Category Archives: Corruption

Famous And Rich

Tich Ennis

12th June, 2018



Have they thought about the endgame, those who play with fire?

We are in the war of words, will the flames rise higher?

After you have struck a blow, what happens next, do you know?

If you care, if you are sane, spare us all from fatal pain.

I don’t wish to be dramatic but let us not be fanatic.

When you know the future, let me know.

I know I don’t, this so-and-so.

Tich Ennis

11th April, 2018


People advertise themselves and receive advertisements in return.

Advertisements are mostly fake, when will they ever learn?

So sell and sell and sell and sell, you can’t bring your money into Hell.

This is the modern world, was it ever thus?

Should I make a fuss?

Here comes my bus.

Tich Ennis

28th March, 2018


Who said Lord make me good but not yet?

Saint Augustine you bet.

On that basis there are a lot of potential saints I said to a friend.

The place is crawling with them he said, our talk came to an end.

A diplomat selling passports was the spark.

We live in the dark.

Irish people are usually born in Ireland.

Botswana is grand.

He was, unfortunately for him, found out.

The truth will out.

Tich Ennis

15th March, 2018


When you have exhausted all their arguments will they see sense?

A man convinced against his will is of the same opinion still.

He bears a grudge.

On a cliff he will nudge.

He lacks humility, that’s certain.

Here comes the final curtain.

In his will he disinherits you.

Can’t stand the true.

Bearing malice beyond the grave.

All you ever wanted was to save.

His soul and yours and theirs.

He put on airs.

If there is an afterlife maybe he knows now.

That’s for you to find out anyhow.

Tich Ennis

24th February, 2018

Goodbye Fantasy

I haven’t written for a while, now I do, maybe raise a smile.

I must justify my existence for what it worth, here on Earth.

Apparently all is fantasy, illusion, may I dispel confusion.

It sure is realistic as Hell, oh well.

Reality is the essence of the real, the real thing is how you feel.

My life progresses on from day to day, I have not gone away.

I hope to cross my bridges as they come and go, today a stranger said hello.

He asked had I sold any books, I said no one has any money.

He thought that was funny.

This poem arrives at no conclusion.

Free us from delusion.

Tich Ennis

1st February, 2018

To Belle Gibson, Australia, fantasy cancer con artist