Email Poem

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Poem

Mary had a little lamb
who's fleece was white as snow.
She took it out into the field,
and that lamb Mary did let go.
But only to pull out her gun,
and that lamb Mary she did blow.

She lives in vein inside her brain
a failure to sustain.
Beneath her mane Mary's thoughts
eating her plain and
leaving nothing but pain, ball and chain.
Grieving insane she lives in fear
so far from clean, so far from clear, no
atmosphere here
and my visions declined by this sickness my dear...

She tries to find the key to her mind, but
every door behind negative space is what she will find
so whats to be done?
Marys' to be hung and
the last note she sung was
a message so clean, a message so clear
all gathered round, all lent a listen,
for what Mary said was the point were all missin'...

Can you feel the clouds cry?
as their anger illuminates, flashing across the sky
way up high were we've all died,
way up high were we've all cried,
overcome the loss of wich is to come
a problem that fails to match the sum.
Mary was there but she just wasn't here,
maybe Mary's thoughts were the ones that are clear. 
                 
                                                                           -JLG

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