Black Thursday

Divorce is never easy, it can be painful in fact.  This divorce is going to hurt and be a grim, long drawn out example to be set for the other naughty scoundrels caught red-handed attempting to upset the happy home..

Today is that dreaded morning, like the ones after bad sex with its cold, remorseful sweats and regrets that it was done without thinking – drunk on frustration,  too drunk to make a clear decision and so we regret…

decisions that we make… once so tantalising, perching heavily on full and pouted lips.

Clouds hang down, full
and plump – prosperity’s cushions;
heavy bosomed, full of promise,
poised – teasing us, but never quite breaking –
we were inching closer to the monsoon.
Let the pouring fall on us
mid gloom, let them pour silence
onto chaos too.
Silence is never wasted
it is full of possibilities
solutions to problems floating around us
Thunder has struck at the gamble –
tossed gauntlets were stolen,
abused and ran away with, leaving
us cast adrift.
We are speechless – shock bows
to more silence which gave way to
racism and bigotry long since,
and
misinformation has blinded
their view, and stifled our visions.
We are divided and torn –
ironic regret greets the dawn.
Chaos looms and the sodden clouds
hang further still.
The air of depression and pressure
squeezes the captain – leapt
from the sinking ship
that for years has rammed through
an infrastructure of an already unfair
system,
and made us bleed with the ice breaker’s
spike, plunged into our hearts, making kebobs
of the meagre scraps we hold and generations
have fought for – pierced by
the poisonous tip of right wing fascist
masters of old – reborn,
dredged up today, back from the dead
when their graves became restless,
to drown the voice of our young –
who were muted –
their voices were taken from them
by outmoded perceptions
exhausted traditions, and hackneyed
mind set –
they have lost their say,
kicked and stomped on
by old hatreds, new intolerance,
resentments and economic
naivety.
The cloud chooses to burst now,
bitter divisions rain down
optimism’s
pessimism
pours
to swell these uncertain waters
to fill a future that is
unsure
unsafe
unrewarding,
complex
unfair
not thought out
dictated to
misguided
ignorance based,
intimidating?
The plebiscite are unafraid, blinded by panic
and misjudged retaliation, but afraid
of a single market
and an ever shrinking world
and the wrong colour skin,
and in this frenzy they are not so frightened,
and very willing
to scatter the rest of us to the four corners
of disenchantment,
frustration,
detachment,
estrangement –
brought about by
puppet masters in the south.
Bring them down, do not break something
because you can and are angry,
like petulant, naive, brainwashed children.
The United Kingdom is dead,
long live this separate, septic isle.
The Un-united Kingdom
of Phobic Hysteria.
Disenfranchised,
despondent,
disgusted,
disregarded –
we are united.
You ‘have your country back’,
and I hope you get wet.
It never rains but it pours,
and notoriously in Great Btitain.