hornèd horseshit stew

Tribalistic winds are blowing
Salty, semiotic hues
Where idiotic feudalists
Are winnowing the truth

Their petty banners billowing
With whimsy platitudes
To the cannon fodder wallowing
In hornèd horseshit stew

But the vessel they are following
Is rotting with the mist and mites
And all the options hollow
As the crap is brought to light

And blow by populistic blow
The biggest tells the lowest show
Believing most what least they know
In multiples of what they owe

The nationalistic tally-hoeing
Shot its fox with proxy votes
And the Blighty battle bus is running
Out of road and rope

On every trope of treason, you can see them
Start imploding as they note
The knotted collars they are holding and
Well: let the vassalising villains choke


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