End of Days – A Quote and Bonus Poem Challenge – Day 1

“it starts with an earthquake”, growing pains
a mournful moan from within—Earth contracts
as a mother bearing a child in travail
a new matrix is born to wipe away the old

this dust that we were—never reasoned
that all are one—if made from Earth
Earth we are—yet we pillaged and pained in greed—
never conceiving the defiling of our own flesh

“world serves its own needs—listen to your heart bleed!”
for far too late is the hour to stop the letting
our mother can no longer bear her poisoned limbs—
“it’s the end of the world as we know it—and I feel fine!”


Thanks Nathalie for thinking of me and the nomination for this challenge! It is my hope and anyone reading this will go check out Nat over at Arwenaragornstar!! You will not be disappointed!

I have no specific nominees for this challenge; rather, I wish to present this as an open challenge for everyone reading this! I urge you to challenge yourself and spread this to others!

The rules for this challenge are:

  1. Each day for three consecutive days post a quote (any quote – you can even come up with your own) and a poem to accompany it.
  2. On each day nominate 3 bloggers for the challenge.
  3. Don’t forget to thank the blogger who nominated you

Matthew – 2015
© 2015 This Mortal Flesh


The Ballad of Donnie and Bill (A Collaboration with Perso~in~Poesia)

The fat kid tired young
a jester large upon their stage
the butt of cruel humor
but laughter fuels the rage
so he sought an understudy
to upon the platform place
a weaker target than he
to before their eyes disgrace

No one ever sees at play
meek among the classes
he hides beneath his grey cloud
a hooded lad with thick rimmed glasses
avoids the crowds as a shadow
now becomes a puppet on a string
the day that fate delivered him
to a bully with a sting

A crowded cafeteria
would rightly set the scene
the fatboy set his scowling gaze
on little Billy Dean
the glasses from his face he took
and ketchup lined the rims
then quickly yanked poor Billy’s pants
to the ground around his shins

Laughter rang bouncing off the walls
a deer caught in lights
Billy froze to scraps of food being tossed
as a stream of urine caught  every ones sights
wetness stained his underpants
he stepped to run but fell
to the sounds of profanity
that echoed like a pounding bell

The fat kid’s heart it raced and broke
he knew this pain too well
how could he have become the means
to send this boy to hell
he laughed as if to play it off
Donnie flexed a smirky smile
at home that night he couldn’t sleep
his holed heart could find no spile

Street lights flooding in from the window
Donnie saw the images float in his mind
they danced across the bedroom ceiling
and realized, they’re two of a kind
yet he stood above Billy Dean looking down
to cover up his own selfish pride
and mask his insecurities
as two spirits, just died

Conclusions came on restless sleep
tomorrow he’d make it right
through hallowed school halls he searched
all day, but Billy was nowhere in sight
that evening Donnie’s mother asked
if he’d known this boy from class
whose grieving mother found him dead
wrists shredded by mirrored glass

Donnie’s eyes welled up with tears
his chest caved in, his heart sank
he ran and ran and ran and ran
chubby rosie face faded to a pale blank
he stood on a bridge, freeway cars whizzing by
looking down wondering what hell is like
as he fell to the pavement below he yelled,
“I’m Sorry Billy” as another tragic death strikes


I was honored to have had the chance to write with the mighty Ax over at Perso~in~Poesia. Please go check out this and some of his other amazing posts.

This piece, though controversial is a voice to those without the words to speak. Those lost in the pain who cannot see with clarity. Its a ballad about bullying, inaction and consequences. Everybody feels pain and I believe that bully’s are not born, they are made. This is a total work of fiction and not a reference to any real or actual event. Any similarities are coincidental and unintended. Just to ease your mind, the last picture on this post is actually a Sumo Wrestler child doing stretches and not a real life victim.

Thanks Antony for working through this piece with me.

Written by Matt and Ax
© 2015 This Mortal Flesh


The Scar (A Collaborative Poem with Arwenaragornstar)

My chaste spirit
once as light
as a taraxacum
loosed by
summer’s breath
soaring on
chimerical winds

Not having yet
fumes lingering far
on the horizon
Evil biding its time
with no rhyme
or reason

A hatred
existing solely
to consume—to poison
to corrupt
the unblemished soul
I shuddered
as the trap
closed around me…

fear surged
within me
old and vicious
as the ages
clutching my psyche

sapping my strength
at once
my eyes
snapped open
and I understood
the enigmatic

something primal
instinct—no doubt—told me
unless I confronted this
naked eye swiftly
I’d be absorbed
in the folds
of the entity

I fixed my gaze
and offered up
my treasured
to the beast
shear radiance
as a quasar

I had thought
myself weak
braced myself
for annihilation
utter defeat
yet the beast
clouds of fear

In the seething chaos
I broke free
escaped into the light
the breech between
love and pain
Still—I bare the scar
as a beacon to show
where innocence
once was…

Photo by Cindy Grundsten


This collaborative poem was written with my one of my most favorite people here on WordPress – arwenaragornstar!!

If you’ve never read any of my “evil twin’s” posts please please go check her out! Nathalie is a fabulous writer and I’m humbled and honored that she decided to write with me. I’m from the US and she is from the UK (originally France). I’m truly in awe at how working together through writing and sharing of thoughts transcends nationality and culture. If only more people could put aside petty differences and work as one, this planet could finally achieve peace.

Nathalie, thank you for taking a chance and working through your first collaboration with me! Again, I am truly honored to have had the opportunity to work with such a wonderful writer!

Written by Matthew & Nathalie – 2015
© 2015 This Mortal Flesh

The Trial


Artwork from Pink Floyd’s The Wall

So hollow inside
so much emptiness…
torment and nausea
the only tangible feelings
Yet this torture
is self-inflicted…
By my own hands
have I reached
this pinnacle of sorrow

Darkness entered me
before I had a chance…
a chance to grow
in this life…
After the darkness
came pain and regret
all it could do is grow–
poison my mind…

Binding chains of agony
seized every moment…
I began to doubt
all that is
even myself…
But by my actions
I have seen
these horrors
I begged for this…
this hell—

I wanted this–
to face the trials now
be done with it…
I would slowly
come to find
that I could never
see the world
through those
virgin eyes again—
my purity
ripped from me…

how the pain
will change you…

undying loneliness
insanity to mold me
into this
brittle piece of clay…
There was
no escape from it…

Desperately I search
I strive to
find a way out…
Always a locked door
always a dead end…

Occasionally a ray
of light dares
to seep into
this mire of darkness–
and I start
to believe again…
But then its gone
along with
its false happiness 

Is there no way
to be freed?

Countless tears shed
my soul cannot rest
nor can my mind
stop its betrayal…
I ask for comfort
from the heavens
but my prayers
go unanswered

There is no comfort
from this disease—
this cancer of the mind
It grows and subdues—
until nothing remains

Every day I walk alone
through this world
of illusions—shadows…
Everybody wears the mask
so afraid of
what they really are
too conformed to it
for it to ever be removed…
If only I could
remove my mask…

Would I now
be lost unto myself?

Have I strayed
too far to salvage
what remains?
My dim light
flickers steadily
towards imminent demise…
I need to feel
that forgotten love…
A love that burns
hot enough to purge
the mask
temper what lies beneath…

For now I remain hidden
in an endless moment…

All I’ve left is faith
Faith that this
is just a trial
just a test—
too see how far
I can be bent
without breaking…
faith that this trial
will make me stronger
in ways I cannot see
right now…
So I endure…

Written by Matthew (1995)
© 2015 This Mortal Flesh


opaque scenery dances
scantily through
mired cognizance
faint flickering essences
burning apprehension
yet beckoning appreciation
seduced willfully on
despite web and thicket

silken voices stoke the fire
thin and onerous
a sting numbing the mind
poisoned veins pulse
conscious yet sleeping
euphoric yet weeping—
to make unclear
the tableau
now falling
helpless to their bosom
the lithesome call
of Seirenes
to feast sweet
the flesh…


Art By Victoria Frances – (http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/fantasy-art/images/25965854/title/victoria-frances-photo)

Written By Matthew – 2015
© 2015 This Mortal Flesh