Category Archives: Death

Beard

I don’t need to shave because I grew a beard.

The truth is most feared.

I do need to wash my face to be in a state of grace.

Sometimes I wash my hands.

I listen to rock’n’roll bands.

Or did in times gone past, the future is catching up with me fast.

Its pointless complaining that I have to cut my nails, my patience fails.

I do get out of bed, well said.

I am alive until I’m dead.

I enjoy life more or less.

God bless.

Tich Ennis

16th October, 2017

Advertisements

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

Smoke

Why is everyone so screwed up, including me?

I watch your faces, you see.

Okay, not always, not quite everyone.

Why do most look like they never had any fun?

Had or have, have it your own way.

All potential customers of mine walk by every day.

I went so far as to write a book, some enjoyed it, some won’t even look.

My brother gives my book away, for God’s sake why?

Alright, its not that bad, some pay for it before they die.

Would you die laughing if I told you a joke?

I am a living cliché, a poet who is broke.

And I smoke.

Tich Ennis

12th October, 2017

Commemoration

Am I the greatest thing since scrambled eggs or sliced bread?

Will I be commemorated when I’m dead?

Get your act together, I live in stormy weather.

Should I be awarded the Nobel prize posthumously it will make no difference to me.

I never won a beauty competition, I went fishin’.

The prizes I won in life would fit in a matchbox.

In the Victorian era people gave their lovers locks.

Of their hair, I mean.

I used Brylcream.

I remember Elvis Presley and James Dean.

Tich Ennis

7th October, 2017

Genocide

Long on diagnosis, short on cure.

I listen and I hear, must I endure?

Alright, I’m old and easily bored.

Have I missed the point through inattentiveness, metaphorically I snored.

Is this what gives academicism a bad name, gentlemanly, polite, you know the game.

Long live civilisation whatever that may be.

What’s the answer to genocide, a cup of tea?

Your answer, BBC.

Tich Ennis

27th September, 2017

Mirror Two

The past shouldn’t have happened, so some people say.

Yeah, well, what about today?

Like, what’s happening man, as the hippies say?

Is everything okay?

We can do nothing about the past but we can work now.

If we bother, anyhow.

If we know the past is wrong what is our present song?

Why can’t we get along?

The past is more or less the same as now, people made mistakes, and how.

And we make them now.

Today will be the past before you know it, who will blame you then?

Other men?

The time we can change is now, the past is over anyhow.

Forget the past, do not relive it.

If he did you wrong, forgive it.

Who is perfect, who’s all wrong, is what aboutery your song?

Bear no grudge, do not complain or we forever live in pain.

A child knows happiness is best.

I lay down my pen, I take a rest.

Listen to the child you were.

Let us not kill him or her.

I say what everybody knows.

You say shut up, I suppose.

So on and on it goes.

Stepping on each other’s toes.

Do you want war to end?

In that case I am your friend.

Make do and mend.

Tich Ennis

9th September, 2017

Knife

A surgeon and a murderer have reasons for cutting with a knife.

One to give and one to take a life.

Motive matters, above all else the reason why.

One wants you to live, the other die.

A knife is neither good nor bad, the person using it is sane or mad.

Is a person how they want to be?

Yes, so it seems to me.

Whether they be rich or poor or somewhere in between.

Or from wherever or whoever, they write and act their scene.

Tich Ennis

2nd September, 2017