Category Archives: Optimism

Poster Boy

Poster designed by me not printed yet.

CD not duplicated yet.

Its coming, like Christmas.

Book ready in small quantities.

We can but try, Tich Ennis, 9th 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

Target

To dissolve untruths and expose them as a lie.

Is that what I must do before I die?

If so, why?

Why must we live in a lie?

People are fed up with politics and politicians, so am I.

It seems all gameplaying saying I’m all right and you’re all wrong.

A worn out song.

Certainly not true, hear Big Ben bong.

As someone said, how long, oh Lord, how long?

How long is life, must we put up with this?

Not if I have my way before death’s last kiss.

I seek eternal bliss.

What is the missing factor in all this?

Abandoned truth, ignored, unloved, oh lovely miss.

Thou art my target may I never miss.

May my aim be true.

I love you.

So do other people too.

You are not alone.

Not while flesh clings to my bone.

I hear your moan, your cry.

You are as I.

I can but try.

Arrow, play your part.

Aim for the heart.

Target, thou art mine.

Finest wine.

Now and for all time.

I speak in rhyme.

As you see here.

I drink beer.

A glass might leave a ring on this page.

Must I leave behind tears and rage?

Not if I have my way.

I will have my say.

That’ll be the day.

Tich Ennis

24th November, 2017

Problems

Deal with your problems one at a time.

That is the message of this rhyme.

You can’t deal with too much at once.

You are not a dunce.

Take it one step at a time as you learned to walk.

Call on a friendly person, have a talk.

Maybe a teacher who used chalk.

You have it in you if you follow my advice.

Not everyone is nice.

Some are.

Let me be your guiding star.

There you are.

Tich Ennis

24th November, 2017

Books And Other Things

Is there any point in reading all the great books assuming you have time enough and if you did what good would it do you or anyone else and would you have time to do anything else at all in your life? A man died while watching the Eurovision Song Contest. I know the feeling.

James Joyce said the appreciation of his work requires a lifetime’s application. Probably only half joking. A psychiatrist said she would not do it if she had two lifetimes. Sorry, James. Joyce also said he wanted to forge the unfinished conscience of his race in the smithy of his soul. Fine words butter no parsnips. That sort of thing gives rhetoric a bad name.

Substitute whatever turns you on for the word books in the title here, music or whatever the Hell else. Yes, I love music. Or dancing or golf, God help us. The perennial student, always studying, never doing. Is that a life well spent? What is life for? Look it up, there are conflicting opinions. Have you an opinion of your own or are all your ideas second hand?

What is the purpose of art, to inspire, enlighten, amuse, entertain, educate or what? This question has been answered before and if you don’t know you weren’t paying attention. For the word art substitute life. Or vice versa, whatever you like.

Look up the word dictionary in a dictionary. You might as well know something as nothing. The purpose of education if you are an egomaniac is to look down on others, be condescending and become an intellectual snob. Good luck with it.   There is no fool like an educated fool said Samuel Johnson.   He described a lexicographer as a harmless drudge. He should know, he wrote a dictionary, what did you do?

(Lexicographer, one who writes a dictionary. That’s telling you. Two can play at this intellectual snob thing.)   It takes one to know one. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, when you think you know it all and you don’t. There is such a thing as inverted intellectual snobbery, being proud of knowing nothing. Equally repulsive.

Who says? I do. Who am I to speak? More or less no one, speak for yourself. What everyone knows is wrong, get that into your head. I believe what you do, not what you say. Liar, liar pants on fire.

So, are books, or indeed life, worthwhile? You get out of them what you put into them. If you get one good thing out of a book its worthwhile, said a brother of mine. Same applies to life, in all its forms. Art or otherwise, or digging roads or ploughing fields. As you sow so shall you reap, old saying. Life will do to be going on with.

Any day you’re above ground is a good day. Said a man now dead, but remembered. This is more or less all I have to say on the subject. Figure it out yourself.

I wrote this like Jack Kerouac wrote On The Road, more or less typing without stopping, like jazz improvisation. That’s not writing that’s typing, someone said.

Okay, I paused for thought between sentences, I’m not Jack Kerouac.

Tich Ennis

22nd November, 2017

 

Dream

Sometimes I dream things, should I say what I dream?

Things are not as they seem.

Its very complicated and simple at the same time.

They really are simple, the crooks stole the wine.

The Devil has been described as the master of confusion, may I also say illusion and delusion?

In truth the truth is true, all else is lies.

An honest fool is wise.

Who is called a fool today, an honest man.

There are some of us left to fulfil God’s plan.

Is it pointless writing words, do words mean a thing?

They do to me and you I hope, after Winter Spring.

Mere words are not enough, actions speak more loud.

Sooner or later you will wear a shroud.

Words mean nothing if not put into action and words of course tell lies.

I was called a wordsmith by someone not so wise.

The word comes first it has been said, I speak, I am not dead.

May we find the truth in words and then for God’s sake do it?

I’d like to say there’s nothing to it.

Who said it would be easy, the easy way is wrong.

The effects are all around you, is it time to end my song?

Don’t keep the truth a secret, you know right from wrong.

A million fake breathalyser tests by the guardians of the law.

That’s the world we live in, I say, I see, I saw.

Use your eyes and use your ears and use your tongue and all.

You are alive, do not act dead, it does not work at all.

You took your first step as a child, take another now.

Never give up, the truth is real, how can I say it anyhow?

People with better brains than me are going the wrong way.

Do not join them, be yourself, that’s all I have to say.

Until another day.

Words themselves do nothing, I said that before.

Do not do nothing, I am Irish so I talk, we need something more.

This is a pretty hopeless poem but I live in hope.

I’ll say it better one fine day, yours faithfully, a dope.

What do I dream? I dream of a world that’s true.

For me and you.

Tich Ennis

20th September, 2017

Once

Once upon a time there was a man who had a wife of the opposite sex.

Perhaps he was old fashioned, he plundered gold off wrecks.

He never prayed a ship would go down but he said if they have bad luck let it be near here.

Along the rocky foreshore he walked and shed a tear.

Saying to himself, perhaps next year.

Its an ill wind that blows nobody good he said he was full of old sayings, he said a carpenter should cut wood.

Perhaps in the fullness of time this story will be understood.

I would if I could.

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck, no that’s been said before.

I’ll stop before I bore.

Do you want more?

Tich Ennis

28th August, 2017