Thou Art IPL

  1. Thou art IPL, the very agonizing death of cricket

The Faustian fiend who in bargains proceeds to revel;

Offering nothing genuine between the wickets

Alas! In you every cricketer desires to unabashedly bejewel

2.Thou art IPL, the remorseless butcher of the genuine

A throwback to the times of Bacchanalian greed

Beguilingly deceptive from what is actually seen

You accumulate victims by the dozen, slaves to your creed

3,Thou art IPL, instant gratification’s ruthless and remorseless purveyor

Four hours of unabated festering and unheeded lunacy

Sacrificing aesthetics and character at the altar of glamour

To see succumb to your contrived devices is an unrivaled pity

4.  Thou art IPL, a cauldron of nubile nymphs and foreign flesh

With dances prevailing over drives and playboys snubbing players

Leering spectators and salivating adults in unison progress to enmesh

You peel cricket of its joy in long strips and painful layers

5. Thou art IPL, the tempting Mammon’s trusted chieftain

Catching the game by the scruff of its neck and plunging it into a spiraling hole

As the lure of fame and luster of fortune firmly possesses many able men

Congratulations! To you the beautiful game of cricket has sold its pristine soul!

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