Cheat Day

My kitchen knife is a
Vegetarian.
Prefers to cut onions,
Tomatoes and potatoes.
Refuses even to consider
Working on the paneer,
To flaunt its vegan-ness.

But occasionally it
Slips off a bit to cut
My finger a little,
Claiming it's a cheat day.

It's just like my tongue-
Preference to just a bit
Of salt and sourness-
Abstaining from any
Form of sugar.

But then again,
Its boneless attribute,
That takes it everywhere
Makes it tumble sometimes-
Utters the 'F' word without
Any restraint.

My pens that lie and
The glasses that colour
My sight sometimes.

My Uncle- Uncle Sam,
Comes to my mind.
Who breeds doves,
Preaches peace.
Holds conciliations to
Sign treaties.

But then, when he drinks
A little on weekends,
The chauvinism under
His pink coat comes out,
Knocking on random doors-

Compelling him to rape
A couple of those
Poor countries, quoting-
Their cigarette smoke is a
Potential mushroom cloud.