Author name: Hayden Veil

In an earlier incarnation, Hayden Veil enjoyed a successful career in software engineering, writing late-night poetry in pursuit of sanity. On 2 February 2020, the world of Hayden Veil changed: Ghosts became real and with its soul laid bare there was no turning back from the perpetual path of poetry.

f.i.n.e

everything is fine / now / everything is cool / now / everything is / as it should be / I checked you see / the scripture / the manual of me / eat regularly / drink plenty / exercise indeed / translated by yours truly as / spag bol and a bottle of wine and moping around / everything is fine / now

Slush Puppy

trust me not / behind these pale blue eyes / danger lurks / claws of fire / I wield / my words / pay heed / I say / pay heed / or suffer / my lips will burn / my lips will melt / your frozen heart / to slush / pay heed / pale blue eyes / beware beware beware

No.oN

a passing thought / the birth of a poem / a sneeze / huh say again / a passing thought / lost in the wind / a poem / never seen

pyre pyre ring of fire

my back / resting on a pyre / your love / igniting the fire / my body / shaking / your spark / inviting

from this day forth

from this day forth / I am immortal / no say nor deed / can sway my faith / I will go on / I will endure / life’s rapid torrents / ‘til end of time itself / mock me not / should I so perish / mock me not / should I depart / for when I return / I will be carried / by wings of beings / much greater still / from this day forth / I am immortal / from this day forth / I am alive

Easter

As a child, Good Friday was the long Friday. A day of grey in mind and heart. The programs on TV were all in black & white with subtitles for the foreign language parts. I can recall fish for supper and no talking.

Saturday was for eggs. Painting. Cracking. Eggs filled with smaller eggs. Chocolate eggs. Feathers. I can recall supper and no talking.

Sunday was Saturday but shops were closed. Eggs. There was a church bell ringing, I think I went. I can recall meat for supper and no talking.

Monday was; came and went. Eggs. I cannot recall supper nor talking.

Commitment is a two way street, but we; we drove on different sides, in opposite directions

me, it is never too late so realise your headlights are off OR never trust GPS in the face of danger

Like a diet of the mind, I choose not to indulge certain appetites. Like my appetite for patterns. Perhaps my appetite to imagine and to dream.

John Nash, the movie โ€œA Beautiful Mindโ€

Miracle Grow

searching / not finding / useful ways / without useless gains / to grow / this spring / to grow / my wings / to find the home / I so long forย 

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