So many decisions to make; but not today. Tonight I will dine on liquorice and juniper juice, the Dutch courage flowing, and tomorrow I might decide on another future; another path towards infinity and the shadowlands beyond. There is much to decide, too much haze to find a path, less trodden or not.
Copyright © 2021 @behind-the-veil-of-sanity / Hayden Veil
So many decisions to make; but not today. Tonight I will dine on liquorice and juniper juice, the Dutch courage flowing, and tomorrow I might decide on another future; another path towards infinity and the shadowlands beyond. There is much to decide, too much haze to find a path, less trodden or not.
I carry paranoia in a black briefcase,
brown empty envelopes
creased stained sheets to be signed
brown paper bags;
my stained tie reeks of brown sauce
blue blood and paranoid thoughts
of wind and windows and roofs
soaring across a stormy sky,
and creaking ceilings
and creaking floors
and creaking doors
— locked.
I carry paranoia in a black briefcase,
on a black unwanted tie and in a mind
bent on creaking.
Bowl of Chili. Dollop of sour cream. Cheddar cheese. Corn spoons! Good end to a shitty day.
Twilight and fog
descending a powdered pond.
A frozen bird, wings still and silent
shivering shakes and cold cravings;
a frozen man, shivering,
shaking and cursing a foggy brain.
In winter months of dreaded darkness
beware beware beware:
going cold turkey
carry a pernicious penalty
as death looms in a twilight
– far beyond the fog.
I hid my secrets,
like a childhood leaf
pressed between faded pages.
I hid my secrets
betwixt two untouched pages
numbered 41 and 42.
I hid my secrets
like the childhood cat that ran away
– never to be found
I hid my secrets in books I wrote,
my untouched leaves withering
– cat-less to the end
No purpose, no path; strings attached to a dummy, neither brave nor nummy; a broomstick sweeps the endless fields; cows caw and fish fly:
chirp. chirp.
Cows caw, and fish fly.
Oink.
There is grandeur in the face of pork pies. Saucy plates left too cold. I would like to grab their attention and file a formal complaint. But NO … there are roadblocks and too much suffering: oink.
I find purpose in oven cleaning. Cutting ties. Coating a Self in cinnamon and almond, ground without additional spice. Cayenne is not a spice, it is life swimming through the skies
— cawing.
Every heart a warm embrace, a hug on cold winter’s day. Every multiplication, duplication without deception a kiss from the warm lips of strangers. Every word of wisdom give wings to falling dreams, and parachutes to failing poets. Everything matters in the end, as long as it is sustained.
Copyright © 2021 @behind-the-veil-of-sanity / Hayden Veil
Every heart a warm embrace, a hug on cold winter’s day. Every multiplication, duplication without deception a kiss from the warm lips of strangers. Every word of wisdom give wings to falling dreams, and parachutes to failing poets. Everything matters in the end, as long as it is sustained.
