Tag Archives: School

Game

Playing hide and seek with God, will I ever find him?

My turn, your turn, my turn again, he’s crying, don’t you mind him.

Blind man’s buff, that other game, find although you’re blind.

Guess who, its you, the other guy, oh no, oh me, oh my.

Tip and tig, an Irish jig, who will be caught out?

Oh God you’re there oh do I care, turn and turn about.

Will you catch me, will I catch you, I’ve had the measles, caught the ‘flu, spent days and nights in bed.

When I play a game I know I am alive not dead.

If you don’t catch me I’ll catch you instead.

Tich Ennis

10th September, 2017

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What You Say

No one thinks anyone means what they say like have a nice day.

Could they care less if you fell into a hole and shrivelled up your soul?

I am a fool who cannot lie.

I don’t know why.

I don’t fit into this world, this Earth, this planet.

I never met a girl called Janet.

I cannot work out a subterfuge.

My brain is not huge.

If you meet me, tolerate.

My suffering is very great.

Who treats people as meaning what they say? I do.

I mean you.

I suppose I was not treated exactly as a fool at school.

Where we were taught the golden rule.

I believed it but others went straight out into the yard and beat up small boys very hard.

Into their faces they would spit.

A cynic might say I was taught to be a hypocrite.

That’s something I did not learn, I treat words as true.

How about you?

To say I am perfect would be to create a wrong impression.

Others in my place suffer from depression.

In a mad bad world remaining sane gives me a pain.

I cannot pretend I neither hear nor see.

Who is blind and deaf? Not me.

I believe I see things as they are.

Including the guiding star.

You are what you are.

Should I tear out my eyes as in a myth from Greece?

I considered suicide but prefer peace.

No, I will not kill myself, I leave that to you.

You who spit in people’s faces, the rotten crew.

Among the slaves on board this boat are some brave and honest men.

Lest they suffer in silence I take up my pen.

The pen, they say, is mightier than the sword.

When you speak should I believe a word?

Big and small dictators I’m watching you.

When you stop your parrot talk you will be true.

You drive many round the bend but not me, I was born a fool.

As I said I met your kind at school.

I had and have a friend or two, that old word, good.

I see the tree, I see the wood.

Don’t let me be misunderstood.

Is understanding what you fear?

Then don’t lie into my ear.

I do understand you, the spitting kind, all too well.

You make life Hell.

You wish to create fear, and do.

There are degrees of course of all things.

Stop behaving like kings.

Don’t sneer, don’t condescend, don’t act superior.

Stop making people feel inferior.

Because I don’t mention you by name don’t think I don’t know your game.

You are responsible for worldly ills, drug addiction, madness, suicide, your treatment kills.

I am an old fool, on that we can agree, I speak of what I saw and see.

Who would listen to a fool like me?

Inhumanity is wrong.

I love a song.

To list all cruelties would take all day.

Be careful what you say.

I have not gone away.

Tich Ennis

4th September, 2017

 

Some Things

We are vehicles for the truth.

I was told that in my youth.

I thought I don’t know the truth, perhaps I will when I am older.

I was shy, now I am bolder.

To me the truth was something said in words, now I know its what you do.

Words can be untrue.

I love words, I could read when I was three.

But I could not understand, that’s me.

I meant to say some things the Brother said.

Maybe I will before I’m dead.

I believe what you do not what you say an old man said.

I take his words as read.

Tich Ennis

3rd September, 2017

Wonder

Has it all been done before and said before and if so why say it again anymore?

Not all people seem to know or have heard the word, including me, I agree.

Truth is free.

In every age we rant and rage and fill a page.

We seek a sage.

The old is new and new is old, a neverending story told.

We wonder why we live and die and laugh and cry.

Beneath the sky.

So do I.

Tich Ennis

17th August, 2017

Litter

Should I write a poem about the bad things in life, a mugger’s weapon or a surgeon’s knife?

A knife may be used for good or ill, to cure or kill.

Dirt is misplaced matter, eat the wrong food and get fatter.

Uranium makes a bomb or an x-ray, kill or cure children while they play.

I hate the word nice, nice is fake good, I should take my advice.

Superstition is not good, touch wood.

Does a gun serve any useful purpose except as a paper weight?

Skaters skate a figure of eight.

Self defence it was decided in the year four hundred is alright.

Make a preemptive strike, goodnight.

I am not quite so sure.

May peace and love endure.

Tich Ennis

16th August, 2017

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

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