Category Archives: Sublime


Why should I inflict my psyche on you?

Art is therapy for the artist, that’s true.

Understanding me, you too.

Snow is white, the sky is blue.

Diagnose me, I’ll diagnose you.

Tich Ennis

5th March, 2018


My Song

There is a saying what everyone knows is wrong.

Is that your song?

It is mine, so long.

Tich Ennis

25th February, 2018


To examine one’s own life and the life all about.

To find them wanting, how do I fit in, how do I get out?

To understand everything and find the cure.

How to do it I’m not sure.

The road to perdition is a war of attrition.

People fall like flies, a part of me dies.

The world belongs to the wise.

Must I wear disguise?

Do I pass with honours my exam or just say damn?

Having examined through a microscope I believe in hope.

Yours faithfully, a dope.

Tich Ennis

24th February, 2018



Why is there a word perfection when there’s no such thing?

You may say the same of God or a wedding ring.

Someone said there’s no such thing as happiness, I disagree.

That’s only me.

A lawyer acts for either side, its about pounds shillings and pence.

He does not care if he makes sense.

I may state a case merely to demolish it.

What is truth, should we abolish it?

God is what you put first, best or worst.

I do not drink only because I thirst.

There’s such a thing as aspiration.

Getting there requires a destination.

Tich Ennis

22nd February, 2018


Two In One

Do I have to say this, don’t you know?

The spiritual is expressed through the physical, there you go.

Its not one or the other or the other not at all.

Its both together hand in hand or else look how we fall.

Why do I have to say this, listen to a singer sing.

He uses heart and lungs and soul and voice, he gives everything.

Or she, not to be gender specific.

When done right it is terrific.

Body and Soul is an old jazz standard, it says what I say here.

Someone has to brew your beer.

I’m a poor poet saying what needs to be said.

Before I’m dead.

Tich Ennis

20th 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





In theory I am a genius but in practice no.

I have a long way to go.

I am an apprentice millionaire, just starting out.

When I find out how I’ll give you a shout.

I am the world’s greatest lover, I have some practice in that sphere.

I just say to a girl, come here.

Theory means nothing if not put into practice, learn that first.

Then do your thing, shut up, or else you’re cursed.

Dream while you’re asleep, not all day.

That’s more or less all I have to say.

Mere words are a waste of time.

Is this a poem or a rhyme?

Don’t live only in theory, don’t you see.

Leave that to me.

Tich Ennis

21st January, 2018