Category Archives: identity

Hopeful Fire – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: istockphoto.com

“Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames.” Rumi

Hopeful Fire

Passers by as books unread, their pages unturned,
unnoticed icons in microcosms of suburban worlds
drifting typecast in local dramas of someone else's,
while I'm running erratically full of hopeful fire.

Unnoticed icons in microcosms of suburban worlds,
that vertiginous challenge of self-making ex nihilo,
while I'm running erratically full of hopeful fire
past the the vendors of pleasures and values.

That vertiginous challenge of self-making ex nihilo,
tearing up my mundane existence playing out
past the vendors of pleasures and values
who pedal their own sad delusions of fantasy.

Tearing up my mundane existence playing out,
drifting typecast in local dramas of someone else's 
who pedal their own sad delusions of fantasy,
passers by as books unread, their pages unturned.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Filed under identity, life, Pantoum, passion, poem, quote

The Theft Of Truth – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo” A statue of Captain James Cook stands in Sydney’s Hyde Park on August 25, 2017, as Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull labelled calls to change colonial-era monuments and the date of Australia Day, in attempts to better reflect the country’s indigenous past, as a ‘Stalinist’ exercise in re-writing history. A cultural debate intensified this week when prominent indigenous commentator Stan Grant dubbed the inscription “Discovered this territory 1770”, on a Sydney statue of 18th century British explorer Capitan James Cook, a “damaging myth”. / AFP PHOTO / WILLIAM WEST

“But the fear and contempt for Aboriginal people and culture, which perpetuated the lie of “Terra Nullius” for more than two centuries, is deeply institutionalised and far from quashed.” Sharon Collins

The Theft Of Truth 

His brass visage looked out to the 
east without emotion or recognition,
his eyes were dead much like his 
vision of a world his own,
a sparrows nest of lies and 
make-believe, all self-possessed,
like a smug little advert offering
heaven for a pfennig on a Sunday,
wild claims of the miraculous
wrapped in manure and given to 
a king as proof of something not
his to give or own and denying life
as it was, overlooking history before
him and claiming it was all his for 
the taking, denying breath and blood
despite the very rich history of 
plus 40,000 years of occupation
by the very real and first among us
in Gondwana, you thief of life
and meaning and all who have 
worshipped at your feet, be
damned.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Note: Captain James Cook on an expedition navigated Australia’s east coast in 1770 which paved the way for British occupation. In 1776, January 26th Captain Arthur Phillip claimed sovereignty by the British crown over Australia. January 26th continues to be celebrated as “Australia Day” which remains a lie that denies the existence of Australia’s First Nations people. The High Court has ruled Terra Nullius” is indeed an obvious lie, but the process of undoing two centuries of entrenched racism is proving to be very difficult. While Cook contributed much to our understanding of the geography of the world, he also played his part in denying First Nation peoples their rightful place. Terra Nullius is Latin meaning “land belonging to no one.” Hence the lie.

Video: Midnight Oil feat. Jessica Mauboy and Tasman Keith “First Nation”

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Filed under Free Verse, history, identity, Indigenous, injustice, life, Native Title, poem, quote, Racism, Stolen Generation

Je m’accuse (I Accuse Myself) – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – The Other side

VJ has invited us to write from the other side, which involves us reflecting and writing from a perspective of ourselves.

Image: found on pinterest.com

“Self-doubt imprisons those that never overcome it.” Obiora Embry

Je m'accuse (I Accuse Myself)

The darkened cell shrinks and enlarges 
with every swing of the yellowed light
overhead while my hands are restless
upon the greasy table as my narrowed 
eyes stare back at me, interrogating my 
every emotion, there is nowhere to hide,
I know myself even when I don't, at 
least I know that which I most want to 
deny of myself; what is this rage that
coddles within me when it suits, to
justify my wounded, fragile self, by 
hurting others, of this I accuse myself,
of this I absolve myself, I reach for 
water and begin again.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Filed under awareness, challenge, Free Verse, identity, life, poem, psychology, quote

We Walk Together – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: found on quora.com

“Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can’t see from the centre.” Kurt Vonnegut

We Walk Together

I didn't set out to be different or
to speak plainly, or set myself apart but,
the people and places I inhabit are the
geographies of the borderlands, life at the 
margins, where camel hair is fashionable
and locust with wild honey is a delicacy,
and truth pales to insignificance where
unspoken trust is second nature and no
one is judged for being themselves
because, although we walk in different 
directions, we walk together on the 
fringes of life.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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The Question – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: found on pinterest.com.au

“I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to se me.” Ralph Ellison

The Question

When did someone last 
speak to you in sounds of love,
with eyes of invitation
and tones of welcome
that broke the dam of your
invisibility that overwhelms,
when did you last tell your 
story outside of yourself to
a world of someone who
listened to your deep?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Her Warrior Code – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Warrior

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“She wasn’t looking for a knight, she was looking for a sword.” Atticus

Her Warrior Code

In the fog faintly came a path,
a clarity of who into doing,
born of the finest of blades,
a natal instinct so sharp it
would pass through love
unharmed, undivided, yet
the slightest sting, the steely 
eye, the voiced tone, just as the 
cradle rocked out she desired 
to nail the dissonance
arraigned against her sacrifice
of flesh to breath for a 
posterity of loved immortality,
birthed in a raw need to  not
be alone in the rags of polished
lies of promises long laughed
as known deceptions of self
flaunted as normal, but no,
she floated past the asphyxia
and sliced through the harm
laden treacle of judgement,
her warrior code carrying her
sacred child to templed life.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Filed under Free Verse, identity, life, poem, quote, relationship

The Sea Of Stuff – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: found on pinterest.com

“The nightmare of materialism, which has turned the life of the universe into an evil, useless game, is not yet past; it holds the awakening soul still in its grip.” Wassily Kandinsky

The Sea Of Stuff

To have is to drown in a sea of grasp,
like a pearl diver, weighting for the
deeper dive into mortality, driven by
addiction to the elusive hope that the
future past is more real than being
in the brevity of this present moment,
looking for meaning in the shifting 
shadows of the masquerade for which
we create the most elaborate fictions
for ourselves in metrics of the inanimate,
while our centre holds to true happiness.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Just Let Her Speak – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Peter is hosting Poetics and has invited us write a poem as witness (to a news event or an event).

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Poetry as Witness

Photo: Luke Stephenson, ABC News – Australian PM Scott Morrison interrupts Senator Anne Ruston who was asked about the culture of misogyny in the Australian Parliament, therefore ironically proving the point. The PM has long been questioned about his attitude to women. The question was set against the background of a public outing of government ministers who have had relationships (affairs) with their staffers (therefore a power relationship).

“Misogyny is hostility toward the women who threaten to remove the male status as superior to women.” Jill A. Stoddard

Just Let Her Speak

She appeared dressed for the microphone,
I even saw her lips move in pantomime,
but you voiced her down,
wrapping her in shrouds of misogyny,
swaddled her in your patriarchal goitre,
and gave your words to her lips
as you pigeon-chested the throng
with your smirk faced denouement,
a coda of lament for the poor boys
whose groins yearned for possession
of skirted public property,
how could you possibly listen
let alone reflect,
you members of parliament erect,
she appeared dressed for the microphone,
just let her speak.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

Note: Misogyny:  from the Greek misein (μισειν) hate + gyne (γυνε) woman.

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She – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Getty Images

“At the end of the day, we can endure much more than we think we can.” Frida Kahlo

She

She had given of herself in a longitude
of fertile generosity wide,
though not yet the best of her,
for something felt stirs at 
her very core unleashed,
but time has dimmed her memory
now leaden with struggles past,
of the glories of her youth where
she learned to conquer the world
and make it shine.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Only Dreams – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Lisa at dVerse has invited us to write a poem using the word (or derivative of) clown. dVerse Poets – Poetics – Clowning Around

Photo: pixabay.com

“Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.” Anais Nin

Only Dreams

We were agog in teens town,
all oxford bags and platforms
and we knew that the answers were
always at the back of the book,
there were no questions then,
only dreams to be made true,
including Romy, but she left the
party early, restless as always,
"Mate, don't be a clown, go after her"
they urged as if it were a sport,
but if it were the rules were unclear,
and I knew that her street smarts
would expose my innocent bravado,
so I clowned inside.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Filed under dance, dreams, Free Verse, identity, life, love, passion, poem, quote