I believe I’m correct in saying that when crowned as King, this weekend coming, Prince Charles, will become ‘the supreme governor’ of the Church of England.
As the latest head of the British monarchy, he, alongside the Archbishop of Canterbury, will be head of the Protestant faith, a faith in God which numbers between 800 million and 1 billion followers worldwide.
I believe I’m also correct in saying that the current edict of the Protestant Faith supports the commandments as preached in the Holy Bible.
The accepted belief of the Roman Catholic faith, along with others who consider themselves to be believers in God, is that the Sixth Commandment states– thou shall not commit adultery.
However, I understand there is a theological debate within the Protestant Faith over what constitutes the word adultery. But what is definitely accepted by the Protestant Church is the Seventh Commandment:-to cherish and honour marriage.
I wonder if Charles or the woman he is NOW married to can believe either of them honoured or cherished their own marriages?
How can anybody who is part of the contemporary establishment support this absurd charade?
Unless of course …I’ve got why!
The furnished support is based on the simple understanding that some sort of honour or privilege will be given to the donor.
Will we ever again hear these, or similar dulcet words of lament, said of our United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland:—
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Fear’d by their breed and famous by their birth,
Taken from Act 2… The Tragedy of Richard II… from John of Gaunt’s deathbed scene
Where is our John of Gaunt in our present hour of need?
Where is our Shakespeare in this looming tragedy?
This desecrated Isle of Kings
So loved for such many things
Where go you as I stand in line
In this queue for food for such expensive time?
Lives are wasted in faraway land
Once our friend, now considered out-of-hand.
Where go you in such time of need,
When it’s us who pays for your waste and greed?
Oh King in name but snake in passion
Perhaps it needs your grasp to be chasten.
Or does your eye seek another’s bride
Who does not attend your farce but stays to hide?
Go you fool, to play elsewhere
On some cold isle, no horse to share.
Alone to rot, fester and decay
With no one to scrape to your regal sashay.
© 2023 Daniel Kemp All Rights Reserved