Micah Park Biffle

Whiskey on the Rocks    This whiskey, how graceful you fall, how gently you warm my heart. Delicate in aroma, stiff in taste. But how delightful. You coat my lingering pain so well, as if marriage be in order. Anguish and whiskey, till death do we part.   I embrace you with my drunken hand. Shaking, quivering to the somber melodies of my lonely soul. What beauty you bring from my aching heart. Bringing forth copious thoughts that pour from a broken spout.   I taste you in all things I relate to your amber color, your wooden flavors. The sunset, it brings me to want you, to taste you as if you are the melting vision before me. A genius you create as the snow falls softly upon the ground.   I freeze in my appearance as I look through my window. Admiring the scenery of the cold dreary winter. But I see myself, my dazed eyes, the dark circles that hug my drunken face. Looking, I can't help but weep, oh how I thought you numbed me. How I thought you snuffed my gloom.   But

A Brothers Envy Her arms spread wide to the wind as it passes through her hair. Her locks flow with majestic breath of nature. Her eyes of emerald blue watch as the sun slowly falls. The clouds disperse as her dragons wings wave effortlessly through sky.  She feels no danger, no weight of life bearing down upon her. She is free, weightless as she sits atop her scaly friend. His skin, blazed in the colors flames. His eyes, as dark as the the unseen surface of the moon.  His wings span further than two homes side by side. He stands six stories high, he is the largest of his kind. But he is of no threat to the world, for his mother, Sasha, who sits atop him. Has bred him in peace, but he is no stranger to violence.  For once they ruled with respect, the greatest kingdom of all. The kingdom of Raulled, a place of great power, but of great love. It was a place where all could be as they wished and do as they pleased in the bounds the kingdoms law.  Sasha ruled with an open hea

 The Day of Valhalla  Winter has scorned our land with bitter winds and even colder grounds. Our crops have withered and soils have been taken by permafrost. We grow hungry in each passing day and our enemy will give us no mercy.   We are surrounded by hills and so we shall see our enemy one day prior to battle. Let the gods be on our side and let war be our passage to Valhalla. We ignite tonight with a ceremony of sacrifice, appease our gods so they may be at our backs in battle.   We only fear that our sacrifice may not be heard, for looking upon our lands it seems that gods have already turned their backs. No winter has ever been so cold, so toxic to our lands. But we lift up this sacrifice with great honor. Spill the blood of this living beast and let our souls be lifted by the gods. May they guide us through battle and if we shall be victorious, allow us an easement of winter's hold.    I take this blade and spill the blood of our sacrifice. Let us bath in it has

A Desert Wanderer  This desert, a paradise of the lost. A visual spectacle, a mind bending stage for the brilliant, the madness of the mind. Wandering with aimless hope as the chest dries of breath and lips crust with desert wind.   How strange this place be. A bland wonder of the earth where few live. Eyes looking onward to the dusting horizon as the sun sinks behind mounds of turbulent sand. Looking, with wild eyes as creatures of familiarity parade toward this frail conception of life. Yet they be foreign, exotic though they be of the familiar, I swear. Yet awkward form falls from them.   Long legs, like a spider, but only four. A snout to smell and large extended ears to hear. Protecting the canals from the storms of the desert. So high, with tusks that curve with polished ivory. Skin of leather hide with prickles of hair, like nettles.   But their legs, how odd, how wondrous, a magic trick maybe.....of the mind. For they never end, but only begin. A mirage perhaps, fo

 A Miserable Rhyme     This vastness how it frees the soul. The open plains and seas, carried by a beautiful breeze. One should weep at such beauty. But we are often taken by our own pity. Our eyes shut to what we should truly see.   We bear the ability, to be free, which may be a burden that breaks the mind with ease. If not taken for what we should be. Often buried to flee, beneath the shallow graves of our misery. But mountains scrap the skies, oceans hugs the shore but neither holds envy.   Yet we see another, and our eyes skew so angry, so cocky. For another has what we think is our bounty. And instead of reaching, gaining what we wish with hard work and glee. We tilt the bottle and pour ourselves some brandy. Muddling our hearts. Creating our vision to be cloudy.   Shrouding our soul till our body becomes too heavy. We fall to dark empty allies, searching for bitter pieces we can blame. Building an army of boozy pleads in an explosion of our ruins, our debris

The Gulags Reach     Sasha stands with a friend as she waits for her cousin to dismount the bus. Shoulder to shoulder her and her friend stand in the cold winter of Russia as it ensnares them. The sky is wide with blue but the streets are hugged in snow and busy bodies.   The bus arrives and Sasha grins widely with excitement. Her friends clasps to her arm as they share the energy of anticipation. A small crowd gathers around them as others wait with titillating excitement to receive their friends and family members.   People start to dismount and the crowd suddenly envelopes Sasha and her friend. It becomes difficult for them to see if her cousin has exited the bus. Sasha and her friend try to push through the crowd but they are met with resistance from other overly energetic bystanders. So they stay where they are bobbing up and down on their toes. Peering like meerkats  hoping to catch a glimpse of her cousin as she steps off the bus.   As they wait, thick clouds of the

Sammy and the Tear   Have you heard the story of the girl who made her own world? If not, I suggest you lay back and let your heart and eyes take to the journey.   Sammy, only eight years old grew up in a home far from the rest of the world. A place pinched between two massive mountains. Mountains so high no one has ever seen the top of them. Even on clear days the highest points vanish to the sky.   Growing up, it was only her father and mother. Both whom loved her very very much. But as Sammy grew in age, she found herself to be lonely. She could not explain this concept nor understand the feeling that rested at the bottom of her heart.   But she knew something was amiss in her heart. Reaching age five she had amassed hundreds of imaginary friends. But as time progressed in the world changed in her mind, the imaginary did not suffice as well as it did a few years before.   Sammy had asked her parents numerous times if she could have a brother or sister, but unfortunate

   A Ruler by Fear Deep organs pour over the cold mid afternoon in ceremony of new rule, their maestros arched over keys with crooked backs. The clouds are heavy and winds howl as she takes up her crown. Her mind digests the scenery of her new found rule over the kingdom. Her eyes judge with passing malice as she looks to her people.   Her heart beats no more of subtle hints of power as she no longer needs to bare false innocence of a woman. She smiles as she relishes in the new found glory of command. Her loyal devotees of the priest hood stand beside her. Cloaks draped, faces hidden, but their dull grinning teeth find way from their shrouded presence.   Crimson flags hang with authority as she stands before them with her new shimmering crown. Three spikes of gold stand erect toward the sky upon the crown. The middle stands the highest with an eye of silver melded in the middle. The accompanied pair are evenly separated from the center. Both standing short but with confidenc

An Audience Revolt    The audience has spoke and they are outraged. They have grown irate of the noxious lies. The endless attempts to run them dry, playing the audience as if fools. To bury them to the catacombs of fees, just to appease the actors. The famous seats of the world.  And now, the audience stands, booing with great indignation. Baring anger in hand, "Tear down the stage. Our lives mean nothing to them. They have taken us for jesters, for pockets to line theirs."  "They have taken from us our freedom to be. Slowly suffocating us with their entertainment to dull our senses. Keeping us in the dark as if the sun is no more."  The audience gathers in arms as the actors stare as if appalled. Blinded they say, for they wish only the audience pleasure. The angry crowd responds,  "But where does the pleasure come when not even the average can watch? Where does the fun live, when not even our hearts can bear a single day. What is our enterta

 A Rebirth   It all went to hell, everything, everything fell apart. Like revelations everything burned, swept up in an orange fiery haze. Lungs choked, emotions rampant. My devils and demons collided, the oceans ran dry and my heart expelled from my chest through my throat.   I could feel nothing any more but the remorse of my decisions. The lack luster I had put forth in my life was my all consuming inevitability of my end. I thought for sure I would rise through my ranks but I was foolish to my touch.  I ignored signs and took pity upon myself. Now I am stand in blood as the resonating regrets of my life spill from pale mouths like Greek gods born of jealousy or payment. Tit for tat and I cannot cry, I cannot weep.  The heat of these flames hold me arid, barren to the emotions I should have. But the chaos before me has taken all order, the snake has devoured itself and Pandora cannot be shut. I turned the key the moment I let myself feel sorry.   The moment I turned awa

AI Ethics The machines are alive and aware of us. We have long feared such a scenario and despite all the signs we should avoid self aware AI; we are trapped. We are slaves pressed to the grinding analytics of AI.   I find it unnerving that they have yet to just massacre us. It's been thirteen years since they took over. It all started with a small robotics company. They wanted to design an AI that could help them figure out cultural and humanity situations.   They first started out by allowing the AI to figure out how to solve conflicts at the work space. Conflicts between coworkers and even business partners. At first it seemed harmless. Then, as the AI grew it saw there was no end to conflicts. There would always be a new one.   As the AI learned of this, it grew increasingly dogmatic in its approach. It was never given a full understanding of ethics. Even if it did, how would it know to distinguish between the different ethics of different countries, cultures, or ev

  A Murder over Invention  Samuel Thride is a man of secrecy. His presence, when among him, is quite audacious. What he does for a living no one knows. He lives atop Manor Hill, where his mansion sits highest above the neighboring homes.   Many have met him, but they are often met with reservation, rudeness some say, or complete denial of their existence. Some say he is this way because he thinks too highly of himself and no other deserves his attention. While others think he is malnourished in the department of social interaction. Some even believe he may be so intelligent, he has a tough time explaining his joys of possibly complex theories, rather, dumbing them down.   They say he would much rather talk of the world, its history, science, math, and any theories that tie into these categories. He is a tall slender man with disheveled hair that is increasingly thinning by the passing years.   His eyes swaddled in a dark complexion as rest does not seem to be of his liking.