Category Archives: Cancer

Have You Seen This Man?

He wears many guises, many disguises.

Sometimes he is happy, sometimes he is crappy.

He pensively smokes a cigarette to fool you into thinking he thinks.

Even the Titanic sinks.

Other times he laughs out loud, he should wear a shroud.

If you see him handle with care, he almost isn’t there.

The pictures are variously called Cigarettes Can Kill and For Laughing Out Loud and do not hang in the Louvre.

Get in the groove.

Tich Ennis

30th March, 2018

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Smoking Habit

I am condemned to outer darkness because I smoke.

Life is no joke.

Sorry I spoke.

Tich Ennis

23rd March, 2018

Examination

To examine one’s own life and the life all about.

To find them wanting, how do I fit in, how do I get out?

To understand everything and find the cure.

How to do it I’m not sure.

The road to perdition is a war of attrition.

People fall like flies, a part of me dies.

The world belongs to the wise.

Must I wear disguise?

Do I pass with honours my exam or just say damn?

Having examined through a microscope I believe in hope.

Yours faithfully, a dope.

Tich Ennis

24th February, 2018

Sense from Quora

Brian Overland

In a nutshell…

  • Everywhere people are in chains, especially workers. This part often seems to be true.
  • The captialist system requires ever greater expansion, and therefore exploitation, simply to sustain itself. It’s a process that Marx says can’t continue forever. This has appeared to be true at times, but doesn’t have to be.
  • The root cause of all this evil is private property itself, according to Marx. This is the part of Marxism, I think, that is most at odds with human nature.
  • The solution is, at first, a super-strong centralized socialist government that would take away most private property rights, especially the right to own factories, the “means of production.”
  • That strong government would then fade away, leaving a kind of utopia in which goods and services went “from each accoring to his ability” flowing toward “each according to need.”
  • And all of this is supposed to be inevitable, to happen through historical necessity.

The decision of history seems to be that the part of Marxism dealing with the problems of capitalism has some validity; however, the prescribed solution has spectacularly failed. Strong dictatorial regimes have never faded away to be replaced by some perfect kind of utopia.

 

 

 

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Straw Man

They clutch at straws because they are ignored.

When war comes you won’t be bored.

God preserve us from people who say they know it all.

I suppose I might as well be talking to the wall.

The great white hope or black may be a dope.

Leaving you hanging on a rope.

Who, just who, are the people who kill each other?

They kill father mother sister brother.

Anger is not the answer.

Don’t choose a chancer.

Who wants cancer?

They may be right for the wrong reason.

Is love out of season?

Tich Ennis

27th November, 2017

Banjaxed Anthem

Banjaxed is Irish slang, meaning broken or not working. Everything in Ireland is banjaxed, probably including me.

See our history.

The Irish national anthem, not this one, was written in English first.

Which version is worst?

Nationalism mean killing people as far as I can see.

That’s what it means to me.

De Valera, our leader, sent condolences to the German embassy when Hitler died.

Jews cried.

De Valera was half Irish, his first name wasn’t Paddy.

Not as Irish as my daddy.

Patrick Pearse was half English and probably by a full blooded Englishman was shot.

Patrick Pearse, that’s your lot.

The county boundaries in Ireland to which people are loyal were laid down by the English in times past.

Unknown to some, the truth at last.

During the famine Irish people exported food, strange to say.

They looked the other way.

In North Korea now people die with green stains around their mouth from eating grass.

As happened in Ireland, alas.

The Irish are generous to others in times of woe.

They contribute generously, I should know.

We certainly know how to criticise each other, we do it all the time.

As me, in rhyme.

Maybe you think its different where you are.

Where do you live, a distant star?

We have murderers in our parliament, known as the Dail.

That’s not all.

They lie, they know they lie, they know you know too.

What’s a guy to do?

Can a reformed serial killer or paedophile bring about justice and peace?

Yes, if they have reformed, not if they lie, give my heart ease.

If I was born somewhere else what would I think of Ireland?

Great to visit, a great little land.

Great talk, music, horses and for passing time of day.

But would you stay?

Why do I, why don’t I go away?

Laziness has something to do with it and lack of ambition.

Gone fishin’.

Other places may be too busy for my taste.

Ireland is as good as any place your life to waste.

The same only different as we like to say.

If you expect logic look the other way.

The sins and crimes of others we love to talk about.

My point is the human race is all the same, the truth will find you out.

Wherever you are, that’s your home. There are a lot of knowalls in Ireland, that’s true.

They say they know what’s best for you.

Empty vessels make a lot of noise.

Posh boys.

We have ourselves to blame for how we are.

Gaze at a star.

If I was born somewhere else would I criticise them you bet your life.

Cancer requires a surgeon’s knife.

Good enough to be going on with is not good enough.

That’s the message of my stuff.

I’m Irish, tough.

I lament the human condition what can I do?

I write to you.

Hell is other people Sartre said. He’s dead.

Maybe Hell is you?

Me too.

Must I say it over and over again?

Heaven is here now and then.

A glimpse, reflection, hint, a child’s smile.

Walk an Irish mile.

So at last I end my banjaxed anthem, Irish song.

I may be criticised, what is wrong?

Maybe someday I’ll get around to doing more, maybe you too.

In the meantime enjoy the view.

Tich Ennis

14th October, 2017

Full Flower

Art and science walk hand in hand, shall we allow them to despoil the land?

At their best they are wonderful, supreme, at their worst an adolescent dream.

To be mature or immature, wine aged in the wood.

Or whiskey ten year old, its good.

Thought and imagination find their flower now and then.

Oftentimes we wait and wait, saying oh God when?

At any level good is good, trees and shrubs make up the wood.

Some stand tall and stately, magnificently made.

Affording, as someone said, the weary traveller shade.

Tich Ennis

28th September, 2017