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.

the dill of men

I had Christmas lunch today. Might as well I thought considering the recent announcement from those in the know. I had Christmas lunch today. Pickled herring of two different kinds: the dill of men can never go wrong. I had Christmas lunch today. Readymade meatballs covered in beetroot salad a treat. I had Christmas lunch today. Alone. I had Christmas lunch today. Alone.

The Cold Waters Piercing

I found my boundaries
floating past me
as I clung to your
outstretched arm, to
your words
echoing,
I was no longer in pain
no longer wishing for
an end,
I found my freedom
in the cold waters
in the dagger piercing
the ice,
I found my boundaries
floating past me
as I slowly drowned
with you in my heart
,
,
,

Unwound

Satan, filled with the confidence of a man
no longer bound to the fire itching, no
longer bound to the truths told, walked
down the snow covered high street one
gloomy Wednesday morning. He was in
pursuit of a late Christmas purchase, a
late urge building inside, an urge spurred
on by the ticking of a clock, the ticking
of a grandfather clock – unwound.

Cllrbn

Your collarbone,
I find it oh so
attractive, so
magnetic, so
erotic

Your collarbone,
I trace it,
let my finger walk,
stroll,
meander
towards your inner
being

Your collarbone,
there beneath the
strap of infinity,
behind your
truth,
I find me
lost

我爱你

我爱你
I said it & I
meant it

我爱你
You taught me & I
believed your truth

我爱你
Rough hands seeking
warmth and intimacy

我爱你
then and forever
the I &

you

No Otherwise

Echoes of a distant past
echoes of lips hovering
echoes of memories ablaze
I kissed your knees unbleeding
& now there is no one to lie to
no purpose amidst the void
no payment due
no otherwise
I hear a Piper calling
I hear a Jay hugging
I hear a mother’s anguish
kissing your knees unbleeding
& now only one lie remains
only one storyline untold
only one truth unspoken
only one kiss
Echoing

Hugs Unlimited

The note attached to the empty bottle of vodka was clear, I had no doubt that whoever left it was sincere. It read ‘Jay was here #hugs’. I had no doubts that I knew this Jay and that their intervention had once again stopped a major downfall of the man. The word oops came to me but I did not understand, could not comprehend the magnitude in the simple spelling of a word once revered now sitting there before me: oops. I had made an oops but I did not know why, or when. Though I was not sure who the man might be, nor why I pictured a boy of eleven smiling at an impression of the man, I found comfort in the knowing that all would be revealed later, sooner or later a voice told me. Sooner or later there would be a revelation, a hunch ? told me. A huncho ? wearing a poncho? walked across the street and signalled that I should approach them. Did you answer his call, the hunched man queried. I thought it best to shake my head in ignorance but deep inside I felt the magic gathering, and it was powerful. He turned and asked the woman passing if she had seen a Jay recently, if he was still eleven. It made no sense, how could a boy of eleven no longer be a boy of eleven. She shrugged and continued as if unbothered, untouched by the events unfolding. The hunched man said he had to call a Charlie, to find a balance and a credit for the Fae. He left me standing, wondering about the events unfolding. Wondering about a boy of eleven, and hugs unlimited.

His Callous Ways

Please forgive me
Father never was
Never was
Newer wash
Among the few
Cleanliness
& Showers high
An agenda bound
No longer
Please forgive me
For my unmourning
Of his sudden depart
Of his callous ways to
Raising the spring off-
Set to be to become
Images so foul so foal
A horse neighing
Kicking up a fuss
About leaving it
All behind
To kick the gravestone
Flat
To spray paint the lies
Across a sky
Unlit
Across a boarded up
Hell
He would one day
Face

In Grammar Broken

From the Ancient Tales of
The Chaos King and
Wolven Silver,
A shadow of the foretelling
Bent on bringing on their
Ultimate demise,
The whispers of red lips
Lingering & of Truth
Beyond doubt,
From the shadows our
Hero emerges
A fiery mane of invincibility
A sword of chaos equally,
Two thousand words later
The land he found so pleasant
Lay in ruins stretched
In grammar broken,

Failed

I Can Be Your…

I can be your personal poet
Your voice when silence becomes
Your overwhelming chorus
When the thought of expression
Burns your every fibre raw

I can be your personal poet
Your wind when the sails are
Flapping low
When the thought of moving
Become just that - a thought

I can be your personal poet
Your razor sharp nails when they
Do not understand your situation
When you just need a bandaid
To cover up the bleeding

I can be your personal poet
Your voice to shout
Your ears to flop
Your bunny rabbit and
The carrot
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