a thirst for the divine inspiration
which is probably hidden
in this coffee bean.

structure & form are reflective of
meaning & function,
so what does that make my body?
what does that make my face?

other people's opinions are always
teasing like they were brushes
and the strands of my hair were days
but the 80s are long gone and
i've got bigger dogs to wrestle.

if you compare a strong mule to a
peeping baby bird
you've wrapped up the history of thought
in two corrosive words.

i want fervently to have hope in my species.
but i walk a path that weaves tight
between compassion & contempt.

if structure &
form are reflective
of meaning & function,
then i am trickling down
with the fresh melted snow,
pouring myself in a muddy stream
filled with silver gold spirals that span
the visible spectrum, elongating & growing forever

There is a vast Ocean we call the Universe. In it are Galaxies like Plankton. Within them are Stars Systems like Cells. The Stars themselves are like Nuclei, are surrounded by Planets like Ribosomes, Vesicle, Rough and Smooth endoplasmic reticulum, Golgi apparatus, Cytoskeleton, Mitochondria, Vacuole, Cytosol, Lysosome, Centrioles within Centrosome. And sometimes in the planets are Civilizations like Atoms. Within these civilizations are People, some Positive like Protons, some Negative like Electrons, and some who just don't give a ****, just like Neutrons. Making every single thing an Important (but Not Better than the other) part of the Whole System.

I’ll pour this vial of pills
to fall through my neck
to push out my navel
so I can grow up and out

I’ll watch it all dissolve in my hands
watch my world dissolve in my hands
so it can finally be mine
something entirely mine

And as I’m standing on the big blue planet
eyes tunnelling into the moon
I will drape the reticulum
over some other creature
and no more burden shall I be
lying deep in the milky sea

That was then, this is now
Who was where when what was how?
Hear them take their last breath as they're shot down
I scream
Floating in the gene pool, expecting the man who can walk on water to arrive
Sell outs and everyone who has had a bad week even though it's only Monday

Whippersnappers hang their heads in shame
I am one of twelve
So expendable
We live in gluttony
Lineleaders, math teachers, bottom-feeders have no idea
Watch them fall and be forced to crawl on their bellies
We laugh
Lewandowsky-Lutz dysplasia, getting back to your roots
Progeric clock-makers, lying dead on The Yellow Brick Road
Thin-skinned Transsexuals putting bricks in their purses
We live by eight
We die from our weight
And go unbloomed
       -Tommy Johnson
Standing in a nuclear reactor somewhere in Chernobyl looking for the truth
It might be in my contaminated endoplasmic reticulum
I am a radiant
Doppler radar
Monopoly dollar

Singing in the shower, amateur hour
Projecting sour notes
Pouring out their hearts and souls, hear them
Trying

Moo-juice nectar, spilling off The Round Table
Blondes in red bracelets, Kabbalah saves them
Henry pays no tax, John Berryman's bats tell us
You are the lunatic
We are the two quarters of a half-wit
This whole thing is insane

       -Tommy Johnson

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.”

Profitis Ilias

Zefian brought the Toxota and Pezhetairoi arrows; they were sovereign moldy points of the Bronze tips of the Taxota Archers and the Falangists. That in turn from the high sky formed a great pinwheel when the great dimension shone from the flat equinoctial sky, bumping the chins of Kaitelka, the dealer of the Parthenon lost, which rang the great bronze pine, and kilometers in length forming the makro koelum of Patmos; with vertices of the Pythagorean canon of Polykleitos. A large horizontal "V" was seen from Aorion's falling acrotera, projected in a bronze mega bolt coming from Betelgeuse's armpit, and forming a sidereal Vee, launched by the hunter Aorion from his constellation. This would be architectural form and Pythagorean canon-mathematical for purposes proportional to the Mandragoron. They fell from the four arrows that Zefian launched, from Crete that approached the contravening of Apollo, and Artemis towards an olive tree, originating in the arrows of Zefian, to mark the new cardinal points. Thus they began with two first sagites that are placed in the arc string, each one belonging north-south trajectories and the other two that were again violated with the eastern arc, to shoot the east-west arrows with southern magnetism limits. Three bolts are deposited in the canon of Polykleitos, and in the reticulum of the Pleiades that Aurion pursued.

The first two were Taxotas:

- North: Vóreios (Zefian Boreal)
- South: Nótos (Austral de Borker)

The last two were from Pezhetairoi:

- West: Dyticá (Sunset of Leiak)
- East: Aftó (Equinoctial of Kaitelka)

A - Zefian Vóreios

In the intertestamental of these egregious Pythagorean calculations, they stood out in the Vernacentricus, or extra automatism of foundation of the points to refer geodesics for the lifting of the Ultramundis Vernacentricus. From the Vóreios the Zefian canons are inter-testamented, which uses Horcondising forces, following the northern one of the Nothofagus Obliqua, essentially in the fungi of their trunks that paraded along the paths of the iterated populations of the Ezpatkul Forest; who was a servant who had remained from the last diaspora of the horcondising transmigrant by Joshua de Piedra, patriarch of the Orthodox mountains, and from the cordons of the Ambrosiella Ceratocystidaceae fungi, with a large proportion of the Ambrosia Mercurial, and of great influence from the fungal fungi, provided from the Legacy of Vernarth in Zefian to demarcate the northern boreal or Vóreios for the purpose that this Ezpatku, with its prominent Augrun or Gold teeth turned all the borer beetles demarcating the Vee of the Vóreios throughout the Horcondising region, bilocusing it in the borers of the Encinas de Patmos, with such frenzy... !, that from there they would extract the force of the Mapuche north winds from the Meli Witran Mapu, starting with the Pikún-kürüf North wind, first two arrows of the Taxotas, and South Waiwén, of the Pezhetairoi, of the quantum of transmigration of the sub-mythology of the Horcondising – Panhellenic. Then the Puelche that drags the borer beetles with more force to lift the uprising fungi of the Mandragoron by the East vertical, to culminate with the Lafkén-kürüf.

Zefian had enough time to mediate the ratio of Polykleitos to Ezpatkul. This Kanon or Canon will be of great relevance for the topography and survey of the temple, knowing that we must emphasize the perfection of the basal measurements, and the acrotera that will be suspended in the sensorial iconography of its forms, and in the star Betelgeuse giant with red blood cells, for the morphology of their own three-dimensional bodies, towards a comparatively human paradigm of Gaugamela anatomy bled in his pectoral, from here the Templar base of Megaron or Mandragoron began. Its size will be colossal but more ergonomic; it will be to redirect visuals of the Orion Belt, from where the fourth and last Zefian arrow was already on its way, to join the other three remaining from the Cretan *****, for the entire front of the façade Principal. The chromaticity will be sulfur yellow and red blood cells, both dependent on complementation with Cinnabar, and on the raised bodies of Court V of the Helleniká Necropolis in Kímolos. Under vileness or absence of light among the darkness, or of the apocryphal light of Evil, in contrast to the robust equanimity of light, and partisan shadow of Saint John the Apostle, for the hegemonic good and the incorruptible vision of him.

The naturalness made the world apologetic, and the immune defenses of the polish textures, invoiced proportional mathematical measures ibidem of the Hommo Novis, and of the Geometric Pythagoreanism for a body seven and a half times, starting from the base of the feet as the base of the plinth or frieze, until reaching near the capital that exemplifies the chin, before reaching the cornice, highlighting the figure of the capital with the front of the proportional ligament between the trunk, and the columns duly. Here the seven-headed Kanon of a David will declaim the measures of the psalms, counts in degrees, and sighing dimensions. The kinetics was earth towed by towing carts in tetra bronze arrows, which balanced the unbalanced balance and harmony of the created whole. The symmetry of the transverse poles was muscled to make kinetic centripetal in the inertia of the bolts as the faint glow of the canon rays struck. The stone of the mound was made of the sustentacular, and Vernarth's counterpose when the Himathion was tried, appearing disguised and in composing. In this way the movement and position of the muscles and of the figure in general of the human temple are portrayed, when pressing the third arrow of Zefian it adorned the consecutive cardinal points; in this position of the myriad, and their forces widened the line of sight of the Vernacentricus, dispersing the oblique line in forty-five degrees that would join with its right counterpart, in the middle of the radius that joined the central point destined where the fourth arrow would fall.

Zefian falling from the Belt of Aorion, destined to embed itself at the intersection of the next full moon. The volume of naturalism resembled the directive of Polykleitos, but it was far from his figurative geometric conception, being conceptualized by an intertestamental tendency of sub-mythology, and the Duoverse, which in turn was condescending of morphology by reestablishing a prehistoric figurative, which tended to be reflected in the similarity of an anachronistic contrast of the original morphism of the aesthetic universe, being retransformed into a sub-mythological Duoverso.

The Profitis Ilias was snorting the exokartic energies through the sinkholes that filled the thickness of the Arms of Christi and the Souls of Trouvere, from Leros came Ezpatkul with the Gerakis for the closing of the Codex of Raedus. Stratonice was dressed for spring with Persephone for the amendment of the wind tunnel so that everyone would go back to the esplanade at the top, where Vernarth was inspiring all the children of the Codex of Raedus-Vernacentricus-Profitis Ilias. Zefian brought the Toxota and Pezhetairoi arrows, they were sovereign moldy points of the Bronze tips of the Taxota Archers and the Falangists. That in turn from the high sky formed a great pinwheel when from the great dimension they shone from the flat equinoctial sky, bumping the chins of Kaitelka that the Parthenon dealer lost, that they rang the great bronze pineapple, kilometers in length forming the makro koelum from Patmos; with vertices of the Pythagorean canon of Polykleitos. A large horizontal Lecedemonia “V” was visible from Aorion's falling acrotera, projected in a copper mega bolt coming from Betelgeuse's armpit, and forming a Barnard looped sidereal Vee, fired by the hunter Aorion from his constellation. This would be an architectural last, and Pythagorean canon-mathematical for purposes proportional to the Mandragoron. They fell from the four arrows that Zefian launched, from Crete, since they were approaching the contravention of Apollo, and Artemis towards an olive tree, originating in the arrows of Zefian, to mark the new cardinal points. This is how they began with the first two sagites that are placed on the arc string, each one belonging to north-south trajectories and the other two that once again clashed with the eastern arc, to shoot the east-west arrows with limits of magnetism. southern. Three arrows are deposited in the canon of Polykleitos, and in the reticulum of the Pleiades that Aorion pursued. The points of the Taxotas were approaching with the North: Vóreios (Boreal de Zefian) South: Nótos (Austral de Borker), then Pezhetairoi: West: Dyticá (Sunset of Leiak) East: Aftó (Equinoctial of Kaitelka). The Codex came to an end in an aureole of the Melismatic hymn, within a lyric towards the rebellious polis of the Hidro Saltinbanqui, who listed their antiphons on the thirty-three codes, embodied in green fields and Lavender fields, where they exhorted the Lotions to stand until death, clinging where kings come down from their altars, under the ultimatum to celebrate the feast in the Persephone canals, pouring out the mouths of those who have perished in the desert of lyrical abstention, and wine in the cruel kindnesses of satiating her after falling into the arms of lavender.

Wonthelimar climbed up the caliginous air differential that emanated from the Basilisk's snout, which surrendered to the propagation of the ascent through the firebreak that took him to the top to meet Vernarth and Zefian, along with all the Sibyls who were also levitated towards the meeting. of the Fourth Arrow. Lochnith, Sibyl Herophila, Mardiath, Elpenor, and Vlad Strigoi were featured, all of them joined to the Phalanx of Arbela, leading to the restitution of the belligerent site, along with a great compacted mass of citizens who heard from all over the Aegean world and surroundings. The bay of Skalá was full of ships that poetized in the roadstead with intense poetry, before a new and heroic rebirth of the bones of the fallen in the transversal battles, each one carrying in their hands a bunch of lavenders, for the brave hearts that they wanted to be reborn in the bones, towards the arrival of Zefian and the raising of all the panoplies united in his bones, as a whole taking over the Patmian island. They did not let go of the bundle, but until they released the last momentum of repose, to activate the beauty of being all united in the building of the Megaron Mandragoron.

The men became more men, and the children became men, their wives were legitimate invincible forces as if they were Moiras burnishing Panoplias that rudimentary the most incomprehensible noises, until they awakened from the chin to those who had difficulty reaching the top to renew their bones Who, full of death, retired from their enslavement. This will be a truth, which was hiding behind the falsehood of a contingent greater than all the archaic invasions of foreign civilizations hungry for wisdom. Everything is great before the small because everyone wants a hero who dies and is reborn again, the brave one dies twice and is reborn twice before the arms of Vernarth, the pain is three times greater than the relief of a mother who longs for the return alone of one of their own after each battle, by wandering wastelands of enemies who dream of wanting the legitimate escape signals of the Ghosts of Shiraz, who made their crying and howling that they cannot console themselves. Poverty is tinged with gold, and those who need a similar shelter will be the object of their own unity as they are prisoners of ill-fated wealth. The Hoplite could have a parallel from the ninth book of the Iliad, towards an Arete or courage of his brave cop that filled him with branches from the spray of every morning when he was pubescent, with the Agathos or Courage, which led them as great splendors through the tube or wind tunnel rising at the speed of the Lambda, in the notch of the Lacedaemonian fold in its bronze duplicates Kardiá or Hoplite hearts. The shields were crowded upon the awakening of the same gods of Olympus, all sleeping together the same mirage during a Long Night that would rescind the power of each member and fabulous lost, before the new Megaron superior to Olympus itself, presided over by Vernarth, and assisting also Zeus; this time carrying an oak in his hand and a Dorus, detached from its rays of a beautiful Death that is reborn in Patmos, carrying in the other Hands the bunch of Lacedaemonian Lavenders, solving them from the Trésas or doubts of facing the sun of victory in both eyes divided, the heterochrome with the beautiful green green of Alexander the Great and the Lavender of Vernarth from Lacedaemon, providing the Demiourgía with his brother Etrestles, with the power or full Aristokracia of the moving spinners of Ezpatkul and Stratonice, for the purpose of unleashing the wind tunnel with the Gerakis from Leros, sharpening with remnants of Miletos, already degraded to aristocrats submerged in the dawn of the Alikantus and Kanti ridges of Crete, who still dwelt restlessly with their wounds on their backs, taking with them robes from the laurel forest of Matico and Sauco, who wrapped themselves on the perches that fringed on their heads to welcome them, and round them with some dark orange blossoms, which They muttered between their gleaming incisors in bronze greaves, woven into their corselets that continued to walk the wounds on their backs that pointed and implored Aorion, recesses in aristocratic awards for the Hetairoi hall that awaited them, very close. Vernarth rehearsing his Himation on his way to the Seventh Paradise.

Lying teeth

-
         Creep
                                Dearer.
-
silence roars.
The closer it contracts,
further it draws away.

Astonished to find
You're still confined inside
Your mind.

Destroy the weaker
and hide behind reticulum.

In the realm
of a hollow crown
I absconded,
endeavoured to uncover.

I‘ve left myself behind,
an inch
beneath water

                                     decorous

A wisp of smoke
as it climbs.

Carry your shame,
rise to the chime,
an unfamiliar invitation.
Bring your mind back around,
around to this
                                    callous.

The room begins to gratify;
You tax,
obambulate,
              depress.
                       ­            diminished.


Penduluming
will never
mollify,
                           placate.


The moment you appreciate,
               Passing.
-
Treasure motive
abhor being.

Be succinct.
Prove,
Demonstrate.

Rattlesnake*
      or *of zealous sapphire

An era of old and golden skies,
in a desert of silent-film sienna,
ragtime sepiatone and a pyrite sunrise,
pinstriped wiseguys sold the valley sand,
fit in felt fedoras and shaking leather hands
on namesakes ornate with glowing jewels,
a boulevard curbed and paved,
concrete stiles and marble tiles upon
a cosmic palisade of glass, inlaid
and framed in miles and miles
of brass and brightly colored burning gas.
A glamorous new epoch burst forth,
avaricious in its incandescent gloss,
when they raised this monument
of the brightest kind, we gained,
and some gave a dear cost in trade
for the cones inside of our eyes.

I am a chemical reaction
that reels recklessly
between dancing Stardust
and downward spiral.
I am charisma so coy.

We've all slivered shades of silver
and sugar coursing through our veins,
spears poised upon the ancient prairie,
blades of bone, bending bows, and
coursing prey on prehistoric plains.
Mixed in us and inherited still, this thrill -
the chill, the chase and the payoff,
the risk and the waiting, the praying
your scent, your sense, or dollars and cents
aren't fatally spirited away.
Lately, the ferns are thinning
so we've traded them for sins
and felt of the same color,
our hoards of arrowheads and clubs
printed now upon paper cards,
reticulum tuned not for tracking or furs,
but spinning and flashing,
whistling, whirrs, and winning motorcars.

I've a heart that's Horseshoe shaped,
a lucky charm I risk on,
and win and lose on,
and always hope
at least for an even break.

The triumphs of man are the product
of cams and crankshafts, pistons and oil,
plumes of shadow spewing into the sky.
Westward ran the rails, stacking bricks wide,
raising sticks high and uncoiling telegraph wire
into the furious bustle of industrial-grade hustle,
an inchoate flag, perfect suits,
three card monties, and filthy collars
all of zealous sapphire.
Generations admire at the Union's gate
the stately electric minarets pushing skyward,
towering metal tracks ushering light
onto a sphynx of quartz, pitch as pusher breath,
delta at the neon roads,
where chrome locomotives out of Chicago
braked in the glow of this phosphorescent portico
once plated in droptop Eldorados.

My parents are celebrated people,
so I was celebrated in kind
my birthday blazoned
over my hometown Plaza.
A worthy place and worthwhile time.

I drive this canyon oftentimes alone
and watch the sparkle of the valley unfold before me.
It's a sea of glittering scales, hissing "welcome home,"
I'm secure in this coiled-up crotalus that so adores me.