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.

This end is nigh

I’m sorry but
those pathetic terrorist
in Munich
A bunch of wankers
Incompetent tossers
Even I
Without proper training
Would be able to kill
MORE THAN SIX PEOPLE
having three shotguns and numerous pistols
I mean if you are serious about killing
WTF
were you thinking
You are not serious
You are seriously lacking in the brains area
You probably not on tumblr either
So I’ll end my rant
Here

In no particular order…

Arrogant colleagues / weak leadership / poor management / lack of responsibilities / suboptimal development process / hierarchical / a flock of headless chickens /  unable to breathe / unable to commit /  non-inclusive

#Just some of the reason I leave you behind

3 x consciously dreaming in colours of love

(how does layout impact perception ? )

#1 in my usual style

paint me

your dreams

on rugged canvas

let broken light cross

unwanted patterns of angst

relinquish your thoughts

succumb to heart beat

for guidance

consciously

dreaming

in colours

of love

#2 compressed with reading guidance

paint me your dreams / on rugged canvas / let broken light cross / unwanted patterns of angst / relinquish your thoughts / succumb to heart beat for guidance /consciously dreaming in colours of love

#3 word stacking

paint me your dreams on rugged canvas let broken light cross unwanted patterns of angst relinquish your thoughts succumb to heart beat for guidance consciously dreaming in colours of love

Did either of these stand out as being better?

She pressed POST

They found him in the bedroom

The fan was still on although the heat wave was long gone

The bed was tidy, the curtains drawn.

The paintings on the walls hung neatly, straight and aligned

Red appeared to be the theme, abstract art mainly, though a framed painting of a woman in a red dress hung next to the bed. It was signed LT.

Next to the body was a phone, a modern smart phone.

I was not locked.

The dismissal of the screen saver revealed one running app, Tumblr

Text was being entered; a story never finished

A final message to the world

Never spoken

Never heard

“Sir, should I post it?”

“Does the world want to know?”

“Probably…”

“Then go ahead…”

She pressed POST and the world

came to

an end.

Capitulate

 I tried

I really did

Three months

Daily

Not just nine to five

I did

More than was asked of me

But now the patience

Has run dry

There is Darkness is my heart

The fire extinguished

I’m flat

I give up

I resign

.
.
.

Prompted by a @thatrandomprompt prompt: capitulate

(I just wished this was fiction)

A little drop of blood

maxmundan:

circle-no-10:

In rooms lit by fire

lonely shadows play the flute

at midpoint a cauldron beckons

stiring slowly

Lady Death awaits

“Please proceed, use caution. the energies are alive tonight, bring the dagger forward, then begone you foolish cow!”

The Lady chants,

the words unspoken

the calling of the wild

commence

With full moon rising

the unborn soldier

shapeless in the cauldron rests

“Come to me, I welcome thee, my soldier, and my extacy”

The Lady cuts her palm in half

a little drop of blood revealed

silence… fire… blood…

Silence.  Fire.  Blood.

SILENCE – FIRE – BLOOD

In a room lit by fire

lonely shadows play the flute

at midpoint a cauldron beckons

stiring slowly

Lady Death awaits

Very, very cool. Great piece @circle-no-10

Thank you 🙂

A little drop of blood

In rooms lit by fire

lonely shadows play the flute

at midpoint a cauldron beckons

stiring slowly

Lady Death awaits

“Please proceed, use caution. the energies are alive tonight, bring the dagger forward, then begone you foolish cow!”

The Lady chants,

the words unspoken

the calling of the wild

commence

With full moon rising

the unborn soldier

shapeless in the cauldron rests

“Come to me, I welcome thee, my soldier, and my extacy”

The Lady cuts her palm in half

a little drop of blood revealed

silence… fire… blood…

Silence.  Fire.  Blood.

SILENCE – FIRE – BLOOD

In a room lit by fire

lonely shadows play the flute

at midpoint a cauldron beckons

stiring slowly

Lady Death awaits

inkeddiaries:

I’m boring in real life but seem to be an interesting person online and that’s only because I seem to have a way with writing my thoughts. So what does that make me? A boring person or interesting? Which life matters? 

The view or definition that you are “boring” is likely made up by yourself at some point in time at it stuck. I doubt that the people around you is constantly reaffirming that “truth”. In the online world you are sharing parts of you which you might not otherwise share, with people who are interested in what you are sharing. Match! Neither of these views will ever fully define you as to define you will take a lifetime for an infinite number of of people and they would still get you wrong. All parts of your life matter, reflect on them regularly then open the door and live the life You want.

The Dream

These are just words

Stacked by me

Dissected by You

These are just words

The output from an interrupt driven process

To form the input to multifaceted minds

where unknown contexts roam

Ergo I ask

How can this make any sense at all?

These are just words

Letters hugging letters

Spacings in between

Lacking the context

and clarity of

The Dream

I will write something, later …

Read this line again
and again
Did you notice the difference
how the words in your head
sounded foreign
the accent not quite right
unexpected
as if I was writing in
my second language
wanna know a secret?
I was
I’m not from around here
I hail from ProcrastiNation

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