Best Chameleons Poems
Chameleons
Chameleons we must be
In a world forever changing
For the sequel to tranquility
Is impending rearranging
The news of sudden tragedy
A husband leaves his wife
Before night stars can twinkle
Chaos rules your life
Maybe life has lost its luster
Stagnation’s dulled the sheen
The mind’s become too idle
Wreaking damage unforeseen
Hence the chameleon emerges
Commencing transformation
Altering its persona
To command the situation
Like the chameleon in nature
We employ our disguise
Our mechanism of defense
‘Til a plan we can devise
“Chameleons”
Chameleons
many shades
of blue
pretty beautiful
things given time
change their colours
not so
delphinium
belladonna blue
Blue sky
hypnotises
blooms
face to the sun
smiling to
wave Apollo in
subtle fragrance
the wanting need
to get closer
around their
feet, circling geckos
5 toes like man
leave their
love-drugged marks
their tales moving
words written
marks retreating
in Time’s sands
chameleons
pretty beautiful
things given time
change their colours
Blue sky
hypnotises
blooms
even the sky
comes
with conditions
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Halloween approaches....
“I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been her kind.
I have found the warm caves in the woods,
filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,
closets, silks, innumerable goods;
fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:
whining, rearranging the disaligned.
A woman like that is misunderstood.
I have been her kind.
I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes, survivor
where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.
I have been her kind.”
(Anne Sexton/Her Kind).
Chameleons
Life’s only consistency is change
for “nature abhors a vacuum”.
Time, inexorably tinges each moment,
colors it in fading yellows.
Memory’s dog-eared pages,
entwined with nostalgia’s neediness,
produce an altered state,
an hereditary fraud.
We are, at best, evolved chameleons
shifting colors lest the truth hold sway,
parsing words to spare the victim
the gravity of the crime.
Muted voices slinking silently
along the edge of rage,
tongues flicking in feigned ferocity,
mumbled mantras blinded eyes.
Night falls behind closed eyelids,
heads buried in the sand,
sentinels of tattered futures
cursed by nature - colorblind.
John G. Lawless
8/4/2016
Once there was a man called smoke, the great
this fellow changes color for his survival, no heat!
in danger befriends enemy for good!
otherwise got his strong opinions for good!
bloody these good chameleons will rule for sometime!
They are absolutely free from pretension
They are directed by the nature’s reason
And remain true to the instinctive provision
Thus they are steadfast to their description.
But they resolutely detest their comparison
Made with debased, contemptible politician
Who personifies of all that is filthy and rotten
And, therefore, not worthy of any correlation.
Politicians are sophisticated brutes n cannibals
Worse than the lowly parasites and predators
Who are ordained by Mother Nature to be so?
They are free from greed and passion in toto.
The politician is a unique species of its kind
Affecting the very foundations of mankind
And if not eliminated may ruin the humanity
Hence does not deserve the least sympathy.
It is the common man who should be blamed
For creating such a bluntly detestable fiend
By exercising his franchise with a clear mind
He can exorcise any goliath like David the bold.
the leather train
the house without doors
both inside of the brain
one is and one roars
there's a whale
breathing slowly
on the slope of an anthill
the chorus said
that the lords are dead
and sand is made in a land mill
the midnight flight
was interrupted
by monochrome chameleons
and after that
enough said
we're through silly aeons
a craven suitcase
a chessboard cab
and drums from thirteenth floor
make me riven
make me sad
and now I have to go
pardon me
The Chameleon is a remarkable lizard
That changes its color like a magic wizard
Some with amazing face ornamentation
That feels its way by subtle vibration
Some with crests upon their heads
And others with skin flaps that open and spreads
With long sticky tongue and bulbous tip
That shoots out its mouth like a darting whip
With eyes that rotate in all directions
Independent from each other for close inspections
When prey is located, both eyes can face
In stereoscopic vision its food to trace
Chameleons change color according to mood
Or when a venturing rival dares to intrude
They are also affected by temperature and light
And environmental conditions, though ever so slight
They have specialized cells beneath their skin
Yellow and red pigments the first layer in
Below, another, colorless crystalline matter
That reflects among other, blue light in a splatter
Many species are sexually dimorphic
While others are purely incredibly orphic
The males are generally more ornamental
While both genders are slow and amazingly gentle
The word Chameleon means lion of the earth
Some species lay eggs, while others give birth
One has to wonder at this incredibly reptile
And stop to watch them for just a short while
Charlatans and chameleons prancing in a country western dancing line
If Charlatans had stayed in place, all would have been quite fine
Charls are used to being devious, so they did underhanded things
Chameleons acted miffed and mad as the Charls began their swings.
Willie Nelson was singing in that crazy, wonderful offbeat way of his.
Charls were spreading rumors that were silly and caused a lot of fizz.
The chameleons were all angry now, and a riot started up in the bar.
No charlatans or chameleons are going to become a Broadway star.
Gold scattered on the temple steps
its metamorphosis of wealth
disdained in greed a saviors poverty
coins for a foreclosure of faith
dirt to wash clean the hands of the godless
Each inferior tier of society
upon the holy ground pay their due
obligation to a crown of jewels
but wear a cross of thorns
Knotted whip beat the scoundrels
from their spiritual tariff
for the flip of a coin
bartered such a messiahs scourge
raised to anger against the thieves of the word
And golden lay strewn on the tabernacle floors
but to iron nailed their flesh to wood
a torture to flush the filth
from out the fathers house
By the sinners debt to poverty stricken
and in open mouth by vile poison are fed
for such evil to conceive
and in such evil tread
the money changers purchase on the gates of heaven
To the Mornings Star bidden
these chameleons of the paper chase
welcome the plutocratic suffocation
to deny all in abundance the love of God
In rhythmic pouring
and accumulation
of polished tears
cold against the cheek
Moments of uncertain time
as ash and dust
A buttery sun burned hope
- light gradually disappeared
lost its precious lustre
Broke the harmonious bond
of the power of love
scentless greenhouse orchids
we are all chameleons
- can't ignore
Once, twice, you dreamt to serve humanity,
the most downtrodden, bogged in poverty;
but something in you and in society
convinced you of your dream's futility.
You sought comfort in spirituality,
so tired and thirsting for tranquility;
but even that turned out to be a bore,
so you still searched and craved for so much more.
Blame it on the government, now you say,
blow it up, beat it down, blast it away;
but while you bleed and hide from day to day,
you doubt the why of it, and why you stay.
And so you join the fight in the rat race,
where wealth is might, you're just a faceless face;
though you survive, you're so dissatisfied,
something real and good sorely missing inside.
Now home at last, you work with homegrown ease,
writing books, singing songs, planting trees,
cherishing nature's beauty tame and wild,
seeing it through the eyes of your own grandchild !
Please do not think I’ll stay the same
only chameleons change the game.
Bravery and fear
not either or
But versions of…
Valor and shame
brought heretofore
Mixed pieces of…
A riddle to confound
the poet’s mum
As glory weds disdain…
Courage and fear
not zero-sum
But oft times look the same
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
I watch them as the conversation shifts, chattering chameleons, changing the shades of interpretation to suit their "narrative".
Be wary of a narrow faith
that chokes the Mystery dead
Be careful of a promise made
that hides beneath your bed
The strongest bade, a deeper jade
from yellow mixed with blue
To mock the wonder heaven sent
—in weaker shades of hue
(Dreamsleep: November, 2022)