Long Chameleons Poems
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I walked the graveyard of my mind last night,
I saw many people sleeping tight,
I saw the ones that made me smile,
I saw the ones, who were part of my biggest trials,
I saw the failures of my past,
I saw the sorrow of a childhood gone to fast,
I saw the liars, who stole from me,
I saw the heathens, who would never be free,
I saw the chameleons trying to blend in with the bareness
And vulnerability of winter trees,
I saw all those who listened
Yet silenced my innocent pleas,
But then I saw amazing grace,
Shimmering under a mercy tree,
I realized that all of those stones
Had made me what I was called to be,
Each plot was responsible for a certain quality in me,
Allowing me to be able to identify
With others drastically,
I saw the days of evil tightly bolted down,
I saw clarity, which was once lost
Now completely found,
I saw the pages turn
As the past had been burned,
I saw God's presence filling up
Every area where I yearned,
I saw a radiant light pointing far ahead,
Directing me out of my mind
Resurrecting all that was dead,
I saw those doors to that cemetery close tight,
As I continued towards what was bright,
I felt an unusual grin,
Overwhelm me from within
I saw an extraordinary flower,
Come forth with might and power.
By: Sabina Nicole
6/20/11
“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).
Someone said lavender is the Gemini’s flower
I would have thought violet or bleeding heart.
Perhaps marigold or geranium, because I am a Gemini
But then again, lavender does grow wild and I am that
Just a bit of a start, and she takes off in the sunlight,
Moonlight, or no light at all. She recreates itself daily
Rearranges herself underground, starting fresh in new places
throwing herself in wild abandonment in new spots
like a Gemini
She and I both are mercurial moon-creatures
We revel in our evening ventures
Me as a traveler to astral realms,
Lavender, representing Gemini both over and underground
We are children of the night, lavender and I, living our truth
Fast but not hard, as we are chameleons,
Rapidly changing ourselves to fit in, wherever we can
Throwing ourselves hither and yon; it is the Gemini way.
"Home is Where the Heart Is"
Savages
behind closed doors
Civilised
but wild animals
sharpening claws
Humanity
tries to escape itself
can’t run away
from finding
"TRUE HOME"
behind closed doors
Now opening windows
fresh air
escaping shadows
Legs splayed and arms wide
breathe
"LIFE"
in for once,
we are empty vessels
noisy prisoners
in our own skin
Soul seeking Soul
peers through
the vitreous humour
99% water, salty
the Soul swims
through an ocean
towards the aqueous perimeter
facing the clear shallows
there the
"LIGHT"
penetrates the space
between the lens
like royal jelly
the Soul stands
it begins to sing
wobbling behind
the retinas reflecting
a Blue Sky
bit by WASP
kissed vehemently
in the heart
the stinging barb fixed,
Love, like a virus,
pumps the relevance
of existence
Crimson
through
Violet Blue Green rivers
Home is where the Heart Is
the hornets’ nest broken
rebirthed, awoken
wet wings spreading
unfurling in lock-down
velocity rattles
the Normals,
the civilised
wild animals
sharpening claws
a Soul
escapes the hive
dripping honey
like a Bee
pollinating white sheets
towards the Sun
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Home is Where the Heart Is” / The Chameleons
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOl9lohiMP8
1. The 'Vitreous Humour'
2. WASP
"Home is Where the Heart Is" / The Chameleons, Lyrics
https://genius.com/The-chameleons-home-is-where-the-heart-is-lyrics
https://visioneyeinstitute.com.au/eyematters/the-vitreous-humour/
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/all_that_is_seen_and_unseen_1223436
Are you chameleons, dearest leaves?
Stealing colors of amber, like thieves;
Hiding pure gold dusts within, sometimes,
Putting on crimson shown like sun-shines...!
Birds, dear, from for lands! Don't go away!
You're nature's pleasure; kindly do stay!
Nightingales, cuckoos, swifts, and cranes,
Tell us, time-to-time, your inner pains...!
Blackberries, rose-hips and crab apples,
Laced with vivacious cocktail samples;
Ivies, yet, seem to start flowering,
Your scent, like clear cologne, hovering...!
Seeds! Fallen like very falls of Christ!
Though within womb of earth, iced and sliced;
Will resurrect and resuscitate,
Ascend toward ethereal state...!
I sense you, dear autumn, you tickle,
Each vein of heart and mind, you prickle;
Falling of leaves makes me unhappy,
I know, they'd spring greenish and sappy...!
20 August 2022
Hint of Autumn Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
In muddy waters blood suckers live
No real work they do in puddles
Day and night, they wait for
An unlucky man blindly wading
To offer his blood for leeches’ meal of the day
For they know blood is life
Human blood leeches stand those
Fearless male and female of all lands
Greed they are for supremacy
Lovers of hard power they are though
Faint not to know its soft side
But decide to eat, drink and respire lies
Human vampires have no select and side
As they sleep day to work night for
Ready they are to change attitudes
As chameleons dye to lie the killer
When they hide colors to grab preys
That we the grassroots are
Human leeches are bogus dangerous ticks
Seeking other humans whose blood to suck
They awfully kill their rights
Willingly bury their liberty and economy
For they behave sadistically
To remain toughly eternal blood suckers
.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
We have been walking together long
Our spaces don’t resonate in unison
The message I get is not the message you give
The face I see is not the face you show
You wonder how do I know.
In the wild world you survive
Speak many languages to thrive
You are like a forest where the trees talk
On your flat face chameleons stalk
And on the cactus thorn roses grow.
A pigeon carries the beats of the heart far
All the carved words your lips don’t share
The desert storm in your wasteland wanton
Blows sands to exhume your skeleton
from beneath your skin you don’t show.
The voice I hear is not the voice you have
The smile I see is not the smile you own
You wonder how do I know
In your hive I am a bee
That’s how I would know.
The transmuting concept of identity called color
changes on contrived palette inventing color mélange,
while conceived chameleons crawl on human faces.
In the ostensible show of life’s so-called drama
enactments perfected with the labor of passion
aureate the sequel created by metamorphic alchemy.
On the visage of the self out of spotlight the colors melt,
the unmade-up faces turn into mirrors of actuality,
reflecting their definitions tinted in the pristine hues
of the smile of the uncrafty children they were once.
When the spasm of discernment breaks the mirrors,
the shades of shattered facades splatter on the debris,
deformed masks create deluding entities of chameleon,
and complete the compulsive act of metamorphosis.
Written : August 23, 2019
February 4, 2020
Contest : Strand Select C, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
I have to trust you with all that I got,
My stomach is in a continues knot,
Stuck on a page that I can’t seem to turn,
Father I need your strength to just burn,
Through the remainder of that old life,
Ashes of what once cut like a knife,
Shadows they haunt me wherever I go,
Speaking your word to let myself know,
I am your child no man can pluck me out,
I am aware of this and have no doubt,
The distortion is poison, robbing me at my very core,
I was made for so much more,
Locked in this room once again,
This time the warfare is not in my hand,
Speak to that mountain, watch as it leaves,
You gave me the power to trample the lies I perceive,
Casting down the imaginations that exults themselves above you,
Its not just what I say now, it is what i decide to do.
As the chameleons come and knock at my door,
I drop to my knees and kneel on the floor,
Revelation has rushed through my entire bloodstream,
Reality has come, no longer stuck in bad dreams,
Conviction and hope drips out of old wounds,
As I arise, I see my petals start to bloom.
By: Sabina Nicole
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