Tag Archives: Art

CD and Book

Singing and writing, who’s fighting?

I fight myself and sometimes win.

Is it too late to begin?

I nearly built a shop down a street where no one goes.

I still may do it, who knows?

Maybe someone lost their way.

Why not walk down and stay?

Bring something home with you, you may share it too.

If you wish to hear and see then come along with me.

I don’t cost much, not much, a widow’s mite.

Why fight?

Tich Ennis

17th October, 2017

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The Halloween Ring

Slowly, imperceptibly things are happening, or maybe.

What rhymes with gravy?

I waited for a man on a white horse.

He never came, of course.

Could Clint Eastwood make my day?

He stayed away.

Mind you I said nothing, don’t get all excited.

May I allow myself to be delighted?

For every horizon there is another one.

I follow the Sun.

Something is better than nothing, I search for something.

Maybe I will get the Halloween ring.

Tich Ennis

16th October, 2017

Fancy Free

Money and me are passing acquaintances, money is fancy free.

I borrow from a friend to bring music to you.

You and you and you and me too.

Artists only buy from each other an artist said.

Are we all artists before we’re dead?

I wrote a book, I sang a song, how long, oh Lord, how long?

For a joke God made a money tree.

I sit under the apple tree.

My pockets are empty, can’t you see?

Tich Ennis

16th October, 2017

Computer

A computer means exactly what it says, they’d drive you crazy.

Or am I lazy?

Why are they so complicated?

I awaited enlightenment, I waited and waited.

Sooner or later it came along, I was doing things wrong.

Ask exactly the right question, that is my suggestion.

You too must mean what you say.

Have a nice day.

Hello world, I’ve seen the world, I didn’t like it.

Will I catch a bus or bike it?

Tich Ennis

3rd October, 2017

Solution

Concepts are converging, so a Russian scientist said.

Things are mighty complex, will I know before I’m dead?

The Devil has been described as the master of confusion.

String theory is a ball of twine, just another illusion.

The theory of everything, when will it emerge?

Oh my God simplicity, towards thee I ever urge.

When theory and practice are one in one place then and only then are we in a state of grace.

Human race wash your face.

Tich Ennis

3rd October, 2017

Full Flower

Art and science walk hand in hand, shall we allow them to despoil the land?

At their best they are wonderful, supreme, at their worst an adolescent dream.

To be mature or immature, wine aged in the wood.

Or whiskey ten year old, its good.

Thought and imagination find their flower now and then.

Oftentimes we wait and wait, saying oh God when?

At any level good is good, trees and shrubs make up the wood.

Some stand tall and stately, magnificently made.

Affording, as someone said, the weary traveller shade.

Tich Ennis

28th September, 2017

Dream

Sometimes I dream things, should I say what I dream?

Things are not as they seem.

Its very complicated and simple at the same time.

They really are simple, the crooks stole the wine.

The Devil has been described as the master of confusion, may I also say illusion and delusion?

In truth the truth is true, all else is lies.

An honest fool is wise.

Who is called a fool today, an honest man.

There are some of us left to fulfil God’s plan.

Is it pointless writing words, do words mean a thing?

They do to me and you I hope, after Winter Spring.

Mere words are not enough, actions speak more loud.

Sooner or later you will wear a shroud.

Words mean nothing if not put into action and words of course tell lies.

I was called a wordsmith by someone not so wise.

The word comes first it has been said, I speak, I am not dead.

May we find the truth in words and then for God’s sake do it?

I’d like to say there’s nothing to it.

Who said it would be easy, the easy way is wrong.

The effects are all around you, is it time to end my song?

Don’t keep the truth a secret, you know right from wrong.

A million fake breathalyser tests by the guardians of the law.

That’s the world we live in, I say, I see, I saw.

Use your eyes and use your ears and use your tongue and all.

You are alive, do not act dead, it does not work at all.

You took your first step as a child, take another now.

Never give up, the truth is real, how can I say it anyhow?

People with better brains than me are going the wrong way.

Do not join them, be yourself, that’s all I have to say.

Until another day.

Words themselves do nothing, I said that before.

Do not do nothing, I am Irish so I talk, we need something more.

This is a pretty hopeless poem but I live in hope.

I’ll say it better one fine day, yours faithfully, a dope.

What do I dream? I dream of a world that’s true.

For me and you.

Tich Ennis

20th September, 2017