The Unblamed

C'mon let's play. 

The Blame Game.

Where the winner get's a medal,

Marked, "The Unblamed".

Let's blame, shame, name.

Number, outnumber, wit outwit,

Protest, mumble,

grumble.

Dumble.

Door.

On the floor.

Beyond which we've fallen to.

As a collective,

of individuals.

That prefer to

Twit, Tweet,

To unblame. 

A burning desire,

at long shot.

Oh! Those 2 seconds of fame.

Come let's blame,

Politicians, bureaucrats, teachers, et al,

Monsanto, GM, Muslims, Red-necks,

Global warming, 

(vile, we're at it),

Vegans, Gays.

Rapists on streets,

Who prey, at day.

In abandoned mills,

Or picturesque hills.

In capitals, 

panchayats, 

homes, houses, hovels.

Street side brothels.

Wherever. Whenever.

Who pray, at day.

Causing furious dismay,

On regular display.

At candle-light vigils.

Of dostoveskian idiots.

Sponsored by L'Oreal?

(that sports Sonam without

her usual shade of lipstick).

Sponsored by the Unreal?

(that supports a future,

we're democratically choosing.

As gift to ourselves).

Those respective progenies...

to whom we pass on,

an excuse lame.

Blame. Blame. Blame.

It's just a game?

Oh! the shame...

For these 5 seconds of fame.

Full marx, it'd seem.

We excel,

to expel.

"Inclusion is so maslow."

No wonder Eden is nowhere to be found.

And Paradise Lost is just another bovine comedy.

No, let's just tame. 

Conservatives, Democrats, BJP, FB, Congress,

Dynasties, MMSes, Nepotism, Despotism.

Corruption, Eruption.

Premature ejaculation.

Costly medication.

Cheap meditation.

On railway station.

In outraged nation.

By rising ocean.

Cheaply entertained...

By gnawing frustration.

Labelled: 

Bollywood, 

Norwegian Woods,

Tiger in the woods.

Burning bright, adulteresses adultering. 

at night. 

To keep gossip columns,

mongering for a flight.

To media's delight.

Politicians, bureaucrats, judges, et al.

for our humanities fall.

The big and the Small.

I could go on,

google longer list.

God, Religion, cell-phone towers,

wasted hours.

And all that is not ours.

I could go on,

And on. 

But all we need,

is just the jist.

Just with ice, 

is just justice. 

That comes with cold price.

Of weeping onions.

So, let's pass hotter food bills.

That reward skills,

State sanctioned kills.

Of breeding like fucking rabbits.

And then have something new,

Stale morning dew.

Yet, keep on playing the game.

Name, shame, lame, maim.

Till we go insane.

I could, indeed, go on.

(It'd be so boring, though...

If The Blame Game had,

just unholy trinity

to point fingers at.

I, me. And myself.)