Jason Heroux
Colin Van Der Woude

Jason Heroux

The Wound

I found a terrible wound in the street. It looked like a pothole, overflowing with
blood. Everyone stepped carefully around it. I picked up the wound and brought it to
the hospital, but there wasn't anything they could do. "It's a bad wound," the doctor
said. "But it doesn't seem to be hurting anyone." I left the hospital, holding the
wound, not sure what to do with it. There was blood all over my hands and clothes.
The wound quivered and trembled. It squirmed like a jellyfish and was difficult to
hold onto. I threw it back onto the street where it bled and ached without hurting
anyone.

Copyright © 2004 Jason Heroux

Bio: Jason Heroux lives in Kingston, Ontario, Canada. He worked in a fast food restaurant for ten years, and currently works as a civil servant. His first poetry collection "Memoirs Of An Alias" will be published by The Mansfield Press later this year.

Colin Van Der Woude

S

Paths shall always meet
today I thought I saw you -
sitting alone, on a seat.
 
Of course I remember you -
it's a glittering reversal
of how I didn't know you
 
Touched that sensual memory
you placed it back in my mind
not many could do, only less than a few
 
How we first met?
I was ashamed to forget
but you somehow noticed
and changed the path.

Copyright © 2004 Colin Van Der Woude

Well well...

Standing, oh walking I say!
you asked me something that added to a word -
may?
 
fascinated, you were, don't lie;
how else could you remember -
or is it that I'm an ugly guy?
You worked with your third eye
bring it back!
why?

Copyright © 2004 Colin Van Der Woude

Saint

"Keep quiet!" said the saint
"Or, I won't let you stay!"
Look at my face -
"Forget the past!" he said
a video to watch
so lost, but again the girl
the one with the imaginary gnome
It was real but nothing is real
never is
never will be
and never has been 'real'
just a silly word to me and her
tell the truth
I hear the positivity all around
go home -
keep secrets?
 
The guitar will begin to play...
by itself in a strange way
dancing, jumping all around
"My feet never hit the ground?"
where did I remember?
probably that innocent September
before the October
when everything began to fall over
 
Reggae is sweet and uplifting
it is playing while I write
Nineteen Eighty Five
seven eleven the special time
it always use to show
 
Call this eccentric or crazy or weird
but the backward clothing
is being worn only by YOU
open those EYES
SPEAK OUT.
 
Cleaning up.
Speaking my sub-conscious
the leaf was sweet
while others had a bite to the already distorted
flavour
Babylon changed its ways
never would I know -
I just speak the seeds I always sow
 
Decision - unknown to my eyes?
roads lead everywhere
you don't have to see them
but there is always a path,
sometimes many,
narrow some may seem,
others are uphill
but you always reach the end.
 
Prolific, not what I would say!
If you have the special feeling
spend what may take a day.
 
look back on the work
it may surprise and so much
it may feel a lie.

Copyright © 2004 Colin Van Der Woude

Bio: I was only 15 years old and less than a year after diagnosis I was writing this work, heavilly influenced by late nights and music of The Cure. I am currently a 27 year old from Hobart Tasmania, Australia who loves writing emotion down in notebooks.