Tag Archives: Money

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

Advertisements

Advanced Years

Just when I get too old good art exhibitions come here.

Caravaggio and Vermeer.

The world is becoming a smaller place.

It knows its place in outer space.

So, what should I do?

I have a free bus ticket too.

I suppose I should go.

The real thing is what I want to know.

Money is dead and gone.

I live on.

Maybe not too old.

I want real gold.

Should I, as a book selling barrow boy shouted, get culture before the cataclysm?

Or maybe that was the catechism.

Tich Ennis

12th 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

 

Quantum Computing

When it comes it comes, if it does.

Who will own it, the big boys because?

Will it serve a good use or let Hell loose?

Well both, I suppose.

Heaven only knows.

All that power, holy hour!

For good or bad or sane or mad.

The uranium atom is more or less the same.

To kill or cure, which is your game?

They are absolutely not the same.

Who to shame or blame?

In whose name?

Yours or mine?

May hearts entwine.

Life is a glass of wine.

Tich Ennis

26th May, 2017

Age Of Uncertainty

We can’t be sure of anything now, why should we, anyhow?

The markets love stability, hard luck.

Our crystal ball has turned to muck.

We trade stability for fragility.

Should we stand still or climb a hill?

A child grows up and changes all the time.

Change is no crime.

If you want certainty try jail.

Who will pay your bail?

Tich Ennis

19th April, 2017

Tweet

Okay, you’ve had your say in a word or two.

You are, you seem to think, the man who knows what to do.

Apparently some others think so too.

Yeah, well, pull the other one, mister strongman big brain rich.

Do you care about the people living in a ditch?

They could move into a luxury hotel.

Before you bring us all to Hell.

Oh well.

Tich Ennis

15th April, 2017

UN Address

My fellow blithering eejits. It is with great pleasure that I accept your kind invitation to address you as the unknown gurrier, one among many. Humility, as we all know, is the greatest virtue but not widely practised, and so say all of us.

When eventually I am laid to rest in the tomb of the unknown gurrier, who shall shed a tear? Your place in history is assured, mine as a mute inglorious Milton merely an addendum. I am a statistic, a blip.

You are the men and women who know what to do.   It may be said of you you are the people who knew what had to be done. Yes. The result stands before you.   The judgement of history awaits.

You may write your own histories and I’m sure you will. Lies, damned lies and statistics. History is written by the victors. Who won the war? Truth, they say, is the first casualty. One among many.

The future lies before us. What else is new? Heroic mythology is all around, the good guys and the bad guys.   I know which side you are on. As you keep saying. How could I forget?

To always be right as you are must be pleasurable, you seem satisfied. What of the gurriers of the Earth? Do they matter? Apparently not. History happens.

What have we gurriers to look forward to except winning the lotto? In the lottery of life we drew the short straw. Cannon fodder. Tread lightly for you tread on my dreams.

In your place would I do the same? The same only different.   Is there no hope?   I wouldn’t go that far. We have a lot to look forward to.   A happy ending. And they all lived happily ever after.   A tall story.

I am a simple minded man. Problems are complex. Is there a simple solution? Is a simple solution best? To a simple minded man, yes. But what would I know?   You have power, I have not.

War and peace, fact or fiction? All too true, thanks to you. You have presided over many battles, to the victor the spoils. Power for its own sake. What power for the powerless?

Is right on your side? Who’s side are you on? The side of right or your side? The good guys get shot. Who has the bullets? You.

Is it true to say there are no good guys?   Good is a myth. It is, unless believed in. Belief is proved in practice. Actions speak louder than words. I believe what you do, not what you say.

The state we’re in is not a state of grace. I understand you all too well. You would try the patience of a saint. Thank you for allowing me to speak. I allow myself. Unspoken words, seldom heard.

The truth lies bleeding.

Tich Ennis

30th March, 2017