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.
She came loosely wrapped In a tarpaulin waltzing, Wild fire in her hair & bleak lips pouting, The gentle men awaited Seeking all her candle light, Begone the seasoned darkness Banish now our gloomy lives.
She came loosely wrapped On snowless ground, Ablaze as morning broke Behind a frosty night, Across a barren meadow In the country of old, The long shadows shortened As her light faded cold.
I search for a light in the darkness, A light without fire and burns, I find a bauble dangling on a branch A sparkling light A focused find , , Uninspiring
The only game I ever properly completed was Darklands, an epic game back in the day. Yes, I reached Legendary Hero status. I miss those days, roaming across European soil, slaying dragons, purging the hamlets of Satan worshippers, the Essence of Grace, sleeping to restore health…
I’d say … strangulation, Bright eyes Sharp nails in Ducati red Blue sky and fluttering sails, An empty beach Overlooking the end Of their torrid world
How?
I’d say … strangulation, Your eyes Your soft hands caressing My tanned neck, We stretch and we extend As unseeing eyes wander In feeble attempts
How?
I’d say … any which way, Any billboard, anywhere As long as I can go fast Across the plains of dreams, Plant my fingers in the soil Of the forgotten, sail further Than before
You cringe as you read my words, My ephemeral expression diverted From a shattered self reflecting Upon the rusty rails beyond: A disappearing truth And a tunnel unexplored
You cringe as you read my words, My ephemeral expression diverted To attempt to convey the frail, The wanted, the tunnel of hope If only with a single torch Or by Napalm nausea wrought
You cringe as you read my words, My ephemeral expression diverted, The cracked mirrors of my worlds And bleach blonde delusions Laid bare without custard, Clotted cream – or hope
Another year in the shadows, Another year of solitude, No harbinger of light in sight, No ginger thins or spiced up wine, My loss is one of culture – Never to be regained
I drown, slowly sinking, I drown! No, never even realising I entered dangerous waters; Deep, deep, dark waters, Troubled waters like tears Of the Goddess of old; Deep, deep, deep in trouble As I find a self again caught Perplexed and petrified By a pair of eyes, By a pair of lies I tell myself To avoid and to escape What once was felt: Memories of yesteryears And Pompeii’s final squirt As we laid there waiting For the endless night; I saw your eyes then As I see them now, Clearly and inevitably By any standard irresistible: I drown, then and there Unable to tell Unable to convey I fell and drowned For you In you
Some buy tubs of ice cream, I bought six servings Of Tiramisù To find an escape, and comfort From the pain of close reading Of the Romantics – finding all Green and Pleasant among Their Lakes and Trees,
While I hate the teachings Lacking logic and common Sense that I require To fire on all cylinders,
So I revert to hiding, Eating and enjoying Everything Else
