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 Comic Strip

Poetry Drafts / / By

If I were
A comic strip
There would be black clouds
Hovering
Rain falling on a sunlit patio
Threeway communication on
Two-way streets between
Single-minded & one dimensional
Cardboard cutouts

If I were
A comic strip
I would be the reader
The master teller
The doodler colouring
Their bleakness

Away

Copyright ยฉ 2021 @behind-the-veil-of-sanity / Hayden Veil

Random Unsorted Drafts / / By

No stains / no significant markings / I can still trace your subtle patterns / the split toungue spitting acid / a venom from a heart too young / a surgical instrument masked as caring / kindness and open arms / madness in a bucket / overflowing delusions / pink champagne / no ice

Random Unsorted Drafts / / By

Not long ago I mulled a submission, an attempt to once again serve a higher purpose, to find a place where I could shine, to contribute to the world around, in co-creation bleed my day away & nights of torment to follow dread.

Not long ago I mulled a submission, back when the doors were still wide open.

Not long ago I mulled the sale of my fixed abode, an attempt to find a way out of the maze that had taken hold, a way to once again set me free, to leave the memories behind, to walk down new roads paved with the unknowns of futures untold.

Not long ago I mulled the sale of my fixed abode, back when there were people working & willing to make such purchases.

Not long ago everything seemed possible, not anymore – my dear – not anymore, the future me will find the roads ablaze with the raging crowds of yesteryears, with the wanting and the searching, the hungry and the weary, not knowing what to do or where to find the safety needed to keep going, until the day of Reckoning & the final bill – outstanding

Random Unsorted Drafts / / By

ejected from the serpent’s

lair,

I scouer the stars for signs of

life,

sustenance an absentee at the

core of self & weary heads need a

rest,

upon the shoulders of giants

a clown-face smiles:

at the pork scratchings

left on yesterday’s

plates;

on empty tables at

Inns now deserted and

bleak,

I scouer the stars for signs of life &

meaning,

hope my first abandonment;

the clown’s smile never

waning

Random Unsorted Drafts / / By

The flashbacks,

sinusoidally like snakes

my dearest friends,

lack proper context as they

present themselves,

as they show me events: for real for sure,

I worry they might be; to a degree – true,

I fold my gaze inwards

onwards and downwards,

spiraling mindlessly into the

shards of broken glass,

I bury my unshaven face deep

head first

in the quicksands

of my mind,

wanting flashbacks of love

but none is coming

Random Unsorted Drafts / / By

I did not fall

far from the tree,

I did not fall

far at all,

but if had

these broken bones of mine

would still be me,

I would still be your

broken dream,

& only you could have

caught me,

only you could have

made the difference; then,

but you also fell

close to your tree,

& you fell much further

than I did,

crushing most of

the sanity & sentiment

of good parenting and

Motherhood

,

I did not fall

far from the tree,

I fell and here I

will remain,

the broken bones &

broken dreams

we share

in silence

Random Unsorted Drafts / / By

without my daemons – ohne Dรคmonen / what would I be / without the hauntings / what would I feel / without asking questions / would I exist / without question marks / will you answer me

Random Unsorted Drafts / / By

I used to wear a skin, an

Armoured suite to keep

You at bay; at a distance

Not quite out of sight, just

Far enough & fair enough

I should have told you this

Secret; secrets we keep

Alone are the ones that

Kill us; eventually

Random Unsorted Drafts / / By

White clouds

I am no prophet

White clouds

Nor do I carry faith in prayer

White clouds

Through foresight I am blessed

White clouds

Without factories & planes droning

White clouds

Without their darkness pluming

White clouds

I see only white clouds

White clouds

I see only blue skies

White clouds

I see a better place

White clouds

A world recovered

White clouds

I see a future again

White clouds

Though I am no prophet

White clouds

Nor carry faith in prayer

White clouds

I am blessed

White clouds

Blessed to be me

White clouds

& in the blue skies up ahead

On white clouds bouncing

I am in truth

Without concern

Random Unsorted Drafts / / By

I am dedicating my first book to a fictional character and to a lady I have never met. I find this world surreal. Like a virus spreading. I keep my hope alive, sighing.

Scroll to Top