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  May 2015 MsAmendable
Joe Cole
She was the music of the night
Sang the sirens bewitching songs
Luring men high up the mountain slopes
Her beauty to gaze upon
But was she real or just a myth
This lady of the night
None will know for none returned
Of the young men who left in the dark
But still her haunting melodies
Fill the mountain glens
Beautiful clear crystal tones
That invade the minds of men
Who is she? What is she?
Whose songs have such haunting power
Songs that echo 'cross the mountain slopes
The minds of men to snare
Perhaps its just the mountain winds
Echoing round trees and slopes
None will ever know
For none has ever seen the one
Who sings the music of the night
I just fancied trying something completely different to my usual stuff. Let me know what you think
  May 2015 MsAmendable
Neex
He said to me with swollen eyes,
"Heaven is better than this,
  So if there is no purpose for my living,
  Why delay my rapture. I love you,
  But I'm only going to Hurt you if I stay."

A peck on my lips,
"Go, run home!"
And he ran,
I yelled and cried,
He ran and ran,
I stood, so scared,
With tears in my eyes,
Gun shots in the air.

No one could help him.
"It wouldn't be suicide,"
The words he said echoed in my head,
"I'm just going to be in the wrong place,
At the right time."

I ran and ran,
Cried and cried,
I couldn't watch,
It was a blood bath,
A riot.

I ran home,
Ran and ran;
But home was where he was,
And I didn't know where that was.

I cried and cried,
And in that moment I was certain,
*My soul had died.
I don't even know where this came from, but I feel it, the pain, the reality.
  May 2015 MsAmendable
JK Cabresos
Don't mind their eyes,
staring at you,
Don't mind their lips,
talking about you.
They are just
the bitter taste of fate,
Some people
are just born to hate.
  May 2015 MsAmendable
Tupelo
All these pent up frustrations,
Banging on my insides,
Playing their anthems on my bones,
Waving a flag for news of the fallen,
Take back my morals,
Return me to my bed,
I'd trade my soul for pocket change,
Sick of the tongues knotted in nooses,
Tired of the silence used and useless,
These pens done gone and run out on me,
Dried themselves of all that is left,
So slit my wrists and write with blood,
Because that's all this really is anyways
And I wasn't even in my body anymore
MsAmendable May 2015
The cusp of the stark moon
Hangs in stillness,
(the world fading blue),
And drifts softly
Like a baby's feather,
Gently lowered,
Then wavers,
And balances delicately
On the edge of the world
Before sinking softly
Into glassy water.
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