Category Archives: Slaughter

One Day

If I said something totally one sided some of you would agree.

That’s not me.

You see.

Or rather, don’t.

Because you won’t.

It wouldn’t suit you.

So they shoot you.

The opposite point of view.

How like you.

I am on both sides and all sides at once.

Call me a dunce.

Maybe no side at all.

Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall.

One day I may make it clear.

When I have your ear.

What you already know.

I told you so.

Should I spell it out?

Say get the Hell out?

You’re good at that, damn good I say.

I’ll try another way.

One day you may have enough of acting tough.

Run out of lies and alibis.

When that day comes I’m here.

Join me in a beer.

Good cheer!

Tich Ennis

2nd December, 2017

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Gentle

Be gentle with the paranoid, they become quite easily annoyed.

Do not expect reasonability, that’s not in their sensibility.

The paranoid are mad, that’s true but sad.

They mistrust you and your actions, they form themselves into factions.

They are not sane, causing death and pain.

They can be extreme, hear the news, see what I mean.

Tit for tat, that’s that.

They are sure they’re right, so they fight.

With all their might.

They want to be king in control of everything.

Me? I sing.

Tich Ennis

12th November, 2017

Genocide

Long on diagnosis, short on cure.

I listen and I hear, must I endure?

Alright, I’m old and easily bored.

Have I missed the point through inattentiveness, metaphorically I snored.

Is this what gives academicism a bad name, gentlemanly, polite, you know the game.

Long live civilisation whatever that may be.

What’s the answer to genocide, a cup of tea?

Your answer, BBC.

Tich Ennis

27th September, 2017

What Price Love?

Without wishing to overstate my case may I say the human race is a disgrace?

Death and famine stalk the land and as far as they are concerned things are grand.

Have they got out of hand?

Mad dictators preaching hate, power maniacs, await your fate.

There are two sides of a coin, which side will you join?

Is moderation forever dead, what price love a wise man said.

If you have to ask you do not know, live and let live, I told you so.

As if you didn’t know.

Tich Ennis

30th August, 2017

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

Three Things

6th July, 2017

Michael,

Three CD’s here. Two one-act plays by Joe Orton, collectively known as Crimes of Passion, an interview with Phil Coulter, songwriter, and one with three items, a Hindu prayer, Luther’s Legacy and Exploring Truth, some clergymen waffling on and getting more or less nowhere. In that order, diminishing order of importance.

The Hindu religion appears rather more practical than others, as I said to you before, but why bore you by repeating myself? Sort of everyday reality, if you know what I mean. Life, whatever that is, and how to deal with it.

The Orton plays are brilliant and very funny. The Erpingham Camp, a satire on empire set in a holiday camp, no knobbly knees contest but a screaming one. The Ruffian on the Stair is grand guignol, full of menace, could be called black comedy, also extremely funny. Sentimentalism, savagery, murder and humour, it could almost be Irish.

The Irish do make an appearance, and why not? Oh wad such power, etcetera, to see ourselves as others see us. Some other Celt said that.   Robbie Burns, why not share the blame?

Now, real life. I am thinking of bringing out a book of poetry of less than forty-eight pages to sell for five euros, A5 size, already some have said they will pay that for it, sight unseen. Disposable income, why not? A printer is lined up, poems not yet selected, I will be the judge, all in cyberspace as of now or yet to appear there where apparently no one or almost no one knows they’re there. I am about to face reality. The real thing. Virtual no, not on your Nelly!

I have a title selected and more or less decided on the cover but may include some non-poetic work, why not? In some pubs a pint costs more than a fiver but you can’t bring it home with you. An heirloom. Owners could have themselves buried with it clutched in their hands to show to God on the day of judgement. If he hasn’t read it already.

I am my own judge, jury, prosecuting counsel and defence counsel in this matter as in all others. I let myself off with a caution.   I refuse to recognise the court. I play dumb. I promise never to do it again. That would be boring.

Oscar Wilde said being boring is a mortal sin. Who am I to disagree? It kills the soul. The dead kill the living. We live in the valley of the walking dead, but for how long? Until we find the off-switch.

Why do skulls have a grin on their face? You don’t think they took it seriously, do you? Neither do I. Yours ever, d

Tich Ennis

Depend

You can’t depend on the weather in Ireland or anything else at all.

Hear politicians talking, they might as well be talking to the wall.

They make no sense at all.

Ireland is rather small.

Does it punch above its weight in anything or is it fate?

We’re not bad at talking, when will we start walking?

We wrote some books, we sang some songs, we tried to right some wrongs.

Occasionally, once or twice, we get it right.

We emigrate, take flight.

Beannacht De libh, good night.

Alright.

Another wonderful day, as Beckett said.

Cheer up, you could be dead.

Tich Ennis

30th June, 2017