Hello, allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Jocund, The Gardener.
Living lucid, a fellow mind traveler.

That’s kind of like a chill Childe wanderer
Of the flowing forest floor,
Feathered cotton or greening words
On the wind unravel-er;
Gone’a’wandering in untraveled soils,
A seed settler.

Tragedy left my face sneer metered,
Mouth stretched sideways,
Toothy as a dumb grinning jester.

Yearning to make one stupid gesture,
So you’ll see I’m not too interested in being above or lesser.
Just on a mission,
Learning how to be both student and teacher:

Drawing abyssal blueprints,
Joining the disillusioned,
Describing a dynamic curriculum
And coding oaths like Odin’s to bind Cosmic-Woden’s
--Mr. Omnipotent to us rodents—undying reticulum.


Re-programmed to generate runic music
Nomenclature shaped in the underlying resonating
That is every particle operating in unison.

So I'm riding the chronicled-Euclidean space-time continuum
Of balance known to us as equilibrium,
And can you feel me breathing?

It’s the giving and taking and pushing and pulling of gravity propagating,
Bending light under and rending sight of what will be and what has been.

Oh well,
[Where], (when), {how} I am is what matters most to me.

“Jinkies!”
“What is it Velma?!”
“I think that’s Relativity.”

So, speaking relatively
I’d rather deduce from what’s relevant to me,
Lather rinse and reduce the divine to dust in the winds of time,
And maybe see the truth behind {who}, [what], (why) I’m-

[{assburgian]}: high functioning and genius,
Mumbling, s-st-stutterin', tic tic-ing and tremblin’.
it's ****-chilling and tedious.

But wait! There’s more.

{(Bipolar}): slightly manic, and comically dramatic.
Severely depressed and in a silent panic.
Practically sleepless, it’s fairly fantastic.
My memory I mean,
If all my senses witness a scene
The info is sealed within me perfectly,
Perceptually and verbally,
Non-mutational, stability.

In the short term, unfortunately,
My focus is overloaded with scenery
Of bullies, abusers, and over-users.
It’s misery listening to scratched records on repeat,
Immune to wrecking.
For that I thank my ([ADHD)]: predominately inattentive
Wtih dsylixea, definitive alcoholism, drug addiction, and the list goes on.
So yeah, I’m on the spectrum, I’m a functional positron.

“That guy’s *******, He can’t even act right.
He’s emotionless, a mindless robot.
There’s no empathy in that golem.
That ugly alien’ll never be like you or me,
He’s clueless, aloof and downright foolish.
So let’s just forget that freak, he kinda scares us.”

Oh yeah?
Well keep that **** in your ******,
Order the facts and double check’em.

“We're not so different you, me, and them.
We just built a bent border 'round the word disorder.
Sure, that’s the preference, to make no inference.
Ignorance is bliss, right?”

For my defense?
Well golly-gee thanks, that’s all lovely and great.
But now the neurologically typical person
Thinks they can fix me, without knowing my burdens
Like, “you’s gots a d’zeez cuz’a factseens”

This "cray" **** gets me irate.
Diagnoseez wrapped in fear-mongering, seen with hate,
And convinced to wait for a miracle.
Well too bad so sad,
The difference is anatomical.
So treating me means training me
To be “normal, deviations nominal.”

(Am I ******’a dog, what the ****?!
Wait, back it up and mix that bit up.)
“What the ****, am I a ******’ dog?!
Oh, if they knew the truth they’d think I’m a ******* demigod.”
(Ha right, more like a log full buried eternally in'a boggle.)

My parents tried and tried for my birth,
They almost considered me impossible.
I was nearly inconceivable.
Then the multi-verse cursed,
And that message was receivable,
I heard it was a freakin’ miracle.
Not that mom cared, she was irresponsible.
Wanted to be a free mirth queen.

Aww, she just needed security.
Even after my birth on Friday 3/13/92 into a noose,
Loosely scorned and hardly lyrical.
They had to remove me surgically from the womb and
Now I've grown oddly into a super human body.

I’m physically atypical with an extra lumbar vertebra.
Some think me mythical, my hearts cage is even, part of a
Hard skeleton wearin’ *** appeal and a
Strong fresh sheath of flesh that’s quick to heal.
Ask me to speak, out comes a voice so deep you’d think the sky fell.

I’m mentally inexplicable,
Thinking in infinite Voices simultaneously painting imagery indefinitely.  
It has me lagging in a neuronal-conundrum.
I’m containing a brain wound up and
So over-wired it's redundant.

Making my head so heavy the ground is over-tired,
Barely overcoming addiction to dilating mundane details.
And a bit slow to obtain'em,
Those growing verbal-perceptual rains of information.
It's why I'm highly aware of the visual-spatial patterned puzzle pieces of existence.

So my mind is orbiting off in the distance,
Oblivious to non-verbal relation,
Just spaced-out communication.
I'm nearly incompatible
With most people in this global nation.
Everyone's got recipes for lemonade,
And I've got durian, that's **** ironical.
I told you, the difference is anatomical.
Can't be changed, so forget being normal tragically!

“That’s great and all,
But you still can’t communicate,
Associate,
Or surmount your human viewpoint
And recreate.
So what’s the point, you’ll never amount
And you shouldn't be allowed to procreate,
Just **** yourself.”

Shut the **** up, mate!
No one is beyond help,
And I'm in good health.
So who says I need your help.

I’m a catch-it-all trainer,
Long distance sprinter,
Heavy weight lifter,
Martial arts practitioner,
And Muay Thai fighter
Of the metaphysical plane or
Flyin’ my x-wing, taking out tie fighters.
Muckin’ up misinformed storm troopers,
Shovin’ **** back down their word poopers.

Yeah, I’ve tried playin’ The Game
That society designed.
But that sick joke
Was painfully lame.
And the punchline,
All but broke me.


I died philosophically.
Spent three days regenerating.
Re-writing my subconscious poetry
Like The Doct-uh,
The Boo-duh,
Or Mist-uh
Believe-in-me.

Pulverizing words into compost,
Composing metaphor to re-code seeds
Set to regrow self-trees from the ground up.
Splitting myself up into three categories,
(Mind), [body], and {me} all clowned up.

It is a truly significant allegory,
Greening my being with jocundity.
Creating profundity for gardening,
Generalizing and broadening the concept
And applying it metaphorically.

In the attempt
To join fantasy
With reality
And become truly
One with “we”;
Livin' and loven'in
Disparity and hilarity
Of you,
Me,
And every fellow
There is to see.

So, “hello
i am the gardener and
i am jocund and
…|[{(i am)}]|…
quite pleased
to meet
we.”

I've felt a lingering, encompassing contentedness
and I only hope she will stay.
I woo her like I would
a friend, I brew her coffees and teas and
we speak of the world in terms of
relativity and we laugh.
There is the most catalystically crucial point:
we laugh and laugh at all that
once seemed something
to be sorry for, or ashamed of, or
beneath our bustling cognizance.
Our jocundity is riddled with shining
jewels of barbaric opulence as I frantically
bare my canines in a persuasive exclamation.
I hope she'll stay,
but to receive and not give would never convince her.

Procuring conditioned conformity;
Pejorative and intentional,
Disdainful to divinity.
Subjugation subliminal.

Facile masks of jocundity,
Blind us from the notion,
To which our hearts open ignorantly,
Causing inevitable commotion.

i remember the time it all came together,
the child that was lost, the constant pressure,
the accident on the road that sent me flying,
the watches at midnight of wailing and crying

the father had gone, the grandfather followed,
jocundity had stopped, in sadness to wallow,
the starling replaced the *** and the swallow,
and imagination raced like Hermes to Apollo

till all of a sudden i went pop
as if part of my brain had gone for the chop,
flummoxed, bewildered, fright in backdrop,
like train without breaks, i couldn't make it stop

gamesome, chucklesome, bothersome,
and awesome modest fellow)...
does not deliberately court immortalization,
and wonders what criteria confer elevation,
exaltation, glorification, hero worship,
idolization, veneration, or worship.

I go about a daily humdrum routine
me, a twenty first century baby boomer,
who considers himself passé
and senses with sensibility
he would have been more at home
during the early nineteen hundreds.

At threescore and six years
under my out of this world Kuiper belt,
this wannabe joker here makes the most
of figurative cards I got dealt
despite most every day of my life felt
accursed with mental health issues,
stunted physical growth,
and a split uvula - submucous cleft palate
on very rare occasions, I
(once a slip of a lad
and light as a feather)
got lifted off the ground

and tossed in air by classmates
momentarily suspended as a Great Dane helt
in high regard remembering those happy days
analogous to Reelin’ In the Years
being like a little fish in a big pond
poignant adventures
going out with weathered mariners
actually Norwegian bachelor farmers
tricked out ****** thru and thru
prematurely ******* with joie de vivre
while whipping the rod
hoping hook, line and sinker snags jacksmelt.

Nothing about my person screams
shine the kleiglights (an intense carbon arc lamp,
especially used in filmmaking) on me,
one foo fighting fool on the hill nowhere man,
who hopes to be reincarnated into the ideal of
acuity, bankability, creativity, divinity, ethicality,
fidelity, generosity, humility, integrity, jocundity,
knowledgeability, likability, magnanimity, nobility,
originality, perspicacity, luck quiddity, respectability,
sagacity, tranquility, unconventionality,
versatility, and winnability.

Now just let me get these grubby hands
on well preserved brains of freshly deceased,
and tinker ala Victor Frankenstein.

Yes quite a tall order,
but methinks I can master
genetic engineering (with both eyes closed -
and both hands tied behind my back),
and thwart (once and for all)
the nasty demise of mortality
and promise fail safe solution
to vanquish what people used to consider
the quaint inevitable and unavoidable
courtesy visit by the grim reaper -

depicted as wearing a dark hooded cloak
and wielding a scythe
also known as Hel, Thanatos -
formerly known as Azrael,
and better known as the Grim Reaper
the personification, embodiment,
and spirit of Death
(known throughout the cosmos
for appearing soon after someone died
to deliver their soul to the afterlife),

Psychopomp, or Shinigami
 "la Parca" ("The Robe"), -
a common term for the personification
of death across Latin America
forcing humanity to rethink and reboot
the concept of dying and meeting the maker
essentially making process of death obsolete
unleashing in this lifetime of mine
the solution to upend
the demise of corporeal entity

plus doing away with attendant
emotional and financial toll
final expense insurance policies generate -
whereby unabated longevity
no longer a worry of the past,
but another padding to "nest egg"
recouping set aside monies
to cover the costs incurred
by the death of a loved one,
whether that person

gets buried in a cemetery or cremated
to be become forever vanquished
courtesy creating a untapped market for
twenty blank nth century when speciality
to become a B certified and verified by B Lab
of social and environmental
performance, transparency, and accountability,
which demand to churn out
one after another doctors
named Victor Frankenstein

bringing to life "creature", "fiend",
"spectre", "dæmon", "wretch",
"devil", "thing", "being", and "ogre,"
which high paying specialists
must meet high standards,
whereby the newly hatched mad scientist
receives an bone a fide education
of corpse, whose appreciation acknowledged
by the grateful dead souls
their learning involves combining,

involving artificial intelligence,
reproductive biology and robotics
discovering solutions to synthesize
the best western qualities
and as a dissertation
presenting the most poignant
tragicomic live unrehearsed drama
showcasing the denouement of humanity
trumpeting **** sapiens
bumbling, fumbling, and tabling

after teasing out the box of Pandora
mysteries of development
building neural network describing
linkedin thinking computer systems
deoxyribonucleic acid, and branches
of engineering and computer science
that involve the conception, design,
manufacture and operation of robots
unwittingly as a cautionary tale
whereat smart machines outwit

and then control their creators
with decency, humanity, leniency....
no, not spelling the gloom and doom
of man/womankind,
but rather capitalists freed from labor boon
yet silver lining allows, enables, and provides
old fashioned option to party hardy,
or read all the books in the world
which upside being that human beings
can alway choose exit - stage door left

videre licet euthanasia (voluntary
and pain free suicide),
returning to the closed feedback loop
molecules and atoms
constituting and declaring
each unique personhood
ready and willing to give up the ghost
and buzzfeeding, jump/kick starting
and replenishing the biosphere.