Category Archives: Philosophy

Deity

God is always there when you look.

Otherwise a closed book.

Bad news they say comes in threes.

They don’t always speak the truth in times like these.

Tremendous obstacles may be overcome.

How long to kingdom come?

Acceptance may be the best way.

Tomorrow is another day.

Leave no stone unturned.

The traveller returned.

Seek and ye shall find.

Peace of mind.

You must really mean it, really do it.

Giving your all is all that’s to it.

Give yourself to what you do.

Then you know God is true.

God is self effacing, his message is be the same.

You will be glad he came.

This world lives in shame.

Who to blame?

God seeks no fame.

Do your best.

Life is a test.

Testing you.

Be true.

That’s what I should do.

Must I spell it out?

Do not doubt.

Half measures always fail.

True is the holy grail.

Its there waiting for you to find.

Make up your mind.

Its never too late until you’re dead.

Enough said.

I’ll take this as read.

To read means to understand, if you understand, then do.

How to be you.

Me too.

This poem could go on forever.

When will you understand, never?

If you understand then do.

I leave it to you.

Tich Ennis

14th August, 2017

Full Stop

My best friend Michael O’Brien agrees I should stop giving my stuff away for nothing on my blog. I have written various things and not put them there recently, too busy.

I have only 75 or 76 followers on my blog. My nephew said people liking and following other people’s blogs often only want a like or a following in return. I don’t want those likes and followers. I know at least one is genuine, the only one I wrote to and who replied. Thank you.

My plan is to have a book printed and sell it locally, quite a few people, maybe 43, have said they will buy. I will sell it for almost nothing, the printer will make more than me.

I ordered a book on self-publishing from Amazon today, by Rick Smith, which seems the best on the subject. So my work may be available as a print on demand book (POD) and also electronically when I can get my head around how to set up writing for those and uploading and all that.

That way is known as going over the heads of the gatekeepers, who are very good at slamming doors in people’s faces and ignoring them. Going direct to the public.

25 per cent of the top selling books on Amazon are self published, usually half POD and half digitally. Digital books have a 65 per cent market share, and growing.   People buying digital books buy more books, presumably because they are cheaper than on paper, as well as instantly delivered and other advantages.  Being old and traditional I prefer paper books and do not own an electronic book reader. Also being broke.

The paper method costs more, including to me to get my book printed locally for which I will have to borrow.   Selling as a self publisher through Amazon involves a steep learning curve, hopefully I get to the top of that hill!   But no cost to the writer, except time and know how.   The know how I do not have but hope to learn.

Of course not every book sells, I am well aware of that. Today I heard I failed to win a short story competition. A friend of mine said, when you’re starting you have to do everything for yourself.

Contrary to my title here, this may not be my last word ever on my blog. Look forward to Full Start.

I’m a crazy mixed up old man, not a crazy mixed up kid.

Tich Ennis

4th August, 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

America

Part of America was bought, is everything for sale?

Does money get you elected in the land of the Christmas sale?

Money may buy you health, what is looked up to, wealth?

Is everything about money, their comedians are funny.

Is money what its all about, death and taxes find you out.

What does it profit a man if he loses his soul, they fought to keep their country whole.

Oh land of striving which speaks of the free, your music means a lot to me.

Tich Ennis

23rd July, 2017

Hope

Is there a glimmer of hope for even the maddest dope?

Throw me a rope.

I walk across, at a loss.

The line is tight, alright, all night.

No safety net.

Not on your Nelly, you bet.

I’ll get there yet.

Where is there, it is not here, I’m only here for the beer.

Give me no push or shove, I search for love.

Heaven’s above.

Tich Ennis

14th July, 2017

Zoo

A snake in the grass. The elephant in the room. The monkey on my back. A laughing hyena. Head-in-the-sand ostrich.

These and many other colourful metaphors describe the human zoo. We live there, there is no entrance fee. The demon drink. Okay, a demon is not an animal, although depicted as a horned beast, and tailed. Heads I win, tails you lose, that sort of guy.

What do you get when you cross a sheep with a kangaroo? A woolly jumper. That ancient wisdom is on a clay tablet of pre-1960 era, anthropocene. Our era, get used to it. Its all we have to go on.

In earlier, less enlightened times people would visit the local lunatic asylum to see the lunatics raving or otherwise. Now, the lunatics have taken over the asylum. This is the elephant in the room. A room with a view. Isn’t nature wonderful?

Nature red in tooth and claw, said Rudyard Kipling, who spoke a lot of sense. Sense is not popular in intellectual circles, see asylum above. Genius at a push, which is said to be akin to madness. But not the same thing. Different, yes. Vive la difference. The colours of the rainbow, from which all other colours are made.   No, the world is not monochrome, one colour, boring if so, but no.

Reality is multi-coloured, variety is the spice of life. As has been said, possibly by a parrot. Myself in that instance. Sheeplike. Bovine. Alright for sheep and cows. A bull in a china shop. A horse of a different colour. Or a person. Why not? Why indeed? Sameness is boring. But you knew that already.

I hesitated whether to call this piece Metaphorical Zoo, but no, not simple enough. Or A Zoo or The Zoo? The indefinite or the definite article, there is a vast difference. There I go again. Biodiversity in its infinite variety. The variety of human experience. My family and other animals, Gerald Durrell. Planet of the apes. A film, or movie if you prefer.   Your fellow humans.     Enjoy the show. Am I my brother’s keeper or my keeper’s brother?

Don’t try to understand other people’s motives. That way madness lies. One man’s philosophy, I do what I like and laugh at everyone else. Not my philosophy.   There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy, Shakespeare. My kind of creature.

Its not all bad or mad or sad, of that I’m glad.   This piece is subject to revision. As much else.   Hopefully the truth may evolve. It’s a slow process. Each must play their part. Must or should? That would be telling you.

Tich Ennis

10th July, 2017

Love Is The Word

In the beginning was the word then it became absurd.

Love became hate and shut Heaven’s gate.

Lies were chosen, love was frozen.

War and misery putting first me.

Bitter fruit we eat, when may friends meet?

Triviality came first, the best lost to the worst.

Are we cursed?

Once more the word will be when truth is set free.

Free us all from Hell, this prison cell.

The jailer is me, I was blind, now I see.

Turn the key.

Set us free.

So the best can be.

Say the word.

Love is heard.

Tich Ennis

8th July, 2017