Category Archives: philosophy

October 10, 2021 · 1:43 pm

Who Holds The Fantasy? – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: Evelyn Simak

“There are no safe rooms, no safe truths, no safe secrets to tell.” Veronica Blade

Who Holds The Fantasy?

Tell me, what isn't divergent,
who holds the fantasy of singular truth,
who believes the carbon smudge of news,
do you begin from what you know or do
you trust your enthusiasm for wanting to
believe that you can compose your life
from the elements of a surety that you
actually know the vagaries of the cosmos
right now, trusting in your belief of things,
despite the amalgam of realities before you,
knowing full well that everything bends,
everything is disordered, and that there 
are always more ways diverging?


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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September 27, 2021 · 3:09 pm

Escaping – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Image: mysticartdesign at pixabay.com

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” Soren Kierkegaard

Escaping 

Things seem to be slowly unravelling in our time,
the long drawn out threads of a life collapsed,
disrupted by emergent disordered possibilities
calling us ever onwards beyond our antinomies.

The long drawn out threads of a life collapsed
could awaken us to a new vitality beyond despair,
calling us ever onwards beyond our antinomies,
past the catastrophic loneliness of sensibility.

Could awaken us to a new vitality beyond despair,
escaping the melancholia of the world's end,
past the catastrophic loneliness of sensibility,
onwards to the chaos of an improvised life.

Escaping the melancholia of the world's end,
disrupted by emergent disordered possibilities,
onwards to the chaos of an improvised life,
things seem to be slowly unravelling in our time.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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September 10, 2021 · 3:25 pm

Naked Truth – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: pixabay.com

“Every myth is psychologically symbolic. Its narratives and image are to be read, therefore, not literally, but as metaphors.” Joseph Campbell

Naked Truth

It is difficult to conceive, though
ever so mortally tempting, to 
imagine a singular story, one true
myth to rule us all, of which there 
is no doubt, despite the thin shred 
of scant evidence to the contrary,
which has never emerged and, 
so they say, to be disavowed in 
favour of the emperor's clothes,
that tissue of rice papered
distemper spread thinly over
the niceties of conventionally
sugared thinking, almost 
undisturbed by the multitude of
clarity brought to bear by the 
prismatic filter of those willing 
to point out that the emperor
has no clothes.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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September 9, 2021 · 2:35 pm

Horizon Decon – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: the Goldfields Woodlands regional park, camped at Boondi Rock. The open woodlands are so attractive.

“Deconstruction insists not that truth is illusory but that it is institutional.” Terry Eagleton

Horizon Decon

I'm digging up my highway,
deconstructing my horizon,
I'm celebrating the wheels
falling of my juggernaut,
ceasing making meaning where 
meaning can never be found,
letting go the madness of 
plausible voices, that eternal
cat's cradle of string never to
unravel, I'm taking down the 
frame-work of dull sensibility,
I'm making space for working
with what I've already been given.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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July 21, 2021 · 2:54 pm

You Cannot – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Art work: found at notbuyinganything.blogspot.com

“The new slavery is consumerism.” Bryant McGill

You Cannot

You cannot make a silk purse from the isms of life
though many have tried and succeeded for a time,
wrapping them in beautiful magnetic attraction,
only to reveal an emptiness of meaning as crisis.

Though many have tried and succeeded for a time,
too soon the facade faded to its skeletal menace
only to reveal an emptiness of meaning as crisis,
the very dust we are returning to laughs at our surmise.

Too soon the facade faded to its skeletal menace,
a harbour of jaundiced, unrepentant misery,
the very dust we are returning to laughs at our surmise,
thinking we could trust the gratuitous laminate-life.

A harbour of jaundiced, unrepentant misery,
wrapping them in beautiful magnetic attraction,
thinking we could trust the gratuitous laminate-life,
you cannot make a silk purse from the isms of life.


Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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June 16, 2021 · 2:39 pm

The Bartleby – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

At dVerse Sanaa is hosting Poetics and has invited to use a minimalist photo (choice of 12) by Glenn Buttkus of South Sound Minimalist Photos.

dVerse Poets – Poetics – Exploring the Realm of Minimalist Photography

Photo courtesy of Glenn Buttkus (link above)

“Life moves on and so should we.” Spencer Johnson

The Bartleby

We named it the Bartleby because,
on most days, on most journeys it
preferred not to go anywhere at all,
to the point of disappointment so
irrupting that we persisted and 
pushed it to a limit of ourselves,
and the going was tougher than 
expected, until finally, a moment 
came when the wheels fell off our
manic endeavour, and there and 
then we left the Bartleby, much
preferring not to.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®


Note: some of you may not be aware of the reference to Bartleby = 'Bartleby The Scrivener' by Herman Melville

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June 12, 2021 · 2:05 pm

Swallowing Whole – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon

Photo: images.wisegeek.com

“Violating human rights is integral to the project of neoliberalism ….” Arundhati Roy

Swallowing Whole

I'm bemused that so many people are fooled,
swallowing whole the telegenic performances
given by those who consume our lives
before they ultimately consume themselves.

Swallowing whole the telegenic performances,
so disingenuously masked by the greedsters 
before they ultimately consume themselves
on the vain, rude altar of corporate sacrifice.

So disingenuously masked by the greedsters,
opiate bait for the masses to be offered 
on the vain, rude altar of corporate sacrifice,
hoping for meaning among future generations.

Opiate bait for the masses to be offered,
given by those who consume our lives,
hoping for meaning among future generations,
I'm bemused that so many people are fooled.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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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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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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