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.

Shadow Spaces

Poetry Drafts / / By 
Her desire chiselled upon him:
Sandpiper-coloured streaks
Across snow-clad clouds;
Dancing and bouncing along
A sandy street: grained beached
Treats of goldfish, pale blue 
Piercing eyes, and tannoy laughter.

Her dreams like maternal mallets,
Likes knives through butter-
cups and butter-
flies and beeswax 
Sweethearts: irresistible,
(Incongruous)
Escapee,
Free, free, free!
– Until pinioned. 

Her thoughts, like bell-blue streaks 
On four starless walls of solitude;
No shadows fall where
Shadows form –
Breathe-only 
Spaces.

Blackened Fists

Poetry Drafts / / By 
I think the universe is telling me
Something:

To give up or give in to what it sees
Inappropriate;

A van rested
For three whole years;
Three years without tender love 
Or care; the turning of the key
Like death without echoes left
Me wanting: escape from this hell
Of ideas and random
Implementations. 

Blackened fists changing source
Of power and of power and 
FFS please release; and the tears
Fell, and the fears … ah FFS —

Crowbar and plank and F battery 
Gave way to empty space, hurray 
But but and Oh FFS …

The loaded and charged source 
Of power, unable to turn the F
Engine: a bang and a bang
And so the fuse blew blew blew
and the air turned blue. 

And so this simile came to be,
Unlike a metaphor I swear it be
Truthful and void: I’m gonna
Scrap this F*ng van, 
Like an offering 
To the universe.

Pastrami on Toast

Poetry Drafts / / By 
I slice your insincerity like pastrami 
To cover my buttered toast;
The orange juice, the fresh brew
Left untouched. 

I grate your cheese, lactose-free
Lies upon lies upon piles piled
Beyond our safe zone; fake phones
And purged porn drape our doors. 

I toss the remnants of every us
Down the drain revolving;
Not recycling our dead dreams
Of an inconceivable infinity. 

I slice my last days into slivers 
Of meaning, glyphs into characters
Forming words of wonderment 
Equally spaced into sentences,
Purposely punctuated 
Into paragraphs of paranoia;
I keep on digging deep
The hole of my final escape.

Poetry Drafts / / By 
My script was written in invisible ink,
For an unlit stage without property; 
Before an audience locked away,
I was barred from even auditioning.

Illiterations

Poetry Drafts / / By 
Would you consider me illiterate 
If I only spoke the basics,
The daily dose of :(
With the occasional :)

Would you consider me illiterate 
If I never spoke emoji,
Screamed in agony:
‘Those fxxxxxg images are too small
For me dying eyes, too similar, too
Undefined to convey common 
Understanding’

Would you consider me illiterate
If I never spoke of love
And a future where there was a we,
A wee we emojiing
Without understanding why

Poetry Drafts / / By 
What you hear is a mere echo
Of a speaking-voice silenced;
Drowned by a roaring rage
Uncaught and unrelenting. 
What you hear is a monster 
Growl: uttering of sweetest 
Symphony, veiled  
Insanity
Within –
Without 
Mercy,
Without
Vengeance 
In thought. 
What you hear is a mere echo
From a different time.

Poetry Drafts / / By 
I am the caretaker of a soul;
Shards of that life echoes 
From dusk till dawn,
Reverberates as the sun rises
Until its dying light; and so I
Care, and care for an echo 
Of a distant past, through eyes
Of icy innocence and devoid –
Of hope.

In Tempest Dawn

Poetry Drafts / / By 
Thoughts flickering like candles 
In tempest dawn, monsoon morning
Rising stiffly; prescription pills
And thoughts flickering, running
Down empty lanes of lunacy;
Searching?
Unfounded lies listening?
Silence, as long as silence… 
There is peace!
Silent mysteries? & thoughts
Listening. Shhhhhh!
I light another pipe,
Another nocturnal pondering 
On the unwavering winds 
Of change, and on thoughts 
Flickering.

Keys

Poetry Drafts / / By 
I played your keys, your white
Temperament and your black 
Plasticity; the harmonies offset
By your dissonant lack of longing.

You played my keys, my pale face 
Of innocence and my dark gloomy
Backdrop; the harmonies offset
By my lack of personal presence. 

We played each other’s keys,
Never in tune, never attuned,
Never hearing more than
Our own melodies.

Doors

Poetry Drafts / / By 
There were doors, a selection 
Of gilded handles; seeping 
Sordid light and flickering candles. 
I chose and chose but in the end 
The bitter end came biting back:
The chosen one –
Locked.
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