Micah Park Biffle

Become The Angel You Pray For  Fly fly fly! Fly till your wings can hold you no more. And when you fall, fall with grace, fall knowing you will fly again. Rest your wings upon the clouds of faith. Hold dear your heart to your dreams. Glide across the open oceans of your life and catch the waves head on. Sail bravely against the storms though you may break. And upon breaking, you shall find new ships, new wings, new winds to sail. For nothing new is found in the mundane, in the wreckage of the old. Spark your heart with a kiss for the unexpected, the unknown. Bleed your soul of the old, of the used and stitch what remains with the grace to lift you. You are the ideal being to create your dreams. To build a solid ship that will turn waves of cruel ruin, into gentle ripples of a puddle . Split your oceans in two with the mere faith that you have within yourself, and with that which is intangible. Be the lighting that strikes, but do not strike out of fear. Strike out ...

Are Dreams But Not Another World?  Could we be existing in the heaven's or the hell's as we sleep? For what we dream, emulates what we forge within. Are our dreams not the crossing over to another world?  Where all answers are found but skewed in the comprehension of the living. For many of our dreams doddle on the unanswerable, but draw us to believe there must be meaning.  Meaning, we may choose to ignore with the rashest thoughts. Or bore our dreams with denial to our own well being. Looking at them as if a mere jumble of pictures from what the day had brought to us. But like the gut, the intuition, we know there is something  more to us. More than the beating of our hearts or the ticking of our minds.  Have we not all consumed the feeling of our gut in the decisions of life?  Have we not all ignored this feeling of knots that taut our stomach like string, but fail to untie it, to follow it?  Leading us to disapp...

Be As Does A Tree This is your moment, where you will guide yourself like that of a tree. You will remain still in your beliefs. Holding through all weather though you may feel brittle in the coldness. In the lonesome nights toward your happiness as does the tree in winter. That stands alone among all the rest. Be gentle in your thoughts as does the tree. Growing steady and never to linger too long at one height. Grow with patience as does the tree, never faltering to what those around it do. Never listening to the faults that the mind gossips to stunt your rise. Build armor among your soul through all the suffering as does a tree in its growth. Growing from sapling, innocent and silent, to an abundant beauty of awe. But steady does it grow, with vigor even through the harshest of storms. And with each passing day, a new layer of bark is laid. A new ring with each passing year. As reminders of its vicious but glorious past, that has made it what it is today. A reminder of ...

Let Not, The Past Keep You Blind.  She could not be bothered anymore. Her heart has no room for the petty actions of those she has given her heart to. She now sits with animosity upon her toward love, like the Devil toward God. She burns with eagerness to bring herself to a state of  benumb from her emotions. She wishes to be like that of blood-lusting vikings upon shores, casting nothing but a blade in her hand. Cutting all connection with even the slightest taste of love. She sits with wine tossed back in her loathing belly. Feeling everything in her ache with resentment. Her tears have grown stale and her heart like steel. She follows no one, nothing, but the urge to merely exist. To take hold of her day with outrage and scream till her lungs burst. Leaving her mute from the pain that sits inside. Her eyes are no longer driven to the beauty of life but toward the shadows that linger at her window. Tapping with intentions to draw her closer. Till she no longer ...

Forsake ourselves. The moon is true beneath the stars, But the falling of the season will follow. Hearts will gather in pain whether sun or rain. There is no place of earth that holds an infinite peace. But the ever changing of our souls. The expansion like the blooming rose in the start of spring. The dew that settles upon each gentle blade of grass A story to be told and a story to behold. There is no place that will forever give you happiness, It is a constant battle but a battle that is worth more than the metals of earth. There is no power, be it God, the universe, or those we love, That will forsake us. For we lead ourselves to be forsaken. We give in to a single tear and each after, We fall for our own tricks but play them like a joker. Placing cards up our sleeves to play on others to hide our pain. Hiding within the frosted grounds of winters tears as if  we are dead, We crystallize our hearts with each lie We die with ...

A Common Ground of Love He is broken, found lying in silence on an autumn afternoon. Catching breath from the emptiness that shadows his every step, like the craving of the devils appetite to flesh. His eyes closed in search of peace in the ever rapids of his thoughts.  His breath leading into the air like a cloud of mist falling from the mouth of a beast. His heart heavy, his skin pricked by the crisp air that swallows the silence. The silence he finds to be ill fit for himself but finds this illness. To be slightly comforting in what mental health he does not posses.  And as he recedes into his mind with lonely and anxious speech. Like does a hermit to his home, someone knocks upon his air he breathes. And as a shadow skews what little warmth the sun is offering. He opens his eyes with slow methodical motion looking up to a shadowed figure that stands above. His eyes quickly dilate to the flooding particles of light.  And above him stands a woma...

I Could Not Find Love  I could not find the love I was looking for. But stumbled upon love unexpectedly. No signs, no paths, just destiny waving it's flag in rising for my heart, our hearts. Years I found myself delve deep into the auspicious world of love. But never accepting what it was, who I was. Constantly guarding my wall with troops. Keeping any hands from taking loot. My eyes mesmerized by the sea of love. But fearful was I in the generous body of water to swim among it's clarity. I watched in from a distance, swelling my lungs with love. But quickly exahling it in fear of suffocation. Love had been so close but so far. I kept it at at Bay, like doctor to illness. Finding every cure, but never to heal. Many lies trickled from my lips like the spilling of an ocean. I flooded the lands of my heart like hurricanes upon shores. For many years, there was nothing but shattered sculptures of what I could have designed. But I leapt with fear and st...

A Monstrous Machine and A Simple Habit  I wish to turn something dull into something magnificent. I wish to turn the mere actions of one into something transcendent to the senses. Actions one does from the mere sake of habit: The sound of water flows from a single point. Fingers from an early morning rise find themselves delve into the flowing water. The water rushes upon the fingers like a flood. With no anticipation to stop the water falls in perfect harmony upon the skin. Caressing the flesh as it is resisted to stay. Falling quickly to the basin of its now new home.  As water rushes the fingers adjust to the rising temperature of the tempered water. As the water rises in heat. The fingers are removed from beneath the translucent life, the fingers glide back from the pouring of water. Gently the fingers clasp upon glass, raising it from a cold, silent, ivory surface.  The air is brisk, silently collective with the smells morning dew and the crisp f...

A Blissful Rhyme To Leave You In Control Of Your Mind  Listen to the silence, the cool crisp sounds that scurry through the quiet realm of an idle mind. Listen deep, listen well. Find within, the scattering of thoughts and focus upon that which whispers to you with audacious lips. Listen to whats speaks with strong but graceful tones. Listen to what lifts the shrouding chaos from the soul. Cut off from the mundane, the plain, the constant badgering of lives everyday things. For you deserve a moment and forever, to keep your mind in place with peaceful grace. Let yourself slide into bliss, let this take you from the strains of the lame and feel yourself glide like a cloud across the sky. Bury the unwanted scavengers that call out with vicious teeth. Leave them to their own doings and nefarious beliefs. Let them bleed from you like water from earth.  Find no place for the ill to set sail upon your thoughts in this moment. Calm your seas with a kiss of bri...

A Dark Path and Three Drunk Fools  Down the narrow path lies a red light, a light that flickers and shines only at night. With a carved sign that's says "no trespassing or you will die." No feet of the villagers near by, have ever dared to peer to the other side. For there is too much fear and imagination to stride.   They talk of those whom may have died upon being crucified and left to dry. To hang damnified for the horrible things they did with villagers to be sacrificed. Even stories of an ugly man who was ostracized for his looks and left to die. To be recluse and sing his tunes. Some say if you listen close enough, you can her him play the organ, with a man name Hyde.  Some speak of a child whom's spirit floats about that of the other-side, who died on a carnival ride. Though this path is hidden on a mountain side, near a village few have seen with a naked eye. This path resides world wide. Though these stories have little evidence to be cla...

We Have Forgotten Our Warriors  No longer do we praise the warrior like that in the days of the knight. No longer do we sit by our bedside and pray for the warrior as he dawns his armor for war. No longer do we weep in the destruction of man and the blood that spills upon sands.  Too many preach of the warrior as if their existence is futile in the eyes of change. That bringing weapon against evil is no way to live. But they do not see the tyranny of evil, the cumbersome loses and poison they bring.  Too many have not felt the heat of war, the anger of evil.  Too many have not seen the vision of hell upon earth. The screaming, the dying, the forgotten. The innocent spent as mere pawns to keep a regime thriving like jungles beneath rain.  Too many have not seen the tears of families, wives, sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, upon the death their warrior.  Few have felt the burden of the constant eye to stay alive. To wonder if th...

This Is Me Without Creativity  This is but me without my creativity. My unwillingness to accept that not all days can be filled with perfect brevity. That some days come buried in the not so extraordinary. Where imagination is no longer merry, where my words seem to fall weary. Where I cannot seem to connect my soul to my brain. In a place that I have lost what was once perfect aim. Where words would connect without the a tongue that wishes to complain. This is me without the ability to tame. The ability to connect words that may make one seem insane. But that is where I find words that never sound the same. Where words collide in whirls like tornadoes that are looking to claim. I am not a writer for fame, but a writer to stay insane. To connect words that make me never wish to be plain. To never fall in the sewers of blame and become a dim candle in a forgotten home. This is me without the perfect tone, without the perfection of my fingers laced in chrome. Where I con...

The World Has Fallen Today  The world fell apart this morning, the music that once played upon my heart has grown silent. The world is still, but I am moving. I watch with sympathy and tears as this world tears apart. I see flowers strangled by violent hands from merely having petals of different shades. I see tongues twist from the hardest soils only to poison the innocent. I feel myself floating, lost in this chaos as I struggle to lend a hand. As I praise the goodness I see. As I spread kind words to those around me and stand against the corruption of heart. I praise the goodness with prayer, with love, with an open heart and a blade. A blade set to cut the rotted tongues from our soils. I praise goodness as I watch the floods that sweep through villages like visible plague. But I see hands reaching deep into the illness, deep into the disease and pull free the weak. Though their hands may become ill and they may pass from this life to the next. I watch in ho...

Could there ever be a me and you?  If there could be, it would be magnificent. It would be something to behold upon the world, we would be bold. Bold in our hearts for each other, bold in our adventures of happiness and tragedy, bold in our actions for each other. We would rise like sparks from the heavens and never fade. Always giving light when the world seems to implode with misery. Leaving trails of brightly grown roses composed with streams of sublime grace. Creating a maze of stars within our kiss, losing all sense of time and existence. Feeling only our lips, our love, and the rhythm of our hearts. Feeling perfect harmony as our souls collide like thunderous skies as we bring life to love. Giving birth to something intangible. Something that turns the coldest days into the warmest moments. We would be something grand. We would be something so grandiose an orchestra would render our souls. Our days would be filled with laughter that would stretch our smiles so ...

This is Who You are or Who You Can Become.  You are a fire that cannot be stopped. You blaze all that leeches your soils, your waters, and your soul. You are the wind, always in constant, ever changing in direction to overcome, and never settling. You fill the lungs of those around you with exhilaration, laughter, joy, and euphoria. You smile when tragedy strikes, but know to grieve upon its presence. You do not find love in others, but find love in yourself. The love you have of others, does not fill a void. But rather it amplifies who you are. It puts you tenfold above the world beneath your soul. It rises you to the stars from what you were. And the love others have for you. Brings a humble heart to your chest. For you are grateful to merely breathe in life.  You understand the gratitude of love and embrace it where ever you go. You leap beyond the blue flames of hell and find yourself floating in the rivers of heaven. No days go without you abs...

A Scientific Lie  Sam_Journal_Entry_365_June_2166_25_1300 We now live above the earth, above where we were once born. The government has forced our very existence to be separated from the flowers, from the soils of our planet. Only a special group, the SST's, Special Supply Teams, are allowed to go down to earth, beneath the clouds. They go to gather supplies for our now floating world. We float above the clouds in domes, in self weather generated cities and landscapes. We know the weather before it ever arrives, no disasters come, no droughts, no struggle to keep things in order. As citizens though, we are not allowed to grow, nor plant our own seeds. We must purchase specialty seeds from local government owned shops. They say they are organic and naturally found from earth. But they grow unexpectedly fast. They say the plants grow in a steady fast pace due to the great weather conditions. But still I find this to be odd. For my father’s tells me ...

A Love Gone, A Heart Taken She feels as if she is alone in everything. As if her heart is but a lonely pearl at the bottom of the sea. Beneath the sands in the deepest of oceans. Darkness fills a void in her chest, shadowy creatures plunge deep into her soul and scatter like roaches. Finding any crevice to hide within. Only to be scene in the shadows by their thimble sized eyes in the reflection of the moonlight. As her eyes are still to the motion of the world. Alone she sits, as music plays delicately between the silence of her slow beating heart. A heart that beats in sadness, hollow drums march in sluggish rhythm. She finds the world to have taken what she once was. But now, a foolish fool she feels as her eyes set upon a pale ring wrapped around her finger. Betrayal of the highest has crushed her existence, blinding her of her once sweet smile. And as she sits with a heavy heart as thunder breaks the sky and rain washes the earth. She thinks to herself, "...

A Dead Dreamer They are grotesque, dull in vision, dull in life. They speak with disease, with illness. They see grey upon all flowers, mountains, and rain. They look no further than their breath, they speak no further than their day.  They find feast upon the damned, upon the withering fields of souls. Plucking newly planted seeds and devour with delight. They shackle their surrounding with bitter taste and soils of resentment. They spit at the nourishment of water. They poison their own wells and gladly share the contaminated. They see no fault in the dwelling of self.  They shift their tongues like the devil, they lurk in the hate of their own shadow. They seek no peace, only slaughter.  Praising in the pain of their massacre. If murder was able, they would find themselves painted in blood. An abomination they be, sweltering in the anguish of the plain. Finding the finest escape in the false actions of flesh. It is in their shoes they find poverty ...

A Lie It hangs sprawled like the carcass of a cow. Gutted, open, silent and vile to an eye unexpected of such things. Nights become filled with terrors in the shadows. It burdeneds the sleep of a soul, its dark hollow eyes follow with a piercing gaze. A gaze that would leave any petrified in its wake. Its cumbersome curdled body lay shouldered upon the soul, draped like loose skin. Its nostrils steadily cherishing the souls anxious aroma. Its lips sewed shut, for it has no voice but the one whom designed it. It lingers with gnawing intent to bring restlessness upon the mind, upon the soul. It never ceases to be, till light is shined upon it. It grows with each passing day, excessive its weight becomes upon the soul. Its repugnant presence expands effortlessly. Slowly choking the genius of the soul. It slumbers in the hidden chambers of the mind. But its rustling against it chains keeps any moment of peace from any expression of the sane. It finds its dwelling in many place...

Evil Will Always Breathe Evil exists beyond our comprehension, it exists as feelings do, as love does. No measurement, no math can explain these things. Evil is sly with motives, filthed with no shame. Its heart engorged in blood lust, in anger, evil has no reason. As does the existence of smiles, there is the opposite. As does the existence love, there is the counter. Evil has no conformed form. It lives within the splice of the physical, of the spiritual. It drips upon those whom swallowed sorrow like a pill. With each drip slowly rusting the soul like metal to harsh rain. Till the soul can move no more, till it becomes particles of what it once was. left rusted with holes and bland in color, its once exuberant essence, now absent. Taken by the shrewdness of evil and evil cannot be explained and never should be. For the explanation of that which is intangible, will drive one to madness. Losing sense of faith, belief, and the strive for something beyond. Turning blind...