Let Me Deduce From Nirvana After Diana K Nichols Let Me Introduce To Nirvana Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

In fact, fiction and fantasy, he triptoed to and fro between the glow of her energy and the fractal reflections of her parallel reality relays unconvinced of the DOG star argument but concurring with her illusory liquid pixel molecules spilling between illusion and self-delusion. Try new angles not angels – or ‘Non Angeli Sed Angli” said Pope Gregory the Great.

Time’s holy gram pinch of salt collideoscopic fragments interwove illumination without suspended animation needing to hang upon time’s chain thread irrespective of the selenite moonstone bead necklace rosary of time rhyme.

The dance advances, MOON NO OM denies the luxury of silent sing-song patterns warping and wefting between her royalty and their real-I-tease reels unpeeling with each successive buy line lassoo. Yet dreamers are self healing while sin is but spin – a moral gin without VERitéMOUTH. Ire is absent or, at best WHISTful thinking hySTeria facette of frustration through absence of interpenetration afforded by and affording empathy.

Walk waves along the Way swaying, praying, preying between slay oblivion and play revelation. revelling in yin yang contradictions of “sit I zen” situations. From in situ standpoint, sinuous insinuations blow-throw topsy-turvy glow to flow upon the Sphinx’s choice voice rejoicing in its own labyrinthine interwoven pattern plays, pinpoint ME-anderings, dazzle dizzy deeming the crater creator of crazy paving pictogram universes which pyramid into parallel kabbalic code modes who few may decipher.

Scope in/through holy gram paradox response to broadcast bandwidth relay click-clicks through the subconscious screen to smoke out all disk risk, ostracized oblivion of rash unbooted commuter crash in a cacheless society.

He agreed that imagination is the architect of the possible, life being, in his own words, the finite sum of infinite opportunities, yet detracted of any unproven link between expectations and reality contracts as contacts contract probabilites while leaving compromise intact as tact and tactility tease subcontracted substance into DIStracted EASE… often leading to conviction through misguided conviction.

Reality remains a conundrum if decisions are pre-ordained. Thus matter matters little, perceptions are immortal streamlined spotlights echoed as photons tune-tweak eke and leak the music speak of the muse's bi polar hemispheres' nightcap thinking linking profundity rare elsewhere, sweeping non plussed dust, peeping beyond other eyes' disguise to surprise with prize surmise reaping energy leaping into heated arguments, as irony purifies recurrent pluridimensional parallel cycles, and the pixel paradox spiral curlicues ad infinitum

An admirative critique of Let Me Introduce to Nirvana
I tripped off the edge of reality, and found
the Universe was liquid, molecules
are illusion, time is a hologram,
and we are God.
Angels have wings because
we conceive them to.
Though their addiction to knowledge fruit
is a jones they own.
Kaleidoscopic lightening fragments
illuminate my mind,
and a shrunken head dangles
from the upper tip of the crescent moon.
I have no
choice when sacrificing butterflies.
That's what
one must do while dancing
with the devil. Chasing
shadows while
we waltz for the moon.
It's a Lucifer thing. Hear the silence
when I sing?
I know you do.
You have to. Wise men
are deaf when the sun goes down,
for that's the time
built to spiral, to erode
lucid into lunacy, thus healing
the dreamers disease, blanched
perfect by the Divine colors glimpsed
like sin-stained glass braised
in the window of your iris
and locked behind the door
of your crimson tinged wisteria.
Since it always rains in dreams,
I catch it in my halo
and craft it into
plum wine, that tangos on
the waves we walk upon.
I inhale oblivion, and exhale
revelations. Blown away,
spilled on billowing breath.
And the savior is eclipsed
by a pyramid.
Iris centers on
the labyrinth. Dizzy drunk
on the poison of inflated
dreams that crumble
into the crater
of a parallel universe.
Hence I, as a Deity, condemn
the crucified ghost. Numb
to the fiction of ostracized oblivion.
It's all done with
smoke and mirrors
Building dreams as you watch
the Universe evaporate
upon the simple click
of the paradox remote.
It's just a delayed broadcast
on a holographic disk. Truth,
in a retro martini glass
shaken, no vermouth.
Ignoring the reality of
hope after fairy tales.
Imagination is the architect
of possible. Expectation,
the contractor of probable.
Will is the pile driver
of reality. Impressing the devil
is blasé. He's terrified
of me,
for it is upon
my whim
whether he shall be
or not to be. Never
a question, compelled
by the strength of my
conviction. Reality
transfigured by
a simple decision.
Say goodbye to Paradise,
let me introduce you to Nirvana.
Mold it exactly as you want it
for molecules are matter,
matter is illusion,
reality is pure energy,
the Universes are governed
by perception
there is no such thing
as mortal, since energy
never ceases to exist
Divinity is all there is.

Let there be light, I said.
and behold
The light-bulb of epiphany.