Poetry Drafts

Innocence Protruding

The void inside my head
Echoes the barren land before me,
I stroll aimlessly downwards
Along misty paths obscured,
Towards the Shadowlands of
Satisfaction.

Directionless, one foot then
The other I find my way through
Mazes of nothingness.
Slowly raising a single eyebrow, a
Sign of surviving my two-pronged
Crown.

I raise my glass for pleasure
Drink to keep myself afloat,
Ponder without grandiose pleasure
I think to keep otherness without
As I find my infecund throat
Forsaken

I grind their pills to powder
The mortal pestle slowly stirring
In a mortar of my scull devised,
Failed and by torment raised
Left to my own devices here
I rise, only to tumble again

I snort the flower of every
Colour combined, the
Winter calls me to the
Child unborn, to the
Innocence โ€“

Protruding

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

Each and Every Morning

 Each and every accursed morning
You give me the word of day, as if
I would know what to do with it,
Supposedly expect some release
From this recurring revelation of
Grandiosity

Each and every blasted morning
You whack me, urge me to transition
From sleep to delusions of grandeur,
Poking and prodding my vernacular
mind as you observe the flaws in my
Linguistical appropriations

Each and every cursed morning
I run towards the empty page
Only to find no tools to tell with
So the search for a suitable marker
Commences, the hunger
Growing inside

Each and every damned morning
The quest for pens, pencils or a
Goose neck to wring for a single
Quill ends with empty hands and
Unmanicured nails, ready to scar
The arms of innocence

Each and every execrable morning
The realisation of inadequacy
Presents itself as thus, the
Desireless days of the present
Overshadowing the glory days
Long passed

Each and Every Morning

Each and every accursed morning
You give me the word of day, as if
I would know what to do with it,
Supposedly expect some release
From this recurring revelation of
Grandiosity

Each and every blasted morning
You whack me, urge me to transition
From sleep to delusions of grandeur,
Poking and prodding my vernacular
mind as you observe the flaws in my
Linguistical appropriations

Each and every cursed morning
I run towards the empty page
Only to find no tools to tell with
So the search for a suitable marker
Commences, the hunger
Growing inside

Each and every damned morning
The quest for pens, pencils or a
Goose neck to wring for a single
Quill ends with empty hands and
Unmanicured nails, ready to scar
The arms of innocence

Each and every execrable morning
The realisation of inadequacy
Presents itself as thus, the
Desireless days of the present
Overshadowing the glory days
Long passed

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

Winds of Change

The autumnal Aeolian laughed in
His face, affirming the wind of
change in his particular case โ€“
Utterly inapplicable

Undeserving โ€“ he pondered on
The compulsion for change, on the
Longing for a lone word to spread,
To smear across the empty page
Of an unsullied โ€“ uncovered โ€“
Pamphlet

The springing Scirocco whispered
Words of their unforgiving disapproval,
Words of vanity and passages of
Pretentiousness โ€“ Oh Pooh

Unnerving โ€“ he gobbled another
Handful of God-given goodies then
Slaked his thirst; the goblet
Brimmed with the stale waters of
His long abandoned well

The summer Squall cried for
Compassion,  urged for his untold
Words to be revealed, to revel in
Their freedom from his phobia of โ€“
All things

Unwatched โ€“ his handsome features
Described in yesteryears by others thus,
Reflections in mirrors distorted by
Greed, and misunderstood for โ€“
Wanting

The winter Wuther dull and dreary,
A roaring request to awaken,
Unheard and unheeded
A final call to arms โ€“
Averted

Unrelenting โ€“ the closing of doors,
Like an avoidance of life apparent,
Like a jab of juice unfilled,
A desire for anything โ€“
Wanted

A perennial draught of guilt and
Shame, always worn on sleeves
Of silk, presented yet so rarely
Revealed, most precious though
When served in
Anger 

Winds of Change

The autumnal Aeolian laughed in
His face, affirming the wind of
change in his particular case โ€“
Utterly inapplicable

Undeserving โ€“ he pondered on
The compulsion for change, on the
Longing for a lone word to spread,
To smear across the empty page
Of an unsullied โ€“ uncovered โ€“
Pamphlet

The springing Scirocco whispered
Words of their unforgiving disapproval,
Words of vanity and passages of
Pretentiousness โ€“ Oh Pooh

Unnerving โ€“ he gobbled another
Handful of God-given goodies then
Slaked his thirst; the goblet
Brimmed with the stale waters of
His long abandoned well

The summer Squall cried for
Compassion, urged for his untold
Words to be revealed, to revel in
Their freedom from his phobia of โ€“
All things

Unwatched โ€“ his handsome features
Described in yesteryears by others thus,
Reflections in mirrors distorted by
Greed, and misunderstood for โ€“
Wanting

The winter Wuther dull and dreary,
A roaring request to awaken,
Unheard and unheeded
A final call to arms โ€“
Averted

Unrelenting โ€“ the closing of doors,
Like an avoidance of life apparent,
Like a jab of juice unfilled,
A desire for anything โ€“
Wanted

A perennial draught of guilt and
Shame, always worn on sleeves
Of silk, presented yet so rarely
Revealed, most precious though
When served in
Anger

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

Elyanna

Elyanna, mistress of the pipes
Blow him a final note
Take him to the otherlands
Where true bliss and joy
Reside

Elyanna, mistress of the pipes
Take a leaf from the tree of life
Grind it and absorb the elixir of
Truth, thrice so thunders the
Revelations

Elyanna, mistress of the pipes
Hear the words unspoken
Convey His sacred untold lore
The divine bridge once forsaken
Lay in ruins

Elyanna, mistress of the pipes
Rebuild his broken bones
Heal his unshielded mind
Reunite the scattered pieces of
A moribund guardian of Gaia 

Elyanna

Elyanna, mistress of the pipes
Blow him a final note
Take him to the otherlands
Where true bliss and joy
Reside

Elyanna, mistress of the pipes
Take a leaf from the tree of life
Grind it and absorb the elixir of
Truth, thrice so thunders the
Revelations

Elyanna, mistress of the pipes
Hear the words unspoken
Convey His sacred untold lore
The divine bridge once forsaken
Lay in ruins

Elyanna, mistress of the pipes
Rebuild his broken bones
Heal his unshielded mind
Reunite the scattered pieces of
A moribund guardian of Gaiaย 

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

i-said-no-black-4786849

I Said No

You ask me for my index finger
I offer you my further
reaching๏ผŒ

You ask for more and more of
same, of sameness, kindness and
the final shiver,

You ask for careful kisses to
sooth your aching days
away,

You ask for answers given
in the margin of the book
unwritten,

You ask me for a singularity
And I -- I said

No



You ask me for my index finger
I offer you my further
reaching๏ผŒ

You ask for more and more of
same, of sameness, kindness and
the final shiver,

You ask for careful kisses to
sooth your aching days
away,

You ask for answers given
in the margin of the book
unwritten,

You ask me for a singularity
And I -- I said

No

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

As The Viper’s Bugloss Wilted

I left you without farewells
The only way I knew
The only way I could remain โ€“ sane

I left you a pink rabbit
For your circadian cravings
To save you โ€“ from yourselves

I left you with the knowing
You would only stay awash
While the voltaic charge โ€“ prevailed

I left you without a future
For your darkened moods
As the viper's bugloss wilted

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

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