Brexiteers

The Brexiteers are Sinn Feiners, ourselves alone.

Call Gerry Adams on the phone.

Throw the dog a bone.

They cannot leave the past alone.

Empire nostalgia is a funny thing, they love a queen or king.

The past is more important than now, we don’t want immigrants anyhow.

This is their song Britannia rules the waves and waives the rules.

May God preserve public schools.

No empire unless we are in charge, remember the light brigade.

Is this the biggest mistake we ever made?

We invented lemonade.

We like telling foreigners what to do, we are not like you, or so we say.

Shakespeare wrote a play.

We can’t forget, we cannot learn, without you we cannot earn.

Is the British empire a lost cause?

We were great at winning wars.

We had half the world but now we don’t.

Will we get sense, we will, we won’t.

Little England or Great Britain?

We’re out to prove we’re no one’s kitten.

Leave us alone is our song, we are right and you are wrong.

We can do without you, but not quite.

We’ll muddle through our darkest night.

The land of hope and glory will be alright.

Tich Ennis

8th December, 2017

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Memo

I haven’t been happy with your work lately. I prefer to smile.

Its been a while.

Perfection is hard to attain.

I know that, do you?

Me too.

It is worth the pain.

There is much to gain.

You may not seek my approval.

Are you ready for removal?

God knows I’m a patient man.

At least I think I am.

To end my report, must do better.

Don’t cry when you read this letter.

I’ll see you in my office after work.

May I quote Edmund Burke?

I may, and many others too.

Do Shakespeare’s words mean anything to you?

To be or not to be and so on.

Mull over my words, I won’t go on and on.

See you later on.

Tich Ennis

7th December, 2017

Prestige Project

This is my prestige project, I am what you see.

Are you another me?

To see means understand, I’ll let that pass.

I am trees, green grass.

It fails to pass my understanding why prestige projects exist.

I kissed a girl who never kissed.

You are on my list.

A monument to your own glory, hang the expense.

Does it make sense?

Your achievements speak for themselves, such as they are.

Who made a shooting star?

You are what you are.

I am ordinary, you are extraordinary.

Far be it from me to gild the lily.

This poem might become silly.

I am the Sun, the stars, the Earth, the flowers.

Holy hours.

I warned you this might happen, now you see.

Elvis sang now and then there’s a fool such as me.

And Hound Dog, Don’t Be Cruel, All Shook Up.

I love a simple flower, e.g. buttercup.

Now like a flower I shut up.

Tich Ennis

6th December, 2017

LGBT

LGBT is the new normal, or so they say.

They have not gone away.

There’s no such thing as normal says one school of thought.

Also, everyone is mad or should be, what rubbish have I bought?

I thought of being a priest or a lawyer but then said no.

I don’t want to defend crooks and hearing confessions might pervert me, I have to go.

There I tell a lie, being a priest would not suit me.

I don’t know what does, please don’t shoot me.

Tich Ennis

6th December, 2017

Usually

There’s usually more to things than meets the eye.

You may find that out before you die.

If not then.

Or when?

Remember the four year old boy drowned on a beach in Greece?

In designer clothes, poor, give my head peace.

The news is in the business of sensation, disneyfied, to shock the nation.

It happens here in Ireland too, don’t rush to judgement, would you like someone to do that to you?

A dead drug addict on the street outside the Dail, is that the whole story, not at all.

More or less believe nothing that you hear or see, its not that simple, read history.

The news is not news but views.

That sells papers, shock, outrage.

Turn the page.

Calm down, its not that bad.

The world is mad.

As presented to you, on radio and TV too.

The internet is the latest place for lies.

Does it fool the wise?

I said usually not inevitably always, trust your judgement, not some journalist.

In some cases speed is required, don’t ask me everything, I’m tired.

Like crossing the street or when your house goes on fire.

Once more I say may your judgement be good.

Don’t mistake trees for the wood.

Tich Ennis

5th December, 2017

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

Must I?

Must I write poems all the time, must I say everything in rhyme?

My best friend said yes, keep writing, at least when you’re writing you’re not fighting.

Long ago, so we were told, Ireland was nothing but saints and scholars.

Now we sell ourselves for dollars.

Priests don’t wear collars.

Maybe this will never see the light of day, so what, its what I have to say.

I have not gone away.

Neither I nor the IRA.

I do as needs must.

Before I turn into dust.

Gold does not rust.

Tich Ennis

23rd November, 2017