Micah Park Biffle

Vivid Darkness  The black roses grow, Though the world is bleak, buried beneath this vivid snow. The cold is dreary, it pawns the old. Shivering the soul in travels among the bold. Seeking for reason to unfold but fright brings concern when one with-holds. Keeping buds from being exposed in harsh realities told. A sight of fearful eyes gaze in the empty rolls of the sold Weary in breath for they have given up control. Looking for reason to continue to scold. For rigid has their stem become. Crooked and holed, like translucent souls, invisible to all. But pain exists in the thresh of it all. Ruptured hearts fall like rain drops of clouds that hang tall A drizzle of hope is open but the darkness becomes its anvil. Weighted it cries, a cracked skull and it becomes dull. Vanishing to the awful the angled skew of nonsensical babble. Leaving tongues spread in a hull of deception as weaving breaths of the miserable confess. But concede with little honesty. They are b

We Used To Laugh and Be We used to have an imagination. We would string thoughts of great expansion from one moment to the next. Weaving webs of adventure to be hung between each day. Picking them at just right the moment, when they are the ripest and our hearts were the purist. Finding smiles in each step, even in the gloom of winters hold. Even the rain was welcoming in the design of thought. Never did we doubt our hearts, if pirates were the thought of the day so be it. Or an adventure to seek out the deadliest enemy and vanquish him, we did it. We once lived, acted upon our thoughts to the fullest. Conquering lands beyond our eyes and creating with our hands. Whether our designs worked or not, we moved on, like beasts through a tundra. Seeking the next place to create. We were once outstretched with branches of hope, of thought, and laughter. Branching out to the highest clouds, breaking through from the densest soils that earth can bear. Never letting anything slow us

Another For The Thin Blue Line  It was a another day, another morning; a routine. But today, of all days, on the day of his daughters ninth birthday everything changed. Where there was light, darkness swelled. Where smiles leaped, tears fell. Where the sun rose, death reared its head. Peering over the hearts of this loving family. Darkness grinned with jubilation where light wept with grief. The unwanted voice of tragedy struck and hell became the home in which this family lived. On the morning of September 1, 2001, at 3:45 am, before most wake and before the streets flood with aluminum cages concealing their masters; an officer, by the name of Peter Gell was tragically murdered. He had pulled over a vehicle that had been driven by at an excessive speed, thirty over the limit. Its windows too tinted to see inside. Officer Gell, had been a police officer for nearly twelve years. After serving four years in the military. He had a wife and daughter, Katie and Julie. His marr

Do You Feel Me Changing  I am falling, can you feel that? The cold and awkward feel of being transformed. I am drifting into something I can't explain. I am feeling a void of myself, I am feeling, of something else. Voices plague the fractures of my mind. Courting a temptress of lies, trying to walk me down a path of exposed wounds. Cattled are my scars, grouped in the abandoned stairwell of my heart. I am suffocated by this unwanted extension of myself. The pain, at which has no name. Strange echoes speak in the distance as I wake. Alive I feel, but am I something else, someone else? I hear them, I now speak with them. Before, it was just me, alone inside my head. Now I am clustered with many. Formed in the malpractice of my own mind, but not at my hand. Confused, yet I believe, I constrict my thoughts to their wishes. Most of those whom I know, are now mere shadows of my life. Family has become a fleeting picture. Arguments collide in the halls of my home. Tears

What Love is There?  What love is there to be had, if not yours? For I find no other more glorious than you. I have spoke with the moon, it too sides with my heart. It knows my sorrow of longing. Yes, I have spoke with the sun as well. But only does it laugh, for it says the moon sighs with any sorrow. For it knows only the bleak and lonely. Even the stars find my adoring affection for you to be a distant chance.  Fading as does their light through the eons of darkness.  Can we not ignite what I fantasize to be soulfully sublime? For even the skewed brow that sits upon your head, I find beautiful. Your laugh, though you find it obnoxious, I find it contagious. It lifts my heart as does heat in the cold lips of winter. Your intensity to produce success drives me with admiration. You lace each moment that we are together, with enchantments. You spell bind my soul with each look, I am drawn to you like madness to the ill. You are a remedy to my empty space,

A Surrendering Ship   My eyes fixed to the receding ocean in all its glory it sends the beaming sun away. Reflecting with a purity of golden orange. My skin, kissed by the fluttering winds as I sit at ebb of the waves. Casting each of my thoughts to the morning horizon.  Fleeting my heart becomes, destitution begins its journey from my heart, to my mind. I feel myself succumbing to emptiness. The forbidden fruit of surrender, surrounded by lush fields of green, as butterflies of pearl white flood the summer air.  I feel weak, like a rotting tree, collapsing to the bitter seasons of change. I grip the sand with both hands, squeezing with intensity. I lift my hands and look to them, the sand falling from my compressing grip.   Tumbling to where they started, where they came from. Never to move, unless forced by nature. I think, am I but these grains of sand? Moved only by the ever uncertain cosmos. I feel as if I am, for nothing seems to have changed.   I feel stuc

Three Red Horses  Three red horses and a horizon to match. A wonderful world, a wonderful sight. But in this beauty, between the glorious light and the everglades of nature, lies something else. Something dark, something sinister. These three red horses ride to the out reach of our vision. We watch them sink the blazing haze of the sun. Becoming nothing but a fading silhouette of elegance. As we watch them fade, the world around us becomes of a fire of its own.  Unwavering anger pours upon our home. It cannot be explained, except that what is happening before us, is the consequence of natures lack of sympathy. It has been nine weeks since a drop of rain has fallen. The animals have fled, even the snakes have found homes elsewhere. We have become barren, we have lived off this land in peace. Yet here we stand, forced to face the rage of earth. It's heart has become heated and it wishes for us to cede to its wild temperament.  Our crops, gone, our homes, matche

A Beggar and A Daughter  A queen she is, dawned in the cold embrace of winter. Her handmaidens as lovely as her. But her spirit glows much brighter. Her eyes are sentient, each showing the provoking emotion of her soul. They are gentle, yet powerful in presence. She walks with humble steps but prides her posture in confidence. Her wings touch the clouds, her heart the stars. She was once the empty heart of a beggar. Grown in the slums of Niddle Wick. A town of harsh souls and even worse weather.  But her ever persistent heart to be more, always presented her a smile. A reason to be swelled in hope though her father be a vagabond of the streets. She loved him though he was resistaned to hope. His heart weighed heavy from his past. He was clouded in the aftermaths of his hell. Allowing the roots of his regrets and fear to tangle his soul in the frozen hold of his thoughts. His eyes, weak, bitter, his skin tattered from the elements. He holds obsessively to his weapon o

Unsustainable Victims  From place to place: path to path, home to home, forest to forest we roamed. No true land to call home, but home was with each other, no matter where we were. Stopping down dark paths in the night, setting camp, playing music beneath the studded stars of the sky.  We were a family of many and a family of the unconventional. Never weighed by the grasp of the civility of society. We were always on the out, on the edge, standing, watching; tempted. At least, I was tempted.  My family never stayed in one spot too long. Never embedded in society, created us not to be welcomed in an abrupt fashion. Either pushed from land by owners, park enforcement, the law, or even animals. My family lived in the wild of the earth.  I must say, in the honesty of it all, we were not the best of people. I was taught to steal, to trick, to lie, so that we may put food on our tables. We were great at hunting, but it is difficult to feed a caravan of hundred and fifty people w

Your Dream, Fight For it  Do not run from your dreams no matter what. Do not, do not.....become the pale victim of others thoughts. Don't fall to their testing of your weakness, the bitter cold is what they feel. They only wish the same for you. But I warn you, when you reach your dream, that is when the true test of you comes into play. For getting to the dream is a struggle, but to maintain it, keep it. Is even more difficult than building it. For even a skyscraper when built, can fall to the opening of the earth. You must hold your dream as you hold your heart, protected beneath the foundation of your love. Of the ribs that bear protection against ailments. Yet, open, beating, feeling, giving to the world a piece of you. Sharing your dream so that others may see it.  So that others may understand they too can achieve such goals.  Maintain your dream, work on it daily, hourly. With every thought you must manifest it as if it's falling away. That you are

Lift Yourself From Drowning  Sometimes, our world can become heavy. It can feel as if stones are chained to our ankles as we desperately struggle to swim to the surface. Our lungs become shallow, our breaths automated by stress, by fear. Repetition of hours click by like droplets of water as they fall upon our heads. We look to time, only to see four more hours of rigorous monotony left, before we are allowed the breaching of only our nose to the surface. Ending days in the cries of tears or in the silence of melancholy. Feeling dull, as if a forgotten antique taken by dust. Worthy of only a glimpse as we feel ourselves to be no more worth than what we receive after two weeks. We collapse to the mundane, to the emptiness and shroud ourselves in temporary bliss. Coating our hearts in drinks, screens, and other pleasures of flesh. Only to wake in a shroud of numb echoes of bitterness, as the hours tick by before we must plunge our nose back to the depth of the ocean. Holding

In The Darkness I Fell   The demon outstretched its hand. I could feel the heat of misery swell from its body as he peered from the darkness. My pale skin glowed in comparison to the depth of this darkness. I could feel my resentment in my blood boil.  As the demon held out its hand, I felt a moment of compassion for myself. For in that moment someone or rather, something else was willing to lend me their hand. As I reached out with my frail limb against my burdensome agony. I felt the heat in the darkness rise, I began to hear many voices.   It felt as if a crowd had gathered to watch and spoke in hush tones as not to disturb. As if waiting for the climax of story but are all to eager for the end. As these voices built, I became disturbed in the image of my pathetic state.  I was cold, and the heat of the darkness was comforting my lonely heart. The more I became disturbed in myself, the louder the voices became. In my hysteria of emotional delusion, I let out a scr

Technology, A Servant To The Corrupt  We are no longer the individuals we used to be. We no longer have the unique ability to be as we want. We were once free thinking and free moving, now we are the products of our creations. We are pawns to the ever growing etymology of technology. It all started with mobile phones, the ability to call from where ever you are. Then came the attachment of a sim card. The ability for satellites to track calls for the card to store information. After that, came the use of the internet from our hands. A click of the button and a world of information and connection is at the tip of your fingers. As that progressed we became overwhelmed with information. No one could keep up, time became distorted because of the swelling of information. Technology allowed the gushing of information to be distrusted by anyone. Any fool could spew their ideas to the world, like minded people would cling to it. At first it was fascinating, freeing, until the freed

A Silent Killer  It has been sixty-three days and I have seen not a single living soul. The country has become desolate, bodies lay like scattered piles of trash. The rotting stench of flesh smears the air, it's difficult to breathe. I have yet to get used to the smell, or maybe, I am used to it but refuse to let it go. What ever the consequence of the smell may be, the air is not only rotten, but harsh. You must wear something over your face in order to obtain even a fraction of filtered air. If not, your lungs feel as if they are on fire. No one knows the cause of this massacre, not even the origin at which it started. Everything seemed normal, then one day, everything turned to chaos. After twenty-four hours the country was in mass hysteria. People were dropping dead, children were alone on the streets. Many watched as their parents suffered horrific deaths, at the hand of what ever caused this. Children appear to be more resistant to it than adults to whatever this

His Splitting Heart  Its madness, I quake in fever of your love. But I am stretched like a victim of Renaissance, slowly separated in two halves. Each yearning for something else. A tragic scene I have become, a mad creature of the desolate. Dragging my halved corpse like a sickly dog by its collar. No strength to hold its own, only whimpers of defeat. I argue as if I am two, looking to my reflection as I am stained in the blood of my heart. I look of famine, my soul, desperate in the tears of love. While I am lewd in my craving of what is denied of me. Corrupting my own lips upon black roses, straining the world of any color. Creating bleakness to be my romance. Candle light and lonely screams now fill my nights. It's horror I wish to leave, yet, like an addict to the itch of narcotics; I pleasure in its familiar appeal. Though in the waking moments I plead for comfort. For peace in this delirious heart. For you shadow my mind with every passing thought. You are a sc

A Curse and the Man of Silver Armor A few hundred-thousand feet stampede toward the castle. The rumbling of the army can be felt at the foot of the gate. Each warrior screams with mighty rage, their flags held high, which bears a red crown laced in gold, sheltering two golden lions with fiery tongues. The flag waves against the wind. This is no mere flag, it is the mortal enemy of these lands, this castle. The soldiers standing at the castle are gripped by a chill that rushes down their spine in the sight of the flag. But they show no signs of fear. Its a cold winters morning and nature is fierce today. Winds howl as snow is pelted through the air. But the thousands of warriors ignore such elements as their rage blinds them of any bitterness of nature. While others among them are of death, so they carry no nerves to be taken by the frost of winter. As they rush up the small cascade of hills that surround the castle, their stands a man in shimmering armor of silver. He stand