Category Archives: Humanity

Nothing To Do

I write because I have nothing to do.

The sky is black, not blue.

Its night time, nothing good on the radio.

So I write, goodnight.

Will I ever get things sorted out, find out what its all about?

Trying to make sense of it all, that’s what I do and am doing.

A cause worth pursuing.

I’d rather write in hope and be considered a dope, I have plenty of scope.

I hang about not on a rope.

So I write these words instead of being dead.

The purpose of life is to find the purpose of life amid the strife.

That’s life.

Tich Ennis

5th February, 2018

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Oldie

In my declining years I said no to death and to Heaven said hello.

As John Wayne said when you gotta go you gotta go.

A man must do what a man must do, that’ll be the day.

Parents of teenage daughters get down on your knees and pray.

I spent my young years in thrall to the silver screen.

Then came Bill Haley, Elvis and James Dean.

Popcorn and ice cream.

Then came the words The End, the national anthem drives me round the bend.

All stand up and home we go.

Jukebox cure my woe.

Rock’n’roll and dancing and romancing.

I never said no.

Now at last life comes to an end.

I am remembered by a friend.

Glorious technicolour, wide screen.

Death of a human being.

I did not want to go, I fought against it to the last.

I have a wonderful past.

I remember you and you remember me.

The best is yet to be.

At last I’m free.

Tich Ennis

11th December, 2017

Dedicated to the memory of Michael O’Brien

Appreciate

I love when people like my stuff, appreciation is appreciated.

Just the other day a woman liked my CD Great Irish Songs, she spoke, not hesitated.

She said nothing about my voice, she said some of the songs are sad, I said some are funny.

People should pay for them with money.

Some other woman said a lot are about drink, why not?

I think if people hear it they will like it, I should go on a radio show.

I have a plan or two of things to do I will get around to in time.

It all started with a rhyme.

Tich Ennis

9th January, 2017

Prestige Project

This is my prestige project, I am what you see.

Are you another me?

To see means understand, I’ll let that pass.

I am trees, green grass.

It fails to pass my understanding why prestige projects exist.

I kissed a girl who never kissed.

You are on my list.

A monument to your own glory, hang the expense.

Does it make sense?

Your achievements speak for themselves, such as they are.

Who made a shooting star?

You are what you are.

I am ordinary, you are extraordinary.

Far be it from me to gild the lily.

This poem might become silly.

I am the Sun, the stars, the Earth, the flowers.

Holy hours.

I warned you this might happen, now you see.

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

And Hound Dog, Don’t Be Cruel, All Shook Up.

I love a simple flower, e.g. buttercup.

Now like a flower I shut up.

Tich Ennis

6th December, 2017

Jews

Why are Jews so hated?

Are they underrated?

Einstein, Freud, Marx, Jesus, each one was a Jew.

I am not, are you?

Also great composers and people in other fields, they’re not much good at sport, you can’t have it all.

Kicking a ball.

There are poor Jews too you dope, people like you make me lose hope.

Well, not quite.

I’m used to your shite.

Persecution is good for you said a friend, it forces you to achieve.

Ask a woman or a black then you might believe.

Be twice as good or three times to get promotion.

How many drops make up an ocean?

Or love potion.

I am unaware of any perfect person or race.

I am Irish, say that to my face.

Must people by their worst be defined?

Killers everywhere, never mind.

Evil, yes, serial killers, torturers, corrupt governments, of these I’m well aware.

Fuck your reasons, I don’t care.

The problem is you don’t, for humanity.

There’s none so blind as those who don’t want to see.

If I say a word or two for a Jew does that mean I don’t like you?

Don’t be stupid, I mean you too.

What’s a guy to do?

With people like you.

I said fuck, I could say damn.

I speak your language, what a fool I am.

Does loving yourself mean hating others?

Not to me, sisters and brothers.

I am Irish, I could talk all day.

As a boy I knelt to pray.

I have not gone away.

Lesson over for today.

For Jew read anyone.

Even me, my mother’s son.

Maybe in future I won’t say fuck.

With any luck.

Tich Ennis

2nd December, 2017

Honey

Stands the clock at half past three and is there coffee still for tea?

Who wrote that, me.

Strongly influenced by Rupert Brooke who’s poem is worth a second look.

He died in the first world war possibly in the trenches.

When alive he may have sat on village benches.

Everyone loved his poem he said he wrote it in five minutes flat.

That’s that.

I suppose I’m less serious than him.

The boy in Treasure Island is called Jim.

Robert Louis Stevenson wrote that and many others you have heard of but may not know he wrote.

Frank Sinatra was called old golden throat.

I sailed on the mailboat.

I name some famous names here.

They come and go and disappear.

Life is not homosexual but queer.

I’m still here.

Tich Ennis

30th November, 2017