Who is to care for the forever-after-in-a-coma?
Who is to redeem the eyes that bleed salt?
Who is to mend the china heart?
Who is to blame for the perfect storm?
And the lighthouse that is far beyond?
Who is to blame for the stadium that became
A refuge after sieging Katherina?
Who is the tattoo in your arm and
The voodoo in your charm?
Who is to blame if the tinted windows of a church
Has more light than the Mardi Gras?
Who is to blame when you are on the brink of insanity?
Who do we remember when we are just a second away?
The unprepared moment that delves
Into the unknown but returns not.
Who is to blame for the nuclear bombs?
That were built from yellow cake prospected
Deep from the Congo? Can regret be the
Anecdote to unblossomed courage?
Who is to blame if I was not made like Brad Pitt?
Who is to blame for the all the undone lives?
The genetic makeup that have
A say in everything, except when we reach
The light at the end of a tunnel.
Who is to blame for evolution, or making
It all obvious, to know that once long time ago,
We were just in the beginning as prospering
Metazoans. Who is to blame if beauty
Is skin deep? Playboy or Cosmopolitan?
Who is to blame if the man who invented
Dynamite makes an endowment from his grave
To the ones who would break the rules,
And call it a stroke of genius or luck or neither,
A space marble to a golf ball. A buckyball to an atom.
Schrodinger’s cat saying “meow” louder
Than any one of Darwin’s barking K9s.
Who is to blame for the paradox
Of technology? or the oxymoron for
The perfect imperfection, we oversell?
The irony of being able to change
The future, looking back
At the past and still
Not doing it.