Our Thoreau

Thoreau of our troubled times
lives in a house with wind chimes.
He sends Email, tweets and blogs
Those are the woods for his jogs.
He holds a PhD in taxation
His life long fixation
He occupies a place in Occupy
Watches TV with a regular sigh
He hears things beyond the drone of Drones
Sees footage of the living and then their bones
Of the far-away land where bomb smoke rises
Where every corner suicidally uprises.
A whistle blower from within, he doesn't rest
Till all the governments are put to test
Post nine-eleven he is the same
Questions the torture methods of shame
He often goes in search of forest and light
Deeper and deeper into the human plight.