Category Archives: Universality

Fake News

Pope to canonise Paisley to make the unionists happy.

Bob Dylan said Abba are sappy.

Jerry Lee Lewis said I’m better than Elvis and I’m not dead.

Donald Trump says that’s not what I said.

Teresa May, the Virgin on the Rocks, says what she really thinks.

Arlene Foster stinks.

Tich Ennis

5th December, 2017

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Converging Concepts

Maths, art, science, literature, philosophy, religion are converging to a single point.

A Russian scientist said that, whom the saints anoint.

Speaking for myself, I concur.

I who infrequently err.

Love is where you find it wherever that may be.

An old pop song or a cup of tea.

Did Adam and Eve do wrong or did they make a mistake?

The Reader’s Digest said that in my years of heartache.

I made mistakes in my time.

Who is without crime?

Everything should rhyme.

I do be and I does be talking rot.

That’s not all I’ve got.

Whoever is responsible, thanks a lot.

I think this poem is rather good but who am I to say?

Have it your way.

Perhaps the last two lines should be in parentheses or, as you might say, bracket.

If you have a bad child do you smack it?

Tich Ennis

4th December, 2017

Nude Girl

Some man said I should have a nude girl on the cover of my book. Sexist pig!   I think it was the same man who said I should have rape, violence and bloodthirsty murder in my book.   For that sort of thing read the papers. Sex sells, it has been said, ask a brothel keeper.

My mother said nudity symbolises truth, the truth stands naked. Did I ever swim naked? Yes. In the presence of women? No. Would that this were for Ireland, said a man dipping his toe in the water.

In London when young I visited a sex shop, done up like a Boots chemists. The female assistant asked me could she help me, I said I was only looking. She was disgusted. No money in that. I bought nothing. I treated it like a museum, they are free.

In Moore street in Dublin the vegetable sellers at stalls ask are you buying? Think twice before you do. Nice white mushrooms on the stall, but brown ones from under the counter if you buy.   They sell throw outs from the fruit and vegetable market, a little known fact. I’ll scrawb the fatures off you said one to another, so my father told me.   The song Biddy Mulligan celebrates them and their ilk.

This is a long way from nude girls, my mind wanders. The female form has been celebrated by artists throughout the ages, not to speak of the male. See the Sistine Chapel, was that Leonardo or Michelangelo? Don’t tell me, don’t show off. I don’t care if the Pope has dirty pictures in his chapel, we’re not having them, said a politician in our parliament discussing censorship of books with W.B. Yeats, poet and senator. We’ve got over that now, we have sex shops.   There was no sex in Ireland before television said another politician of ours. We are all the result of miracle births.

I speak of course of the old days. We have grown up and got sense since. Or what passes for it.   You learned about sex by osmosis in the old days, but you did learn. What is the difference between education and training? There’s sex education in schools, not sex training. Now you know.

A pretty girl on the cover sells a book, said Laurence O’Bryan, novelist and editor, to me, so I had one there. Hence the remark of that man, the nude girl fancier. So far, no nude girls in or on any book of mine. You have to draw the line somewhere, as Picasso might have said.

Imagination is a wonderful thing. Use your imagination. Did you have any bad thoughts, a priest might ask a confessor. In totalitarian states there’s such a thing as thought crime. I have thoughts but I don’t agree with them, said a man when asked in those circumstances.

A pretty girl is like a melody said someone, maybe Shakespeare. They’re all the same in the dark, said someone else. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Beauty is only skin deep. Beauty comes from within. Make up your own mind, if you have one.

I leave you to your fantasies.

How about a nudist colony in the Arctic Circle?

Tich Ennis

3rd December, 2017

Contradiction

I said I would post no more to my blog yet here I am again. So, I changed my mind, what’s wrong with that?

I just talked with my best friend Michael O’Brien on the phone. He said to put my poem Believe Me on my blog, so I did, just now.

Why do I write? To make money? No. Posting to a blog makes no money. Michael more or less said to put all my stuff up there, although he agreed with me recently not to give everything away for nothing.

It costs nothing to post to my blog.

Man does not live by bread alone, but does need bread. (Bread = money, hippy talk). I have almost no bread in the house, of either kind. I will buy two loaves in the cheapest supermarket later today.

I have no idea what the future holds. (Predictions are impossible, especially about the future).

I write because I love it. Is my writing good? That’s not for me to say. If someone else wrote it, would I like it? Yes. Then there would be no need for me to write it.

Does what I write need to be said? I think so. I believe so. So I say it, so I do it.

Have any real live people I meet face to face liked my writing? Yes. Not only one. Genuine people, people I trust and like. So that’s something. So its worth doing. I mean every word I say. I believe meaning. Is there anything else to believe? No. That is my message. All the time, for all time.

There is more rubbish on the internet than good stuff but there is good stuff. The world is the same. More bad stuff than good stuff but there is good stuff. (What’s rare is valuable).

Don’t lose hope.

Tich Ennis

9th August, 2017

Shred

Should I write every shred before I’m dead?

Do not dismiss others without a thought.

Love cannot be bought.

Is it pointless for me to write things down?

What is the point of a circus, the clown?

I suppose so, yes.

That’s true, I guess.

Suppose no one came, no one wanted to see or hear?

There’s always the next town when you’re not wanted here.

I might mention beer.

Be of good cheer.

Tich Ennis

14th 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

Jukebox

The gloss and glitter of an old jukebox,

play rhythm and blues, the music rocks.

Play something slushy, play something sweet,

the music gets you right off your feet.

Elvis, Chuck, Fats, Little Richard, Buddy, Eddie Cochran,

the music’s great, its gone, gone, gone.

The Promised Land, oh yeah, Chuck Berry,

Rock ‘n’ Roll music gets you there in a hurry.

Don’t forget Brenda Lee, Sweet Nothin’s, Fool Number One.

Play Stupid Cupid, Connie Francis, under the setting sun.

Never force anything, feel it, that’s the way.

Rock ‘n’ Roll music has a lot to say.

Tich Ennis

10th July, 2017