Category Archives: Post truth society

Spirit

Trapped in a material world my spirit yearns to be free.

How do I play this violin that is me?

Or sometimes maybe I’m a saxophone, I loved rock’n’roll, leave me alone.

The meaning of music, what can words say?

To explain would take more than a day.

Or maybe more than life.

I raise my bow, end eternal strife.

Music flows.

God knows.

Naked without clothes.

The truth stands naked without cover up.

The world replies, shut up.

Must all be explained to those with eyes wide shut?

Can Tiger Woods do a putt?

Yes, it appears, but why, why, why?

Shall mind and heart be one before I die?

Call me fed up, call me naïve.

I believe.

Tich Ennis

21st September, 2018

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Modern Song

I want to commit suicide but I haven’t got the guts.

Don’t you know I’m nuts?

I want to share my misery and pain with you.

I think that’s the right thing to do.

You’re nuts too.

You enjoy my stuff because you are a misery boots.

I don’t give two hoots.

I am a comedian on stage, I give vent to rage.

A funny thing happened on the way to the loony bin.

Or alcoholic treatment place or drugs clinic, where do I begin?

I am depressed and I want the world to know.

Its my ego, its not small, I am a bomb about to blow.

Yeah, well, so people get killed at pop shows, so what?

I have the ticket money, thanks a lot.

I made sense once but I forgot.

Cheer up some other voice said.

It could be worse, you could be dead.

Who says everything is futile?

Some guy who forgot how to smile.

Life is awful, you’ll get over it in a while.

Is there no place for laughter, none for joy.

Not from this boy.

I say life is a one way suicide trip.

And people say I’m hip.

There is a word, masochist, look it up.

When you understand its meaning I might shut up.

And drink the loving cup.

In the meantime, okay, eat my turds.

You don’t understand words.

Because you don’t want to, it doesn’t suit you.

People like you shoot you.

Wallow like a pig.

Call me mister big.

Since when has it been best to be insane?

As that stupid saying has it, feel my pain.

Your pain is self inflicted.

You are addicted.

Grow up, get out more, life your life you fool.

Did you learn insanity at school?

Okay, I’ve had my say, I don’t eat vomit.

I prefer Wallace and Gromit.

I smoke and smoking is mad so I’m mad too.

Just like you.

I am the meaning of this song.

If I gave you a rope would you say so long?

Who has the cure, you or me?

Wait and see.

I do not choose misery and woe.

I go.

And so do you, what are you, Asian flu?

Solve the Arab Israeli conflict and I’ll believe you.

You are not the answer.

Chancer.

As for me, I am a dancer.

You are a romancer and romance is false.

I prefer rock‘n’roll to the waltz.

I too have faults.

If you see yourself in this song well, hello.

I don’t want to say I told you so.

Music should be fun or transcendental.

Not, as we say in Ireland, mental.

Is there a place for gentle?

Tich Ennis

1st August, 2018

Bukowski

Make I never speak an untrue word on paper or by voice.

That is my choice.

A woman who read my first book said I mean what I say, why is that unusual today?

Liars, liars everywhere, on T.V. and on the air.

Fake news, jokes that aren’t jokes, pigs in pokes.

Such drivel, am I supposed to believe this, I don’t.

Don’t expect me to talk like you, I won’t.

How long must we wait for the true?

I’ve had it up to here with you.

You leave me a lot to do.

Me and Charles Bukowski too.

Tich Ennis

11th July, 2018

Manchester United

Manchester United probably has no player from Manchester, does it matter?

Who is Sepp Blatter?

Today we have singers who can’t sing, it’s the thing.

Why is nothing what it says it is, the United Nations are not united.

Explain it to a child, it takes some explaining, I am not delighted.

They have as little to do with what they say they are as a bicycle with a car.

The world is very complicated, many things are overrated.

Do you blame people for going mad when the world is mad?

It makes me sad.

Rename something when its name is bad, does that change anything at all?

Am I talking to the wall?

They say a thing is wrong but have no cure.

Is that me or you or them, are you sure?

There’s something not right somewhere, as Shakespeare said, rotten in the state of Denmark.

He did not miss the mark.

For Denmark read everywhere.

Believe me there is good but it is rare.

What is happening to our air?

What qualities make good, dedication and care.

They are still there.

The few are true.

Are you?

Tich Ennis

19th June, 2018

 

Goodbye Fantasy

I haven’t written for a while, now I do, maybe raise a smile.

I must justify my existence for what it worth, here on Earth.

Apparently all is fantasy, illusion, may I dispel confusion.

It sure is realistic as Hell, oh well.

Reality is the essence of the real, the real thing is how you feel.

My life progresses on from day to day, I have not gone away.

I hope to cross my bridges as they come and go, today a stranger said hello.

He asked had I sold any books, I said no one has any money.

He thought that was funny.

This poem arrives at no conclusion.

Free us from delusion.

Tich Ennis

1st February, 2018

To Belle Gibson, Australia, fantasy cancer con artist

Rubbish Man

What do I want, I want the truth to be.

To Hell with me.

I write and sing for what its worth.

I want peace and happiness on Earth.

Joy, let joy be unconfined.

I am imperfect, do you mind?

So where is the perfect man, nowhere I suppose.

In the meantime may I wear his clothes?

I speak truth, I hope to be it too.

I waited everlastingly for you.

Some clown here says he wants the truth to be.

Who? Me.

I well know I may be misunderstood.

The rubbish man says swap bad and mad for good.

I want to make it perfectly clear.

That’s why I’m here.

My aim is for perfection, may I not aim in vain.

The world is in pain.

May my words not go down the drain.

The rubbish man would like a holiday in Spain.

Tich Ennis

10th January, 2018

Judges

Are the judges in Ireland also corrupt, are they on the make?

If it was their own daughter what stance would they take?

We all know they’re highly paid, they’ve got it made.

Why are their sentences so low and their awards so high?

Do they say to themselves there but for the grace of God go I?

It appears they back the system to the hilt.

How much would they fine Mr. Vanderbilt?

Or any other ordinary everyday millionaire.

The question is, do they care?

Tich Ennis

31st December, 2017