And so it began...

After a grand deal of hesitation, mixed lightly with just enough deep thought, I have finally begun this blog. It had been an intention of mine for quite some time, first to randomly chronicle my seemingly mundane everyday experience. Soon though, its purpose would see sundry topics. My inner thoughts, short stories, random rants. A slew of objectives arose, but in the end, I settled on my truest written love: Poetry. Where better to spread my accumulating wealth of original journeys in verse then my very own blog? I certainly haven't any idea.
With that said, I have to put great thought into my 'ice breaker' piece. I want something relatively metrically pleasing (as I have been dipping into the chagrin as of late, trying something pseudo-revolutionary) and well rounded. Something to introduce you to... I actually forgot what I chose my blogspot pseudonym to be. You'll soon find I do that quite often -- forget things. Aha! And it comes to me. River Man. Yes. A heap of meanings are tied into that one... for now we will define it as 'He who resides besides the Hudson'. Nice ring to that.
During all this blathering, I somehow managed to decide the icebreaker. It's one of my rare poems in which the title can be obviously attached to the piece. Normally you would have to understand the twisted workings of my mind to understand the origins; even then, a great deal of sleuthing is necessary.

Iron Angel and Fifty Murderous Rounds

She cowers
Clutching at her cobblestone soul
Beneath the sliver of what was once the moon
She calls it home now.
Knows this moist stone as the home she always had but never wanted
Watches the geese fly by in V like formation
Surely it’s short for freedom
Surely if she hoped hard enough wings would sprout and she could take off
Into the sunset I can’t help but talk shit about.
She labeled me the devil
Cast a thought in retrospect
She’d said I’m so angelic
Said none had ever known love to have love like the love she had for me
But there she cowers
Glancing at the street lights peeking through the trees
Reminding me she had a fire in her eyes I had never seen before.
Passion for the living from this queen of the dead
I wonder if it’s extinguished
Wonder if all the tears to drown a proud man’s heart
Could put that fire out.
It overflowed the levees and overran the garden.
I don’t doubt its power.
She cowers
Clutching at her cobblestone soul
An iron angel in a crust of rust
River flowers growing to taunt her loses.
I watch
And I cower
Spooning these patchwork wings
I fashioned from flaps of virgins flesh
And parts of hearts I’ve collected along the way.
Fifty murderous shots fly freely and a voice shouts
“The Devil Is Dead!!”
And I am.
Lying in the bed I made myself with a sly smile and that River man’s curse.
Bloodied and bleeding away all the trouble within me.
“You’re so angelic.”
Her voice carries as
She cowers
Beneath the sliver of what was once the moon.