Give him, God

there are lots of things You can give him, dear God.
Give him blood sucking wars, give him the beauty of stars,
give him the melancholy bristle of wild chrysanthemums in the valley.,
give him a space to smoke up, maybe a quaint quiet alley.
Give him twisted books and the worlds that the authors shook,
give him today, tomorrow and money to borrow.
Give him blotters, give him plotters,
give him friends, give him the sadness that
creeps in when all the love in between beautifully ends.
Give him camphor lights, give him momentary lethal frights,
give him the taste of his mother’s sacred tears,
give him the habit that dazes and amps up his involuntary fears.
Give him anything that you can think of,
give him a life that is split into half and half.
Give him a mask, give him a face
give him gruesome tasks to bring him disgrace.
Give him the right to fly away
and tie his wings for him to stay.
Give him lust to shed his soul apart,
But no! Do not give him a delicate heart.

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Lost in the woods

His little dirty foot,
on the weed and shrub infested land.
Away from home and
into the woods, his heart willfully ran.
He lost something against
the awful winds of change.
He lost something that he kept
close by his chest on his walk today.
A bond he had, unlawful yet just.
Bonded still, he blew his time thus.
Fate played an awful game today
and that tether of spool-spit split
and flew very far away.
Bleeding tiny fingers
and unconscious guilt
threw his heartbeat out
and over through his ribcage
until senses fell apart.
Evaporated tears, arid lips
and the broken heart
thus conspired him to tread
into the maze of suburban woods.
He wandered through to
the other side where no
friends, enemies or traitors reside.
Looking for traces of the one he lost
through canopies of fallen trees
he drowned into, away from the city.
Away from all the noises that
null the chirp of a songbird
and disturb the secret murmer of the clouds.
Now, a buzz he heard
one of those shuffling kind.
It might be the one he lost
and longing wholly to find.
There he found it, stuck on an
insignificant branch of a tree-
clueless as the boy standing
just 5 feet away, gazing upward.

The kite he lost was still flying around
shuffling the air, going round and round.
Content and joyous with the dance it made,
the little boy waved goodbye to his lost old friend.