Category Archives: Hell

Litter

Should I write a poem about the bad things in life, a mugger’s weapon or a surgeon’s knife?

A knife may be used for good or ill, to cure or kill.

Dirt is misplaced matter, eat the wrong food and get fatter.

Uranium makes a bomb or an x-ray, kill or cure children while they play.

I hate the word nice, nice is fake good, I should take my advice.

Superstition is not good, touch wood.

Does a gun serve any useful purpose except as a paper weight?

Skaters skate a figure of eight.

Self defence it was decided in the year four hundred is alright.

Make a preemptive strike, goodnight.

I am not quite so sure.

May peace and love endure.

Tich Ennis

16th August, 2017

Considering

Considering they never look, read, listen or say thank you should I bother with people?

Impale them on a church steeple?

Not absolutely everyone, some old fashioned folks do.

Bring back the old days, they had a better view.

Thank you.

Tich Ennis

15th August, 2017

God’s Fatal Error

He made me. I let him down.

Into a hole in the ground.

The rest is history.

It is no mystery.

He trusted me.

I will exhume if I can.

To fulfill his plan.

God being God can rise again.

The question, when?

When I get down to it.

Should I do it?

I suppose so.

Here I go.

Call me mister Slow.

Now I know.

His mistake was mine.

It happens all the time.

Tich Ennis

26th July, 2017

God Again

God is dejected and rejected.

God is the way things are, the way we are.

He sure as Hell is not our guiding star.

I may not put this on my blog.

If you mention the word God they think you mean a backward dog.

Tich Ennis

21st July, 2017

Cigarette

People think I’m waving when I smoke a cigarette, which is more or less all the time.

They wave back, does this line rhyme?

Some poet woman has a line, not waving but drowning.

Are you frowning?

Anyway, her poem is quite good.

I like it anyway, if you read it you would.

Stevie Smith is her name if memory serves me right.

It usually does, goodnight.

Tich Ennis

21st July, 2017

Heart And Head

A heartless society would be awful and a mindless society would be mad.

Can heart and head be at one in a day to make us glad?

Lesser options are sad.

Can art provide the answer where skill and care are one?

That appears to me to be the case, behold the setting sun.

When eternal war comes to an end we face eternity.

Another name, another time, peace, infinity.

Oh, may it be!

Tich Ennis

16th July, 2017

Daggers Drawn

Why are we at daggers drawn until dawn?

Who fights a duel except a fool?

Death rather than dishonour, yes, he said, as for me I’d rather stay in bed.

He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day.

So they say.

Why fight all night, why be uptight?

Alright.

I am seventy-six and survived some dirty tricks.

Its as clear as mud to me its better if we agree.

Now and then, as Elvis sang, there’s a fool such as me.

People just like me died young, alone, unhonoured and unsung.

I don’t wish to die for a flag or any other rag.

That’s not my bag.

Nor do I wish to die alone in a tangled mess of blood and bone.

Why can’t we leave each other alone?

Talk, at least on the telephone.

Friendliness is not unknown.

Blood or an ice cream cone?

I know which choice is mine.

I hope the weather keeps fine.

Tich Ennis

13th July, 2017