Considered titles

“Love me, love me, say that you love me.”+
   Yeats, Keats, et.al., had nothing on me
      You’re not going to understand this
         Understanding the ‘felonious’ mind
            Ignore the poem, read the titles
               I’m sorry, I didn’t expect that…
                   You didn’t tell me the rest
                      The emperor has no clothes
                         Freedom of consciousness
                            Counting crow
                               Meditation
                                  16oz 3.2s+
(So many titles, so little time…)

First beer, no problem, two same thing,
three, okay, feeling a little better now.
Attempting escape from things I can’t change.

Four now, not enough yet, a little better.
Five, I took things they didn’t know they had.
I tried to give them back; they didn’t know me.

Six deep+, sigh, okay, that’s plenty.
They were things I had already before taking theirs,
things they never knew they had, ignored, quietly
put in a closet, never used or even glanced at.

You know how it is, one beer and you’re alcoholic.
It doesn’t matter you never get drunk.
One sip and that’s exactly what you are.
There's no escaping their ‘inescapable logic.’

What they don’t know is I went far further, before.
No, it wasn’t crack, crank, meth or ice, etc.
It+ was much warmer, soothing, escaping flesh before
‘those in the know’ passed ignorant law in ‘justified’ arrogant fear.

Making the understanding mind felonious…

   --RK, 5/1/07