Category Archives: philosophy

March 30, 2021 · 2:34 pm

Come Join Me – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Frank is hosting Haibun with an invitation to write about cherry blossoms.

dVerse Poets – Haibun – Cherry Blossoms

Photo: Hans Braxmeier at pixabay.com

“To find yourself, think for yourself.” Socrates

Come Join Me

Going to hell in a handcart seems infinitely better than joining with the elite ignorance of those who presume they're on for a visit to the angel bar in the ether. How can it be that we tolerate the essence of ego over integrity, where is the authentic one, where the grounded reality? How is it that we have put a gun to the head of community, in pursuit of self-indulgence?

Of course, it is infinitely more valid if we charge a small fortune  for courses that enable wrong choices to look like someone else, someone who knows the mantra. Surely it is time to self-prune, to take stock and account for the present moment? Whatever your disposition, my handcart has plenty of room, so come join me on the road to the hell that is not really hell, it is not what you'd imagine, but then, the path to a constructed heaven is just an irony of marketing, so what have you got to lose?


An autumn pruning
safeguards generous spring 
cherry tree smiling

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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March 29, 2021 · 3:36 pm

The Big Questions – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: shutterstock.com

“…. identity is performatively constituted by the very ‘expressions’ that are said to be its results.” Judith Butler

The Big Questions

What are the narratives that matter most of all,
how do they form and shape our fragile lives,
and, when do we know ourselves as ourselves,
is fate our lot or, is fate a story about our lot.

How do they form and shape our fragile lives
these harbingers of unseen inner truths,
is fate our lot or, is fate a story about our lot,
what is it that we think we know of knowing.

These harbingers of unseen inner truths,
we must learn to live with what we have created,
what is it that we think we know of knowing,
is this the demise rooted in our blindness.

We must learn to live with what we have created,
and, when do we know ourselves as ourselves,
is this the demise rooted in our blindness,
what are the narratives that matter most of all?

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Filed under Free Verse, identity, life, Pantoum, philosophy, poem, psychology, quote

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March 16, 2021 · 1:33 pm

Talking – prose by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Merril is hosting Prosery with an invitation to write a prose piece including a line from the poem “Possibilities” by Wislawa Szymborska. Prosery – 144 words.

dVerse Poets – Prosery – Possibilities

Photo: LNLNLN at pixabay.com

“Imagination belongs to hope. It’s the creative dance of possibility.” Sharon Weil 

Talking

We were talking the deeper things of life, like destiny, and I ventured that destiny is so passe. Do people still think that there is a moment in time, that point at which you fully arrive? Really? Or that hoary old thought, that we're predestined to arrive at something, as if the gods are playing us, running interference , but we're going to get to a key point anyway. Or the graft model, if you work hard enough you'll get there in the end and, perhaps they do, although it has been noted that hard work is an early grave. But I digress. I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being. That a multiplicity of possibilities exist in time, and out, in their own right, throughout the universe, waiting for me to notice the portal.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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March 11, 2021 · 2:42 pm

True Scammers – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Scam

Image: found at sites.tufts.edu

“The first sign of corruption in a society that is still alive is that the end justifies the means.” Georges Bernanos

True Scammers

Mendicants, tramps and vagabonds,
but not the one's you imagine or see,
instead, the one's you pay for who
rob you with glee, the one's in the 
penthouse, the mansion or three,
who prey on the orphans and widows 
and me, the one's with forked tongues
and a bible of lies, who hold morals 
like sewer rats or scandalous flies,
who star in movies where the poor die
as glorious martyrs for the victims of 
privilege whose wealth barely gets 
them by on a thousand a day. 
The truest scam is not Nigerian or 
emailed around, the truest of is
entirely voted and approved by us all.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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Filed under Economics, Free Verse, injustice, life, philosophy, poem, quote

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December 27, 2020 · 3:58 pm

Failing To See – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: unsplash.com

“We wake if we ever wake at all, to mystery, to rumours of death, beauty, violence ….” Annie Dillard

Failing To See

When did mystery become anxious
that it needed something by way of
self-denial to be acceptable, and who
decided to strip you naked that we 
might see you clearly through the
murky mist of time, and ponder
your meanings. Did we need to 
break down your door, claiming 
your space as our own, becoming
so familiar as to have no illusions,
failing to see how our thirst for 
certainty becomes a cabinet filled
with conclusions which has emptied
us of longing.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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December 25, 2020 · 2:45 pm

I Heard An Echo – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

image: found on pixabay.com

“The only real radicalism in out time will come as it always has – from people who insist on thinking for themselves.” Christopher Hitchens

I Heard An Echo

I heard an echo,
we were talking about the old days 
which were neither here nor there,
just indifferent to moral pigeons
holed up in some minds making
meaning from loosely connected
thoughts often called memories,
which had lost their way in the
construction of truth and broken
loose to free-range as experience,
rather than surrender to become
caged convictions.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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December 24, 2020 · 3:08 pm

Swimming – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: collective-evolution.com

“The greatest danger in times of turbulence is not the turbulence; it is to act with yesterday’s logic.” Peter Drucker

Swimming 

It's hard swimming against the
title fight of culture, so many 
stop signs and no go zones,
just the coup de gras, a tragic
K O to box cutters, where
thoughts are herded and 
trapped, taped and wrapped,
no light to entertain a view,
other than a room with no 
room, just praying for some
silverfish to tunnel us out of
this closed space that constricts
my independent thought of
throwing everything to the
wind and just letting go
to the centre of pure joy,
where I can swim with 
such ease as to not care
about who cares about
the things that just don't
matter anymore.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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December 10, 2020 · 10:35 pm

Copernicus’ Chickens – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Bjorn is hosting Open Link Night when we choose a poem of our own to post.

dVerse Poets – Open Link Night

Image: beresolute.org

“You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad.” Aldous Huxley

Copernicus' Chickens

Copernicus' chickens had a more rounded view
which squared imaginatively though yet
predictably with a general view of incoherent,
contradicted meaning, a union of incompatibles.

Which squared imaginatively though yet
cried out as dry bones yearn as metal for oil in
contradicted meaning, a union of incompatibles,
ever exhausted and spent in search of a truth.

Cried out as dry bones yearn as metal for oil in
mid combustion of ideas in danger of sticking,
ever exhausted and spent in search of a truth,
transcendent, and so deliciously unreal.

Mid combustion of ideas in danger of sticking,
predictably with a general view of incoherent,
transcendent, and so deliciously unreal,
Copernicus' chickens had a more rounded view.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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November 9, 2020 · 3:56 pm

Am I – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“There is no reality except the one contained within us.” Hermann Hesse

Am I?

Am I just a shade,
a phantasmic abstraction
beyond punctuated reality,
projected on cracked walls,
incorporeal spaces ever shifting
as rising mist drifting across
doleful lakes of misgiving in
sonorous tones of darkened 
hush escaping lips of cold
flame in the heat of a moment,
ever seeking expiation or,
am I.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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October 18, 2020 · 2:44 pm

Philosopher’s Lament – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

VJs Weekly Challenge – Reason

Photo: Daphne Richard, unsplash.com

“No creature is fully itself till it is, like the dandelion, opened in the bloom of pure relationship to the sun, the entire living cosmos.” D.H. Lawrence

Philosopher's Lament

Perhaps,
but the path is not 
conquered by having a why,
certainty is so easily undone
and knowing is not in the mind,
to touch another in soul moments
is to unfetter the universe and 
recast the lights of heaven as
dandelion seeds on the breath
of desire, a love thermal to 
carry the world to heights yet
unknown beyond the very
smallness of reason,
perhaps, yes,
life is far more organic.

©Paul Vincent Cannon

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