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.

another day in paradise // passing thoughts of love expired // yesterday’s manic race in colour // now bleakness // a hollow // follows // from pole to pole the swing in motion // another day to find the answer // will it ever stop I wonder // will tomorrow be in colour

Ahem (S03E14) – bypassing the queue

In this episode Mr Numpty tries to explain to his followers why he reblogged a whole handful of post without using the queue. It ends up being a very embarrassing moment.

Floating on a pillow in time / a cloud shape forming up above / my thoughts are drifting in and out / back to yesteryear / seeing old events through childish eyes repeat / the fog lifting slowly / roads reveal themselves at last / some tarmac; others fields of green / always running / never stopping / an active child / without worries and doubt

Someone made me imperfect
Someone made me special
I unfortunately am none
[of the above]
the wiser

Nothing Matters
Yet Everything Matters
Darkness Matter
In incognito mode I see the
Dark Matter
I am the puppet master
Mind over Matter
Searching for a link
A reason to be
Still

I found my new calling // an extra on a set // I am perfectly suited // to be one of the Walking Dead

no additional software used

I am at your mercy // and not in control // words are short; and shorter stills // and not in control of will // snow falling; failings flare // yet not in mind of control I say // an app for humble thoughts agrees // control you say are for the rich // better stand in shadow then // without control // I am at your mercy, by my own free will

revelations, part IV

One day not far away I hope,
I will again part lips; behold,
kiss and kiss you through the night;
alas not the girl of my life,
I must admit the plentyfold,
all sweet and well behaved; I find,
though honest toil and mind I like,
I seek your council, far and wide,
would you share with me your
secret mind? I give to you
my heart on fire

Today,
This morning; as a matter of fact
Scottish salmon; smoked and hung
Kept me going,
Kept me sane,
Between the cries for
toast and ale

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