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Poetry by Jesus Chameleon

Tropical Sap Moon and an Endless Wind
On the Innocent and Blue Impression of a Crowded Lament (Forever in
Blue and Pictured with Lots of Stuff)
For the Believer
Published March 30, 2016

Tropical Sap Moon and an Endless Wind

Waxing full moon, fulgid in late winter,
southward, boundlessly rising against force;
Moving, retrogrades, two days after,
“the day of the festival of Patrick,”
on a fine day, a warm forth day, before
the first day of Spring.  Globose lenten moon,
thy gleam is bright; orb-light in the eastern
tropical sky like a lit noonday sun
at night, soothing deep darkness, shimmering....  

Reclining with animal nigh, a dog,
nigh, stretching as far southward and westward,
ending with a mesh-like net for catching
fish, worms, and other marine creatures in
ends the long fast; Little grass, ending, as
Spring, beginning, elongating, the long
seasonal worship, embracing, ending,  
late winter at an equinoctial
point of limitless, balanced convergence...
lain on its cloudy side, sustaining, the
coming rain, now, drizzling out from the
tropical Sap moon and an endless wind,
as in days past, teeming, ends a season.  



On the Innocent and Blue Impression of a Crowded Lament (Forever in
Blue and Pictured with Lots of Stuff)

Before her patroness, a voice of a flower speaks.
Memo, the scion of a rose now gone...
Baby Kins is now dining supreme and
I'll never forget that Fall day in '68 when July comes around.
Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison for the babe, the puppy, the rattle, and the
bow, all embellished in my favorite color, blue.

Upon tropical landscapes, you walked in liquid traces of rainbow imbued
colors on the shoulders of a lionhearted man near the summit of childhood...
your only resource was mine to keep.

The sojourn was wide and the motif was funereal.
A diminutive scent of a floral carving was ubiquitous.
The Afternoon in August we spent before on your leather seat, I saved and
savored in the recesses of my mind...

It's one o'clock and a humble sacrifice---a-friend-of-my-Mother's Son---in
brown is here and a small chorale occupies the pews here, too, beside
your comforting icon, holding a number of lilies.
Your body floating and hands like fists lift you up as a chin, a mouse, a race
car driver, a proclaimer, a  hustler, two brothers side-by-side, and two
guests carry on...
A place in the near distance you entered six (6) places in and on the third
story.

At last, together and made new,
Kyrie eleison...

The order and your proclamation like a covenant for many was only yours,
today, and to the end. With candles, short, cylindrical and with a cross,
you entered as a triune clan.
First from Wisdom the saved are protected by a Supreme hand.  The
submitted ones  seemed  weak---and death final---to the unjust.  But, no,
the immortal shall rise and He will be King.  All virtue will be with the just
according to Him and thanks be to God

Together and safe we responded with you in the ethereal synagogue...
He alone guides me; only Him and no other want.

The white robed one and the purest creature with a cotton-like exterior
calm the whole body.

Second, a message from John proclaims that the gift from You and of
Infinite Good makes us Your children, once He is revealed and thanks be
to God.

Like me and like a sibling's son, you hold high the words expressed in us for
you our most blessed Father and one like a scion shows us thy secret
Kingdom.

The humble man in brown returns and speaks to the chalices we all hold
dear and appeals to our soul for you.  In you, the spirit is and in us we hope
that the spirit is with the humble sacrifice.  I hold high your Incarnate Word.

Clasp those gentle hands for me just this once and finally, and deliver all
your now quieted petitions far and wide to the most gentle ear...for an
immortal soul so just.  Clasp those gentle hands and let me help you this
one last time...

Centered and, otherwise, central, your form changes to a white creature
and two (2) angels and an archangel bring the humble man a palate, a
heart, and an abandoned child...

The humble sacrifice holds tight the golden gifts and purifies his intentions
and your petitions, and we concur that indeed they are sincere...

It is now good that the holy creature may now dwell within...
The white creature is now fully red and you are now joined to the empyrean
and your ubiquitous body now by the soft-haired and cotton-like creature.

Come, Tuesday Morning, your leaving for good my true friend...my palate
and chalice take with you and behold what transgression will not hold in our
house.

Fly with me close to the Light of your smile...beside, the lingering incense in
the room camouflages eyes full of tears...with a Litany of solid
representation.  Finally, the end is the beginning again on the reminiscent
sea of colors and faces of a bold and beautiful and stylish image of
innocence.

The creature is white once again and your cross is empty and held high by
a simple rope and a note for the Helper and his staff from inside your
family, from inside thanks, and from your blessings.



Lyric Poem Sequence: “For the Believer”

damaged beaver's nest---
hoody for a crown of thorns
on dark house papers    

barrage de castors cassé-
sweat à capuche pour une couronne d'épines
sur des papiers maison sombres

a bleeding heart---
bright light from a twinkling star
on golden bling-bling  

sacré coeur saignement ---
lumière vive à partir d'un étoile qui brille
d'or bling-bling sur

recent sunny days---
twinkle from an eastern star
resting from duress  

soleil de ces derniers jours---
scintillement d'une étoile orientale
repos à partir coercition  

plastic trash bag...
believing prayer's power
had stored a white tee  

un sac poubelle ...
croire la puissance de la prière
avait stocké un tee-shirt blanc

un des sacs poubelles en plastique ...
croire la puissance de la prière
avait enregistré un tee-shirt blanc  

morning star---
had boiled water standing
on old carton  

beside red roses
innocence had endured
the life of a star  

enduring smile--
robotic rubber ducky
strikes the puck  


Biography
Jesus Chameleon is the nom de guerre of an American poet, a Catholic poet, a
haijin, an emerging poet, a new poet and an essayist born in the American
protected Mariana Islands to minority parents. Published works of poetry and
other individually published works by Jesus Chameleon include:
Candles, An A
& F Ad
, a Bizarre Controversy on Television, Cloudy Visages and Facets,
Ruminations, and Earth Inside the Aureole of a Quarter Moon (A Single Tear-
Image Setting)
. Website: jesuschameleon.webs.com.

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