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.

On the way to the house that separates the mad from the sane. River Cam by Midsummer Common.

Words, unruly and uninspiring smeared across every page,
cower as the scissors march to the tune of segregation,

Albidus, Canescens, Furvus

the partition of the written – a silent slaughter in three acts.

Poetry written by pen does not benefit from automatic spell checking. After a while Life just looks at you in silent bafflement, shakes its head as it lumbers off into the night: aren’t you done yet? I’m off. Good luck. …

The Summit

I write and rewrite
the final chapter,
but the sun always sets
beyond the mountains yonder.

No version ever reveals
the path taken, the steep hills
climbed to reach the summit;
the pinnacle of life, oh really?

I write and rewrite
the final chapter,
as if the end would matter
to someone so inept.

No twisted ankle
or spilled truth
could ever covey the way
doves die in hawk’s claws.

I write and rewrite
the final chapter, …

The Theatre of Mischief

In the Theatre of Mischief
I play the fool, a mere tool
in a sinister plot unfolding.

You find comfort in the unknown,
the pretentious paces unfolding
and the matching hubris revealed.

In the Theatre of Mischief
lives come and go, portals open
and quickly close.

You sit in silence, watching
my undoing; my luddite life
barely keeps you awake.

In the Theatre of Mischief
I was born a janitor, much later
did I graduate a fool.

You leave in silence, shimmering
swiftly through the backstreets
of life, of love, and sentient stench.

In the Theatre of Mischief
lives come and go, portals open
and quickly close.

You never stop to contemplate,
all other eyes and juice
and their dreams and callings.

In the Theatre of Mischief
lives come and go, portals open
and quickly close.

In the Theatre of Mischief
you are the one watched,
beware the optics of departing.

In the Theatre of Mischief
I am – The Fool
watching your lives unfold.

Innocent

You dressed yourself in innocence
Twirled like there was no tomorrow
Sighed at the feeble attempts wasted
On getting you right.

No need for saving me you yelled
This life of mine is short enough
To give a fuck
Tonight we ride

So we rode the night
Gave a fuck
As morning dawned
We had lost our innocence

Caged

Caged, stainless gleaming steel
and one creaking gate left open,
unguarded

the silent moan of another ghost
left wanting,
left

wanting, wishing to dye
the pale bones
of the merry Makers,

the troubled Takers
of a life given,
unawares

the youth led astray
to become a man
in their hollow image

would lock the cage
without a key, eyes shut
– and moaning.

In Grey Hues

Booze, to much booze
today, tonight I snooze
unweary,
unawares of every youse
in every house
dancing in grey hues
yet dreaming of a souse,
of rainbows, and a muse.

So What’s Next?

An idea I had a long time ago was to turn Ghosts into a Greek tragedy, with a lot of emphasis on the Chorus to give context to an otherwise rather bleak and minimalist piece of … me.

So, what about Bumblebee you might ask. Well, most of the writing is done; a few more weeks of tweaking and I might be looking at an another printable piece of … me.

Additionally, there’s the idea of adding music to my writing, as in Hayden Veil and the Sauntering Shower Heads; but my progress in the area of music is even slower than in literature. Oh, well…

But most of the next eight months will be focused on studies, studies, and … studying; halfway towards a degree in … something useful I hope. Looking forward to the new academic year starting on October 1, with life returning to predictability once again.

Oh, yes … there will be some poetry posted here… drafts as always; drab as expected; but hopefully showing a quill pen sharpened, and ink newly brewed.

👋🏻

I reached a milestone today. For the first time I told someone who knows me (in the real world) that I write poetry, and have published two collections and am working on a third. I’m happy the response was so positive.

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