Micah Park Biffle

   A Wanderers Inn   I have been traveling for thirty days. My horses are weak and I thirst dearly for water. My belly aches as hunger constricts my gut. I am fearful of death in such an unsuitable way. I have always seen myself dying in daring act of life.  Be it in war or the saving of a child. Or maybe, even in the defeat of a dragon as I get one last blow with my blade before it strikes me down and it falls to its death beside me. Feeling its last breath of heat roll over my body as our eyes see only our fading souls.  I have always thought my death would be glorious. Yet here I am, traveling alone with no more rations, nor water. My horses no longer walk with fervor but lackadaisical steps. And so I pray to find shelter before the cold takes us. Before the empty plains of barren trees and darkness finds us.  I wish not to be detritus before my days. Decaying slowly to the maggots as my body lays helpless upon the earth. Becoming a gruesome ...

 A Pianist's Heart Argus is man with much sadness. He reaps silent tears behind his eyes with each grieving day. His heart is not bitter, but cold. It beats only to the music he plays during those nights of restless thoughts. Where everything coincides with his desperation to be heard.  His music lulls those who struggle severely with many illnesses of the mind. Argus has always been one to think, to contemplate the solution to the angst of the mind. Argus has spent much of his time studying his own behavior and those that he knows personally, which are few; and those he sees passing among the streets. Finding what he lacks by looking to those that have what he seeks.  As well as being a man of music. One day, through his own misery he stumbled upon a song that captured him. That held him so tightly in an emotional embrace, he almost wept dearly. A tear had escaped upon the ending of this song.  To feel a tear fall, was a miracle for Argus. For he had she...

Do you Water your Seed?    Plant a seed in the heart, a seed of good intention. Each day, water that seed. Water it with good intention. Whether that intention be a smile to a stranger. A hug with a friend or a burst of laughter shared or in the presence of self.   But good intentions are not without struggle. For often in our road of healthy intentions comes distractions. We forget our intentions for the day, in the moment we are flooded with rain or are in a drought.   But here is thing, we control our weather. We control how these storms flood us or how these deserts dry out our hearts. We are the gods of our stars, our skies. What we wish to see in our stars and feel in our storms, is our choice.   As much as it is a choice to listen to music or watch a movie. Some, must fight harder, some are in constant waves of dreadful pain. Some are held to the grips of depression and some are held to manic swings.   But in my days and in my meetin...

Facing The Ghosts  The breeze on this summers eve is delightful. The moon crests just at the edge of my eyes. Reflecting off the tears of clouds as I stand at the end of the pier. I listen to the trickling of rain as it batters the wood framing of the pier.  The rain brings no cold chill as the air comforts the falling droplets with warmth upon their decent. Everything is perfect, the voice of nature warms my heart. Much as been cumbersome these past days, I stand here in my suit from a days work. An expensive suit I might add. Most would find it foolish to stand beneath the rain near the salted waters. "It will only ruin the suit" they would say.  But as my days have grown so have I. Returning from the war and trying to assimilate back into the world, has not been easy. Europe was hell and Germany was giving us no moment of breath. Many of my friends died before my eyes.  For much of my time home, everything crashed upon me like a tidal wave. Much like...

A False Allegation "Take her to Mount Halden and lock her up, she is not to see the light of day ever again!" Rork slams the gate to the prisoner's carriage and steps away. He tosses the key to the supporting guard command. "Now off you go! Get her out of my sight." Rork turns away and spits out a stem from something he was chewing on. His over bearing stature brings fear into the surrounding guards. They respond in quick haste to his words. The commander of the guards places the key in his satchel and says, "Alright men, you heard him, lets get a move on. It is going to be three days till we reach the top. Lets waste no time." The commander then reaches back into his satchel and removes a flower. A dark red flower with specks of black on the petals. He takes the flower and begins to chew on it for a moment before spitting out the stem. "Don't forget your Wizards Bloom, it'll help you stay awake." The commander s...

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...

Our Understanding is Lacking  As I look out into the dreary streets of this city beneath the over hang of an abandoned market; while watching strangers pass by. I think to myself how strange it is, how amazing, how humbling it is. To realize that each person passing by, young or old. Each has a story, each has a perspective, each has suffering, struggles, and joy. Each living in the known and the unknown. These city streets, though I dread their congested momentum and their consent need to be connected in everything. I have a sympathy for it all, for us, I have no pity, but I have great sympathy. For we all have our paths, our heartaches, our lessons, our failures. Some of us start off worse than others, some are born in poverty and know the dreadful aching of hunger. Of worrying if food will be available today. While others, may be born of great wealth, knowing not the pains of hunger or shelter. But knowing  the lack of love, of affection from themselves and othe...

A Distant Heart I do not know the callings of connection. Linking one heart to the next, only bruises. I know not the beauty that strings from the correlation of common affection; blood or not. I am strangely distant in my taking of such things. Arms length is my comfort, it is the distance I allow my heart. Even then, I am cautious to contemplate the display of it. Even in the ideal of family I pose a gap between each member. Most would seem that I am reposed in my position of such a thing. Friends, and dare I say family; see me as welcoming and open. But I steer between the fine lines of loving and caring. I skate the outer lines of it all, keeping my hands to my back and heart to my chest. No need, nor the want of my pulse to pump from sleeve. For there, any can see its pattern and carefully concoct a scheme to poison. To place me beneath a spell and travel with little discretion. I fear I was born with an unpleasant amount of empathy, even my enemy I care deeply for. ...

A Whiskey Love  The whiskey settles upon her lips. She clears the resting residue with her tongue. Placing her glass down she raises her eyes to the pink horizon as a tears falls from her eye. A wallowing pain of memories hack at her beating heart. A small pick strikes away with each sip of whiskey. She forces an aching smile upon her face. Places her hand around her glass and takes another sip. But the whiskey is not enough, the pain still cries out with a heavy presence. She lowers her eyes from the sky and looks to the whiskey that sits in her hand. She examines it with curiosity in hopes it will suffocate the misery that saturates her heart; at least for a brief moment. But nothing suffices for comfort. So she places the glass down, another tear falls. She tries to articulate the pain that strangles her. But she shutters in agony and reaches into the right pocket of her jacket that is draped on her chair. From it she pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a small pink l...

To Replenish With Words As I write each story, I feel a part of me captured within each line. I feel a sense of freedom for my soul, for my life. No longer held to the wills of my pain, holding to the miserable existence of my misery. I find a new path with each story, though they may never be more than words to others. They are a new seed for me to plant. And like any farmer would tell you, you plant more seeds than will grow. Keep planting seeds, eventually you will get crops. But at the cost of time, of work, and discipline. Nothing of strength, of lasting taste, is ever created in the burning of one candle. Much patience is equated to each growing moment for the seeds I plant. Hundreds, maybe even thousands will be planted before I see my words become something more. Become something other than a rain drop for my seeds. But rain for others seeds, words for others souls. A place where one can come rest their weary eyes and find themselves embedded into what pours from me,...

Check me out on  Twitter Become The Kingdom You Seek Beat, beat, beat, let your heart rage. Let your blood rush through like a howling flood. Let no dam be formed in the veins of your flesh, for much is set for you to gain. You are a spore of your dreams, cease not to the flames of hell. Let no demon cling to the reaches of your eyes. Be still in the ever wavering oceans. Crash upon your shore, conquer the sickness that wishes to devour the dwellings of your soul. Raise your shield against the dragons, defend against their flaming breath. Your blades purpose is their heart. Rush them in the midst of their exhausted flames. Peel back their scales, drive your blade through their dense ribs, puncture their blackened hearts. Let their impure blood seep from their bowls and die to the oxygen of life. Signal your smoke, let your army rise upon the imprints of your steps. See the horizon before you become your kingdom. Goad the growth of your needs and give in the prosperity of yo...

The Death Of The Impolite Ardinal, Upon his arrival places his bags by the concierge desk. His eyes scanning the hotel with an utmost pretentious glare. Seeking deficiencies in the hotels composition, snarling under his breath at the most minuscule defects. A mere bulb is out in the chandelier that hangs with a magnificent purity of architecture. It hangs between the stairs of the hotel that leads upstairs as if open arms. His chest puffing in an appalling position. His hand tapping at his chin in command to find what else could be wrong in this place. He sniffs the air as if smelling a rose. Upon the ingestion of air, he smells a slight pungent smell, a smell of old cigarette smoke mixed with the now sweet scent of melon. Instantly he flares his nostrils in disgust. Covering his mouth, he makes a slight posture as if to upchuck in his throat. He turns his head back to the front desk and places his hand over the calling bell. He begins to vigorously press the palm of his han...

Veteran Crisis Line 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 ...

Youtube  Our Relevance To Particles No relevance is thee to the particles that float among us to create what we be. Our spirits are far designed to live among this futile air. This breathless nuisance of life, we are no more alive today, than yesterday. For our visitation upon this earth in our physical presence is stemmed the moment we wake. We are but flowers blooming in a long summer. Each our own winter, but forever shall we slumber. But maybe more lies beyond this veil we see. Thus we must be willing to act accordingly, for judgment may lay upon our crowns. None be perfection, but thrusting to the idea, accepting the imperfections is the utmost one can be. Lending hands to teach, to grow, to help, never to hold bitterness longer than the moment. Being no burden to self, though our real wishes this. Being no false prophet, telling only the facts of truth, living only what thee truly believes at the deepest crests of the horizon. Spilling no venom among the breach...

   A Man's Traveled Heart                                                                There Is No Boredom  This earth is no placed to be fixed, no place to be at a single point. Ah, the wonders that lie ahead. A nomad must a heart be. To truly embrace the eclectic sanctuary that is the ever expanding universe. Spinning us around and around a hundreds of times a year. Creating a connection to something that could boil us an instant if we drew too close. Frightful is this and if caught in a sudden stop, we would fling from the comfort of our grounds and we would burn like the stars.  This danger excites the heart. It pierces the simplicity of boredom when one finds the utmost danger in the utmost simplistic scenarios. And from those minut thoughts of tickling fear of adrenaline, blossoms knew gro...

A Man's Traveled Heart My Words Of Christmas The first snow, the bleaching of soil with gentle flakes. The swirling of rich aromas drift in the season of this moment. Music flourishes to the design of today. Memories float like the falling of snow, but sticking like a taste. Forgotten, but only till one comes upon it again. Smiles, cheerful sentiments, the ever sentimental decorating of it all. The thumping of young hearts rushing through homes. Splurging in the imagination of what has been given. As the matured converse in the fond memories of it. Laughing in the taste of spirits, the embracing of today. Chest nuts roast in complimentary trace of eggnog and roast. As laughter dances in the exhaustion of voice. But no memory becomes forgotten in this day. The sun shines in a gentle tone behind the powered sky. The breath of winter settles briskly upon nature as birds chirp in the silence of the cold. Nature, settled in white, brings a whole new life. Caked with thoug...

Don't forget to take your soul on a ride A Man's Traveled Heart A Ballerina's Dream Come True  She was told to stop, she was told she would amount to nothing. That she is but a flimsy child withering to her imagination. A foolish heart with only a hand for disappointment.  And these words, these thoughts played like a song on repeat. Only thirteen and the world seemed to rage against her. It felt as if the world had built a wall she was never destined to climb. Even her own friends seemed to join in in the thoughts of her faults. Of creating a gossip of distortion of who this girl was.  Thorns is what this world is she thought, thorns is all it has. The budding of roses is never to be. They are cut the moment they try to spring to the sun. Only to be brought to the ground and trampled upon like dirt. Crushed with every passing moment, soon, to no longer be a rose. But a crumbled dream among the rest of the world.  She found no love in her dream, in...