Email Poem

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Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
I'm mainly confused
  from words that you used
to tell me of yr problems present,
  I'm torn to this way
  then back to that way,
like the end of a pendulum's crescent,
 
I feel yr torment
  which leaves my heart bent
and gives me one wish to sustain,
  for I feel it is constant
  to be what is meant
without blockage or early refrain,
  all that eye know
  is my heart's saying "Go"
  but my feet, hands, and lips
       saying "slow down",
and I should trust my own head
over things that I've read
  And just to be happy for love found...
 
but my doubts creep in again
(the most unwelcome of friends)
  whom I've come to know all to well,
I just want best for you
  my Kinshala Blue
Even if it means visiting Hell,
but (you know) I'll come back
on an aggressive attack
  'Cause I am so strong
  and so true
So ignore what I've just said,
and rest yr sweet head
my Angel, my Kinshala Blue
 
And now for a diff 'rent - ish style
which I can only compile
  cause you cause my soul to ferment,
I just want you to see
that I'm here               (if you want me)
  so it is 
     no matter how said,
whether in Russian, or French
whether Latin, or Spanglish
 
from Kinshala 
        I want to be fed....
 
(with) spoon silver or wooden
  or a spork  (if a good one)
 
   you can use  ( I don't care which)
be it hot or ceviche
  Be Cyranno or Nietzche
Kinshala   You've carved yr own niche
 
  in my heartland of love - trust
You can bake me in yr pastry crust
  with Yr simple palette insatiable,
     you can stir fry my soul
     and serve me up in a bowl
(while)  Inhaling my essence
     comme felatio...
 
then for the fourth course
You could derive from my source
  all the sweetness required
        (and then some)
You could roll me
         and toss me
Pour over,
         and sauce me
While never dropping a crumb
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