Category Archives: Humanity

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

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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

Angel Voice

Come to Heaven angel voices whispered to me.

I can’t go yet, the world is not yet free.

It’s a damp day, not warm, not raining, I hope not the calm before the storm.

I have things to do, I suppose I should do them now.

Get ready for better days, anyhow.

I had luck today, things are better than they seem.

I hear angel voices in a dream.

Why must some people suffer so?

God knows I am not God I do not know.

Tich Ennis

21st November, 2017

Outside World

Should I join the outside world, become part of a part?

Here perhaps I should make mention of my aching heart.

Your bureaucracy does not appeal to me.

You see.

That’s not me.

Still when in Rome and all that sort of thing.

I swear fealty to no king.

I suppose I can ring up and maybe find a human there.

This ape would escape his cage and breathe free air.

I’m almost there.

Is this enough to say right now?

I’ll get there sometime, somehow.

That’s all for now.

Expect the unexpected, a knock on your door.

I like your ceiling, can I take the floor?

Tich Ennis

9th November, 2017

Great Irish Singer Requires Agent

Do you sincerely want to be rich? You have heard of John McCormac, Brendan Bowyer and Bono. They are not all dead, or not quite. How would ten to twenty per cent grab you?

Only music lovers need apply. Age, gender, nationality and experience no disadvantage. Agents should have no ego, I have enough for two. Internet and social media savvy needed in this day and age.

What do I want? Physical cd sales, also downloads for my album Great Irish Songs mastered by BeardFire Music of Dublin. Rohan Healy of BeardFire said this:

           All in all I think it’s sound really good, the performances are lovely, great song selection. Has the feeling of sitting around the kitchen singing the great old songs, very nice.

                   Local people to whom I have sold or given away my cd have said they like or love it. Ordinary type people, the majority!

What is an agent? What does an agent do? See this, off the internet:

https://www.careersinmusic.com/personal-manager/

A small record label anywhere in the world is preferred by me because more approachable and personable. I like the personal touch, all the way.

I am 76 years old, a unique selling point (USP), new kid on the block. There are forty million Americans of Irish descent, a large market. But not only Irish people like Irish stuff, how about James Joyce or President Kennedy? Sinead O’Connor?

Here are 3 tracks from my 34 track Great Irish Songs album. You be the judge.

Cockles And Mussels         Phil The Fluter’s Ball

About Tich Ennis

Would you like to be my agent? Write to:

Tich Ennis

Reality

Seaview Avenue

Arklow

Co. Wicklow

Ireland

Tich Ennis

26th 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