Royally Under Oath

How boring the expensive pageantry,
reminiscent of a tin-pot regime,
where ruler swallows money greedily.
A show of corruption, really, that’s seen.

Or one of those awful red square parades.
That, too, has talented pilots fly past.
Here, it is feudalism that’s displayed,
with the peasants present as extras, cast.

Don’t they know that there’s a war going on?
‘So important can’t get rid of PM’.
In that context, where does this show belong?
with its huge subsidy, real, to ‘pretend’.

And Empire lauded. A foul heritage.
Has racial backdrop of ‘White Privilege’.

Britain is peppered with royal binges.
Royal weddings, jubilees, funerals.
Public’s privilege to pay, infringes.
Waves, smiles, solemnity … reciprocals.

As if not enough granted annu’lly.
As if not possessing huge private wealth.
As if not live in palaces rent-free.
As if not free from costly laws by stealth.

Best that can claim, a tourist attraction.
And visit, now and again, charities.
From politics, a useful distraction.
Loyalty built on regal fantasies.

As if on feudal tradition, hinges
managing Britain’s decline. Hence binges.

I swear I think it wrong all the swearing.
Not bad language, but all the oath-taking.
It is a feudal relic, most glaring.
Loyalty to King sworn undertaking.

All sorts in public office required to.
Parliamentarians, military,
judges, and all sorts of others, too, do.
Not to democracy or the country,

it is allegiance to the sovereign.
Such an oath to obtain citizenship.
Conspiratorial in origin.
Bad smell, as bad history comes with it.

Chartists transported for taking oaths, crime.
To get rid of all of them, swear it’s time.

Declared, Constitutional Monarchy.
The vows, and the oaths, all to uphold that.
Not, Parliamentary Democracy.
Can dispense with, as a matter of fact.

Only tolerate the politicians.
Abide by elections, but need not do.
Kept under strict control, oppositions.
To the King, flunkeys show allegiance to.

The Crown alluded to, as though the State,
But pre-eminent is the monarchy.
The State infused as though no other state.
The King is sovereign. Has the sovereignty.

Could authoritarianism bring,
this version of the divine right of kings.

Lying in there was once a King. Was once.
Was said ‘God save the King’ and it meant him.
Decomposition erasing, ‘though once
was King, with all the tribute life could bring.

Lying in there, too, once a Queen. She ruled.
Was said ‘Rule Britannia’. She at its head.
Now past, the pomp and the glamour; the rule.
Decay only; once all was done and said.

Lying in there, a whole bunch of royals.
And not one of them ‘my liege’ anymore.
Entombed Pharaohs. To eternity toils.
Regal trappings. Now still-life to endure.

However dressed, or attempt to preserve,
in the vault, were once … future will observe.

Notably, can be called the King of Glee
for persona could think, reasonably,
full of good humour and laughter. Happy.
From his circumstances, conceivably.

Rubs his hands with it, invariably.
A ‘chuckle brother’, could say teasingly.
Jolly good reason, indubitably.
Funny how it is, that way born to be.

However performs, deemed ‘competently’.
In fact, often be told, ‘exemplary’.
Not bothered by hecklers with enmity.
Joker’s amusing cloak, for all to see.

The joy there in all done seriously.
Notably, can be called the King of Glee.

The dead, exclaimed ‘of happy memory’.
Proclaimed with the seriousness of pomp.
Appropriate at a cemetery,
if person liked, for mourners to adopt.

Be nice to think ‘of happy memory’,
describing oneself as one’s destiny.
Being regarded exceptionally.
A fitting tribute, I think, that would be.

Sort of blessed if ‘of happy memory’.
Would mean liked, perhaps respected, when known.
Spoken in its way, celebratory.
The good feeling toward, sincerely shown.

Fine, if say, Crier-comparatively,
name of the dead ‘of happy memory’.

Death of the Owner. Incessant tributes.
The radio and the television
to background noise and images, reduced.
For anything else, little provision.

Death of the Owner. Vigils and parades.
Church services. Told, experience shared.
Will be repeats to ensure never fades.
At this time, a case of no expense spared.

Death of the Owner. Much unattended.
Politics. Told unseemly behaviour
if dealing with crisis not suspended.
Just think of the Owner as the saviour.

And note that although the Owner is dead,
it is ‘God Save the New Owner’ instead.

Glory, Glory, Glory Hallelujah.
Rest of the world must think peculiar,
dance of pomp. Quirky sort of ‘ooh la la’
where all subservient; all junior.

Even the military high-standings,
with sashes and medals, all generals,
admirals, pilots of plenty landings,
attend, uniform, in their overalls.

And bowed, too, politicians of one mind.
Turn-up in black; all in black; black only.
Dispute, they insist, for another time.
Praise, or lips sealed to avoid baloney.

Glory, Glory Hallelujah, sung song,
for ‘The Family’ to go marching on.

I can see, display of authority;
The power there to maintain position.
More than ceremonial, it can be.
Have force, as available provision.

Armed forces and police pledge of loyalty.
And the constitution insists ‘in charge’.
Behind the façade there’s all that fealty.
Propaganda first, though. Them, written large.

But if appeared, real Republican threat,
could easily turn violent toward.
At first, imprisonment for disrespect.
If desperate, murder during discord.

They will not go without a civil war.
Until then, exude power to endure.

Parliament has become problematic.
Relegated down the pecking order.
It thought its importance automatic.
But, amongst the drums, muted recorder.

Party majority means dominance
of leaders not of most peoples’ choosing.
The House should function to speak common sense,
but almost as though it is refusing.

Has long periods when not in session.
When sits, hidebound rules and pompous nonsense.
What said, barely reported expression
that to most people of no relevance.

Made itself subservient to the King.
And like the country it’s in, declining.