On The Street They Call Desire (Poverty) Poem by A. P. Hancock

Dedicated to All the Homeless Children Around the World

I saw my old friend Cal today, Dwight and Dywan were his names
They’re little boys that no one knows, with thousands just the same
They live on streets like Piety, Desire, Abundance and more
Treasure and Pleasure and Benefit, streets I’d never seen before

I went to help Dywan to read, and write and add and stuff
I didn’t know just what I’d find, but I knew I’d find it tough
I felt the thing would stretch me some, and make me look and see
Look and see I did that day, but the thing I saw shouldn’t be

I saw children by the dozens there, with no Abundance and no Treasure
I saw precious souls made from the hand of God, with no Benefit or Pleasure
How ironic I thought as I passed those streets, that this would be the place
That hurt and pain and sorrow would thrive, in almost every little face

I finished my time with Dwight and Dywan, and crossed on over the tracks
My mind was racing with a thousand thoughts, mostly the cold hard facts
That these dear angels will never rise, above this muck and mire
Until I’m obsessed with changing things, on the street they call Desire