Category Archives: Outside World

White Lawn

Why are you not green?

Oh yes, its snow, I see what you mean.

White and clean.

I prefer green.

Tich Ennis

2nd March, 2018

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No One Understands

They see things from their own point of view, not you.

Unless of course its your mother, or another.

How have they time to be you, they have other things to do.

A good friend is different of course.

They are another horse.

So no, not no one, not quite.

Alright.

Who do you want to understand you but you?

That will do.

They can’t live your life for you.

That’s what you must do.

Why ask you?

Tich Ennis

19th February, 2018

Talking To Myself

Is that all I ever do?

Do I talk to you?

I who haven’t a clue.

So what else is new?

Must I talk to myself forever, give myself a good talking to?

Is that all any of us ever do?

Some enjoy what I have to say, others walk away.

Or look the other way.

Should I talk until the end of life, spread the word, let truth be heard, be as a surgeon’s knife?

I am no more important than you, what do I say, me too?

Enjoy the view.

And a picnic too.

That will do.

Tich Ennis

5th February, 2018

The Troubles

The trouble with Ireland is all the hardworking, intelligent, energetic people emigrated. I stayed behind, draw your own conclusions.

Some people come to live in Ireland. What the Hell for? The weather? It takes all sorts to make a world. Once there were nothing but Irish people here or more or less, God was it boring. All the buildings falling down and all that sort of thing.

If you go to England you can meet Irish people, but why? Or Spain or America or wherever the Hell else. Avoid Irish pubs, they rip you off. Okay for one day, they will tell you the good places to go, somewhere else is a good idea.

So some Irish guy was in a pub in America going on and on about how wonderful Ireland is, the people, the music, the mountains, the scenery and so on and on and on. If its such a great little country why did you leave it, said his drinking companion.

We Irish love to talk. So a friend of mine was in a foreign country not very far away and he started talking to the man beside him.   The other man, who was not Irish, said you came here to drink, why do you want to talk? That question would not make sense in Ireland.

During the seventies the I.R.A. were bombing, shooting and murdering everyone, mostly each other. We called that the troubles. The second world war was called the emergency in Ireland. Do we ever call things what they are?   We were neutral during that war, but neutral on which side?

Come to Ireland, its better than nothing. It’ll do to be going on with. But don’t stay long, we might drive you mad.   If you’re not mad already.   Ireland is a state of mind, it exists only in the imagination. The imagination of a drunk God. We take after him. What are you having yourself?

I could go on and on, being Irish, but its closing time. Have you no homes to go to?   We have your money, you can go home now. A barman at closing time.   The long goodbye.

So some American came back from the toilet in a bar in Dublin. He said there’s no lock on the toilet door.   I never heard of anyone stealing a shit said the barman. That’s Ireland for you.   Me too.

I’m Irish, what do you expect?

Tich Ennis

22nd January, 2018

 

 

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

Procrastination

A foray into the outside world putting off what I should do.

Am I like you?

The task I face appears immense, have I any sense?

The Devil is in the detail, my head begins to spin.

When will I begin?

The more you know the more you know you don’t know.

I thought I’d say that before I go.

The people I work with appear good, am I?

If not, why?

So many questions to ask before I get down to my task.

Take them one by one.

Have fun.

Ask the right question.

That’s my suggestion.

Of the right person too.

It could be you.

Get up and do.

Nothing ventured nothing gained.

An old saying, the truth remained.

Doing nothing is a crime.

 End of rhyme.

Tich Ennis

23rd October, 2017

Artist

I am an artist, I just want to make.

If I said I was in PR I’d be a fake.

Who wants to manufacture distribute and sell?

To me that’s Hell.

What price the Liberty Bell?

So almost no one knows of me or my output, my work, my art.

My breaking heart.

I don’t want to cry on your shoulder, I might shrink your collar.

Can you spare a dollar?

Nothing is free, not even me.

I am unwritten history.

I will have to learn to swim sometime.

Doing nothing is a crime.

I speak metaphorically of course, I’m a poet, not a horse.

Some idiot asked do I not know how to swim, that’s Michael O’Brien, that’s him.

Can I get anything into anyone’s thick head?

I’ll keep trying until I’m dead.

By swim I meant come down to Earth, get in the swim of things.

Knock on doors, try bell rings.

Must I speak simply as if everyone is a dope?

Including myself and the Pope.

Some hope.

Tich Ennis

11th September, 2017