Charles III

The sunrise finds him cooling in his bed
who yesterday planned with his royal wife
a future in which neither one was dead;
denial features in king Charles' life.
His mother'd kept him comfortable in Wales
'til any juice of youth was safely spent.
the dernier cri in well-appointed jails
in which her first-born could be life-long pent.
He's done his duty, got a hale male heir
Like Henry couldn't, 'though--Lord knows-- he tried.
If now he's distant from the red haired Spare,
I tend to blame it on his second bride.
Would I be awfully forward to inquire:
"who gets to throw that woman on his pyre?"

legacy

King William died in awkward circumstance;
his squires despoiled the corpse of any worth.
No coffin could be found in all of France,
to fit the English monarch's regal girth.
Enteric fauna took their tranche as well
before a fitting box was found, at last.
Beyond the limit human guts can swell,
He quit this world with one foul putrid blast.
Poor Hector, uncorrupted, lay in state
'til Priam tucked him in, atop his pyre.
But French bacteria disdain to wait;
recycling nutrients, as sure as fire.
These Windsors don't rely on Normans' claims,
but have a thing for inauspicious names

uneasy rests the head

Disdainful of the noisesome, ill-bred mob
prince Charles played polo on his mummy's wealth.
Bereft, obliged long last to get a job
his fingers point to less than sterling health.
Diana was all Britain's princess bride
adored for charity, we felt she cared.
To coronate that woman at his side
the staunchest monarchists confess, they're scared.
An institution of another age;
John Locke explained its deep redundancy.
Camilla's never been the latest rage
but now she's stirring passions on the street.
A third King Charles! His namesakes are long dead.
We'll see how long this one can keep his head.

The Windsors

Prince Harry's coming clean; he's quit the cult
that killed his mother and besmirched her name.
The Family's got no place for an adult
who can't be leashed with wealth, nor gagged with shame.
The Palace Press retorts with candy floss;
watch George and Charlotte chew the moppet roles!
Let peasants, grieving for the late Queen's loss
take comfort thinking someone's in control.
The Tories deem this contretemps a hoot!
distracting shoppers from their BREXIT mire.
As PM after PM gets the boot,
the cost of living's mounting ever higher.
While France dispensed with monarchs long ago,
most Brits still tune in to this stupid show.

parlous times

This latest antic in the BoJo show
might be a hoot if stakes were not so high.
He dared to ask his sov'reign to prorogue
without a guarantee that she'd comply.
Her Majesty signed off, they'll be on break
until October's run full half its course.
Scant opportunity to fix mistakes
as Britain's prospects sag from bad to worse.
Were Corbyn less unpopular by half,
this present Parliament would boot the clown.
But Corbyn as Prime Minister's a laugh;
the multi-party system's broken down.
Yanks dared the world to top Trump's flair to fail;
the British gamely answered "hold my ale".

comic relief

The fourth time Parliament rejects NoDeal,
Theresa won't be there to take the blame.
The Boris! Show's brief novelty appeal
is circling ever faster down the drain.
Now even Corbyn's climbed down off his fence
acknowledging most Britons want to STAY.
Ere long, he'll call a vote of Confidence
and Tories--with their fool--must slink away.
'Til then, banks' capital flees overseas;
investors mistrust Boris and his boys.
They're quite allergic to uncertainties,
dismissing Johnson's promises as noise.
Financiers fear this haystack-headed clown
could shrivel London to a rustic town.

puppetmaster

Beneath the haystack Bojo claims for hair
Bob Mercer sees a weak mind he can bend.
A FaceBook ad...a small donation...there!
His puppet heads a slate of better men.
The City's coffers lost a trillion pounds
on fears their banks won't serve the Continent.
A rash decision, made on shaky grounds
resolved outside the halls of Parliament.
Will Corbyn's Opposition seize the day?
Two years, he offered nothing to believe.
But now, he sorta thinks Brits ought to Stay--
at least until they vote again to Leave.
Bob Mercer's puppets dance to suit his whim
and never question what enriches him.

RSVP

Prince Charles pulls duties Harry would disdain;
to socialize with Trumps he rates a "pass".
He'll never let the Press hear him complain
but Harry'd rather nappy Archie's ass.
The pomp and circumstance that Trump adores,
for Harry seems the height of normalcy.
He's trained to guard his country from new wars
and from this blight upon diplomacy.
But Charles can't ever turn his mummy down.
He's desperate to stay in her good grace.
Still thinking he might someday wear the crown,
he studies showing Donald his best face.
Arriviste peasant, sure he's born to rule;
the Windsors recognize an arrant fool.

stupid woman

Theresa May's state barque has run aground.
So Tories get to find a better man.
But now, they're flirting with that BoJo clown;
the party manifestly has no plan.
It's time insurgents cast off the Old Guard
and find a steady hand to helm this boat.
A second referendum's in the cards,
but still, it's Parliament that gets to vote.
Bob Mercer still aspires to pull the strings,
while using others to conceal his hand.
His dalliance with May's a sterile fling;
deliv'ring nothing got her flatly canned.
The European Project's not dead yet.
But nothing in its future's firmly set.

faux deal

May's BREXIT's only BREXIT in its name
her lot's been ducky in the status quo
when even Boris Johnson gets her game
it's manifest to all who aren't slow.
The Europeans hate the precedent;
to quit the Union must incur a cost!
If every tiff meant members up and went
their own ways, Kant's grand vision would be lost.
A world at peace, forever and a day
where lawyers settle grievances with words
when bombs, and and guns at last were thrown away
'cause war's as obsolete as it's absurd.
Let others pay  the price of endless war;
loud Nigel earned his fee as Putin's whore.

scared ya!

dame Thatcher waged crusade for the repeal
of benefits enshrined since Churchill's day
and voters raised on the English NewDeal
were dumb enough to vote large parts away
the rhetoric was "cut it down to size"
but Maggie's cronies got in and waxed fat
the assets that she loved to privatize
were stolen from the proletariate
now Boris wants to scrap National Health
and sever trade ties to the continent
his cronies hoped to multiply their wealth
but now their thatched-head hero may repent
$2trillion vanished overnight
financial markets don't deal well with fright

Perpetual Peace

John Bull votes "leave!" and Parliament's aghast
no threat to sovereignty was ever real
but Brussels wants divorce proceedings fast
to get some closure on the Brexit deal
save for the Balkans, Europe's been at peace
three score and ten since the UN was formed
as city-states united to form Greece
diplomacy--not bullets--is the norm
the European Project feeds the dream
that nations could agree to foreswear war
but now that project's lost a lot of steam
that hope's more distant than it was before
a New World Order struggles to be made
but Boris Johnson took us retrograde

allegiances

the English proletariate's aggrieved
at policies set by the One Percent
and so they voted Britain ought to leave
and sever trade-ties to the Continent
but Scots are loathe to see liasons fade
they're Europeans no less than they're Brits
since Adam Smith, staunch champions of Trade
rewarding not just resources, but wits
United Kingdom's in for a rough ride
Leviathan's been taken down a peg
is this the wound that leaves the thrones untied
the body politic shorn of one leg
the centre cannot hold; thing fall apart
a great unravelling had petty start