Category Archives: Meaning

Converging Concepts

Maths, art, science, literature, philosophy, religion are converging to a single point.

A Russian scientist said that, whom the saints anoint.

Speaking for myself, I concur.

I who infrequently err.

Love is where you find it wherever that may be.

An old pop song or a cup of tea.

Did Adam and Eve do wrong or did they make a mistake?

The Reader’s Digest said that in my years of heartache.

I made mistakes in my time.

Who is without crime?

Everything should rhyme.

I do be and I does be talking rot.

That’s not all I’ve got.

Whoever is responsible, thanks a lot.

I think this poem is rather good but who am I to say?

Have it your way.

Perhaps the last two lines should be in parentheses or, as you might say, bracket.

If you have a bad child do you smack it?

Tich Ennis

4th December, 2017

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To Hell And Back

When I leave Hell and the Devil says goodbye, don’t cry.

Wipe the single tear from your eye.

I have mingled with the likes of you until I’m blue in the face.

Now I leave the land of big disgrace.

But why, I gave you a chance, girl at a dance, where is romance?

No, its not for me, I don’t want fantasy.

I took a fire extinguisher to Hell, oh well.

If you are pregnant or a serial killer or a mad dictator must I forgive you too?

Sometimes hard to do.

You expect a lot of me.

I do too, wait and see.

Will I live up to expectation?

I love relaxation.

If you forgive me I’ll forgive you, forget the past, forget our crimes.

I enjoy good times.

I changed my mind, I’ll stay in Hell another while.

Long enough to make the Devil smile.

Together he and I will walk an Irish mile.

Tich Ennis

3rd December, 2017

Nude Girl

Some man said I should have a nude girl on the cover of my book. Sexist pig!   I think it was the same man who said I should have rape, violence and bloodthirsty murder in my book.   For that sort of thing read the papers. Sex sells, it has been said, ask a brothel keeper.

My mother said nudity symbolises truth, the truth stands naked. Did I ever swim naked? Yes. In the presence of women? No. Would that this were for Ireland, said a man dipping his toe in the water.

In London when young I visited a sex shop, done up like a Boots chemists. The female assistant asked me could she help me, I said I was only looking. She was disgusted. No money in that. I bought nothing. I treated it like a museum, they are free.

In Moore street in Dublin the vegetable sellers at stalls ask are you buying? Think twice before you do. Nice white mushrooms on the stall, but brown ones from under the counter if you buy.   They sell throw outs from the fruit and vegetable market, a little known fact. I’ll scrawb the fatures off you said one to another, so my father told me.   The song Biddy Mulligan celebrates them and their ilk.

This is a long way from nude girls, my mind wanders. The female form has been celebrated by artists throughout the ages, not to speak of the male. See the Sistine Chapel, was that Leonardo or Michelangelo? Don’t tell me, don’t show off. I don’t care if the Pope has dirty pictures in his chapel, we’re not having them, said a politician in our parliament discussing censorship of books with W.B. Yeats, poet and senator. We’ve got over that now, we have sex shops.   There was no sex in Ireland before television said another politician of ours. We are all the result of miracle births.

I speak of course of the old days. We have grown up and got sense since. Or what passes for it.   You learned about sex by osmosis in the old days, but you did learn. What is the difference between education and training? There’s sex education in schools, not sex training. Now you know.

A pretty girl on the cover sells a book, said Laurence O’Bryan, novelist and editor, to me, so I had one there. Hence the remark of that man, the nude girl fancier. So far, no nude girls in or on any book of mine. You have to draw the line somewhere, as Picasso might have said.

Imagination is a wonderful thing. Use your imagination. Did you have any bad thoughts, a priest might ask a confessor. In totalitarian states there’s such a thing as thought crime. I have thoughts but I don’t agree with them, said a man when asked in those circumstances.

A pretty girl is like a melody said someone, maybe Shakespeare. They’re all the same in the dark, said someone else. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Beauty is only skin deep. Beauty comes from within. Make up your own mind, if you have one.

I leave you to your fantasies.

How about a nudist colony in the Arctic Circle?

Tich Ennis

3rd December, 2017

Schizophrenia

I have two names, David and Tich.

I am not rich.

I am diagnosed schizophrenic, so what?

Thanks a lot.

I dislike labels.

I like chairs and tables.

In their proper places, I don’t like airs and graces.

Under the name of David I drink and as Tich I sit and think.

And sometimes write.

I hope not shite.

I was born in Ireland to be geographic.

Should I go pornographic?

I might be a bigger seller.

Like Joseph Heller.

Another feller.

My brother says Joseph Heller was not pornographic, must I point that out?

He wrote Catch 22, a great book, no doubt.

Very funny too.

My best to you.

This poem is semi-demi autobiographical, often the best type.

Like David Copperfield and other tripe.

Allow the madman speak.

The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

What would you say if you spoke someone said to me.

Well, nothing much, do you agree?

At least I’m me.

Tich Ennis

1st December, 2017

Who Shoots First?

Okay, international relations are at a critical point.

Someone’s nose is out of joint.

If I bomb you should you bomb me too, two can play that game.

Eternal shame.

Go on punk, make my day, I’ll blow you to smithereens.

Human beings.

It was ever thus, why make a fuss?

Will there be any left of us?

Here comes my bus.

I know I’m just a slob.

Someone has to do this job.

Tich Ennis

29th November, 2017

Hurdles

There’s always another hurdle before you come to the end.

Keep going and you’ll get there, my friend.

No one said it would be easy, if it was easy everyone would do it.

Then when you have it done they say there’s nothing to it.

I dislike when people say you would know that.

So would they if they bothered to find out, know a dog from a cat.

Are successful people especially gifted or do they just work hard?

Believe me my friend it pays to think or else get up the yard.

Tich Ennis

28th November, 2017

Clown

I wonder should I say hello or should I say goodbye?

I wonder should I laugh or should I cry?

I wonder should I live or should I die?

As long as I keep wondering at least I am not dead.

When young my mother called me to get out of bed.

Sleepwalk or talk?

Do I talk in my sleep? How would I know?

I could ask a girl I used to know.

Some guy said I made sense when I was drunk, I should write it down.

Would I listen to a clown?

Tich Ennis

27th November, 2017