Best Descartes Poems
These were my first five "Monday Monokus":
"Three Monokus walk into a bar" posted 28 Sept 2020
don't challenge Death to a pillow fight or you will face Reaper cushions
"Mr. Descartes, will you join us?" "I think not", he said, and disappeared
the only time that cows will fall asleep is when it's pasture bedtime
Attribution: these one-liners were found online and the sources are unknown
"Good Moaning to You" posted 5 Oct 2020
Buddhist monk walks up to a hot dog stand: "make me one with everything"
this sign seen at a butcher shop: "our lean beef comes from 2-legged cows"
there are just 2 kinds of people that drive me crazy those that can't count
Attribution: the first of these 3 one-liners was found online and the source is unknown. The other two were (to my knowledge) original to me.
"COVID Crazy" posted 12 Oct 2020
during covid I sit around like a head with its chicken cut off
I'm doing my first marathon this weekend hmm, netflix or hulu?
did you wake up grouchy today or did you allow him to sleep in?
Attribution: these one-liners were found online and the sources are unknown
"Avian Flew" posted 19 Oct 2020
indiscriminate lovebirds may contract a canarial disease
a few unprotected canaries have been known to contract cherpes
...most get lucky and are greatly relieved to find out it's tweetable
Attribution: I first heard this 3-part joke from my father-in-law many years ago. The source is unknown (I'm pretty sure he didn't make it up...)
"News Flash" posted 26 Oct 2020
"toilet stolen from local precinct police have nothing to go on"
"marijuana bill snuffed out by a Congressional Joint Committee"
the News is where they tell you "Good Evening" then explain why it isn't
Attribution: these one-liners were found online and the sources are unknown
I. Noise in an empty hallway:
My old leather shoes protest as I hurry down the linoleum tiles
Like I'm wearing a little piece of history older than I am.
II. Headlights on a dark road:
Speeding down narrow country roads
windows rolled down and Autumn wind rushing through the car
Ripping my hair from its tie
My arm stretching out the window, numb in the night air.
III. Ephemeral beauty:
For a moment, life is endless and incredibly brief
Stretching before me like a dusty trail at sunset
Disappearing into the trees.
IV. Origin of life:
There is this vague, unnamable incomprehension in my chest
Like euphemisms, that is the easy way out
This is the hard way: I am alive, alive, alive
When one cell became thirty trillion, I gained consciousness.
V. I am not the sum of my parts:
I don't have the faith to believe
That all my thirty trillion cells are a fluke of nature
VI. Evidence:
I am the proof of divinity's existence
A signpost shouting "I am alive" thirty trillion times with all the power of my lungs
Designed for miracles
VII. Rene Descartes:
It is not
I think; therefore, I am
It is
I think; therefore, He is.
Before Rene Descartes does this world depart
he gives analytic geometry its big head start
from bugs that draw graphs crawling on his ceiling;
as he lies sprawling, sick in bed, reeling.
Decry and damn dualism,
for what has it wrought?
A delusion of soul,
of separation and isolation.
Minds absorbed in endless
effort to divide.
Let’s start again – tabula rasa,
and vanquish the mind
to the void where
thence it merges with
the Singularity – the place
where Beginnings begin.
Some think of geometry as art,
but I don't include Renes Descartes.
A philosopher of calibra,
he combined geometry with algebra.
When in a pickle or a fix he
was not only just whistling Dixie.
He was writing down equations,
perfect for geometric occasions.
If consciousness dies
is that all there is
or does some higher state
reimagine what was
When consciousness dies
will birth reoccur
no longer indentured
to time and its spurs
If consciousness dies
do rainbows of light
take over our essence
transcending our sight
When consciousness dies
is confusion bereft
as reference get buried
—and prescience resets
(The New Room: March, 2023)
"i think thus i am"
thoughts...they're just passage of time...
a non existent
self that's of the world
as the world is of the self...
both just rationale
not truth but true...yes
there's awareness or world thought...
clear or color blind
appreciation
music love freedom...let go
"i think thus i am"
stan sand
The account of Descartes was redoubtable:
“I exist, since this thought is undoubtable.”
Mister Hume peered inside,
Said, “I see naught besides
Just my thoughts, so your logic is floutable.”
Eating my oatmeal, sipping my tea,
“Where”, I wondered, “should I stroll today?
I won’t be rash and decide in a flash.
There are choices to carefully weigh”.
“Left/Right, Up/Down, and Forward/Back -
There are but three choices to be made.
I will be smart and think like Descartes.
Then, I can begin my promenade.”
3D was an art, before Descartes
And anti-left, an ancient bias,
Around how to choose which hand to use,
Dating to days of Zacharias.
“Left” is a direction long bad-mouthed.
People said it was wrong, and not “RIGHT”.
Is it deft to choose not to go left,
Or is going left just as upRIGHT?
Why does “up”, not “down”, enhance “UPright”?
To be on TOP of the list we try.
Why not make our goal DOWN in the hole,
Instead of way up HIGH in the sky?
We would rather our heart RISE than sink.
Heaven is ABOVE, and hell, BELOW.
A hawk on patrol beats a blind mole.
So goes the story of “high” and “low”.
Better to go UP, but harder too -
The way old Newton would have it, see,
“If you don’t like, take a hike, ‘cuz
We are all pulled down by gravity”.
While UP in Flanders, a mapmaker,
Aptly named Gerardus Mercator,
Put Flanders on TOP, refusing to swap
With Australia, BELOW the equator.
Another bias, it seems to me,
Is we want to go forward - not back.
In a world sublime, it relates to time -
Einstein said, “it’s relative, Jack”.
Both my oatmeal and tea are now gone,
And the sun has sunk low in the West.
Tomorrow, I’ll drink tea, and I’ll think
Where to walk. Now, I’ll have a nice rest.
I think so I am,
Thank you Descartes,
She dances samba, so I’m,
She likes strawberries and roasted chestnuts,
So I am,
She has butterflies in her eyes
So I am,
Thank you Descartes,
It is not enough to think
To be happy,
She shows me her breasts in the mirror,
So I am,
She dresses for the carnival,
So I am,
Thank you Descartes,
It is not enough to think
It is enough to be loved
To think.
Je pense donc je suis,
Merci Descartes,
Je danse la samba, donc je suis,
Elle aime les fraises et les marrons chauds,
Donc je suis,
Elle a des papillons dans les yeux
Donc je suis,
Merci Descartes,
Il ne suffit pas de penser
Pour être heureux,
Elle me montre ses seins dans le miroir,
Donc je suis,
Elle s’habille pour le carnaval,
Donc je suis,
Merci Descartes,
Il ne suffit pas de penser
Il suffit d’être aimé
Pour penser.
From life’s final dissertation,
logic must be barred
A blueprint of our limitations,
its legions burned and scarred
In that last final closing moment,
transcendence kindled bright
The strictures of its failed excuse
—left victim to the night
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)
I don't trust politics, therefore I am
Otherwise I've no chance to be me
But somebody else, quite a different man
Not the one that I happen to be
I believe in love, therefore I’m a lover
And you must be a lover as well
Otherwise we might be undercover
Of something that looks quite like hell
They count our money, they want us to reveal
All that we are, very small
Subjects they scrutinize to make us feel
That we do not matter at all
But I do agree to be that matterless
No reason to argue with them
Anyway I’ll be taken for somebody else
Not the real person I am.
'Cogito, ergo sum,' René wrote
I doubt the following is what he had in mind
(I think, therefore I am) take note...
if you think you're thirsty
in need of a drink
and find yourself in a bar
then you probably are
or if you think you're dirty
need a bath really stink
and no one's around you
then perhaps you truly do
and if you think you're crazy
in need of a shrink
no ands ifs or buts
you definitely are quite nuts
Politics is a thing in itself it’s a trust of most trusted
A part of reality akin to weather you take as it comes
Choose or not what is chosen for you anyway you’re adjusted
To a fate of some nation from which to drop out there isn’t a chance
So in the evening, beside the desk, you take care of the news
Seeing your facelessly multiplied fate in one line maybe two
Feeling generalized for just nothing you’d consciously use
You envy Descartes, and the rose in the garden that’s growing for you.
Had It Backwards,
Too?
You'll Figure
It Out.
gigglechuckleteeheehAWW...
HONK!
-Gray Squirrel
10-18-2025