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.

God vs. 12% mortgage

Poetry Drafts / / By

and as the autumn leafs start dropping
I frown and lose myself in thought
is love perhaps reserved only
for those between the age of hope
and the chains of a 12% mortgage?
what of those searching souls; longing
the frail and withered corpses tumbling
tumbling with the weeds;
an OK Corrall backdrop
with the sheriff dead,
the coyote howling
the hero riding off
in solitude
never searching
always finding
reason to stay
mortgage free

Poetry Drafts / / By

chucklingpecan:

Itโ€™s either
an outgrowth
of power cords
or a salad.
The first bite
will reveal.

There’s nothing to add. Tears are flowing. Brilliant as always!

Poetry Drafts / / By

vasilinaorlova:

One girl was local. She shopped local, loved local, and was buried local.

I know a boy wishing he remained local, never escaping, searching but never finding what always had been within reach, at the local. As Death calls he might still make it back, empty handed.

Poetry Drafts / / By

as modern as can be

I got punched in the face,
office cat fight,
using corporate email.
Alone at my desk
someone walked up and
punched me
right between the eyes.
Falling hard, breathless
pounding heart,
a panic attack no doubt
kept sanity not
punching back.
No black eye
No visible scars
Yet nothing will
ever be the same.
In the virtual world
the punches
still hurt as much

Poetry Drafts / / By

ff

I reach for the remote

frantically searching for fast forward

to get where I need to be

for dawn to arrive and for

the darkness to fade

behind me

Ode to a Mother

Poetry Drafts / / By

Only intoxicated can I
stand – alone – being alone
being just one where
there ought to be
more.
Only intoxication,
fumes evaporating
through my skin
can keep the numbness
at the proverbial bay.
Only toxic thoughts
the pinball game
inside my head,
a perpetual dream of
never
ending
horrors.

Poetry Drafts / / By

the pilot to โ€œMy Lifeโ€ never got any grand reviews so God decided to cancel season 1 – but he forgot to tell me, the bastard.

f*

Poetry Drafts / / By

my friends this night – fruit flies

my wine – their ultimate desire

my wholesome lifestyle – ย to copy no doubt

their buzzing around – annoying as f*

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