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.

Poetry Drafts / / By

Empty Space

I can’t wait for Madness
To strike, for Her high
To arrive, to come and to
Embrace this vacant space
So long and so carefully
Composed.

I wait for Madness in every shape,
Shapeless whispers of Her faith
Like a doom bell keeps me awake
At night, at noon the death knell
Calls for everyone; I contemplate
My position: the bottom rhung
Reserved for the likes of me,
My kind abandoned and
Unappreciated in their world
Of forevermore Insanity.

I wait for Madness, Her mind
Like a space after a new
Line: invisible yet fulfilling a purpose
Opaque in most eyes, oblique in
Every mind. I wait – this vacant space
Becomes home – for another while.

Poetry Drafts / / By

Morning Dew

Morning dew and fog-less dream,
Curtains drawn, mind undrawn,
Dreams not yet undreamed;
A cold breeze on sticky skin,
A scream for more of same, of
Pain from another day –
Approaching;
Morning dew and steaming brew
Awaits the dreamer, the fool
Behind the veil of days of maybes
And lasting compassions;
Morning dew and fog-less dream
My signs that all is well, all is good –
For now.

Poetry Drafts / / By

I am moon pulp, mulched memories
Lamentable; talking trees impart my truths
Tells of lies, of lies, of lurid lies;
Chainsaw cries in dark nights,
My moon swoon,
I am the lucid loon:
Your Gardener in the darkness,
Motionless and moonlit,
The eyes of night flicker, flirt
With memories
Of you – bushy and bloomed

Poetry Drafts / / By

The Caring Few

Wings, I always look for the wings, you answered the question I never clearly voiced; fine fur and wicked wings, you said, with a wink and a smile; but they all shun me, I tried but your eyes told me to try another time, to find another light to guide me through the night. Wings, you said, and a pretty smile: a pretty face in the right place, a pair of lips and decent hips, kiss her and you’ll know, and watch out for … you know. Wings, you said, to lift you and to … ah gawd knows why they have the wings and we do not … go beyond the earthbound realm, to seek the light wherever … and so on and so forth … Do you get it son, it’s up to you to find and forsake, to pursue and partake, to be the instigator of your life.

Poetry Drafts / / By

Dancing With Demons

You asked me once, long ago,
But I refused to answer…
Simply because I could, as
The answer was always there,
At the back where my mind
Meets the self in truthful waltzing;
I refused and kept refusing
Till one day your silence
Became permanent,
Your eyes glazed over and my mind
Set on … other matters; but here
Where time is of no concern
I will reveal that answer you
So long did seek to reassure a self
That love and truth could be found
On the same coin:
Cristina Scabbia.
So now you know,
What I have known
With every step taken,
With every stumble and fall,
In our once dazzling dance
Now gone cold.

Poetry Drafts / / By

Libra

Am I the cure or am I the disease:

I rest spineless on a petty pedestal
You claim to have pontifical powers:
Significant of ritualistic satire;

Am I your cure: your saving Grace
And your saving face – but you say
No: CuZ change is pain and pain
Is death …
But pain is life and life is … it
I counter and claim, as truth;

Am I your disease: your pain
Down your back and the
Shaking through your veins – but
You say no: CuZ the pain is not real,
The shakes mere flits of mind:
Like rings on a midsummer lake
Above the circle of life:
A balance to be kept;

I rest spineless on a petty pedestal
You claim have significant powers
Over life and death, cure and
Disease; I find that equilibrium
All too hard to balance,
All too hard to fault,
All too … much
Satire.

Poetry Drafts / / By

Snakes

Venom and spitting / your snakeskin slithers as self-conscious dithering wreaks, unleashes, and vents / nothing. / NoThing will ever convince or convey further engagement of two split tongues intertwined / the storm rages on / the wound of ages still festering / with will gone and without dreams / what will a future of word spitting and venom drinking ever achieve / in the world of men / and snakes.

Poetry Drafts / / By

Anyone else not having a messaging tab in Activities on your main blog? (all my sideblogs have one, this is on the IOS App) @staff WTF is going on? I can’t message and I can’t reply! #TumblrFFSortYourselfOut

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