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~
Where are these mythical creatures we call men?
I have yet to meet one
I have stumbled upon many animals and a scared little boy
I have touched a soldier
Loved a hypocrite
I have held hands with the spawn of Satan
I had beside me a chameleon
Even danced with an ass
But never have I seen this wonder we call a man
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?
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.