Tag Archives: Soul

Youth And Age

You are barely out of adolescence, I approach sensescence.

Its all before you and behind me, more or less.

What happens next is anybody’s guess.

You may plan your future, you may hope.

You may get addicted to dope.

Maybe you’ll go right, maybe wrong.

Your life may be a song.

What of me, what is to be?

Reflections on my history.

Its all a mystery.

What’s past is past, the future is yet to be.

A truism if you ask me.

You are young and I am old.

A story told and yet untold.

My soul is not for sale, its sold.

Go for gold.

I don’t want to go on forever, maybe you do.

I was like you.

Perfection is unattainable in a shop.

Full stop.

Tich Ennis

Monday, 18th November, 2019


The trouble with intellectuals is they have no brains.

They give other people pains.

They know what to do and how to get things done.

Usually it requires a gun.

Emotion, feeling, they call these insane.

They have forgotten how to use their brain.

The human species have animal feelings too.

We don’t want to live in a zoo.

Controlled by you.

Fish swim, birds fly and sing.

Allow us to do our thing.

I own my mind and soul, they’re mine to keep.

Dream while you’re asleep.

You are the ones guilty of thought crime.

Under you could I write this rhyme?

I own myself if its all the same to you.

Don’t tell me what to think or do.

You and your rotten crew.

I don’t want to swap one kind of control for another all the same.

Freedom is the name of the game.

Free to say and think and do and be.

That’s me.

Tich Ennis

11th July, 2019

Your Life Story

You must live your life so it can be described.

What is a drink if not imbibed?

You may live under remote control.

You own your soul.

If you want to write your life story, have you a story to tell?

Was your life Hell?

If so why tell of your misery?

Who wants to read that, not me.

What makes a story interesting?

It keeps people guessing.

A story is more or less the way its told.

Learn that before you’re old.

Someone else may tell your story if you achieve infamy or fame.

Whichever, you’re to blame.

Tich Ennis

27th June, 2019

My Fellow Citizens

My Fellow Citizens

(To Sylvester Bourke, Pat Hoey, Pier Leonard and Chantel Kangowa, my preferred candidates in Arklow local elections. As of now. Please circulate widely.)

         I fully intend to vote for one or more of you in the forthcoming election or elections. Why? I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. Whose doubt? Mine. You have yet to prove yourselves in this great façade we call life, or something like that.

As far as I know, but who am I to say, you are reasonable facsimiles of human beings. Robots can be very realistic and getting more so all the time. Once I vote for you, if I vote for you, that’s it. I’ve burned my boats. I’m stuck with you until the next election, if you get elected.

Speaking as a semi-lunatic, driven mad or half mad by circumstances beyond my control, but that’s life, isn’t it, yes, as I said before, I strongly intend to vote, if I get around to it, which I expect I will. But don’t count on my vote, let the counting officer do that.

My point is I will have to put up with you for 4 years if you get elected but you will ignore me completely. That may be mutual. I have better things to be doing than thinking about politics all the time.

People like me are the electorate, for better or worse, and require representation. How can you be one of us and not one of us at the same time? Can you square that circle?

This may be a joke but someone said all politicians should be taken out periodically and shot. That’s fairly funny if you’re not a politician. There is still hope. You may not be elected.

To quote Samuel Beckett, everything is futile, it would be better never to have been born. He also said try again, fail again, try again, fail better.

He was more or less a comedian, not to be taken too seriously.

I too am Irish. So what? If I was born somewhere else I would be something else. And equally ashamed or proud, or probably both at once.

All good things come to an end, including life itself, good or otherwise. So you are going to make my life better. Says who? I didn’t make much of a job of it myself. I can’t really blame you. Not yet, anyway.

The torch was passed to another generation and they lit a marijuana cigarette with it. Fine words butter no parsnips. But they’re better than nothing.

To quote Dean Swift, and why not, in his self-written obituary:

He left the little wealth he had

to build a house for fools and mad,

and showed by this satiric touch,

no nation needed it so much.


End of quote.

What is your price? Will you fulfil my requirements? Do you endeavour to give satisfaction? Or do you just want to get elected?

I will sign my vote in blood. That sounds good, doesn’t it? Not mine, I hope.

A cynic is a person who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing – Oscar Wilde.

I know the price of a pint of Guinness, four sixty in my favourite hostelry, less in some places, more in others.

Have you read Less is More? Or Small is Beautiful? Neither have I. I recommend them to other people. Not written by Irish people, but we can’t all be Irish.

What’s wrong with Ireland that you want to make it better? A patriot is a person who says a country is the best in the world because he was born in it – G. B. Shaw (also Irish).

Karl Marx said something else but he wasn’t Irish. He once said smokers of the world unite, you have nothing to lose but your chain smoking. Or something very like it.

So, okay, if you get elected we won’t have to put up with each other for four years. I look forward to that. An amicable divorce. We all make mistakes.

Any of you could turn out to be another Hitler, Pol Pot or Shane Ross. God help us all. At least you’re not Nigel Farrage, not so far, anyway.

Are you good at soundbites? Do you tweet often? What have you learned from Donald Trump?

Okay, that’s it, fateful Friday approaches, the day of reckoning, when the sheep are sorted from the goats, the men from the boys, the girls from the women, the good things from the bad things. I’ll see you in Heaven, Hell, Purgatory or Nirvana, whatever you’re having yourself. Destiny awaits. Many stirring words have been spoken, I am stir crazy hearing them.

Ok, I’ll vote for you, something is better than nothing. Or so they say. That’s for me to know and you to find out. Take it on the chin. Roll with the punches. Let Katy Taylor be your role model.

Arklow forever! Or the time being, anyway. Sorry for taking up so much of your time and mine.

Still, you could be in jail. Cheer up!


I asked a woman was she a politician, she said she hasn’t sold her soul. A man I repeated that to said politicians have no soul. He used the eff word.

Anglo Saxon is a gift bestowed on us by the English on their departure. We are fluent speakers.


Tich Ennis

22nd May, 2019


Mad Ireland

Ireland is quite mad but everywhere else is going madder, do you agree?

It’s a question of degree.

Is Ireland to become an ocean of sanity?

Possibly later we will play catch up.

When we tell everyone else to shut up.

Everyone else includes each other, that has more or less not happened here.

Maybe next year?

God knows I don’t want everyone copying each other and McDonald’s everywhere.

I also like fresh air.

Will lunatic haters take control?

Don’t sell your soul.

There is such a thing as friendliness and sanity.

Don’t leave everything to me.

Am I being too extreme, going over the top?

If you’re looking for extremism you came to the wrong shop.

Do nothing if you like, then wait and see.

I am no politician, who would vote for me?

And someone said it was the end of history.

What comes around the corner, the end of sanity?

Look abroad, sanity is outlawed.

Who is not flawed?

Certainly not me, but still I speak.

God help the weak.

Let it not happen here.

I drink beer.

Tich Ennis

5th May, 2019


What’s wrong with me?

Can’t my heart and mind agree?

When my mind takes precedence is my brain dense?

Ok, I’m smart, don’t break my heart.

Is there a fall back position in this war of attrition?

It is not a matter of who wins, it’s a question of when love begins.

Heart start.

Brain don’t fart.

Does the heart rule the head or am I dead?

Heart and mind must be at one.

Together they make up my soul.

Then I am whole.

Sorry for using the word fart.

That was my brain not my heart.

May I make art.

My tortured soul.

Be whole.

Tich Ennis

17th February, 2019


Don’t dry a pet in the microwave.

You have a soul to save.

Look both ways before crossing the road.

Remember a squashed hedgehog or toad.

You could commit a fatal error.

Looking too much in the mirror.

Follow this rule and survive.

Learn how before you drive.

This poem might not save the world but it might save your pet.

Don’t forget.

Tich Ennis

23rd January, 2019