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 May 2013 Jwala Kay
Larry Potter
As I lay me dying,
See how all the children play
In the flaming streets of a winter day
Without taking heed to what I say.

As I lay me dying,
Catch a pigeon's flight to blend
In the toxic clouds of violence
That steal away all her innocence.

As I lay me dying,
Listen to the mournful cry
Of guns and bullets in lullaby
As they dance to both the truth and lie.

As I lay me dying,
Laugh at all the foolish hounds
In armored suits and heavy bounds
As they kneel before an ungodly crown.

As I lay me dying,
Witness how the world intends
To end her days in great amends
And awake the curse to last the ends.

As I lay me dying,
Watch with me in this graze of grey
While the sun dries my flesh in decay
As the sea of tears drowns its bloodstained rays.

As I lay me dying,
Join me as I breathe my last
For the darkest future and regretful past
And the wrecked present that my greed has cast.
I am loud,
Demanding attention.
I know when I am being charming
Because I try.
I put on my impressing face
And do my impressing hair
And speak my impressing words.
I tell you my embarrassing drinking stories
And everything else about me
That you probably shouldn’t know.

I am not good at being quiet
Because that’s not who I am.
I am not the sweet girl
Who will leave you with a smile
And a touch
And a glance
Or a single word.
There is nothing of this fashion of romance
About me.

I am the girl who will point out your flaws,
And take you outside to see the stars,
And remind you how human you are,
And what a wonderful thing that is.

I am the girl who will talk about science,
And music and theology and history,
And point out constellations, laughing,
When you don’t know the big dipper’s name.

I am the girl who will make witty references,
To classic literature and science fiction,
And will tell you stories of how I once,
Made a gingerbread replica of a lighthouse.

I am the girl who will stand on a table,
And sing at the top of my lungs on the highway,
And act like a chicken or quail or velociraptor,
Or nuzzle your face like a lion to make a point.

I am the girl who takes too many shots
And then coaxes you to bed on a Russian liver,
And knows all the right places to bite, and tease,
And follows with exceptionally coherent pillow-talk.

I am not a thin silk scarf on the wind.
I am not a thing hard to capture.
You would not spend a perilous journey
Through a wild, perfumed jungle,
Searching for my slender garments
Hung beside a pool
As I wail to the breeze.

Rather, I am the bird who flies overhead
Making too much noise
Distracting from the trail ahead.
A bird whose plumage proves
What an interesting life it must be…
What a colorful life for me…
Perpetually strange
The lone comic relief.

I am many things.
But I am not quiet.
Of this I am sure.
09/07/12




A personal statement.
 May 2013 Jwala Kay
Amanda Jerry
You probably understand. Or maybe you don't, after all. Either way, it is jumping around inside me and if I don't let it out soon all my carbonation will fizz up and run over the side of my glass and I don't want to waste all that sweetness.

I want to kiss you underwater.

I want that kiss to be the only thing keeping us alive. Down there we are foreigners, aliens. Grasping, I want to feel your flesh in stark contrast to the smooth wetness all around me, like a secret.

All that life where we cannot live. Exotic, forbidden, so lovely. I am sick with love.
 May 2013 Jwala Kay
Naomi Sa'Rai
They said she was saved
Sanctified
Oh but she's a hell raiser
the pages in her Bible don't flip
but her hips shake
faster than a ***** turns tricks
they say she was baptized
by John the Baptist himself
but she came out to her mother
in a christian book store
her cheeks blushed
pink red
They say she flew with the angels
but seduces demons at night
Gods her captain
but she missed the flight
she didn't wanna fly to close to the heavens
But she kissed her rosary
as she clutched the book of Mormon
the star of David tatted across her shoulder
A hell raiser in the true
saved
Sanctified
But she seduces Satan himself
with the holy water sprinkled over her lip gloss
because her kisses are heavenly divine
The scriptures in her Bible
Have no name
unrecognizable from her pain
Shes just Rose Marie
the daunting seductress
dressed in nuns clothes
Flying in religion
to hide her shame
 Mar 2013 Jwala Kay
Kai P.
I confess.

I think I loved him because I used to listen to his voice

Imaging your face moving with it.

I put on one of his tracks,

Randomly.

And that’s when it hit me.

I blinked

But only to comfort the lie

That I hadn’t started to cry.

Your face is better.
 Mar 2013 Jwala Kay
Kai P.
Low…

It’s that very thought that I’ve neglected to mention.

The one you see in my head,

The one that’s bandaged because of ugly bruises,

And open sores:

No escape for the kind.

August…

I entered my dreams with haste and you sat there,

Strapped in for the ride,

For the rise,

In my high,

Every time:

I hoped.
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