It
By Amberly A.M. Oosthuizen
The figure hides
In the alleyways of my dreams
A blurred face in the crowd
Costing me sleep.
The only things that are definite
Are his hands,
Twice the size of mine,
Dead skin peeling off of them,
Exposing bone
It's a pure blur,
But can shape-shift
Into my worst nightmare
It can make me love my enemies and hate my friends
But before I can stop it,
He changes the game.
Master of my nightmares
I fear to awaken and see
his long blur of a body standing over me.
His hands shining in the moonlight,
Weaving my dreams
Into his nightmare...
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
Thursday, 14 August 2014
Thursday, 3 July 2014
Jazz
Jazz
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
New Orleans. The city I think of when I sit on my wrought iron balcony, facing the Mississippi, glass of viscous red liquid in my hand. Swirling...
In the dead of the night you could hear the strident musicians of New Orleans. The jazz, the mardi gras. The people, beautiful, sweet scented cheeks red with the ebullience of keeping a secret.
I was king of the night, prohibition was in full swing and I was thrilled. Elated. Happy/
Three hours before sunrise, I jumped off the balcony and straightened my suit. The glass knocked over, the red liquid pouring back into her mouth.
I prowled the streets for some excitement. Walking into a club, I was greeted with exuberance. I kept the police off of their backs.
Two hours...
I find myself dancing with a flapper, beautiful, red curls.
I kissed her neck sweetly and brought her home.
Draining her energy. And as I did, we fell back into the coffin. The music fleeing to my heart only to fade into eternity.
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
Wednesday, 2 July 2014
Mourning Heat
Mourning Heat
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
WHY was it that she, Abigail Smart had to wear black on such a blistering hot day?
She would rather be wearing white but this, in her family would be an outcry.
No, her family were not Goth. No, her family where not vampires, although she wished she were, if only to escape this nauseating heat.
At twelve o'clock she went down the stairs, dressed in head to toe black. Her eyes looked like raccoons and she was exhausted. She met her family into the black hybrid and they stared at her. She sighed with the constant shame that she felt.
The car drove slowly, playing gloomy music to get the in the mood.
When they got to the hot, dark, dreary location Abigail shivered and stared at her family, reminding herself that she was not part of the Addams Family.
With great strength she announced to the world, "I am NOT Goth. I am NOT a vampire. We do NOT belong to the Addams Family. I am merely mourning in this horrible heat..."
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
WHY was it that she, Abigail Smart had to wear black on such a blistering hot day?
She would rather be wearing white but this, in her family would be an outcry.
No, her family were not Goth. No, her family where not vampires, although she wished she were, if only to escape this nauseating heat.
At twelve o'clock she went down the stairs, dressed in head to toe black. Her eyes looked like raccoons and she was exhausted. She met her family into the black hybrid and they stared at her. She sighed with the constant shame that she felt.
The car drove slowly, playing gloomy music to get the in the mood.
When they got to the hot, dark, dreary location Abigail shivered and stared at her family, reminding herself that she was not part of the Addams Family.
With great strength she announced to the world, "I am NOT Goth. I am NOT a vampire. We do NOT belong to the Addams Family. I am merely mourning in this horrible heat..."
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
The Mountain
The Mountain
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
It was treacherously deep and dangerous. Temper looked up at it and sighed. The rest of her world had fallen away. The plague, newly modified, had wiped almost everyone out.
Blood ran into the sea.
She remembered all the lives she had taken, their souls like lights leaving their eyes.
She knew she had to climb it.
To get away from herself and the monster she had become. She was ready and took her first step up the craggy ruins.
She smiled hysterically at the sky. She had no idea what was up there or the actual reason for her wanting to reach it, but she knew she had to.
Temper reached the top and reluctantly let go or her harness, unaware of her surrounding.
As Temper looked out into the blood stained sea, she felt the pierce of a blade through her heart.
She fell back into a velveteen box.
"Now it's your turn..." A hooded figure said as he shut her eyes, threw a bloody rosary onto her chest and thrust it closed.
The hooded figure then sat on the box, opened the flask and sipped on the Bourbon, looking out at the crying sky and the crimson kissed sea.
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
It was treacherously deep and dangerous. Temper looked up at it and sighed. The rest of her world had fallen away. The plague, newly modified, had wiped almost everyone out.
Blood ran into the sea.
She remembered all the lives she had taken, their souls like lights leaving their eyes.
She knew she had to climb it.
To get away from herself and the monster she had become. She was ready and took her first step up the craggy ruins.
She smiled hysterically at the sky. She had no idea what was up there or the actual reason for her wanting to reach it, but she knew she had to.
Temper reached the top and reluctantly let go or her harness, unaware of her surrounding.
As Temper looked out into the blood stained sea, she felt the pierce of a blade through her heart.
She fell back into a velveteen box.
"Now it's your turn..." A hooded figure said as he shut her eyes, threw a bloody rosary onto her chest and thrust it closed.
The hooded figure then sat on the box, opened the flask and sipped on the Bourbon, looking out at the crying sky and the crimson kissed sea.
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
It's Friday
It's Friday
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
Alice awoke with a start. She had another nightmarish dream. As she tried to control her breathing, she could help but look at the clock.
3:30 in the morning, again. Same dream again. People chasing her with knives, Chelsea grins stitched across their faces. Like that Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode that Jake dared her to watch. That was when he was still living and not six feet underground. That was before she found him holding an gun to his throat, brain matter everywhere. Kurt Cobain style.
She lay in the dark for a while, then switched on her bedside lamp.
As she got up she looked at the photo of her and Jake. They were smiling, happy.
She walked quietly to the bathroom and took a deep breath. She reached into her pyjama top and pulled out the pocket knife. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and sighed before driving her through her flesh.
The date was Friday the 13th,
For the last time...
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
Alice awoke with a start. She had another nightmarish dream. As she tried to control her breathing, she could help but look at the clock.
3:30 in the morning, again. Same dream again. People chasing her with knives, Chelsea grins stitched across their faces. Like that Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode that Jake dared her to watch. That was when he was still living and not six feet underground. That was before she found him holding an gun to his throat, brain matter everywhere. Kurt Cobain style.
She lay in the dark for a while, then switched on her bedside lamp.
As she got up she looked at the photo of her and Jake. They were smiling, happy.
She walked quietly to the bathroom and took a deep breath. She reached into her pyjama top and pulled out the pocket knife. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and sighed before driving her through her flesh.
The date was Friday the 13th,
For the last time...
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
Ginger
Ginger
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
He thought that ginger haired people were not very attractive. He thought the biscuits were, but not the people. Except that one special lady...
Her skin was a translucent ivory and her hair was more auburn than ginger, as it was the opposite way in her early years of life. Years when she still knew the taste of wine, the look of the eternal sunrise and the sound of the larks singing in the tree branches.
She looked ethereally beautiful in black and stalked the nightclubs for him,
Devouring others as she went.
A sultry vixen of the night...
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
The Island
The Island
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
Anne screamed. The lucious tropical plants were beginning to melt into vicous black tar. She felt the ground beneath her dirty, bare feet begin to shake. She looked down, hesitantly, at the cracks into the earth beneath her. She took a breath, inhaling sulfur and chlorine and then the earth swallowed her whole.
She cried out as she fell into the opaque abyss. Suddenly the fall stopped and she hit her head on a large, brown rock.
As she drifted in and out of conciousness, a dozy, purple mist started to rise. The mist pulled Anne off the slimy ground and carried her into a giant hand carved out of the rock face. It then dropped her into the clammy ochre palm.
A vociferous man was operating the hand and as Anne awoke, she could feel it clamping down on her, squeezing the life out of every pore...
She tried to Ameliorate the situation and she fell through the space between the fingers, straight into oblivion; where she was vivisected into an infinite amount...
Caution: desire will swallow you whole like the island.
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
Anne screamed. The lucious tropical plants were beginning to melt into vicous black tar. She felt the ground beneath her dirty, bare feet begin to shake. She looked down, hesitantly, at the cracks into the earth beneath her. She took a breath, inhaling sulfur and chlorine and then the earth swallowed her whole.
She cried out as she fell into the opaque abyss. Suddenly the fall stopped and she hit her head on a large, brown rock.
As she drifted in and out of conciousness, a dozy, purple mist started to rise. The mist pulled Anne off the slimy ground and carried her into a giant hand carved out of the rock face. It then dropped her into the clammy ochre palm.
A vociferous man was operating the hand and as Anne awoke, she could feel it clamping down on her, squeezing the life out of every pore...
She tried to Ameliorate the situation and she fell through the space between the fingers, straight into oblivion; where she was vivisected into an infinite amount...
Caution: desire will swallow you whole like the island.
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen
Saturday, 31 May 2014
Untitled
Untitled
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
The rain is pelting down
I stand in it, soaking
Nothing matters anymore
I'd slit myself,
But the blood would wash away
I'd shoot myself,
but the matter would run away
The sun would come out
But not today
and my sopping body starts
to convulse
I want to scream but -
My voice has been stripped away...
My fears subside
as they pull me inside
and push me into a hot shower
But I feel like I'm nothing,
Like I'm invisible
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen 2014
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
The rain is pelting down
I stand in it, soaking
Nothing matters anymore
I'd slit myself,
But the blood would wash away
I'd shoot myself,
but the matter would run away
The sun would come out
But not today
and my sopping body starts
to convulse
I want to scream but -
My voice has been stripped away...
My fears subside
as they pull me inside
and push me into a hot shower
But I feel like I'm nothing,
Like I'm invisible
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen 2014
The Beast
The Beast
By Amberly A.M. Oosthuizen
In the dark of the night,
awakens he...
A man of ill proportion.
A knife through your 'lover's' heart
But she was not your lover...
His eyes are crystallised black
and the Devil lies within
He wears no heart on his sleeve
He does not smile tentatively at the world...
But the fact is:
There are no demons or monsters,
Only humans with dark souls
Who never care
Or say a word...
The Devil is beautiful
She's looked into his eyes,
The cadaver lying on the metal table...
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen 2014
By Amberly A.M. Oosthuizen
In the dark of the night,
awakens he...
A man of ill proportion.
A knife through your 'lover's' heart
But she was not your lover...
His eyes are crystallised black
and the Devil lies within
He wears no heart on his sleeve
He does not smile tentatively at the world...
But the fact is:
There are no demons or monsters,
Only humans with dark souls
Who never care
Or say a word...
The Devil is beautiful
She's looked into his eyes,
The cadaver lying on the metal table...
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen 2014
The Melancholy
The Melancholy
By Amberly A. M. Oosthuizen
When I was young
Children would play with me.
The sky was blue
and my heart was still on my sleeve...
When I was young,
I was carefree,
I pushed boundaries,
I was filled with defiance...
When I was old,
My heart had shattered,
The air was cold
Nothing really mattered
and the clouds were grey...
When I was old
My joints would creek
I would stare at the walls
in sombre silence...
When I reached the end,
My teeth chattered
My joints needed oiling
and I couldn't speak...
When I reached the end,
The houses shook
The tea was bitter
and I was hollow
Now I am dead
and my life was wasted...
"Oh the ironic melancholy"
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen 2014
Wednesday, 1 January 2014
Misunderstood
Misunderstood
By Amberly A.M. Oosthuizen
A boy,
In my dreams
In his mind
Far away...
He's trapped in an endless cocoon of engulfing thoughts and feelings.
I've seen this boy,
In a man's eyes
Long ago when the sky was still clear,
Inside the cocoon,
The boy screams and cries
From the loss he has suffered
And the pain he has caused,
The man , however, believes he can't feel the boy's screams
And it seems to the naked eye that he is cold and harsh.
But I have seen that boy
And he will die inside the man
Like the embers of the fire,
Like the hope in my fragile, breaking heart....
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen 2014
By Amberly A.M. Oosthuizen
A boy,
In my dreams
In his mind
Far away...
He's trapped in an endless cocoon of engulfing thoughts and feelings.
I've seen this boy,
In a man's eyes
Long ago when the sky was still clear,
Inside the cocoon,
The boy screams and cries
From the loss he has suffered
And the pain he has caused,
The man , however, believes he can't feel the boy's screams
And it seems to the naked eye that he is cold and harsh.
But I have seen that boy
And he will die inside the man
Like the embers of the fire,
Like the hope in my fragile, breaking heart....
© Amberly A. M.Oosthuizen 2014
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