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.
Death wears high heels Death wears leather thongs Death wears my heads Crushed under the dream Of innocence becoming More Than Wanting More Than Needing More Than Longing For the finality of a life Of dread, of deeds done In the name of doing, Of the making of a life In search of multiple endings For the sake of dreaming And betterment of men, Before the Lady in waiting – Wearing high heels of death
Every tutorial leaves me with a sour aftertaste, a question of why, and then regret, for attending; pretending to be something I’m not, and then the tutor’s praise in a language I do not comprehend, yet the marks gives me hope, to go on, to progress, to accept I am indeed learning; learning that learning is hard, not like work where I got paid to play, to learn that which was already known; this is new, this is different, yet similar to creating, exploring a world where finding the meaning from a single word might be the reason for being; a distinction – or a plain failure.
A reception worthy of a tale my Lords A tale I say: forget this not but pass along. As we set sail on a journey most perilous Towards the naked north in a solid ship Of your own kind sponsorship; Across the borderless sea Rough and ready, We took aim for their archipelago The native tribes of troubles And their inevitable demise. The journey lasted but a five full moons And we found us on the longest day Slowly approaching a ragged land Of cliffs and cliffs stretching heavenly. Movement of bodies was spotted soon Atop the trees of the native spruce variety. As far as friendly receptions go We received the most nobel of greetings: As far as eyes could see Scattered skulls and seared skin Was all that remained Of us and your once solid ship. My Lords, my Lords? To what purpose Is your silent response helping my cause? My Lords? Is my appearance not evidence Of this most worthy of telling. Am I too you Not entirely visible.
Infinite was a good watch. Not sure if it’s because of the last two weeks of dissecting The Duchess of Malfi or the pressed grapes of southern France, but definitely worthy of a Saturday night leisure time stretch on the sofa…
I’ve tried, for two weeks, to convince the little fella/fellee(?) to leave my kitchen and lounge: opening windows and porch doors, to no avail. I reckon I should just propose, that’ll sort the issue in no time …
ISBN: 978-1-9163643-1-8 Size:5.00 x 8.00 in Pages: 294
Imbalance is a modern poetry collection for the seated generation. Poems to help deal with sitting down, being seated, and the frequently failed attempts of getting back up again. Select remedies are serendipitously scattered throughout. Crayons are optional.
Massive thanks to @behind-the-veil-of-sanity for this! I can’t say much yet as I haven’t had a chance to read too far, but I can say it’s not just a poetry book. It’s a work of art. It’s a reminder of why a real book is, to me, superior to an ebook – as is sort of mentioned in the preface. And, on a personal note, when I first saw the cover it made me smile as I’ve been dying to get back out into nature (and I’m working on it).
So yes, I just had to post about this because I’m genuinely excited to read it 🖤 and I really think other people will be too. October 23rd I believe – get it bought!!
I’m just very happy to have friends who don’t mind being exposed to my experimental outlet. The word is just one aspect of I want to explore. Writing for the page is different to writing for other media. The page, as a three dimensional object also enables me to express ideas I couldn’t otherwise.
