Category Archives: Mundanity

Music Maker

Should I tell the truth as it applies to me or is that boring wait and see.

If you sing and record at home your song needs mastering, or maybe poem.

Here is a boring fact, ISRC code, what’s that?

You need one on each track for identification on a radio station.

They are free if you look around and do no harm to the sound.

Whoever duplicates your CD if you make one puts them on at no extra cost.

No one told me all this, not all is lost.

I found out by asking, looking around and a little luck.

There are good guys out there who read the book.

When you’re starting you have to do everything for yourself including finding who to use for what.

Quite a lot.

If someone lived my life before could they tell me more?

Little by little I find how, your way would be different, a different hand on the plough.

I still have more to find out will I get there?

Yes, if I care.

So there.

What’s good is rare.

And who, you?

Maybe me too.

It is a case of doing things one step at a time.

As I wrote this rhyme.

This has been a blog, online diary, my recent history.

Why anyone else would be interested is a mystery.

I said nothing about how many cups of coffee I had nor a photo of my coffee cup.

Now at last I shut up.

Tich Ennis

15th November, 2017

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Truth Tellers

Truth tellers are not welcome it seems to me.

Oh well, the best is yet to be.

Can I have a good cup of tea?

Look all around you, see the worst.

So much with lies and falsehood cursed.

Hear everyday ordinary political speech.

Is the truth beyond their reach?

Or ours.

Grow flowers.

I write by the way of a bouquet.

This is what I have to say.

People say what suits them not what they think about a lot of things.

This is true of many kings.

Note I do not say all.

Extremism could kill us all.

That’s all.

Tich Ennis

28th July, 2017

Explaining Myself

Or attempting to. What am I? Who am I? Do I matter? If so to who or, much less, what? Are these irrelevant questions? If irrelevant, irrelevant to what? To what matters. What does matter? You. You matter to me. Do I matter to you? You who hear or read these words. Does it matter if I matter to you? It matters to me. Does it matter to you if you matter to me? I suppose so. It should. Who says? I do. Am I what I say and do? To a large extent yes. In fact that is all that matters about me. You too? Yes. Questions are limited. How, where, what, why, when and who. Am I defined in those terms and are those things all there are to say about me? For me read you. What is the most important question? Not what, that’s for sure. Why is the question, the supreme question. Why am I? Why are you? Why not? Why a pear, an apple, a blade of grass? Our environment. The environment from which we spring and of which we are a part. Self aware matter. Does matter matter? Yes. For a while. Our life is a while. We could not exist in material form except in a material world. Or universe or galaxy. Does matter last forever? No. It changes form. Will I or you last forever? No. Not in material form. Life is a life sentence. Hard labour. I mention that in passing. Life is a passing thing. Why and how are important, more than what. Reality is the essence of the real. I am my essence, you are yours. You are how you are what you are. I attempt to explain myself but explain you. A poor explanation. Another word for essence is spirit. When the spirit leaves the body we are dead. Dead to the world. We are no more. In the eyes of the world. We are our spirit. How we are. I am I. You are you. You are your spirit, me too. Does this matter? The word matter again. The soul of the thing. The thing I am, but more than a thing. What is my wish? That people not be treated as things. I or you. Anyone anywhere. Speaking for myself I know people have not much time for my longer pieces such as this. Unparagraphed now as I write. Should I care? Yes. About that? I don’t know. Should people care for each other? Yes. Who is the other? You. Me too. There are more questions than answers. Always. Here in this piece for example. The question why is all important. I must be talking to myself. You too. Have I answered those questions about myself? It seems not. I still don’t know. Do you? About you? Meanwhile I press on regardless. What have I said? I don’t matter, I am not matter, not a thing. If I matter to myself I am wrong. You matter. Who will read these words? Almost no one perhaps. Only you. That makes two. Me and you. A dream come true. Poets ask these questions and answer them better than I. Every man his own poet. We are part of a poem, you and I. The poem is the universe. Words are stars sprinkled in the sky. The question why. Maybe I will answer before I die.

I have a friend in hospital, maybe I will read him this. He will say it is too long. He is usually right. So long.

I read it to him. He said blog it. As is.

Tich Ennis

24th July, 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

Shakespeare

The written word remains said Shakespeare for his pains.

I am no Shakespeare, I know.

I come, I go.

The truth comes dropping slow.

That’s all I know.

Tich Ennis

14th July, 2017

Truth Again

I ignored you for so long, you are the only thing.

I know above all else you are the only king.

I know, I know you’re always there, you gave me hints and tips.

You lived on in memory, I kissed girls lips.

Now I know I’m old, I may live in memory.

I know you too live on, as Ian Dury sang, a cup of tea.

My best friends I know, some took refuge in drink.

Because, because you are ignored, oh may we ever think.

We stand at the brink.

Tich Ennis

10th July, 2017

Am I Wrong?

Is everything alright, is this the way you want things to be?

I don’t mean this verse, the universe and you and me.

Do you see?

If you think so, I’ll go.

I could be crazy or just lazy.

I want to clear up the mess but not if you like things as they are, I confess.

I see myself as the universal dustman, clearing up rubbish, righting wrongs, singing songs.

A garbage disposal operative you might say I am.

I am the little boy with his finger in the dam.

Tich Ennis

6th July, 2017