Category Archives: Soul

Genius is of the Spirit

Genius is of the spirit not the mind.

You have it, be kind.

In every little thing you do be true.

And in big things too.

Goya said he was still learning at the age of ninety-five.

Learn while you’re alive.

You will be dead a long time, so the mournful people say.

You are not dead today.

Use your brush, your words, your hands and feet.

Joy is unconfined when lovers meet.

Life is your work of art.

Be of good heart.

Tich Ennis

19th September, 2017

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Sayings

You can’t reveal the truth without revealing yourself. So it has been said.

I am alive, not dead.

The truth, when perfectly expressed, is incontrovertible.

I never owned a convertible.

The truth, though imperfectly expressed, is still the truth.

I read these sayings in my youth.

Is there something else I have forgotten?

Eugene O’Neill wrote A Moon for the Misbegotten.

Yes, T.S. Eliot said the truth is what is most hated.

This is the end of this poem, I’m glad you waited.

It is necessary to confront evil in order to defeat it.

You know it when you meet it.

I thought I’d throw that one in.

To leave it out would be a sin.

Tich Ennis

17th September, 2017

To Do

I want to fix the world and bring an end to war and want.

The truth is staring me in the face, I can do it and you can’t.

I left home today without eating porridge.

I ate from the tree of forbidden knowledge.

As I walked to the café I saw litter on the ground.

Sometimes I pick some up, it would make a mound.

I ordered a breakfast, it costs eight ninety-five.

I want to stay alive.

When will I get around to doing the things I want to and should do?

Would it incur your displeasure if I say the same to you?

Tich Ennis

11th September, 2017

Oh Soul

Does my soul matter to anyone except me, and God, the ultimate mystery?

I pour my soul into my writing, poetry, rhymes and what have you, a pot pourri, an Irish stew.

Is my soul immortal in any sense at all, am I talking to the wall?

The soul according to the ancient Greeks is where we feel and give expression to love, there’s more to say, I could go on for weeks.

A soul, one tattered remnant, I offer up to you.

How will I end this rhyme, I haven’t got a clue.

Over to you.

Tich Ennis

5th September, 2017

What You Say

No one thinks anyone means what they say like have a nice day.

Could they care less if you fell into a hole and shrivelled up your soul?

I am a fool who cannot lie.

I don’t know why.

I don’t fit into this world, this Earth, this planet.

I never met a girl called Janet.

I cannot work out a subterfuge.

My brain is not huge.

If you meet me, tolerate.

My suffering is very great.

Who treats people as meaning what they say? I do.

I mean you.

I suppose I was not treated exactly as a fool at school.

Where we were taught the golden rule.

I believed it but others went straight out into the yard and beat up small boys very hard.

Into their faces they would spit.

A cynic might say I was taught to be a hypocrite.

That’s something I did not learn, I treat words as true.

How about you?

To say I am perfect would be to create a wrong impression.

Others in my place suffer from depression.

In a mad bad world remaining sane gives me a pain.

I cannot pretend I neither hear nor see.

Who is blind and deaf? Not me.

I believe I see things as they are.

Including the guiding star.

You are what you are.

Should I tear out my eyes as in a myth from Greece?

I considered suicide but prefer peace.

No, I will not kill myself, I leave that to you.

You who spit in people’s faces, the rotten crew.

Among the slaves on board this boat are some brave and honest men.

Lest they suffer in silence I take up my pen.

The pen, they say, is mightier than the sword.

When you speak should I believe a word?

Big and small dictators I’m watching you.

When you stop your parrot talk you will be true.

You drive many round the bend but not me, I was born a fool.

As I said I met your kind at school.

I had and have a friend or two, that old word, good.

I see the tree, I see the wood.

Don’t let me be misunderstood.

Is understanding what you fear?

Then don’t lie into my ear.

I do understand you, the spitting kind, all too well.

You make life Hell.

You wish to create fear, and do.

There are degrees of course of all things.

Stop behaving like kings.

Don’t sneer, don’t condescend, don’t act superior.

Stop making people feel inferior.

Because I don’t mention you by name don’t think I don’t know your game.

You are responsible for worldly ills, drug addiction, madness, suicide, your treatment kills.

I am an old fool, on that we can agree, I speak of what I saw and see.

Who would listen to a fool like me?

Inhumanity is wrong.

I love a song.

To list all cruelties would take all day.

Be careful what you say.

I have not gone away.

Tich Ennis

4th September, 2017

 

Knife

A surgeon and a murderer have reasons for cutting with a knife.

One to give and one to take a life.

Motive matters, above all else the reason why.

One wants you to live, the other die.

A knife is neither good nor bad, the person using it is sane or mad.

Is a person how they want to be?

Yes, so it seems to me.

Whether they be rich or poor or somewhere in between.

Or from wherever or whoever, they write and act their scene.

Tich Ennis

2nd September, 2017

Court

Blackening one person’s name does not make another’s white.

If you believe that of yourself, goodnight.

So are some people shades of grey as far as you may know?

Including yourself, you ought to know.

Who is your judge and who are you to judge?

Yourself I say, and do not fudge.

As far as I am concerned the jury’s out.

I am inclined to give myself the benefit of the doubt.

Tich Ennis

3rd September, 2017