, 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