Highland Manor Apartments - redone with more satisfactory formatting in the myopic eyes of this bard.

(Subtitled: The Perspective Of One Festive Folky)

Our present habitat digs (per this mister
and his missus), a psychic boon
dock - located at geographical coordinates,
(circa 1684 folks wove cocoon)
40.2562° North, 75.4638° West,
now a vestige of Pacific rural life lock
across American landscape usurped
from indigenous peoples, in cold blood
eponymous namesake affixed
to honor exploits of “European Outsiders”,
with each constituent treaty a dud
mortgaged to industrialization contributing
to lowlands to flood
comprising one of many complex edifices –
at latitude and longitude not prone to flood
this repurposed elementary school
into affordable housing sans low income good
lee managed by Grosse and Quade,
which facility nestled far from any hood,
gang or foo fighting beastie boys
lacking manners with actions lewd
thus within the pastoral enclave
of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania,
there prevails a tranquil mood
with concomitant safety,
such that an inhabitant can patter about
(in their apartment) nude
though prudish older occupants may object,
and especially be prude
dish, snapping, popping and moaning
with unsolicited mutterings mostly rude
claiming to lack comprehending the habits
of younger generations 'liberal at tee tude
nonetheless, the sprawling range “Penn's Wood'”

rightfully, the Elysian Fields of lush, resplendent
and transcendent hue Kant
argue against snatched, stolen and swindled
with hollow promises – a grant
with absolutely zero compensation given,
where prevaricated misdeeds
against slandered “red men” intruders did chant
preserving vestigial tidbits
scantily quoted in text books
writ from a biased Western European slant

twas plain and simple genocide
whereat spirits of vanquished “noble savage –
in spare copse hide
to borrow a tagline
from Jean Jacques Rousseau – predating inside
edition (which if fair), would waver
to admit how fore parents lied
and long entrenched perspective adopted
viz pilgrims and/or puritan pride
yet this passive quintessential renegade scrivener
senses ghosts of “Indians”
swoosh at high tide
unseen immortal souls corporeal essence
long since trampled world wide.