Category Archives: Wicklow

Coffee Blues

I was thinking of writing a poem called where’s my bloody coffee but I decided not to because I don’t want to be annoyed.

I got it myself and found my first coffee was paid for, I am overjoyed.

I rang a friend, he’s round the bend, no answer came, when will life end?

I notice all lines here begin with the word I, I must live and die.

At last a line beginning differently.

I prefer coffee to tea.

That’s just me.

Tich Ennis

26th August, 2017

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State Of Play

The situation is in a state of flux. Everything always is, said a friend. Metamorphosing he said. I dislike saying what I am going to do because it might not happen. As Spike Milligan said, I have no plan so nothing can go wrong.

Be that as it may Shinobu has said she can lend me 500 euros towards the publication and printing of my proposed book, which exists in the ether of this computer on which I write. Politics has been described as the art of the possible.

I texted my solicitor, Gus Cullen, asking should I buy an ISBN number for it, which is not a legal requirement. Mainly this book will be sold locally, perhaps through one bookshop and two hotels of a friendly nature, but 50 or so individual people have said they will buy. They need no ISBN, those individuals, of course.

ISBN numbers cost 100 euros plus VAT for one or 250 pounds sterling plus VAT for ten. I may self-publish on Amazon, not the book I am proposing getting printed locally, but a variation of it, of a higher page count. As a POD and also digitally, if I get around to it. I like to keep my options open, but not forever.

I would not have to borrow if I was not broke. There is some kind of Arts department of the local county council which apparently give grants in some circumstances. I spoke with their representative after a poetry reading I gave at Arklow culture night and she said they would give a grant towards the cost of bringing out a book.

A visual artist I know said they are no good, they promise a grant and fail to keep their promise.   My sister, who knows that artist, said that is just him. I said the silly bitch did not have a card. My sister said if I call her that I won’t get any money. I suppose she’s right, my sister.   She sometimes is.   I am trying to avoid being annoyed with the world and all its works and pomps but am having difficulty doing that. Restraint is a virtue at which practice makes perfect.   I’m not there yet.

Maeve Binchy said she does not agree with subsidised art, neither do I. Beggars can’t be choosers. There’s no harm in trying. They can only say no, although I foresee having to jump through many bureaucratic hoops before achieving a result, positive or negative.   Bureaucracy and me are not good friends. A bureaucrat thinks rules are more important than people.

I was never too proud to be on the dole. If the county council come up with the goodies I could return it at a later date. There is always that possibility. Bob Dylan took some time deciding whether to accept the Nobel Prize money. I myself walked to the dole office on foot, not barefoot. Through the snow.

That then is the state of play. Situation normal, all fouled up. A solicitor I worked for said to a client “We will wait until the situation clarifies itself”.   Situations don’t clarify themselves, you have to clarify them.   Or in this case, me.   I must be the clarifier. With help from my friends.

Thanks, Shinobu. Also to others who would blush if I mention their names.   Humility is the greatest virtue. But you know that already.

I will work it out as I go along, crossing my bridges as I come to them. That is my plan. But what did Spike Milligan say? “I’m walking backwards to Christmas”.

And so say all of us.

Tich Ennis

10th August, 2017

Optimists

Optimists in Ireland buy an open topped car.

Rain is not far away, not very far.

Sun hats are rarely seen, rare as blue sky.

Nor sunglasses, don’t ask why.

Sun lotion is not a big seller.

If you don’t know why ask Joseph Heller.

He may never have been in Ireland, I don’t know.

Today the sun shines and the wind doth blow.

Okay, a breeze.

Leaves rustle in the trees.

Swallows fly in times like these.

I need to recharge my phone.

I rang a friend, I’m not alone.

I look upward, I see a kite, the feathered kind.

And blue sky, oh never mind.

This is one of the few days you can wear Summer clothes.

A day to remember, one of those.

Tich Ennis

12th July, 2017

Arklow Resident

I have decided to postpone my suicide until the local river is cleaned up because it is so full of sewage I can’t face entering the water.  Therefore, I will live forever, for that reason and that reason alone.  I do not own a gas mask so ending it all by that method is out of the question.  I am old but will live to be very old indeed.  I and the sewage are infinite.  Time stands still here.  So do I.  And the county council.

Tich Ennis

7th July, 2017

Am I Wrong?

Is everything alright, is this the way you want things to be?

I don’t mean this verse, the universe and you and me.

Do you see?

If you think so, I’ll go.

I could be crazy or just lazy.

I want to clear up the mess but not if you like things as they are, I confess.

I see myself as the universal dustman, clearing up rubbish, righting wrongs, singing songs.

A garbage disposal operative you might say I am.

I am the little boy with his finger in the dam.

Tich Ennis

6th July, 2017

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

 

Words Are Not Enough

How can I say it in words that contradict themselves?

There are books on the shelves.

Might they as well not have been written?

I am smitten.

Say, Why Our Children Can’t Read, to name but one.

Who is swayed by that under the Sun?

Even one?

If words could do it we are doing well.

In truth, though I hate to say it, we are in Hell.

Talk the talk or walk the walk or both?

We have truth by the throat.

Liars, liars everywhere.

Poisoning the air.

Lies kill, if we let them do it they will.

In the name of God do you want to live?

To love means to give.

Give yourself, give what you do your all.

When you hear music go with it, your ears are not a wall.

Must we sink in a sea of corruption, death and lies?

You know you don’t believe them, be wise.

All I ask, all you have to do, in everything be true.

Why oh why do you think that’s a tall order?

Who wants a wall on the Mexican border?

All it means is doing what you do.

Really doing it, for your sake and God’s be true.

Let yourself go, sink into a book.

Or film or whatever, if its good its worth a second look.

You know what’s good, its what suits you, and often many others too.

Don’t let others make up your mind, you own your brain, be kind.

Accept guidance from the good, they’re on your side the good ones, be as you should.

When you know if you know tell others, share.

If you care.

It’s a hard oul’ station as people in Ireland say and getting harder all the time.

We suffer from crime.

You can do this, you can’t, you can’t say that, who made the rules?

Crooks and fools.

Don’t be argumentative, don’t be like them, just do it.

Be yourself, there’s nothing to it.

Why do I have to tell you what a baby knows?

The king has no clothes.

The truth stands naked with nothing to hide.

When people cover up you know they lied.

Say what you mean, mean what you say.

You are as good as your word.

I go away.

The truth is here to stay.

It never goes away.

Truth is your friend.

I end.

Tich Ennis

14th June, 2017