A different kind of Saint

See him on the street

Homeless

Wandering

Talking to no one in particular

Crazy

Insane

Schizophrenic

Or is he
 One of the blessed

A modern day Saint

Privileged and

Cursed

Allowed to hear

The divine voices

Converse with god

Who can say

Hope

So tired

I can sleep anywhere

Uncomfortable

Noisy

Cold – hot

Sleep through anything

Sleep in a cardboard box

So hungry

Trash cans look inviting

Leftovers left on plates in a restaurant

Look like a feast

A meal at a soup kitchen

Is a special treat

So lonely

I find myself

Talking to the pigeons

Seeking out rats and vermin

That infest where I sleep

Treating them a pets

Have long involved two sided

Conversations with my “imaginary” friends

So depressed

Seek out the desperate

And homeless

To feel better about myself

Have serious doubts about

My existence

So surprised

That I still take the

Time to crawl out of my

Cardboard home each morning

Bother to have a life

Fild a reason to stay alive

Most of all

I am surprised

That I still

Have hope

It’s an illusion

Privacy is an illusion

Cameras everywhere

Internet monitoring

Cell phone intercepts

Constant surveillance

It is not Orwell’s Big Brother

George missed the mark

Eisenhower was on target

He warned about the

Massive military industrial complex

Big Business is the symbol

Of unchecked dystopian intrusion

Big Tech with the magnificent seven

Big Energy – oil and gas

Big …

Ag

Banking

Pharma

Financial Services

E-Commerce

And more

There is nowhere to hide

From their prying eyes

And ears

Our lives are an open book

On display for those in power

To browse and

Even re-write

As they see fit