Micah Park Biffle

 A Fathers Twist For Love   The old man sinks his teeth into the bloody stake. His jaw moves slowly as age has taken to this old mans body. He sits alone as his somber face looks to an empty seat. His hair slicked back, his glasses sitting snug upon his face.   He wears a black tie and a black suit. Appearing as if from a funeral. As I sit from my table I watch  with a strange feeling of sadness. I know nothing of this old man, but he sits alone, challenging himself with each motion.   His frail body postures in a slump as I assume his bones are not longer a concern of his. As he sits chewing his steak he places down his fork and reaches into his suit pocket. From it he pulls out a rose, with a stem no longer that of a finger.   On the other end of the table sits an empty glass and other dining amenities. He carefully stands up and starts to walk, doing his best not to strain himself. Each step is merely inches, his hand reaches out with the ros...

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 Family Situation  His mom rushes out the door, new born in arms. Only ten years old and his father sees no reason to stay. Too young, he understands nothing of the dreadful scene that bleeds before him. His mother pleading as the young child's father rushes off in his old rusted ford. The tires screech, the moms falls to her knees crying upon the grass. Holding tightly the newly born child, it too cries in the tragedy of the moment. Woken from its slumber with no internal ability to ask why. Neither the new born nor the young boy knows the reason. The young boy feels only a sense to hide, fear curdles at his throat. But he does not cry, for he is too frightened to feel the grasp of sadness. He stands behind a tall plant that is just a few feet from the window that looks over the front yard. Peering with fearful eyes his upper lip slightly quivers as he sees his mom broken. He has no words to describe what he feels but his heart feels strange. He is pulled to come out ...

Make Not a Decomposing Heart Hearts will come and hearts will go, some will be welcoming. Some will be harsh, plucking yours as if a cherry; feasting upon it for the delight of their own appetite. Savoring the nectar that flows upon their lips like a wine cast from the ages. But yours shall always stay, and it may harden through the harsh travels ahead. Maybe it already has. Maybe it weighs of stone and beats of tar. But it is your heart, and no others can understand it. You must learn to preach to it, spill your pain to the vastness before you. Write it upon the walls of your ribs. Allowing no wounds to fester, be not a melancholic wanderer. Ending dead in actions of others, as if a counter part of Poe. Life is no downward slop. It is a path of treacherous and loving things. It will bleed you dry if you let it. It will bury you beneath the soils of earth before you even die. It can cause disdain upon those around you, though you be the sickness that ill's you. But lif...

An Unfortunate Love Do I begin at the start, or at the end? Where do I begin my dear? This is far from where I thought we would be. Strung out on the misery of missing hearts. Coiled in the cold colors of the Arctic, gorgeous, but untouchable. A mere reflection of what could have been. Distant memories fall like rain, flowing to the nearest river. Only to find their way to the ocean and blend to the others. Where do I start? My heart is no longer what it is, I hold it in my hand; it beats no more. The blood, dry, petrified upon my flesh. Murder I think, was this me? Am I the executioner of our hearts?  I do not know, for your lips are no longer mine to taste. Your voice, no longer mine to hear. But I beg with quivering teeth and a body as stiff as death, tell me where I led you wrong? Was it the constant shifting of my emotions? I know I am no saint in the handling of my mind. Or was it the absence of my affection? I know, I shiver in the act of tenderness, it fr...

Our Last Day: The Sphere That Saw Us, For Us  The stars were brighter than usual, the moon lay rested at its peak, glazed in a hue of turquoise blue. The oceans all across the world remained still. Not a single drop of rain was reported for twenty four hours. Birds were silent, their heads all looking in one direction, as if they knew what was about to happen. All the animals of world stood motionlessness. It took five hours before the world started reporting on this strange phenomenon. Nothing could be explained, there was no visible threat that could be found. No real danger was brought to the attention of earth. At least not until "It" showed up, something of unimaginable intelligence and unworldly design. It took only twenty for hours for it to hail chaos upon earth. Some how, though its size was that of a Pluto, it was able to bypass all radars and satellites. It landed fifty one miles just outside of Las Vegas. It created a crater large enough for Mount Rain...

Our Failed Sails  We spent late nights, with the journey of conversation. Spilling our thoughts to wild fantasies of our imagination. Casting ideas of beings beyond our earth, thoughts that stars are stories yet to be told. We felt our hearts beat in synchronicity with each kiss, each moment.  Our eyes, flared to the wonders of our souls. Gems we called them, as they glimmered in the reflection of our smiles. Our lips caressed each other, concealing our skin the admiration of loving intoxication. We found ourselves lost in the bliss of each other’s spirit. Like addicts to drugs, we could never get enough. Always wanting more, but never, greedy in the need of the other. Our fingers laced, waltzing in the dust of the midnight sky. Wandering the late streets, making silly faces beneath the lights of First AVE. Summers were our best, adventure was found at every turn. Seeking the breath taking, views that leaves one grateful for the mere ability to see.  ...