within dirty streets
dreams are dreamt
warmth and fullness
hearth and home
of love and peace

on luxurious vessels
dreams are dreamt
false for truth
end of longing
for love that’s real

in suburban homes
dreams are dreamt
no want for all
a world united
by common love

Matthew – 2015
© 2015 This Mortal Flesh


Switchblade Heart (50 word story poem)

Ruckus nights
gasoline daydreams…
fuck pinks & rides
her love
my desired prize
a switchblade heart
closed for her
could only stay
hinged for so long
when a blade’s oiled
with jealousy
fists to flesh
spit to wind
blade to throat…
life undone
by unbound desire…
the gallows trap

Written by Matthew – 2015
© 2015 This Mortal Flesh

Image found at www.notey.com

Lapsed – A Collaboration with Creations In Poetry & Words


Whatever happened to this lost soul?
She claimed her life upon a dreary Sunday;
as the rain stained her window,
her tears stained her cheeks,
red with misery—she downed a bottle of narcotic death,
chased with bitter dreams that never came to pass;
only darkness could she see before her,
no matter the light that was shown on the path-
her past traumas, too tender to confront,
like old wounds, no ointment could heal

would that our dulcet words cheered
if only our libretto could lift her opiate-laced veil
the nothingness in her heart hidden
behind the façade of cordiality
medicated beyond our reach, the mask took her
tormented by failure are we brothers and sisters
words without actions—never reaching as hands must
her life played before her in slow motion scenes
as our honeyed lips undulated
whilst our prosaic tongues wagged

The reach, the flow; just beyond our grasp,
was her heart—her hand;
Oh, that we could have rescued her in life!
Oh, that we could snatch her now
from the darkened womb!
steal her from the face of bleakness
stand her tall in our midst
make clear her purpose on this earth
her aura a beautiful luminous beacon,
for all to see…

Written by Matthew and Dara
© 2015 This Mortal Flesh


A special thanks to Dara at Creations In Poetry & Words for taking time from her busy schedule to write with me. I’ve been a fan of Dara for some time now and I had a feeling that when we finally put our heads together a deep and meaningful piece would emerge. This piece is close to both of our hearts, as we both know people that have struggled and are currently struggling with depression, grief and anguish.

Prey – A Duet with Ink and Quill


Moonbeam wisps ignite—
I am, 

tangled in loves silky spin,

dizzy with delight
inebriated by her visage,

I am,

threaded in loves web,

soaring to forbidden heights
too daft to see,

I am,

matted in a net of woven string,

tighter still her knots they twist,
I am,

thrashing in vanities mirrored burlesque.

enthralled—I am prey
motionless as she consumes

in a venomous cocoon,

I am,
hungry for you.

Written by Matthew and Jennifer
© 2015 This Mortal Flesh


A special thanks to Jennifer over at Ink and Quill for taking a chance and writing with me. I found this piece an interesting challenge as our styles are rather different. Jen is much more eloquent and I am rather gruff and dark. What we did here is the best of both worlds so to speak. East meets west if you will! Please take the time to check out Ink and Quill if you have not already. Jennifer’s writing is beautiful.

The Core

My words are like a rock
broken by a prison chain gang
blackened and solid exterior
chipped away by pickaxe

sparks take flight on impact
chips and shards exploding
from my breadth, stinging their eyes
the well timed strike splits me

my core exposed
they see my mettle
flecks of golden light
reflected by the sun’s gaze

frantically they hammer for more
before the warden of life
can see what they’ve found
filling their pockets with my splendor

with time they polish away
my hardened shell until
I beam ‘neath the florescence
of prison lights

elated and thinking themselves rich
I am handed over for valuation
the expert fondles me briefly
before reaching his hasty conclusion

I am a pretty sight to
gaze upon—ancient—old
a nifty treasure for sure
but nothing more than fool’s gold…

Matthew – 2015
© 2015 This Mortal Flesh