"chameleons" poems
big sweaters, ghibli, acrylic paint, cafes, knit blankets and unplanned afternoon naps on the couch, gardens, bananas, vanilla almond milk, soft yarn to crochet into ****** scarves, candles after midnight, the big trees with bulky roots, patio furniture, pianos in random buildings, the internet, manatees, the boundless colours of nail polish, peanut butter & honey, rubber boots, pens that write well, fresh new notebooks, skylights, american netflix, mothers that understand, tête à têtes, one glass of sweet white wine, awkward eye contact that turns into comfortable kissing, airplanes, fresh air, baseball caps, the female collective, the really good dark chocolate, flowers, pumpkin spice lattes and ***** chai lattes, candid laughter, yoga, oceans, high waisted shorts, striped t-shirts, docile cats, playful pups, french presses, integrity, sunscreen, meerkats, penguins, chameleons, autumn leaves, fall fashion, ruby woo mac lipstick, osho, dynamic meditation, compassion, siblings, scrambled eggs, smart phones, garageband, metronomes, hot glue guns, quinoa, ferry boats, soft hands, bicycles, real people, fat snowflakes in ample, graceful ********** backpacks that don't hurt your shoulders, hair conditioner, multi-vitamins, soft sand under bare feet, people that own up to lies, clarity, samsara, satori, samasati, visions, echinacea, lavender oil and frankincense, ambrosia apples and ripe avocados, authenticity, Morgan Freeman's voice, good kissers, ******* iced tea on a hot day, curtains, the smell of beeswax, art galleries, hand massages and foot massages, reiki, plums, mild thunderstorms, soccer ***** good surprises, when birds don't **** on your head.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC
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.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 12:18 PM UTC
Law,
All ye termites hacking ants are you without sin?
Twisting the law to your greed thus dethroning justice
Thou that dis-virgins the law to suit your selfish taste,
Did not equity say that none is above the law?
Money-thirsty vultures seeking positions to occupy.
Law hackers depriving justice and equity of her rights
Equity and justice now lives in shame of her virginity,
Almighty termite, do not your deeds speak evil of your sins?
I weep blood for justice and equity whose daughters you *****
Is there none whose conscience still breathe or lives?
Power-driven termites making uncountable promises
Yet accomplishing none but your calculated interests.
Equity,
All ye leaders that preach peace, are you not corrupt minded?
En-slaving accounts meant for public welfare
Yet you claim to have the peoples interest in mind,
Did not the law command you to let equity and justice smile?
Parasitic predators hi-jacking the country's economy
Filthy termites proclaiming injustice upon powerless ants,
Justice hackers, do not your conscience judge your judgments?
I wish that you allow justice and equity have her way.
Law benders at whose feet equity and justice bow
Rippers of the law, at your hands justice is twisted,
Is your nature as humans so inhumane?
Little wonder the earth lives in fear of your tyranny.
Justice,
All ye slanders of the law, why not sheath your swords of corruption?
Your unchecked power has broken the wings of justice
Thereby making equity a widow without a husband,
Remember your oaths to serve with justice and equity;
Did you deceive the ants that voted you in to serve them?
Chameleons occupying seats of filtered ambitions
Woe betide your conscience for refusing to judge you,
Are you not guilty of molesting the law?
I mourn for the shameful death of equity and justice.
You that crafts the law to fit your suit of corruption
Remember a day comes when justice will laugh again,
And you being powerful cannot escape the law of Karma.
Karma,
Murderers of the law, will you also bribe karma?
I doubt if you can buy the law of karma with money.
Thou whose gluttony corrupts justice and equity,
Don't you feel guilty that you disvirgined the law?
Equity and justice now roams about in nakedness,
You that preach the law, are you true to yourself?
Heartless spiders cob-webbing the law to entangle poor ants
Did not equity bid you come to justice with clean hands?
Yet with filthy garments you condemn innocent ants;
Mind you that someday the law will rise again.
All ye scavengers of justice and hackers of the law,
Do you think you can **** the law of Karma?
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
I wonder if the color green releases calm and renewal energies because it is the earth's carpet, magnetizing us down to earth.
I wonder if the color red wraps around passion and chaos because the blood in our veins rush evermore when we see something we love, and it rushes to our brain when our world turmoils.
I wonder if the color blue spreads hope for the sky as a crutch for those who have nowhere else to look but up to their god or to the formation of clouds that one cannot make sense of their cotton candy essence.
I wonder what color we are. What color does the earth reflect on us? Are we chameleons, morphing into different shades by the hour or are we permanent markers, bleeding deep? Maybe we are gray and receive color by what we surround ourselves with. That's how science works, right? A reflection of light in our retinas.
I am purple. There is a cloud of mystery and romanticism that shields me like a cloak, but my emotions run like rich velvet. Maybe one day I'll find a yellow who bursts rays of warmth. I think I would like to be with a yellow one day, the golden hour of colors.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 9:19 AM UTC
You are nothing but a taste in my mouth
a reflection of myself
mirrored versions of me, me, me
mirrored split personality
mysterious I, Gemini,
keep talking to myself
through the shining in your eyes,
Amber, it's no surprise
we are drawn to each other,
child twin brother,
floating through space
we are kids, chameleons
fickle in our ways
we can't be blamed
it's our nature
to see I in You,
and You in I.
Mar 10, 2011
Mar 10, 2011 at 11:04 AM UTC
What if we had a skin like that of chameleons?
But instead of mirroring our surroundings
It would reflect our innermost state.
P.S : I wonder what'd look like for those whose feel empty inside.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
In its caves of insolence,
night hides its diabolic secrets
when light sows its golden pearls
across the horizon. It paints its treachery
with the innocence of the morning light
like a master-chameleon
that wraps its lies
in a psychedelic charm.
A rainbow
once disguised its radiance
to become the shadow of night and
smeared its leaden drops of deceit
on the angel-white glow of the clouds.
Perhaps, that’s why we are the way we are –
living in different skins!
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 4:43 AM UTC
What a strange title
When I went to Aden (South Yemen) in 1964
It was to fight infiltrators from North Yemen
How to spot where mines had been laid
Where ambushes could take place
Trained in how to **** at long and very close range
But nobody mentioned the bugs
Camel spiders almost four inches across
Now they gave us great fun because we would catch them
Then bet big money on the outcome of a fight with
Another spider or a big scorpion
Most times the spider would win but would then die
But by then the bets had been paid
Stephen E Yokum and Jonny Angel
And thousands of American and British ex military
Know about bugs
Centipedes 9/12 inches long and stinking like you'd never believe
Get one of those crawling on your skin and pull it off the wrong way and bingo
You end up with a permanent tattoo
Because their feet dig in
We did have the good ones though
Chameleons, we would keep them in our tents
And feed them crickets and in return they would keep the flies down
We learned to live with BUGS
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
Step by wicked step I'm coming for blood,
**** those laughing moments,
**** those social chameleons,
Take a shot even if they were your best friend,
Launch your own sweet revenge,
"They don't see what I've seen"
I've been drinking like the world is gonna end,
The world let the battle choose us,
The world even let us fight with ourselves,
The victory is contagious
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
Her feet were balloons and her toes were the ties,
And her shoes were a way of life—
Boots to splash in puddles and heels to catch an eye.
Her legs were the ocean and her arms were the moonlit sky
And her hands were binoculars and her palms were maps,
And her fingers showed him the way.
Her nails were chameleons that changed when they liked
And her skin was tan in the fall and pale in the spring,
But her cheeks were always rose
And her shoulders were turtles, lifting the world,
And her neck was only a scarf
And her stomach was empty but her chest was full
And her hips spoke for themselves
And her golden hair coiled like silk snakes before the killing strike.
Her ears were the willows on the edge of the lake,
And she could hear but never liked to listen,
And when she did, you knew,
And her questions were stupid and her answers were not
And her thoughts were clouds in the morning
And her voice was the wind
And he was lucky.
Her eyes were blue and hung like Neptune in the dark,
And her gaze could cool the sun,
And she was beautiful.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 11:18 PM UTC
Chameleons feed on light and air:
Poets’ food is love and fame:
If in this wide world of care
Poets could but find the same
With as little toil as they,
Would they ever change their hue
As the light chameleons do,
Suiting it to every ray
Twenty times a day?
Poets are on this cold earth,
As chameleons might be,
Hidden from their early birth
In a cave beneath the sea;
Where light is, chameleons change:
Where love is not, poets do:
Fame is love disguised: if few
Find either, never think it strange
That poets range.
Yet dare not stain with wealth or power
A poet’s free and heavenly mind:
If bright chameleons should devour
Any food but beams and wind,
They would grow as earthly soon
As their brother lizards are.
Children of a sunnier star,
Spirits from beyond the moon,
O, refuse the boon!
2.2k
The one who said
only Chameleons
Change Color
hasn't met Humans
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 1:26 AM UTC
When in nature,
chameleons will alter their original form,
in order to survive.
If you placed her next to those miraculous creatures,
she would put their shape shifting to shame.
For as long as she could remember,
she camouflaged her colors so she could survive.
She bended and molded to be
whatever people wanted her to be.
The problem with this is,
after the threat has gone,
chameleons will once again return to their truest form.
But for her it's always survival of the fittest.
And if you asked her,
She wouldn't know which colors,
truly belonged to her,
Anymore.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 9:57 PM UTC
You know it's over.
Your shoes have walked away.
Your phone dives
into the pit of despair.
Cigarettes have become healthy.
Your knees don't knock, but clap.
The chipmunks have fallen silent.
All the chameleons are gray.
The cat dismisses you and leaves.
Bullets pass through you like prunes.
Love is a forgotten memory.
Everything transforms into other.
You are a stranger growing
stranger by the day.
Over and out good buddy.
You know it's over.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 6:07 AM UTC
This imperfect me
a pleasure machine
a bait for chameleons
liars and a thief
waiting by the phone
waiting by the door
the boy with the skatebooard
like salmon
race against the slant
Pass by a black woman
with her plastic bags
full of empty bottles
plans her drunken feast
the boy with the skateboard
asks me
"what are you waiting for?"
and I have no answer
She´s back now
the bottles are full
she smokes and shakes her ***
like an old worn horse
We will all get drunk
and wash away another year
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 2:11 AM UTC
He always asks me why.
"Why are you so sorry?"
Well, let me count the reasons on my fingers
even though I'd need more hands than just my own.
- I'm sorry that I care too much and not enough at the same time
- I'm sorry I say the wrong thing at the wrong time
- I'm sorry the moon hides when the sun comes, and the sun for the moon
- I'm sorry I keep talking about him, he's all I can think about
- I'm sorry I keep losing atoms
- I'm sorry I have worry thoughts that cloud my brain like smoke
- I'm sorry I like the smallest stars better than the bigger ones
- I'm sorry I can't write poetry
- I'm sorry I like stupid boy bands
- I'm sorry California is so far away
- and that I can't drive
- I'm sorry I like 90s TV shows and movies more than the ones they play now
- I'm sorry I don't have more hands (then maybe I could keep my head held high)
- I'm sorry I bolted at the mall when I saw them
- I'm sorry I never said goodbye to Popou, even though Jimmy kept telling me to, even though they said he wasn't going to die that night
- I'm sorry the chemicals in my brain don't work right (but I'm trying really hard to fix it)
- I'm sorry my anxiety rules my life, because that is not who I am
- and I'm sorry for saying sorry so much
- for being a hypocrite
- and spending too much of my time on Netflix
- I'm sorry chameleons never get a chance to be themselves
- I'm sorry it took me so long to get over him
- I'm sorry that I don't believe you
- I'm sorry that they don't have Wawa's on the west coast
- and I'm sorry Dobby died
I'm sorry to you, too, for all of these reasons.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
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 ***
But never have I seen this wonder we call a man
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 12:59 AM UTC
I don't even speak the same language,
Their's is an Enochian epitaph written,
in dark, deep mysterious Sanskrit walls,
awake and be birthed,
into the awaiting chants and arms outstretched,
In a stupor, self imposed,
stamped on this auspicious occasion,
the winds were upturned,
The city scope stretched,
A way I hadn't seen before,
The path led down,
Then collapsed seamlessly into itself,
Sitting in front of these chameleons
and Poseidon Pusifer himself,
two poles to impale,
people like me,
The self is likened to the world world,
The world is likened to the self,
Gravity made the man jump,
the landing broke his fall,
Each moment the breath is breathed,
for every reaction there is a hand,
in waiting,
ready to strike,
Calling out words that don't make no sense,
Feeling things that cease to exist,
they collide,
Splendid omnirealization,
the the world begets,
humanity.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
Frowning, glittering faces
They changed constantly
Lost the vision for loyalty
Where trust is a weapon
To tease someone's life
Put edges to the lines
You drew thier attention to
Then pick wisely, when
They change colours
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 6:14 AM UTC
Fire in the sky
Volcano spores finding seed
Within my spark scarred chest
They grow
Racing lava through enraged veins
Once alabaster skin chameleons to crimson
Overwhelmed
It must find an outlet
This intensity could burn down a village
Melt glacial strongholds
Even evaporate the deepest depths
I choose instead a different route
Pen in hand, ink my battle axe
Blank page, innocent lines
***** Pillaged. Plundered.
Many verses later I am spent
It's purity never stood a chance
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
Overcome with grief
But with unhushed tears
I dare not weep.
But the gullibility I see
Makes my heart roar like an angry sea
At the Stupendous actions praised
On high a single minded chameleon raised
We have all failed
And our "knowledge", a waste
At night they lay asleep
With sweet dreams on empty promises
In support of a wolf
Indeed covered in roses
I am of the grass root, he poses
Of his evil deeds, he brags
Down south, his followers, he drags
And on the way down with smiles
And laughter eating rice with chameleon shell topping
They are all asleep.
When will our youths see visions?
Sometime soon I hope
Because it seems the old dreamers are on a mission
To enslave us all with gold plated ropes.
I have seen countless bridges
In multiple nations
And they were built out of necessity
And not stupidity
A waste of our very limited resources
In fact a direct and open robbery of our future
Yet we sit in silence
Our bellies filled with rice and the warmth of a friendly chameleon
With no direction, productivity or creativity
All our natural resources lay in waste.
We need to change our mind set
If we must save ourselves
From the single minded chameleons
Whose goal is self enrichment
And wealth procurement.
We must be weary of those who feed us rice
And rob our children of a promising future
Oh, What a price.
I want to watch as the cobwebs clears from their eyes
The awakening of a new dawn
A people on a mission
To overcome this impending destruction
Through their devotion
To the correction
Of our direction.
We must empower ourselves
We must stand together
For there is power in unity
And failure in division
We can't continue to live in foolishness
By indulging the chameleon's greediness
And enduring his insults in silence.
If there is a time to rise up in unity
It is now
If there is a time to do the needful
It is now
Sleep and slumber no more
For that is for fools
I'm nobody's fool...
© 2018 Busola S. Kolade
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC
I'm hallucinating zombies heads twisted
Blood spread on the floor, it's slippery
Should I attract these creatures instead?
Soon before they turn, better hurry
I stepped out unnoticed, it is too dark
Only some pair of green round lights
I froze the moment I heared them bark
Oh Lord! This nightmare, worst bites
The faces of these beasts covered blood
Felt like I'm pushed to edge of a grave
Mine blood they tasted, last breath, dead
I prayed angels to hold me and save
Are my pledges thrown into this pit?
Are the chameleons smiling at this wit?
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 3:48 AM UTC
For Caira Doheny, My Irish Muse
"Chameleons feed on light and air:
Poets' food is love and fame."
An Exhortation, st. 1 (1819)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
------------------------------------
Let us intimate a Poetic Competition,
Tween an Irish lass,
and a New York Jew,
I shall serve, and you,
You shall return
A contest:
Our tongues, our racquets,
Across the table,
The words shall bird fly,
Across the net,
Couplets and haiku
Shall smash and whistle
The winner will be the one
The God of Poetry
Accepts for permanent servitude
You **** my poetic soul forever
With the currency of praise genuine,
Authentic, flowing and fulsome,
Awarding me the Medallion Doheny
Cash value, a mere Irish penny,
But to the poet, the food of love and fame
Genetic to your nature,
You exhale word rhythms,
Excitable and interrupting,
Speech free flowing,
Tho I am of the People of the Book,
You, by birthplace,
Are unfair poetry advantaged
All your utterances
Are action heroes of the heart,
And I fail miserable to capture
The poetry you breathe out
Your Irish praise me awarded,
Tis now the
Standard and the Curse
This benighted amateur
Must now Prometheus nurse
One day in Dublin, shall we meet,
In a country where poetry is the
Iron in the people's blood
In a particular pub
Opposite we will sit,
You, a cowboy by adoption,
Me, the dastardly banker
You know the pub,
I, with my pint,
You, with your diet coke,
And the only lingua Franca
Shall be darts of poetry
In a language our own,
A collective work we will weave,
A blessed unity, a single tongue now,
Lilting, singing, bespoke
We will let the singer-poet laureate**
Of the island we now share, moderate,
Over his piano man's gin and tonic,
As we do as Yeats instructed:
Between us,
"A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem {but}
a moment's thought,
our stitching and unstinting
has been naught"
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
A ring, not just metal and stone,
but a whispered promise,
a tangible piece of my heart offered to you,
my Dragon Princess of the East.
It sits before me, a vision taking form,
rose gold warmed by imagined sunlight.
Floral vines, delicate yet strong,
climb and twist, embracing the gems.
Amethyst and moonstones,
blossoms of purple and pearly light,
scattered amongst the leaves,
a garden captured in miniature.
Is it engagement, then wedding,
or a seamless blend of both?
The rings intertwined, inseparable,
a symbol of a love without beginning or end.
Alexandrite, chameleons of light,
nestle beside the Amethyst,
their colors shifting, whispering secrets,
a dance of green and purple, a perfect harmony.
And at the heart of it all,
a trillion-cut diamond,
blazing with an inner fire,
a beacon of unwavering brilliance.
The ring is not alone.
Dangle earrings echo its beauty,
Royal cut Alexandrites cascading,
from small to large, a symphony of color.
Three stones aligned,
a delicate dance of light and shadow,
catching the ear, whispering of magic,
a perfect complement to the ring's embrace.
And then, the necklace,
a tear-shaped Alexandrite pendant,
resting against the alabaster skin,
a single drop of captured starlight.
It hangs suspended,
a breath held, a moment frozen,
a promise whispered against the skin,
a symbol of a love that transcends time.
The entire set, a constellation of dreams,
born from my heart, offered to you,
a testament to a love that blooms eternal,
A Circlet of Dreams, waiting to be worn.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 2:27 PM UTC