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Amber Tamblyn

I think I relate to all the characters in one way or another. I'm a chameleon like that.

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Im Housin

Coolin on the scene like a horse in a stable
A brother got ill and tried to snatch a fat cable
I stepped back, like it wasnt no thing
I punched him in the jaw with the fat gold ring
I had an ace in the hole when it came to that
Yo z you was packin? you know was strapped
Posse kept rollin it was hard to get with em
So I stepped back, and unbuttoned my lee denim
They kept coming, just like I figured
So I stepped back, and started sprayin niggaz
What a way to go out, out like a sucker
But Im on track, like a long island train
That can head up your mission, suckers who be dissing
Always on my jock like a snake always hissing
Grabbing and tapping me like luther vandross
Take me to the bar for the drink and make a toast
Givin best wishes to the best mc
And when the spot is blown and yo you know its me
Because Im housin
cause Im housin
Because Im housin
cause Im housin
Because Im housin
Because Im housin
Relate to the matter as I drop the bomb
cause Im housin
Relate to the matter as I drop the bomb
cause Im housin
Relate to the matter as I drop the bomb
cause Im housin
Relate to the matter as I drop the bomb
Coolin at a party, no better yet disco
Head feelin mellow from a bottle of cisco
Move...
To crush and fry a sucker mc like crisco
Gimme the cue, check one two
Dont try to come off on me, because you doo-doo
You treatin me the z to the d, like a stepchild
Let me tell you homeboy youre livin foul
Mcs, you know who you are
On the bandwagon why z? cuz you a star
This is the year when the jokers are wild
When a fag cant hack it and try to bite your style
I get hip to the scheme, before it happens
If it gets wild, then I start cappin
But for now, since everythings calm
Relate to the matter as I drop the bomb
Because Im housin
cause Im housin
cause Im housin

[...] Read more

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Too Too 'Fisticated

You're sophisticated!
So sophisticated.
Too too 'fisticated'
That you can't relate..

You're sophisticated!
So sophisticated.
Too too 'fisticated'
That you can't relate..

I want to hold you in my arms,
But...
You're too too 'fisticated'
That you can't relate..

I want to feel all your charms,
But...
You're too too 'fisticated'
That you can't relate..

You're sophisticated!
So sophisticated.
Too too 'fisticated'
That you can't relate..

You're sophisticated!
So sophisticated.
Too too 'fisticated'
That you can't relate..

I want to hold you in my arms,
But...
You're too too 'fisticated'
That you can't relate..

I want to feel all your charms,
But...
You're too too 'fisticated'
That you can't relate..

You're sophisticated!
So sophisticated.
Too too 'fisticated'
That you can't relate..

You're sophisticated!
So sophisticated.
Too too 'fisticated'
That you can't relate..

[...] Read more

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Parrot In Paradise

Parrot in the cyclone eye
spread his sodden wings to dry.
Wall of wind approaching sly
snapped him up and flung him high.

Swept aloft a hundred mile,
dropped on black volcanic isle,
Parrot viewed the ashy pile;
not the jolliest exile.

Parrot flew around the peak,
finding there a pleasing scene.
Brought a smile to his beak,
a little paradise of green.

After roaming full extent
sadly, it seemed evident,
on this fertile lava vent
he alone was resident.

Long he scanned surrounding seas
for a sign to still unease.
Tossed ashore, one day on breeze;
a mat of storm-whipped splintered trees.

Lifeless, though it first appeared,
something moved and Parrot neared.
In Chameleon's eyes he peered,
'How d'you do'? he squawked and cheered.

'What's your name? Please come ashore!
I won't bore, I've tales galore.
I can tell we've great rapport.
Did I mention, I don't snore'?

Cautiously, Chameleon
left the safety of the raft.
Black sand beach, it stepped upon.
Parrot danced around, quite daft.

'Bu Parleur's my name, I'm fine;
means I like to drink and talk.
Let's ferment some island wine,
we'll walk the talk and squawk the walk'.

Parrot boasted, 'I'm a Chick……'
'Yes', Chameleon replied.
'What? No! Ha! Well done, you're quick;
Chick Magnet'! Parrot glibly lied.

[...] Read more

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The Loveable Characters

I long for the streets but the Lord knoweth best,
For there I am never a saint;
There are lovable characters out in the West,
With humour heroic and quaint;
And, be it Up Country, or be it Out Back,
When I shall have gone to my Home,
I trust to be buried 'twixt River and Track
Where my lovable characters roam.

There are lovable characters drag through the scrub,
Where the Optimist ever prevails;
There are lovable characters hang round the pub,
There are lovable jokers at sales
Where the auctioneer's one of the lovable wags
(Maybe from his "order" estranged),
And the beer is on tap, and the pigs in the bags
Of the purchasing cockies are changed.

There were lovable characters out in the West,
Of fifty hot summers, or more,
Who could not be proved, when it came to the test,
Too old to be sent to the war;
They were all forty-five and were orphans, they said,
With no one to keep them, or keep;
And mostly in France, with the world's bravest dead,
Those lovable characters sleep.

I long for the streets, but the Lord knoweth best,
For there I am never a saint;
There are lovable characters out in the West,
With humour heroic and quaint;
And, be it Up Country, or be it Out Back,
When I shall have gone to my Home,
I trust to be buried 'twixt River and Track
Where my lovable characters roam.

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Chameleon? Me? No!

A chameleon? Me? No!
But I have appeared on scenes,
Unseen.
Ignored...
And not directly disrespected.
Unless someone regarded me as a pesty insect.
And someone named Jackson...
In my youth did me like that.
A bitter woman that lack attraction.

A chameleon? Me? No!
But I have appeared on scenes,
Unseen.
Not that others were being mean.
I'm not one to call attention to myself.
If it is given,
What can I say?
Go away?

I've tried that before!
It doesn't work.
Then I'm considered a complete jerk.
An egomaniac with insecurities.

A chameleon?
Me?
No!
I don't choose or wish to be.
Nor is that need inside of me.

I just love who it is I am.
With a love of life I experience.
And if others see that differently?
What about that can I really say?
Don't do it like that...
Do that my way?

There is too much to digest.
Too much life I have not lived yet.
To make confessions,
Of how I wished I had lived my life?
The way I 'could' have lived it.
And did that to my delight!

A chameleon?
Me?
No!
'Me' know just 'me' and that's it!

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Life A Chemeleon

The whole life a chameleon
Changing its colour time to time
Sometimes it looks like a neon
Sometimes it dull like a crime;
life is like a chameleon
changing its colour time to time.

We all are actors
act time to time
Sometimes factors
sometimes crime
life is like a chameleon
changing its colour time to time.

it was a time
when we are small, Don't know;
who is small
who is tall
now we grown,
able to understand our profit or loss;
after that we will become older
very dependent, very oblivision;
sans emotion sans fellings,
it damages, sans drilling,
it is fade colour of our life;
life is like a chameleon
changing its colour time to time.

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Deepness In The Throat

Like a deepness in your throat
I'm here to make you choke.
A miss step to the abiding course
Scream of the divorce of those of fantasy and the real.
No concept is ever a far cry from the from the truth.
Of the abused
Mentally used
Confused
Bitter
Sour
Anger
Ha te
In everything we relate
So do not agitate

Look at yourself making so many miscalculations
In your proclamations
As am I
We speak, we learn
We follow through
Like an oppression upon the chest
Looky their its sitting on that shelf
Just reach for it.

Like a deepness in your throat
I'm here to make you choke.
A miss step to the abiding course
Scream of the divorce of those of fantasy and the real.
No concept is ever a far cry from the from the truth.
Of the abused
Mentally used
Confused
Bitter
Sour
Anger
Ha te
In everything we relate
So do not agitate

Bang bang the drugs take effect
Are you hallucinating yet.
Don't fret
You'll be soon enough
Think you got it rough
Come on now be tough
Stand up for yourself
Emotional distrust

Like a deepness in your throat
I'm here to make you choke.

[...] Read more

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Those Kept On The Bottom Relate

Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom,
Relate.

Keeping patience for them,
Has a message to send.
'Cause,
People feel more pinned in.
'Cause,
Struggles for them don't end.
'Cause,
Promises don't pay the rent.
Or decisions not to eat,
Because they wish to look thin.

Those kept on the bottom relate.
Those kept on the bottom relate.
Those kept on the bottom relate.
Those kept on the bottom,
Relate.

Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom,
Relate.

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Hole In The Wall

Hey babe, where did you go
When the down down got too much
Hey baby, where will you be found
When the down down gets to much
We were such an ugly pair
The chameleon twins theyd stop and stare
Lovers know when love has gone
A black hole there where love was once the
End
Hey babe, where will you be
When the crack crack gets too much (crack)
Hey babe, where will you go
Oh, we were such an ugly pair
The chameleon twins theyd stop and stare
Lovers know when love has gone
A black hole there where love was once the
End
Chorus
Theres a hole in the wall
Theres a hole in the wall
Ooh a hole in the wall
Theres a hole in the wall
(she has under our expert persuasion)
(has implicated you in high treason)
(you are under arrest)
(do you have any final requests, requests)
Its a move to take you through
Its a move to take you through
Its a move to take you through
To take you through
To take you through
(you have until the sand runs up)
(do you have any final requests)
(you look great, you look great)
(you look great)
Hey babe where will you go when the hole in
The wall is shut
Wow, babe you know where Ill be when that
Hole in wall is shut
We were such an ugly pair
The chameleon twins theyd stop and stare
Lovers know when love has gone
A black hole there where love was once the
End
Chorus
Theres a hole in the wall
Ooh - a hole in the wall
Theres a hole in the wall
Catch it before you fall
The hole in the wall

[...] Read more

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Chameleon Boy

A chameleon lies in the sizzling heat,
I watch it intently, pondering what color it will be,
Lying slack as can be, an ashen rock providing coziness.
I detest that chameleon; it looks like my ex-boyfriend.
A lazy deadbeat ass!
As if it heard me it moved his scaly head, turns to face me,
His protruding eyes open, his long slimy tongue slides out as if he tastes my scent in the air,
I feel a sense of anxiety as he looks at me with judgmental beady eyes, just as my boyfriend used to do.
His slimy tongue twisting on the rock catching bugs swarming in the air, poor bugs fly away! Don't let his slick tongue deceive you!
I feel for the helpless bugs, I was once a bug myself.
His color changes from ashen gray to avocado green, as he gets up, more deception,
With a final goodbye that chameleon leaves, unbeknown to him, he added salt to already fresh vulnerable wound.

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Mantis and Chameleon Combined

MANTIS AND CHAMELEON COMBINED


Mantis and chameleon combined
In sorrow-smile strange siren spectrum sings.
Rainbow surface spins unfathomed rings,
Intense emotions stirs. Heart, unassigned,
Awaits soft spell but enters hell, won't bind.
Much time is wasted, time whose acid stings
Must dreams dissolve, naught solve. Vain vampire wings
Each night takes flight, though fantasy, resigned,
No spice retains, scope wanes as hopes unwind.
Defensive moats must lapse, emotions bring
Ease, understanding, joy in everything,
Serenity with sharing redefined.
Mobility of spirit and of mind
Must self-acceptance learn, fears leave behind.


30 October 2001 revised 25 April 2009
robi03_0956_robi03_0000 ASX_DEU


Mantis and Chameleon Combined poem (c) Jonathan Robin

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A Mirror Image

How many times when reading a book,
do we identify with the characters within?
Their traits they have we share,
their loves and heartaches
their lives go through somehow mirror our own.
It’s as if the author was writing about us.
As though he has put us under a microscope
and then writing down everything, he saw.
However, we know this isn’t so
because he or she has written
segments of their own life
and by accident they happen to mirror ours.
Every writer will tell you
that they have their characters under control.
Having written numerous novels,
I know the characters take on a life of their own
and do what they want to do.
We become their instrument as they guide us on our way.
We end up writing what they want us to say.
To every writer his characters are real,
they live, breathe and feel.
The more you write about them,
the more alive they become.
So the next time you pick up a book
and the characters seem real,
they probably are to the author
who looks after them.

24 September 2008

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At The Bar-Code Ranch

A stellar job in the bullpen
C.B.S. Baseball

I lie in a converted garage, sun coming up
and the chuck-chuck of unfamiliar birds
from Lake Mizell.
The lamp grows ineffectual
under a skylight; the great world
washes in, humid, composed of small numbered parts.

Sometime after nine, the classical music station stops
for the landing of a space shuttle

a sonic boom
shakes the bungalow
and Vladomir Horowitz
is abruptly terminated.

Yesterday, at New Smyrna, north of Canaveral:
knotted shoreline
looking out from a timbered interior
on the Atlantic;
driving inland on Local 40,
a two-lane, the Beach Boys on air,
to Winter Park, inches above the water table.

Today, flying north, from Florida’s eighty degrees
to Washington’s forty-something
a river far below
in South Carolina.

Salt-pork and black-eyed beans
“soul food” – and cheap – in D.C’s low
where U.S. presidents
fall like leaves . . .

Consume and Die!

Wednesday
under the pines
looking out over the waters of Potomac
a torn Bush-Quayle poster in the grass
the morning after the election,
and down on Canal St
a bag of crushed Busch beer cans
reminds me that poetry exists.

Up at 3040 R St N.W.

[...] Read more

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The Truth: In the Garden

Bloodied n' bruised
Yes, I relate with you
Close to you death
Nothing much left
Searching for truth
Yes, I relate with you
Alone in the group
Friends old but so new
Family ponder at all
Your soul cries the call
Yearning for the truth
Yes, I relate with you
Mocked by friends
Abandoned and left
Crying ache of tears
Going past petty fears
Search for your Father
Path so far altered
Yearn, Yearn for truth
Yes, ...I relate with you.

By Ruth L. Rivers
July 6,2008

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Up In Smoke

They took away my garden
To make room for a chemical plant
I feel my countrys arteries harden
With the aid of a government grant
We are not a bunch of upstarts
Just out looking for a cause
Cause we hunger for our justice
And not applause
We dont just make peace signs and meditate
We dont take this thing as a joke
We just want to relate were in a pretty bad state
And we dont want to go up in smoke
My water has got cancer
And the rivers have all dried
While I watch my country practice
Nuclear suicide
We are not a bunch of upstarts
(we are not a bunch of upstarts)
Just out looking for a cause
(for a cause)
We hunger for our justice
And not applause
(not applause)
We dont just make peace signs and meditate
We dont take this thing as a joke
We just want to relate were in a pretty bad state
And we dont want to go up in smoke
Dont think its impossible
To see this thing come clean
Were going to save this poor old worlds head
From the guillotine
We are not a bunch of upstarts
(we are not a bunch of upstarts)
Just out looking for a cause
(for a cause)
We hunger for our justice
And not applause
(not applause)
We dont just make peace signs and meditate
We dont take this thing as a joke
We just want to relate were in a pretty bad state
And we dont want to go up in smoke
They took away my garden
(my water has got cancer)
To make room for a chemical plant
(and the rivers have all dried)
I feel my countrys arteries harden
(while I watch my country practice)
Nuclear suicide
(nuclear suicide)

[...] Read more

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The Poor Of The Borough. Letter XX: Ellen Orford

'No charms she now can boast,'--'tis true,
But other charmers wither too:
'And she is old,'--the fact I know,
And old will other heroines grow;
But not like them has she been laid,
In ruin'd castle sore dismay'd;
Where naughty man and ghostly spright
Fill'd her pure mind with awe and dread,
Stalk'd round the room, put out the light,
And shook the curtains round her bed.
No cruel uncle kept her land,
No tyrant father forced her hand;
She had no vixen virgin-aunt,
Without whose aid she could not eat,
And yet who poison'd all her meat,
With gibe and sneer and taunt.
Yet of the heroine she'd a share, -
She saved a lover from despair,
And granted all his wish in spite
Of what she knew and felt was right:
But, heroine then no more,
She own'd the fault, and wept and pray'd
And humbly took the parish aid,
And dwelt among the poor.

OBSERVE yon tenement, apart and small,
Where the wet pebbles shine upon the wall;
Where the low benches lean beside the door,
And the red paling bounds the space before;
Where thrift and lavender, and lad's-love bloom, -
That humble dwelling is the widow's home;
There live a pair, for various fortunes known,
But the blind EUen will relate her own; -
Yet ere we hear the story she can tell,
On prouder sorrows let us briefly dwell.
I've often marvell'd, when, by night, by day,
I've mark'd the manners moving in my way,
And heard the language and beheld the lives
Of lass and lover, goddesses and wives,
That books, which promise much of life to give,
Should show so little how we truly live.
To me, it seems, their females and their men
Are but the creatures of the author's pen;
Nay, creatures borrow'd and again convey'd
From book to book--the shadows of a shade:
Life, if they'd search, would show them many a

change;
The ruin sudden, and the misery strange!
With more of grievous, base, and dreadful things,

[...] Read more

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John Bunyan

Of Heaven

Heaven is a place, also a state,
It doth all things excel,
No man can fully it relate,
Nor of its glory tell.

God made it for his residence,
To sit on as a throne,
Which shows to us the excellence
Whereby it may be known.

Doubtless the fabric that was built
For this so great a king,
Must needs surprise thee, if thou wilt
But duly mind the thing.

If all that build do build to suit
The glory of their state,
What orator, though most acute,
Can fully heaven relate?

If palaces that princes build,
Which yet are made of clay,
Do so amaze when much beheld,
Of heaven what shall we say?

It is the high and holy place;
No moth can there annoy,
Nor make to fade that goodly grace
That saints shall there enjoy.

Mansions for glory and for rest
Do there prepared stand;
Buildings eternal for the blest
Are there provided, and

The glory and the comeliness
By deepest thought none may
With heart or mouth fully express,
Nor can before that day.

These heav'ns we see, be as a scroll,
Or garment folded up,
Before they do together roll,
And we call'd in to sup.

There with the king, the bridegroom, and
By him are led into
His palace chambers, there to stand
With his prospect to our view.

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On Different Missions

You may 'now' see,
What I have seen!
But that doesn't mean,
We're on the same scene...
Together.
Or ever.

You and I can not relate.
You and I are not relationship bait.

We,
You and me...
Are on different missions.
And destined to experience separate fates.

You and I can not relate.
You and I are not relationship bait.

And I am quite appalled,
By those accusations you have made.
Then try to apologize for statements laid,
Much too late.
Ones I did not appreciate.

If I recall,
You announced publicly...
How stupid I would appear,
After your expectations of my downfall.

Has time changed your mind?
Did you come here to find me,
Forgiving?
Willing to smolder in afterglow.
Hoping time spent with you,
I'd acknowledge as divine!

What missionary encouraged you to do this?
We,
You and me...
Are on different missions.
The kind that dismisses admissions late.

You and I can not relate.
You and I are not relationship bait.

You may 'now' see,
What I have seen!
But that doesn't mean,
We're on the same scene...
Together.

[...] Read more

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David

My thought, on views of admiration hung,
Intently ravish'd and depriv'd of tongue,
Now darts a while on earth, a while in air,
Here mov'd with praise and mov'd with glory there;
The joys entrancing and the mute surprize
Half fix the blood, and dim the moist'ning eyes;
Pleasure and praise on one another break,
And Exclamation longs at heart to speak;
When thus my Genius, on the work design'd
Awaiting closely, guides the wand'ring mind.

If while thy thanks wou'd in thy lays be wrought,
A bright astonishment involve the thought,
If yet thy temper wou'd attempt to sing,
Another's quill shall imp thy feebler wing;
Behold the name of royal David near,
Behold his musick and his measures here,
Whose harp Devotion in a rapture strung,
And left no state of pious souls unsung.

Him to the wond'ring world but newly shewn,
Celestial poetry pronounc'd her own;
A thousand hopes, on clouds adorn'd with rays,
Bent down their little beauteous forms to gaze;
Fair-blooming Innocence with tender years,
And native Sweetness for the ravish'd ears,
Prepar'd to smile within his early song,
And brought their rivers, groves, and plains along;
Majestick Honour at the palace bred,
Enrob'd in white, embroider'd o'er with red,
Reach'd forth the scepter of her royal state,
His forehead touch'd, and bid his lays be great;
Undaunted Courage deck'd with manly charms,
With waving-azure plumes, and gilded arms,
Displaid the glories, and the toils of fight,
Demanded fame, and call'd him forth to write.
To perfect these the sacred spirit came,
By mild infusion of celestial flame,
And mov'd with dove-like candour in his breast,
And breath'd his graces over all the rest.
Ah! where the daring flights of men aspire
To match his numbers with an equal fire;
In vain they strive to make proud Babel rise,
And with an earth-born labour touch the skies.
While I the glitt'ring page resolve to view,
That will the subject of my lines renew;
The Laurel wreath, my fames imagin'd shade,
Around my beating temples fears to fade;
My fainting fancy trembles on the brink,
And David's God must help or else I sink.

[...] Read more

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Character is something you forge for yourself; temperament is something you are born with and can only slightly modify. Some people have easy temperaments and weak characters; others have difficult temperaments and strong characters. We are all prone to confuse the two in assessing people we associate with. Those with easy temperaments and weak characters are more likable than admirable; those with difficult temperaments and strong characters are more admirable than likable. Of course, the optimum for a person is to possess both an easy temperament and a strong character, but this is a rare combination, and few of us are that lucky.

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