I am your chameleon;
I turn blue when you are sad
I turn green when you are jealous
And red when you are mad.
I turn yellow when you are afraid
And when you’re feeling down
I’m on the ground beside you,
In a somber shade of brown.
When the sun is hidden by the clouds
And nothing goes your way,
You can find me in your shadow,
I’m the one that’s turning gray.
When others seek to see me
They squint and look right through
Because, darling, I’m transparent
To anyone but you.
in an attempt to fit a square
into a circle
she shed her skin
rearranged her face
into something you'd look at
she chose her words carefully
saying things you want to hear
she colored her hair white
but her soul remained
as black as the night
The Chameleon is as beautiful as its surroundings
So the surroundings affect the chameleon's beauty.
Yet, if there is no beauty around,
it'll be the chameleon who interferes with
the surrounding, being now the
"beautiful chameleon in a beautiful place"
Hidden in flowers,
The chameleon mirrors,
Its vibrant neighbours,
From Aphrodite’s palate,
Thus rendered prosaic,
The lover’s corsage,
Versus only camouflage;
It is said that the,
Highest form of compliment,
May be mimicry,
But I tire of being a chameleon.
nothing to attract attention.
Standing in the middle of a two-way street.
One out of everything.
Nothing stands out,
nothing stands apart.
Blending into anything and everything.
Becoming a chameleon,
bit by bit
but what’s the true color or a chameleon?
You change before my eyes
From blue to red then back again
As you don a thin disguise
You keep changing on the run
From yellow to green to me it seems
Your hiding out from love
Your not out of the woods just yet
From orange to grey with the things that you say
Were you ever really here before you left
With staggered steps it climbs to the canopy
there it will reside very patiently
near the blossoms of it's prey
from the morning till end of day
With tongue of elastic and sticky
outstretched hideous not pretty
it snaps at all that come to visit
unfortunate winged nectar feeders
It's bulbous eyes dart frantically from it's emerald frame
one to look at the blossom, the other the skies above
for as it waits for it's tasty prey
hawks do prey it's kind from above
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris