I have always been a writer.

When I was younger
I thought my ability to write
Was finite. I thought
My creativity would dry up
Like a pond in summer.

Now I realize the number
Of stories you write is not limited
To the number of pages you have
Or the amount of ink in your pen.

Creativity is the wind around us:
Although you can never really catch it:
You feel its presence on your skin
Even though it's not always present,
It's always certain to return.

I will always be a writer.

As humans, we like to think we are humane,

What is humanity?
We like to think we’d be there for our friends; we’d be gentle on our foes,
We’d forgive and also maybe forget; we’d sacrifice and be moral.
When our morality is under question, we’d be loyal and we will live honest lives,
We won’t backstab or ***** about others; we’ll be upright in our opinions,
We’d be righteous and true and withhold composure within the most strenuous times.
We would work for the betterment of society and cosy with strangers,
In Hope that they will be friends.
We’d look for beauty in the world and we’d be happy though strive for more,
We’d live happy human lives and leave behind a legacy for others to aspire from.
We’d be all that we wish we could be, and more.

But how many of us are like that?

Not one. Not one human being.
We lie, we torture, we hate.
We’re not benevolent on our foes, we wish evil upon our friends,
Our morality is outward and forgiveness a rarity.
We plot, we ******, we hate.
We think these things are to be proud of,
We live of speaking evil; it is a need, a drug.
We break. We hurt. We hate.
We blame others for our mistakes; we never take the fall,
We take advantage of those who love us, we run after those who do it us.
We burn nature and wonder why it balances out with human sacrifice,
We live human lives, but wish to outlive our counterparts, looking constantly,
For immortality.
Our legacy is of lies and façade. We are the supreme race and we proudly
Hate, hurt, ****.
    Doesn’t matter, its human nature, we think, we feel it, we just don’t say it.

Felinely-   Aisha.

Once upon a time, in a place called Venustus
a raw newb caught my eye
I wonder what it was about her
that made me want to try

The quiet one
kneeling on the rug
playing with her Pegs
quite unlike the others
less submissive,
yet somehow more so
in ways that I couldn't see at the time

She chides me for my lack of attention
shouldn't it be the other way round?
should she not be the one attending to me?
yet somehow I can't make that demand
can't bring myself to issue the command
can't take the risk she'll call my bluff
begin to realise I can't get enough

I begin to doubt my Dominance
as we get closer there's something else
Incredible as it seems,
I feel her body close to mine
her warmth come through
and then she asks
"do you feel it too?"

And I do feel it
I feel you beside me, within me
I feel that for us
it has always been this way
that I've always known you
and you feel that way too

Then everything became simple
and yet more complicated
Now I had no choice
but to face myself
to admit the thing I'd tried to hide
because love demands honesty
to be honest with you
I had to be honest with me

Even though I had no doubt
still I needed space to work it out
a week or two should be enough
the next three months were really tough

Cynthia Pauline Jones, March 2013