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Jessica Jarvis Jun 2018
There once was a boy with chameleon skin,
But his eyes told a story the more he gave in.
There was no hiding, as he caught the attention
Of a helpless little star, stranded in the horizon.
Familiar with the longing, she yearned to fall fast;
However, she couldn’t, held by the hurt of her past,
Until, one day, she saw the twinkle in his eye.
“How could a chameleon outshine the night’s sky?”
She questioned her reality, bound by insecurity,
But dared to lean further into his sincerity.
One night, she tripped, and out of bounds she fell,
But she couldn’t help but dance, mesmerized by gravity’s well.
“How silly I must look” she said, approaching the ground,
But all else disappeared once she heard a familiar sound.
His mindful inquiry, she never knew she needed.
Her heart began to blaze, “that’s all I want,” she pleaded.
She couldn’t help but be inspired by the sight
Of the twinkle in his eyes, refracting her own light.
Lightyears of observation presented a reality,
One she so wanted to feel, but could not really see.
She oft’ recalled the hour that her heart was still,
Remembering his freedom, while he perched upon that hill.
There once was a boy with chameleon skin,
But she loved how he shined as he failed to blend in,
So as she saw his heart, she really hoped he knew
That while the whole world could watch her, she told him
“I see you...”
6/11/18

This poem was inspired by another poem. I liked the concept I saw from this other poem because of the story the it told. Literally, it was a straight-forward story. The poem reminded me of a children’s book or nursery rhyme, so it had a certain playfulness to it that certainly intrigued me. After reading that poem, some rhymes came to my mind and I wrote a “response” entitled “‘I see you,’ said the star”. The original poem is entitled “I see you”. You should check it out!

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2548038/i-see-you/
Kuvar May 2018
We are in a century
Where a new phone line
Will mean a new life
Distance of love
Is only taught
To be covered by a dial
so we see no pain
When we quit relationships
For a donkey’s walk
As the ancient had it
Is nothing but a phone dial
How chameleonic is it
©️Kuvar
I have seen people give up on themselves by the easiest recommendation of technology on social platforms just a block or an unfriend., as far as having a new phone line... life as we have it today is chameleoniC
RWM Apr 2018
This poem is dedicated to 3rd grade,
Politicians everywhere,
The San Diego Padres,
And everyone else who keeps ******* up my ****,

I am not allowed to have feelings
Feelings would complicate this

I am
Nothing but a,
Stupid stuttering complaining *******

So do you mind
If I wrap my arms around you, just so I can say
That I am holding on to something that I won’t let go
Because I have trouble letting go
And yet
My hands slipped because they were sweaty and I was nervous,
And I dropped my courage and my thoughts.

So give me Will Toledo’s voice
And Rhiannon McGavin’s stage presence

I am not allowed to have feelings
Feelings would complicate this

Because I am nothing,
But a chameleon

And I try to stay invisible but in that attempt, I end up standing out
And looking like a black sheep among white sheep in a herd

Have you heard?
With this new update, he can unsave all of your messages
All your "I love yous" and all your "Hellos" and "Goodbyes"
And you are just messaging nothing

I am not allowed to have feelings,
Because feelings are stupid, and it feels too stupid to mention,

So do you mind if I whisper words into your ear?

So I can say
My secrets are trusted with the most trustworthy person

I am not allowed to have feelings
Feelings would complicate this

I am nothing but,
A god
Because every time I open my mouth
I create,
No, no, no, not the Garden of Eden
But the garden of even
And odd sentence structures that make phrases and paragraphs That are said so magnificently that I have the last laugh

Unless you want the last laugh
Because I’ll give you anything

To love you
To hold you
To say simples punchlines that make you smile because seeing you with that unconfident frown made feel like I have to do something

I,
Care,
And,
Love,
You.
Thanks, for being here.
Valeria Ariza Jun 2017
I am the cold silver light in the darkness.
The rattling madness polluting sanity.
I am both, I am everything.
But mainly I am burdened with truth.

That, is why I am so Afraid of living
Why I am so afraid of Not living

Why I am not afraid to die.

I am the lead tainted paint in a bottle, stirring, absorbing the artist's pain.
In madness I am used to depict a reality ideal.
With every brush stroke, every color, I am killing him, he is using me to **** him,
as he paints murals for the masses to alleviate their suffering.
He suffers from truth.

He is not afraid to die.

I am a chameleon blending in with the rest of you,
Fools, drunk off of false hope and fairy tales
I am the paint, and the painting
I am the artist,

And I am not afraid to die.
2017
First poem of the year, of my decade, of this new chapter.
Cné May 2017
Clouds don't lie.  They tell the truth
wherever they may go.
Their shadows give relief
to creatures down below.

They change their forms and colors
the chameleons of the air.
Majestically, they soar above
to play with angels there.

They weep to nourish growing crops
and bring the snow and hail.
A crown of lightning lights their heads
before the coming gale.

Clouds can ride the jet stream
like a wrangler on his steed,
Then float serenely on the breeze
and other cloudlings breed.

They soak up sunset, changing hue,
vermilion, saffron, gold...
Then soar to higher atmospheres
to frolic in the cold.

Free to roam the open sky,
they mock the earth-bound horde
And blithely glide upon the wind,
no passengers aboard.

Oh, how I'd like to take a ride
upon a breaking dawn.
But clouds don't lie, and so deny,
a chance of getting on.

Unpretentious are the clouds.  
They care not for our awe.
They graze upon their crystals
and are quite above the law.

The mysteries the clouds have kept
since Mother Earth began...
Are kept behind the truth they tell,
as part of heaven's plan.
Inspired by Star BG a window view
Katie Read Apr 2017
I am constantly changing colour.
I'm a rainbow if you like.
One minute I'll be doused in blue,
The next hidden in white.
I'm a chameleon of different coats,
Sometimes I go unseen.
Sometimes a striking ultraviolet,
Other times I'm green.
I don't think I have a favourite colour,
Although if I'm being true
I find I'm quite content as beige
And going unseen by you.
Pagan Paul Mar 2017
.
Changing her disguise,
lover in liquid lapis,
**** wearing turquoise,
blending serene, frozen,
collecting flirtations,
in green emeralds,
feeding on innocence,
emotion camouflaged,
sacrificed phrases melting,
****** hot tears, crimson,
return to the silence,
and decriminalise sentiment.


© Pagan Paul (2016)
.
old poem
.
maxime Feb 2017
come, little wolf boy
you do not scare me.
i've seen you before. i've met you before.
i know you're truly weak.

behind a sleek fur coat
you hide your many scars
of fathers you have long since passed
once you found out who you are

you're fur is soft,
a comfort for me
after all, i haven't seen you in so long
it assuages me and thaws your heart

you've been running for so long
through snow, sleet, and hail
you've forgotten that you can rest with me
we always stay together though gust and gale
I'm reminded of someone and I'm not sure if it revives happy feelings or not.
maxime Feb 2017
He called me a chameleon once.
The words fell like sweet thick honey that matched his sandy blonde hair.
It fell just over his eyes. I had to duck and search to meet his gaze.
He told me that I acted like a mother to one, and a daughter to another.
He told me that he had yet to figure out my true colours.

I only smiled.

He studied me carefully everyday afterwards.
Peering, leering, examining every last breath that left my lips.
I chuckled, and allowed it, knowing he could spend his life dedicated to studying me yet never find the answer he was looking for.
A chameleon can only blend in with what surrounds them,
fire, blue skies, dark blizzards, animated companions.

A chameleon can never see the colour of its own skin, because it's too busy trying to match everyone else.
Grace Jordan Dec 2016
There it was
In my head
Screaming at me
Wishing I was dead
Between the pages
I learned to live again
Be somewhere other
Than the wasteland
In my head

I learned to be a princess
A warrior
A brilliant fool
Anything but what was actually true
Grew chameleon skin
To flicker better
Between character to character
Just like the weather
All to forget the truth of what
Lingered within my head

It was fun playing perfect
Being everyone's art
But things started to get hazy
When cracks began to part
My body became numb
I let fingers crawl all over
Payment to get anyone
To glue me back together
But I couldn't really run
Nothing could blot out its stead
Unbeknownst to me
I never had been free
From the temptation to be dead
Preying on my head

So I buried in words harder
Trusting the denial
Pretending to be anything else
Must be a new character
Couldn't really just be me
The fingers grabbed harder
And I hungrily let them still
If my flesh became shredded
What would be left to ****?
Yet determination was stronger
Than my bloodlust to ****** me
It only left me screaming
Left me lonely
Left me in dread
From the death taking residence
Inside my pretty head

Our character knew
She could not live such asunder
The death would win
If she did not change her color
Through wretched teeth
And fierce blows of power
The foolish, brilliant princess warrior
Refused to lose her mental tower
Through years of war
And struggle
And pain
She won the rights to herself again
And with her mighty sword led
Away the demons
Inside her head

And now the tale halts
Where the chameleon begins to change
A lovely new form
One haphazard and so strange
Its a visage mixed of all
The characters played before
Yet now the skin's unmoving
And the parts become a whole
The fingers are only one
And soft and loving to touch
And pills and words are now used
For good instead of a crutch
The death has hissed its final roar
The reader final quits
They keep on reading stories
But they do not negatively benefit
Its more at peace
But still a clustered composure
Within the head
Of a happy dreamer much bipolar
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