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
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?
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
I find it interesting,
The way we mold ourselves to the given situation
Different faces means new spaces
to fill liquid in, intoxicate, and ultimately change them.
So we need our weapons clasped in our grip
catch a bad intention, make sure they're the ones who slip...
No! We've been doing this all wrong.
Keeping the walls up inhibits growth to be strong
Even if it takes, "far, too long."
Inevitably we exclaim pitches that reside in the same song.
The color-changing, tree-walkers are said to blend into their environment.
This is actually not true.
They change based on light intensity, temperature, and mood.
The personality-changing, free-walkers change based,
On the type of reaction they want to get out of you.
After all you could be the screw to hold together the whole scheme
Caught in a feverish nightmare, when it seemed to be a sweet dream
Solitary work is needed, now, to avoid a potential sting
And so I take the time to rhyme this,
Evaluating the nature of everything.
The mouth can be, but the eyes are not untruthful
They precipitate pictures, from the scary to the downright beautiful
Look deep within yourself, and see your own array of colors.
We may be blind to the importance of some priorities, but I feel we're all lovers.
"Hurt people hurt people," In my life it's a fact.
But remember you can only be responsible for how you act.
No offense or defensive tactics,
Throw the whole playbook out.
Conducting this vessel requires much practice,
Reflect needs of warmth for the seeds to sprout
Make sure you don't love someone, just for what they can give to you.
Highlight their radiance, for making you feel the way you do
The cycle, is only as vicious as one portrays it
The choice is ours, and I choose to change it.
Feel the oxygen go down
For a moment
Every exhale reminds us,
That life's color is golden.
So fold up the clothes,
And walk out the door.
So many illuminated pigmentations to see,
~Everybody's a new world to explore~
want nothing, say nothing, feel nothing..
show nothing, take nothing, give nothing..
She's a chameleon with a steely soul.
She'll not sell herself for another to hold.
love nothing, care nothing, keep nothing..
surrender nothing, live nothing, die nothing..
She's a chameleon with her mind turned loose.
She'll not be coming back for anyone's use.
And you grow,
as a reflection of others mirrored in your soul
You grow colorful
In an eternal shaping of yourself, an indefinite shape
You grow empty
With an originality that absorbs others'
You grow wondering
Is there a you, or just a collection of souls in a shell?
You grow uncertain
While others know how to define you
But you grow
Unknowingly you grow...
Closing a hole
with a person
in these times
drives, just agree
and move on.
It's not worth
A Poem by quinfinn
" on the guises of love "
with words like syrup, sticky sweet, you spoke of love to me
come-hither glances, innuendo and flirtation all orchestrated with expert subtlety
presenting your well-prepared resume with precise efficiency
a well-seasoned fisher of men, hook, line and sinker, you reeled me in deliberately
like a moth to a flame, mine was a fatal attraction
as a mouse being toyed with by a cat for your own amusement at my reaction
like the black widow spider, seducing me only to devour my soul
allowing me to live as long as you remained completely in control
lavishing me with well-measured favor commensurate with your desire
mesmerizing me as a cuttlefish does, waiting for my defenses to expire
cleverly seductive femme fatale who became my Waterloo
like the victim of armed robbery i surrendered all i loved to you
holding me firmly in your grasp, you deftly plucked my wings
as i lay helpless you tortured me...for you held all the strings
but, thinking that your heart was mine, i still believed in you
because you still held on to me so tightly, for what i never knew
like the serpent who devours an egg you regurgitated my lifeless shell
as the venus flytrap consumed the fly my paradise became my hell
sweet enchantress of the netherworld, vicious angel, my soul you tried to claim
but still i live, my heart survives and i'll not forget your chameleon lies
for now i know your name
© 2012 quinfinn