Mean Street Poem by Barry Middleton

the gangster calculates his odds
upon the street bereft of gods
to target whom and when to rob

the addict has no more to lose
and only sees one road to choose
a hit of crack or a shot of booze

the young girl out to sell her soul
seduced herself by Satan's hold
a broken youth the devil stole

while every night a baby born
a mother now will curse the morn
the infant from her arms is torn

filled with rage and tuned to rape
a predator lurks like a vicious ape
his victims will not find escape

the politicians give no answer
but lie and cheat and spin and pander
while hell consumes us like a cancer

the preacher rants on evil deeds
and tries to sow his righteous seeds
that seem to fall among the weeds

so still we pray that there is grace
to lift us to a better place
till then the street is our disgrace