Alphabet City

Imagine the convoy turns around,
preempts its trip to Kiev, recalculates
its route back to Moscow, with greater
intent to succeed now than when their
target was Ukraine, finally - a just mission

144 million Russians in the streets...
all eyes on a single target

Certainly would send the right message

cc: Carlos, Michael, J. Lennon, Y. Ono (girl, put on some clothes!)
2022

The nurse asked if I indulged in recreational drugs.
I told her no, that all of my drug use was strictly professional.

cc: Chagall, C. Marin, T. Chong
2022

I am 
at the intersection of
two infinities

From both ends afar
I am
the vanishing point

The zero
is what
I am

cc: Michael, C. Chagall

Ms. Goldberg,

Today we will conclude with Lesson #2
on "Race: Thinking Out Of The Box."

Before we start, we are sorry to announce that 
this will be the final offering, and that we 
are cancelling next semester's
Master Class.

best regards,
MCS

P.S.  Consider: why not rebrand your show as
Views.  I believe you could pull it off.  Show the way.  
Show the ignorant yentas around the table how it's done.
Make a difference.

cc: Chagall 2022

The eternally irreplaceable,
parts of our lives that are gone forever,
churches, temples, our keepers of the faith,
hold the names of those who preceded us,
their births, their deaths, joyous life in between,
vulnerable to the flame and the bomb,
but never will they burn or be destroyed,
long may they live, Slava Ukraini!

cc: Chagall, World
2022

Inside a looped noose
The world is oh so simple
Just pull on the bow

cc: Chagall 2022

There in the air, if I listen intently,
the sounds of their cries
(or perhaps they're in my head?)
but wait, are they...quiet!
behind the walls...do you hear it?
the shrill squeal of ill-oiled machines

cc: Chagall 2022

I no longer go to sleep,
instead I await it to overcome me

cc: Chagall 2022

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1882

Sleep, comrades, sleep and rest
  On this Field of the Grounded Arms,
Where foes no more molest,
  Nor sentry's shot alarms! 

Ye have slept on the ground before,
  And started to your feet
At the cannon's sudden roar,
  Or the drum's redoubling beat. 

But in this camp of Death
  No sound your slumber breaks;
Here is no fevered breath,
  No wound that bleeds and aches. 

All is repose and peace,
  Untrampled lies the sod;
The shouts of battle cease,
  It is the Truce of God! 

Rest, comrades, rest and sleep!
  The thoughts of men shall be
As sentinels to keep
  Your rest from danger free. 

Your silent tents of green
  We deck with fragrant flowers;
Yours has the suffering been,
  The memory shall be ours.

Dear Mr. Putin,

1917 and 1933 are calling.  They want their foreign policy back.

best regards,
MCS

cc: C. Chagall, B.H.Obama, M. Romney