Hey, Iscariot

Take your lariat and bury it

in the vestibule inherited

haplessly intact and blessing waste

in haste to capture those willing to 

capitulate to winds in various 

quirks of hate scams spates of buttering up

and fawning by dutiful crews eager to

suck up to anyone in exchange for

the muck of shoulder tap by undeserving

dolts in grabbed authority for the nonce once 

free thought has ground to a halt their sheeply ways 

mean genuflection in a holding pattern 

not much to watch except in absence of sense

in vogue by those unthinking willing to nod