Upon the land of Ukraine, this tale I must retell,
West courted Russias brethren but alas, it dost not gel.
They speak of victories grand, their cloaks in hubris immersed,
Yet sides remain unchosen in this war, by gold unrehearsed.

In view of ale-soaked cellars, a tale of prices sprung,
The cost of fuel hath soared, on every common tongue.
OPEC and her kin have turned the spigot thin,
'Tis but a ghostly echo, the once-full barrels tin.

Now hark! Las Vegas, city of sin and neon light,
Hit by a cyber arrow, in day turned into night.
A step into the past, a time of cog and gear,
For MGM's proud towers, an echo drawing near.

by Brother Arnulfus

a centaur