Mark Of Neptune Poem by Christian Thomas Scott

More often than not, Oh! without a doubt,
The great scheme of and all things,
Will be viewed at length.
Produced by, and for whomever
Isn't asking. As it is thrust upon a patient,
Tired of waiting, one must be coy to be pursued.

At long last the bridge has been, due to a
Lack of, and I'm sorry to say, words,
As they were abridged.

No one takes to Moria at first.

So if you would, stop with your danger-phrases
And picket-lines.
You bite as though a hook, seeking to be
Bitten.

Yet all fresh enemies grow stale.

Tried at least for no two crimes,
Run deeper than some narrow ford.
But suffice, I'll call them by their own.

A blood moon ran some cloudy vision,
Marking time, and
Marking demons
Run to where and war is imminent,
To be afraid is fine.

To be where, and only travelled by a move
Meant to be and that's how we
Fall over in and over again.
Not as fresh as was before,
As you may need to harvest twice.
Though a year is longer here...
A little farther round.