Hi, My name is Micah Park Biffle, I am the author of ' A Man's Traveled Heart,' I am a Veteran who found his way back through writing. I consider myself an architect of the imagination. Here you will see my creations come to life. My short stories, poems, my thoughts, and a little touch of my life.
They are in our sleep, our minds, and our hearts. They linger in the dark like a passenger in an empty coach. Watching with reds eyes and a black soul. They chatter amongst each other like crooked politicians. Seeing what schemes they may press upon you with minimal resistance. Waiting for opportune times to stretch your mind till it snaps.
Spilling all reasoning from it like spit from a Novocaine mouth. They shriek in hopes to bring you fear like a child lost in the moonlight. They fester like illness and scratching them only spreads them like a virus. And with no avail, no single soul has found a cure. For they breech all walls with little persistence.
They swim between the beats of our hearts and dwell in our veins. Waiting with absolute patience.
But what are they, you may ask?
They are but us, our reflection, our many faces we place upon our soul. Each face meaning something else, each given strength with each wear. And with little effort to become the dominant.
They are but our thoughts, our choices, and our values. They cater to our weakness and build within our misery, our suffering, and our tragedy. Looking for that single link to cut in the chain, living us in a state of depraved depression.
Lulling our dreams to sleep and murdering our faith in our love for ourselves.
But bring not fear to the reading of this. For, if they are but us, then we are in control. We are but the one whom may condemn them, or bring them wealth.
But in the damning of their retched existence, one must be potent in the belief of self. Commanding in the creation of thought. And willing to embrace the need for constant change.
Though there be no cure, there is the ability to live beside them with peace. And find a life flowing with the joys of happiness.
But one must be constant in the potency of self and the commanding of thought. And comfortable in the embracing of change. All, which come with practice and earning in patience.
Thank you so much for reading! If you like what you read, then A Man's Traveled Heart is a perfect match for you.
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The Scar of War And His Suicide To Escape It
He returned with a heavy heart. With a fierce storm raging in rain, thunder, and dark clouds. Memories of war collided beneath his chest. His lost brothers he could feel in the very bones of his soul. Nothing felt the same in this place he called home.
No words could describe the surmountable anguish that tore each second at his mind, creating a vast chasm. Loneliness slowly consumed him. Leaving him branded as a mental case, coming unhinged to reality. Drowning in the constant flavor of hops. Leaving no moment to be sober. Covering the storm with another, that if the fog became to thick to see, then his pain did not exist.
Flooded with anxiety of what he left behind in the chaos of war. He could not escape the nagging of all the thoughts he prayed to forget. Tarnished he felt, guilty, burdened, he felt far from a hero. Though each friend, each member of his family embraced him as one.
And on each night of his return, he sat at that foot o…
A Moment In the Middle East
A scorching sun canvasses the grounds. Flesh becomes its victim, sweat pours with no end. As if envious in seeking air. Eyes watchful of the distant, heads on a swivel. Hearts race in anticipation, crowds walk as adrenaline pumps.
The smell of gun powder stifles the nose. Tight grips upon steel, chambered brass. Sands flood the lungs, faces smeared in exhaustion. Thirst grips the throat, thoughts of home fumble the mind. Focus, focus, focus.
Distant shots, a setting sun, strange beauty comes to life. Barren lands seeping in anger, pointless in attempt to save. Lost, young, raged in empty hours of this land. Brothers shoulder to shoulder, but for what?
The eyes become useless as night arises from its chambers. Stars shower the blackened sky, the moon flaunts its elegance. Eerie becomes the view, shadows dancing between street lights and stars. Wind gusts with a warm kiss.
Now hues of green become the view. Skewed in perception but eyes trained in this moment…
A Boy and A War
The train had just left the station, his thoughts creep with nostalgia as he watches is home fade into the horizon. His chest holds a nervous wreck, only seventeen and knows nothing beyond his home. He wears an old green t-shirt with red lettering that reads, The Red Menace is real.
His hair short, cut in the manner of a well respected boy. His eyes glitter with sadness as he has to leave everything behind. He knew this day would come but he wasn't ready, he had just graduated high school and was ready for adventure.
But now, he is well pressed into the chaos of the world. About to be armed in the fighting against a world enemy. For months he had heard the stories and updates of the war on the nightly radio. But it was all too surreal that he will now be part of such stories.
He can still hear the radio announcer speaking of the enemy bombarding the world as if to rid it of cancer. As the train moves further from his home he can still feel the tears of his mother…