A Cartesian life co-odinated
The year is 1607; the place, the lodgings
of the Jesuit College Royal Henri-le-Grand
at La Fleche; it’s evening;
around a flickering candle
three boys of eleven years,
bright young faces against black robes,
bright eyes, lit in each pupil by the candle flame;
too young yet to be tired
by their day of such demanding study,
they laugh over a game
designed to improve their knowledge
of the Latin terms that they must learn:
the one whose father is a High Court judge
of course knows most; yet is most bored;
such is a father’s ambition for his son…
the game, easily constructed without expense:
pieces of paper in a Jesuit cap
on each of which, a simple Latin word
most likely to be required for formal argument
in pulpit, in the courts of law:
the game, to be the first to draw
words which can make a sentence
that can pass for logical…
Bright, bored René draws first:
‘Ergo’ – ‘therefore’: they all groan; the very word
speaks study, formal argument..
the others draw their words;
in the second round, our René draws
‘Sum’ – I exist, I am’’
the third round: excitement intensifies:
can three words make a sentence fit
for speaking in this holy, hallowed place?
gods hold their breath; angels
hover on the wing; Fate shakes the dice;
nature, nurture, weighty past,
all conspire to set the seal
upon four centuries of future thought…
flushed young face and slow-moved hand
stretch out suspense in childish fun…
‘Cogito…’ reads René’s paper scrap…
how was the eleven-year-old to know
that his next words—so lightly spoke,
so soon discarded to the vaults of memory –
would shape a life, a nation’s self-drawn image,
more volumes in more languages
than any could imagine then?
alas! as every being in the heavens
awaited human statement of the greater truth
which would awaken mortal man
to his divine inheritance…
‘Sum, ergo, cogito’… they whisper to the Fates…
‘I am, I exist; therefore, I think…’
alas! Man’s hubris won the day…
‘Cogito, ergo sum! ’ shouts our triumphant René -
‘J’ai gagné! J’ai gagné! ’
and even God was heard to sigh…
The boys laugh; the game is won, discarded;
instant forgetfulness washes Lethe-like
over young minds; it will be thirty years
before our René dredges from his mind,
significance; human hubris; method; discourse…
sets the thinking world by egoistic ears…
and so four centuries of self-assertive Frenchmen
will gaze and talk with philosophic love
into the eyes of mesmerised
nubile young girls across the coffee-cups
of tables on the sidewalks of the boulevards;
proud to be born French; the nation
knowing that they, above all, they hold the secret
of philosophy, of life: we are, I am, born to think..
je suis né pour penser…
and what of being itself,
and what of consciousness,
that enfolds ‘I am’…?
mon pauvre, mon semblable, mon frere… mon assassin…
hélas! hélas! …
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
Unmethodical discourse at a café table
By the flickering candlelight
of the long evenings,
inimical to study so they said
they played this game
to while away the time
between learning and authority
in that Jesuit college
in the early 1600s:
blindfolded or simply shut-eye and don’t cheat
you turn the pages of the Latin dictionary at random
and stick a pin, in turn, upon a random word;
the first to make a sentence
in the fewest rounds, the fewest words, wins
a prize of choice..
we do not know the prize
(among those severe, repressed, ambitious
boys, perhaps it’s just as well…)
or what the others drew;
but this we know: that night
René pricked a first word – ‘sum’ – ah! -
promising! a verb was useful, in this game—
the second round… he pricked on ‘ergo’…
that swift mind already playing the tables
of his agile mind…
the air was tense; they’d remember
this night, this flickering light,
forever in their future lives…
a hush (how boys fight to win
more fiercely than Christ’s soldiers,
whom they would become…)
‘Cogito’! A shout of triumph
from our René – and the rest
is history – alas..
It’s said the Devil enters in
at the third stroke; and so it was:
in three words, a lifetime’s career
as the greatest of divines
in an age of awe for the divine
were lost to mere – philosophy…
the age of Clairvaux, Cluny, Chartres
for all too brief a moment,
saw the vision of a glorious revival; but...
triumphantly, our René shouts
‘Á moi, c’est la conquéte! Le jeu d’esprit á moi! ’
(impeccable Racinian hexameter, naturellement..) –
alas for human vanity! The gods were whispering
‘Sum, ergo cogito! ’ in his spiritual ear – but no –
his chose mankind’s so vain conceit
and launched a thousand thousand
café tables on the pavement; seated there
in black, with scarf and beret, sunglasses,
in a cloud of choking gitane and gauloise smoke,
centuries of self-satisfied philosophes,
believing 'cogito, ergo sum': that they are their thought; born
as true Frenchmen, to be world thinkers, Rodin-like; and
that because they think, they are… somebody…
oh René, what a fall was there...
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Who Am I?
Rene Descartes popularized
The phrase: Cogito ergo sum-
I think therefore I am. How wise!
If I’m thinking, then it’s presumed
That I exist because of “I”
The one doing the thinking.
On this point we see eye to eye;
Even so, it begs questioning
Beyond my very existence;
That is, the question: who am I?
A query asked with persistence.
What does “buried beneath” imply?
Does it mean “core sense” of myself
Or an illusion of one’s self?
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Cartesian Shopping
When all of our home spun philosophies
Focus on shopping and spending and such
Then its time to redress priorities
For those things don't mean very much.
It's hard to imagine Pythagoras
Out shopping with Plato and Kant
Debating the appeal of the packaging
Of something they really don't want.
Now I know we all shop 'cos we have to eat
And we're keen on good prices it seems
But all of these retailing strategies
Seem to be trying too hard for our dreams.
So I turned to another philosopher
To understand what is going on
His words have a truth that now resonates
Like 'I shop and therefore I am'.
Well that's not precisely the words he said
He was a Frenchman and had to obscure
The truth that we now have to contemplate
When Wal Mart we have to endure.
Ah, Rene Descartes was a genius
He had matters under his thumb
When asked to go shopping he'd decline
Just saying 'cogito ergo sum'.
poem by David Keig
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My left knee and me
the memory of my birthing
like
the memory of my dying
was
is/
and
will/
forever
be lost
to me/
it was thus
a surprise/
not at all pleasant
but still
a surprise/
that as i tiptoed silently
last week/
from quinquagenary
to sexagenary/
the memory of my left knee’s being
made itself quite plain to me/
in lieu
of cogito/ ergo sum
i am thinking/ therefore i exist
as rené would have it/
my knee has twisted
this Cartesian syllogism
awry/
i am aching/ therefore you are/
the dogma of thinking being/
mutating/ transforming/
to the tenet of paining existing/
and so as i amble through
this decade sans nine days
with a limp/ i could lose/
i shall miss/ the company/
the companionship/
of dear friend/ of beloved kin/
but/
i can look forward/ to
a certain constancy/
that only death could cleave apart
my aching left knee and me//
poem by Renato Mascardo
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Cogito cogito ergo cogito sum
quote by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Idle Son
Young Benjamin left school this year
And stepped right in a job;
And he starts in hope of a life career,
Like his eldest brother, Bob.
But Sam, the lad who came between,
Born in the fateful year 'thirteen,
Still vainly seeks a place;
And the mark of his fate, too plainly seen,
Dawns in his listless face.
For Sam was born in a black year,
In the year of the world's black rage
To rob his youth of childish mirth;
And another curse was on the earth
In the year he came of age.
War and depression, this grim twain,
Have clouded life for a bright young brain.
Life smiles for Benjamin and Bob,
Each lucky in his age;
But the count of years falls ill to rob
Same of his heritage:
Too old for a youth's apprenticeship,
Untrained, too young for a man's firm grip,
Tho' a man in stature grown,
He lives to see his chances slip,
Thro' no fault of his own.
For Sam was born in a black year,
In a black year came from school.
But we who know past years of ease
Hold stern responsibilities
Ere his youthful ardours cool.
Ours is the duty, ours the task
To yield what youth has right to ask.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Rene And Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After The War
Words & music by Paul Simon
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
Returned to their hotel suite
And they unlocked the door
Easily losing their evening clothes
They danced by the light of the moon
To the Penguins, the Moonglows
The Orioles, and The Five Satins
The deep forbidden music
They'd been longing for
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
Were strolling down Christopher Street
When they stopped in a men's store
With all of the mannequins dressed in the style
That brought tears to their immigrant eyes
Just like The Penguins, the Moonglows
The Orioles, and The Five Satins
The easy stream of laughter
Flowing through the air
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog apres la guerre
Side by side
They fell asleep
Decades gliding by like Indians
Time is cheap
When they wake up they will find
All their personal belongings
Have intertwined
Oh Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
Were dining with the power elite
And they looked in their bedroom drawer
And what do you think
They have hidden away
In the cabinet cold of their hearts?
The Penguins, the Moonglows
The Orioles, and The Five Satins
For now and ever after
As it was before
Rene and Georgette Magritte
With their dog after the war
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rene & Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After The War
Words & music by paul simon
Rene and georgette magritte
With their dog after the war
Returned to their hotel suite
And they unlocked the door
Easily losing their evening clothes
They danced by the light of the moon
To the penguins, the moonglows
The orioles, and the five satins
The deep forbidden music
Theyd been longing for
Rene and georgette magritte
With their dog after the war
Rene and georgette magritte
With their dog after the war
Were strolling down christopher street
When they stopped in a mens store
With all of the mannequins dressed in the style
That brought tears to their immigrant eyes
Just like the penguins, the moonglows
The orioles, and the five satins
The easy stream of laughter
Flowing through the air
Rene and georgette magritte
With their dog apres la guerre
Side by side
They fell asleep
Decades gliding by like indians
Time is cheap
When they wake up they will find
All their personal belongings
Have intertwined
Oh rene and georgette magritte
With their dog after the war
Were dining with the power elite
And they looked in their bedroom drawer
And what do you think
They have hidden away
In the cabinet cold of their hearts?
The penguins, the moonglows
The orioles, and the five satins
For now and ever after
As it was before
Rene and georgette magritte
With their dog after the war
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ergo Bibamus!
FOR a praiseworthy object we're now gather'd here,
So, brethren, sing: ERGO BIBAMUS!
Tho' talk may be hush'd, yet the glasses ring clear,
Remember then: ERGO BIBAMUS!
In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word,
With its sound so befitting each bosom is stirr'd,
And an echo the festal hall filling is heard,
A glorious ERGO BIBAMUS!
I saw mine own love in her beauty so rare,
And bethought me of: ERGO BIBAMUS;
So I gently approach'd, and she let me stand there,
While I help'd myself, thinking: BIBAMUS!
And when she's appeased, and will clasp you and kiss,
Or when those embraces and kisses ye miss,
Take refuge, till sound is some worthier bliss,
In the comforting ERGO BIBAMUS!
I am call'd by my fate far away from each friend;
Ye loved ones, then: ERGO BIBAMUS!
With wallet light-laden from hence I must wend.
So double our ERGO BIBAMUS!
Whate'er to his treasures the niggard may add,
Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had,
For gladness lends over its charms to the glad,
So, brethren, sing; ERGO BIBAMUS!
And what shall we say of to-day as it flies?
I thought but of: ERGO BIBAMUS
'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise,
So again and again sing: BIBAMUS!
For joy through a wide-open portal it guides,
Bright glitter the clouds, as the curtain divides,
An a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides,
While we thunder our: ERGO BIBAMUS!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Evil Against The Good
The game unquestionably harsh
Started the day we were born
Out of me God created the best
Out of me evil wants
To recreate the worst
An infant between life and death
Not yet time to escape by losing breath
The game just began for the young one
The game unquestionably harsh
Dark streets and rough childhood
Experience of an adverse neighborhood
Got him trapped under the belly of the beast
Evil encounters sinking in the young head
Thoughts of the good lad decaying
The game heading for the climax
The game unquestionably harsh
Thought I would be good forever
Evil troops changed me for a sinner
Got addicted to the harmful world
Young days of ours full of madness
Got my own demons and so fearless
The game has ambushed us under stress
The game unquestionably harsh
Work of the young man is to daydream
Run the best imaginary world as possible
Managing mind tries the impossible
Fantasy world will never be reality
Perhaps the dream just a prophesy
The game plays tricks in the young mind
The game unquestionably harsh
It is play on the day we are born
Even before us it was playing
As we see more days we get played
Evil rules the planet earth
Good rules the purest heaven
The game is on until the end of times.
***The Book of End of Times
poem by Young Church
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Goodbye
For you
Its all in a day
One day in a life
Its all in the one word
The one word is goodbye
For me
Its all in what you say
Though youve tried to be kind
Its all in the words
From the lips that once touched mine with a sigh
Goodbye
For you
Its all in your face
The laugh and worry lines
Its all in the one word
You hope will make you young again
Goodbye
Its all in the play
Someone speaks the line
Its all in the one word
That stops and steals the time
Goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye
For me
Its all in a day
Its the part in life
When its all in the words
To fate and circumstance resigned
Goodbye
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Young
-artist: nat king cole
-peak billboard position # 1 for 5 weeks in 1951
-words by sylvia dee and music by sid lippman
-also charted by donny osmond at # 13 in 1972
They try to tell us were too young
Too young to really be in love
They say that loves a word
A word weve only heard
But cant begin to know the meaning of
And yet were not too young to know
This love will last though years may go
And then some day they may recall
We were not too young at all
And yet were not too young to know
This love will last though years may go
And then some day they may recall
We were not too young at all
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Moon
Written by dewey bunnell and gerry beckley, 1994
Found on hourglass and highway.
Fascination with the light in your hair
A celebration, nothing else can compare
An invitation to share my life with you
Stepping forward, reaching out for your hand
Hear the music of the sea on the sand
Like a vision rising out of the blue
Looking like a
Young moon in the heavens
Mother to the stars
Young moon guide us tonight
Elevation to a place high above
The combination, you and me and our love
Determination to spend my life with you
Looking at you face to face with my world
A quiet beauty not like just any girl
Moving slowly from the dark into view
Looking like a
Young moon in the heavens
Mother to the stars
Young moon guide us tonight
We are here in this moment
Shining twice as bright
We are here for you to see
Bright lights, long shadows
Tonight, we can handle
All of the doubts we may hold inside
It is a new day, things are different now
Weve got each other
Well keep looking for that young moon
We are here in this moment
Shining twice as bright
We are here for all to see
Young moon in the heavens
Mother to the stars
Young moon guide us tonight
We are here in this moment
Shining twice as bright ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gary Speed
Glory came early as did fame.
to Gary Speed there on the pitch.
Cheers he heard from adoring crowds
among the elite he found his niche.
With time’s passage he lost a step
even if he felt the same
but as he ran he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game.
He coached to stay around the game.
After the cheers for him had faded
A friendly face, a familiar name
but as he coached he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game.
For many, Gary was an icon,
a living legend of the game.
They failed to see the mortal man
with silence weighting on his frame
As he tied the rope he thought he saw
an old man’s shadow
in a young man’s game
poem by John F. McCullagh
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This Is The Game We Play
we have letters,
we spread them in our thoughts
and we form words, sometimes we like these words
to be not understood that so easily, to make a little suspense
of our game of words,
and we utter some words sometimes, so sweet sounding
our saliva pours from our mouths,
honey tasting words, a la black forest cakes,
we go beyond eating and licking and savoring,
we form words of love,
(setting aside for a while the evident
lust)
we play this game too well
no one gets hurt
plain sheets of white linen
we spread our naked bodies
we put words
using our tongues as hands
caressing hands
this is just a game of words
why do you palpitate that much?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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So Young
Orbison/curb/christian
Dawn comes up so young, dreams begin so young
And if you live just for today the day may soon be done
But theres a place where dreams always stay so young
A place to hear the sun go down and fade away
To see the wind just run away with yesterday
Anyplace for those who care zabriskie point is anywhere
Time runs out so fast on love too good to last,so young
A time to look forevers there or never found
To touch the sky and really feel the world go round
To live to love to laugh to cry to be alone
Young,so young love was meant to be wild and free
So young young,so young love is space in life
A place in time a state of mind too late I find
When tomorrows gone and love is lost so young
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taylor
I'll never understand why
He took her to His place
So young and innocent
As death showed its dark face
Why is it that the good die young?
I'll never understand
She'll never put on make-up
Or ever hold a little boys hand
Graduation and prom,
Things she'll never see
Why did He take her?
And God, WHY NOT ME?
No words of comfort, now
At the park, she'll never play
I start thinking- Who will be next?
And will they go today?
How do I let her go?
Someone please explain.
Time hasn't made it easier,
Nor taken away my pain
poem by Rachel Zarantonello
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Weary Lad
Weary Lad
By: Adam M. Snow
He gaze upon himself utterly; not knowing, not knowing.
Should he ponder or sunder; but his words not flowing, but his words not flowing.
His thoughts a damsel, not quite a lady
His heart is young, his mind is shady.
But this girl he lust but lest he dream,
The girl he long the more she gleams.
He sought her again, once again
And once again, his heart speaks of her.
He gaze upon himself utterly; not knowing, not knowing.
Should he ponder or sunder; but his words not flowing, but his words not flowing.
He quiver with fear as she draws near;
This young lad's love is all he had.
Despair follows in the quake of his steps,
He waits for her with every pep.
He speaks only of her but dreams of her forever.
Surely these two souls are destined to be,
But he remains alone in the far distant sea.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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To Sylvia Plath
You had awaken with a burning flame
trying to keep a small universe in your hands
while you turned your eyes to the almighty Father
with words that are unquenchable on paper
you thought about pain, exhaustion.
You had awaken with a burning flame,
to people that did not regard your words
you wanted to give life with all its blemishes,
while you turned your eyes to the almighty Father
until you could not go on anymore
when your courage, your life force started to diminish.
You had awaken with a burning flame,
where you tried to set the fire ablaze again
with nothing further to hold on to
while you turned your eyes to the almighty Father,
you turned your hands to your own life
and it was gone, had vaporise like dew;
you had awaken with a burning flame
while you turned your eyes to the almighty Father.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Young Love
I may be young, but i'm not foolish
I can tell real love from a game
I'm not gonna let you use me
Heartbreak play mates, say it's not the same
Chorus:
Young love, ring around the roses
My corrections will be big
Young love, searchin' for a heart so true
Young love, a pocket full of posies
Young love, all adds up to me and you
I traded all my childish treasures
For a burnin' love for you
It's gonna be my first time around
Heartbreak's high game, love shake you down
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Janet Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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