Let's get this party started.

Brexit was always a setup...leave campaigners could provide hope even if that hope was based on lies whereas remain campaigners could only really run a negative campaign, what leaving would mean for us, how leave campaigners are lying to us and setting up any evidence based fact sharing as 'project fear'. When people have been struggling due to austerity, hope is more powerful even if austerity was a political choice of our government and not the EU...people didn't have the time or wherewithal to fully understand the details, how they'd been lied to. The emotional pull of manipulation needs to be understood to comprehend how this works...if manipulation didn't work they wouldn't do it. May is now manipulating people into distrusting parliament...people who voted to leave have gone from hope to despair and anger again, the rest of us involved remain in despair and anger and look for hope in a people's vote, again, a road that will not put right what this government has put wrong. Trust in politics has never been so damaged. What we desperately need is a system that works for the people and not the minority the tory party has been bought and paid to syphon public money that's meant for public use into profiting the wealthy and corporate elite. People are then seduced into paying less tax as that tax isn't benefitting our communities and the cycle of corruption continues under a tory government. Can we say anything positive about remaining in the EU when it's our government causing the disenfranchisement of us all and where the EU can do nothing to prevent our domestic decline? Nor can the UN hold them to account...UK governments have routinely ignored international law, showing contempt for any body standing in their power hungry way. If you, the 'ordinary person' are not spitting furious with this government in particular or the system, you're not paying attention. Leaving the EU will free them up for greater corporate lobbying to make their own regulations on food, drink and environmental protections with the bottom line of maximising profit with no care what this means for us or the world...this has already been expressed as a positive, they will be free to dismantle human/workers rights and if you think we're not being heard now no matter how large the demonstration or protests think how it will be when they continue with their quest to silence us once and for all...they've already made striking much harder and removed workers rights for the first two years of employment! We can vote them out I hear you say...yeah, good luck with that one. Do you really think your vote is not subject to specific targetting if it mattered or they'd let us have Corbyn or any other 'radical reformer' as PM? No, we have to be fully awake and totally outraged before the toppling of such a corrupt system. Votes are won by deceit, that's how the tories keep winning and only Labour wins when there's a centrist leader brown nosing the elitist establishment. How can we turn this into a positive campaign? According to George Monbiot, we have to provide an alternative story, an economic model that gives us greater control over our communities, a public involvement on how our taxes are spent...these models are out there and working well for the people in parts of the world. How do we get there? How do we overthrow the right wing supporting media to have this story told so powerfully that people will rise up en masse to make the change we and this planet are in dire need of making? Do we have to fall so low before realizing our decline is because of the UK, not the EU?

Wholly broken.

Still scambling with projected hate when rejected by another...even if that other isn't wanted by me. The hurt never leaves when the loss of a mother's love continues...that loss derived when the child grows away from her encompassing grasp, her control, a natural separation from the womb into individual life. One gaping hole that can never be filled just lived and yet try to fill I carry on...distractions of varied and univeral kinds that connects all who know the inflicted upon life. I shall gave in to the pain, the tears and cry as I did when missing my father, remembering how he held responsible I for her from far too young an age to comprehend so he wouldn't have with her outragious displays of no repsonsibility taken dealt. My last conveyed anger with him when he came to reprimand yet again and in adulthood, a mother of my own children, I was relieved to have had before he died...in terms I told clear that he chose to marry the woman, that if he couldn't deal that is his problem to bear, not mine. I know he knew I was right, I know he loved me the best he could...I'm not so generous toward her although in distance I feel greater compassion than when in contection as then I'm pushed toward anger time and time again. It can be hard not when buttons are deliberately pushed even if not reacting externally at least...the frustration and confliction ensue when continuously abiding someone who claims to love treats in such a harmful way...my child within was tormented whilst realized this hatred she showed was and always will be her own.

I will untangle myself.

Internalizing another's projections of confusion, inconsistent and awry, is quite confusing me.

The curious case of it all. (Eric Roth the author, not Fitzgerald. I know!)

Loitering in the stratosphere, a wanton undependable or steadfast descent toward a solid footing I can barely tell...an unsettled toppling of preconceptions, a shift in the course from the blue I know not how nor why and in the fall I ponder. Compartmentalizing time, now for unplanned leisure, peeling back a layer of crusted protection and then for...I narrowly escape the plan I made, the confused construction of story to share by a whisper in my ear gently blowing the words "it's alright, now you can breathe" whatever the course of the other. The playing field is levelling but I am still a propertyless wretch scoring a home goal not to win any game. The spectator of repositioning. My journey is all I now have to share and in another rotation perhaps that tale too will turn to dust as daily the story is throwing up new truths once ardently sealed, perhaps to consolidation. Calmly unexpected expectance found untrustingly, gently pulling me to ground, a burial of birth anew shone upon, watered and ready to flourish then wither then live as the seasoned defenceless warrior comes to tend to wounds at last ready to heal. A hand upon my heart and all is well.

"Everything I know, I know because of love." Tolstoy.

I can hardly say what I feel. Momentarily and ephemeral have I felt something akin and at those times I have a name but this...this, it's as if coming home but I've never been home, only known in deep consciousness it exists. My entity is all a twirl, elevated, soothed, torrent, a strong and barely controllable emotion of heat rising when thoughts run into him, to it all. A knowledge of nothing I feel will ever hurt so much yet inviting all the pain that I know within the depths of me will grow into the clearest light I have been walking toward since conception. I have no title for this, there is no God, no divinity guiding me. I have no understanding other than I love...loving without fear, giving in, getting out of my way. If perdition is where I head then I am armed, if connection is the destination then I am at last free.

Purposeful destination to nowhere but here.

I woke from a dream that was my life as if waking from a life dreamed. Caught up in pursuit of what I don't gain yet carrying all along which I hold in worthy hand, for love. In wonderment, I explore like tea party madness falling into a darkness with much rhyme but little reason. It is desperation in want of exploring an impossible dream, or perhaps the possible reality that loses itself from view is wantonly seekable. To be the future, a well sense of being as imagined I shall be again in body that was once lost in mind (not now it catches up with itself the body and mind in almost alliance), the wished for that makes this life a muted stratus cloud to ride down with rain or snow. Lying in restraining sickness, drained my mind wanders to places never likely to be. "Hope," they say, "keep on with hope". I'd rather not want, give in to projection if I will live with such disconnection from this moment's happiness of a sort that brings stilled peace. Burnt in this noisy confusion, the human life scholars and philosophers tear into our souls apart to put together reconnected to a sense like past wisdom creeping back in, just hidden for a while that is always millennium in the making. What feels real then nudges awake is at hand one moment and gone in the toss of another. Life shifts, flexes its perspective so that we may never keep up and rest in what is for longer than a fleeting second yet those fractions of time we stretch to fit a day, a fantasy, a marriage scared in losing whilst losing it all. This time in feeling is all I truly embody, to stay is to leave, to live in purposeful observation of relationship with all that flowers and sings, grinds and halts to then let go we must to move. Feet off the ground around living without anchor to the world created by man and woman alike. Separate and connected paradoxical flow. That is my dream, this is my want of life.

Living in a slipstream.

I remember the memory of a smell in a darkened wood furniture, a sideboard holding within itself a warmth and security that I only otherwise found in books and the hushed sound of reasoned stories I'd yet to understand from my father's lips. In this cupboard was stored the very fabric of my life required for calmness, a breathing in of assurance. I've not breathed that same scent since, only in the aroma of the pages do I find a level of comfort, the words hold an entirely different meaning but no less enlightening, providing a connection within and in relation to the world outside. The means by which I escape the slipstream of the other's bungled ideas put together of how we should be living and get back into a mere and simple natural pace that provides support and reality beyond the bullshit of everyday existence in these times of incredible falsehood, for incredible it is to withstand such separation without cracking apart entirely.

If I were braver I'd not be as private in my dealings with my fellow people but I am in secrecy provided a peace of mind that would otherwise shatter the fragile house I reside, made unstable by a shifted high moral ground that would sink me into a hole of unconformity. I am pulled to pit myself against that which would punish me, leave me without my roof that also robs me greatly, for home is and has never been a sanctuary for my bruised existence. It is an aim I feel greater angst the closer I become. A troubled belief that all will be lost once found. I am spent by the hurdles I jump, desperately requiring rest fully in the safeness I defend myself against. That stillness I become restless in sitting too long yet not nearly long enough before interrupted by the pull of judgement, only in deserved retirement may we stop. I want not to strive for that final lap set about in this wretched society but to know deep within that the end line is just the beginning of where we are all along. The awakening deriving from awareness of the life we hide in futile attempts to show ourselves in progressive light, that which we have achieved through strife and collection, not enlightenment and letting go. I want to let go and slip away into my own stream of existence. To have is to be, so I strive to be.