I can form colonies, But without the people, There are good and bad kinds of me, But people tend to steer clear.

I wear a spiky shell to protect my insides, when you open me you might have to seek reprive, from my stinky smell, smell like nothing else, when my yellow innards are exposed the light.

I wear a train of vibrant hue, a thousand eyes in plainest view. I strut and fan with regal grace, a living rainbow in this place. My voice is not a song so sweet, but beauty's banner I complete.

I hang between trees, a cradle of ease. Swinging gently, kissed by the breeze. A woven bed for a sleepy sigh, Beneath the blue or starry sky.

I can Breathe in places unknown, but I cannot walk in places known. You might see me in a Bowl.