Category Archives: Lonely Soul

Busy

Everyone is busy except me.

I am as busy as a monkey in a tree.

Darwin says I’m descended from an ape.

If I was Superman I would wear a cape.

I rang various people to no avail.

Are they all in jail?

For what crime, wasting time?

I might mention a coconut, I could, but.

Halloween is coming, spare a child a nut.

Tich Ennis

23rd October, 2018

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Statement

The truth when perfectly stated is irrefutable.

Is that disputable?

Who says, you?

What am I to do?

Is one and one two?

Does the truth lie only in facts?

What about people’s acts?

Do you say motive matters, so do I.

May the truth lie in a lie?

A lie is the mirror opposite of the truth, as Shakespeare might say, forsooth.

So therefore yes.

When the truth is spoken is anybody’s guess.

I know I am not Plato, Plato is dead.

I speak instead.

Tich Ennis

12th October, 2018

Mentioning God

The world is made by people, the Earth is made by God.

We call Ireland the ould sod.

The world has walls and wars and borders and barriers, man made.

The Earth has Sun and showers and daylight and shade.

God favours virtue, we don’t follow his advice.

When it comes to the point we choose vice.

Cheer up, it might not happen, it already has said some lad.

Oh well, what the Hell, who is sane and who is mad?

Apparently in this world God is a dirty word.

How far have we travelled from the sublime to the absurd?

Oh love, oh truth, oh common sense.

Who worships in thy name, who sits on the fence?

Far be it from me to say I’m any better.

I mean this poem to the last letter.

What have I achieved, to what do I aspire?

Something higher.

Tich Ennis

20th July, 2018

Lost Poem

I had a poem but I let it go.

Into the great unknown where dead poems go.

Stillborn, not born at all, never ever to be.

Oh well, at least it was not me.

Next time, next time what will I do?

Write it down come rain or shine for you and me too.

That poem was to be called Curse, perhaps its better that it should never be.

But I don’t know, it could be worse, unwritten history.

Tich Ennis

20th July, 2018

Bukowski

Make I never speak an untrue word on paper or by voice.

That is my choice.

A woman who read my first book said I mean what I say, why is that unusual today?

Liars, liars everywhere, on T.V. and on the air.

Fake news, jokes that aren’t jokes, pigs in pokes.

Such drivel, am I supposed to believe this, I don’t.

Don’t expect me to talk like you, I won’t.

How long must we wait for the true?

I’ve had it up to here with you.

You leave me a lot to do.

Me and Charles Bukowski too.

Tich Ennis

11th July, 2018

Waiting

When you go out and don’t come back I wonder did you die.

We are that age, you and I.

You come back late or early with some reason, some excuse.

I can’t depend on you, what’s the use?

So I wait and wonder and then sometime you appear.

Back here.

I’m pretty used to you by now, I cannot change you anyhow.

If life turned out differently you could be behind a plough.

Or attempting to herd an errant sow.

I suppose you’ll turn up later with lots of talk.

Did you enjoy your walk?

Tich Ennis

4th July, 2018