"A" Poem

The android shifts with animism,
Eyes anneal identity schism;
The acerbic feel of acid in him
Quiets endless algorithms.

Acquit your acrid codes, robot,
Acoustic pleasures please you not;
Adapt to numbers you have fought-
Relief from anguish can be bought.

West Side

Exclusive? Sure not-
Just look at this lot
Spread in shambles all stuck in the ground-
See a sink in the grass
Or a bong as you pass?
It's all part of the West side of town.

Where old women, perhaps
Sit with pets on their laps
Watching game shows all night and all day,
And hip cats live next door
Playing cards on the floor
Til the nightlife will call them away.

You want art? We got plenty
And you won't need a penny-
Spend a day on our canvas of homes
Where the scene is spring flowers
And black tire towers
And a rainbow of fat garden gnomes.

While estates on the East
Stand with eloquent speech
And our homes tend to mumble and stray
We don't get ourselves down-
It's the West side of town-
It's a trip and we like it that way.