Libatious Ignatius

From behind the taps, he conducts his court,
over the bar, podium, he caws his social report.
Deposing from the creaking perch of a rusted stool,
by threat of 30 lashes of the tongue, he rules.
Daily, he takes his image out for a strut,
flaunting his ego to conceal the rut.
Effusive curmudgeon, razing humanity to the ground
in hopes to slow the fall of a self-view unsound.