Micah Park Biffle

A View That Changed His Mind I opened the door to an abandoned church, it was just before sunrise. As I opened the door a swarm of doves came flying out. I was quickly caught off guard by the unsuspecting flock. But in the short stint of startled fear I regained my composure quite swiftly. I realized what an alluring moment it was to be a part of this. An almost fantasy like moment, one you would read in a book. It was amazing, not because the doves were beautiful in their own. But everything that was captured within it. The church itself of a true piece of architectural beauty. Each stone was perfectly placed to create a very divine symmetry. The stained glass windows embraced the light with such glory; reds, blues, and yellows bent through the windows with perfection. An array of shapes and figures were graciously melded into the glass. They almost appeared to be as if they were alive but frozen within the colors of the glass. Even the entrance itself held a mighty glori...

follow me on  Twitter Listen To Your Heart, Or Forever Be Broken    Have you not listened to the whispering of your heart? The ever so graceful voice of your soul. If you have not, I beg of you to listen. To close your eyes in the harmony of each beat that resonates beneath the cage of your chest. For this tiny voice, this ever so rhythmic tone. Misses no moment to speak, no moment to be. It speaks with exquisite lines, with thoughts that bring courage, fortitude, and spiritual wit. It wishes for only a single chance to change everything. To bring flowing waters to the empty canals of your heart, of your flesh. It pulls at your gut with much vigor, in hopes you will sit and listen. But too often do we listen to what we know. The easy, the predictable, the stable, though these may bring no wealth. No wealth of heart, soul, flesh, or of the mind.  But from my words, my hopeful tenacity. I pray you will no longer mask your heart as if it is but a nuisa...

Don't forget a copy of my book A Man's Traveled Heart Thoughts Will Bring Pain  Tap tap, do you hear that? The tapping of thoughts, the eagerness for them to flow. To break the walls from your broken heart and become full. To escape the meddling of their existence.  Stifled in their exuberance for far too long. They wish to be heard, to be felt, to be open to the world that some wish never to breathe.  But that I say, is because those are the ones, who contract their dreams to size of their nails. To listen with anxious appeal, never to dig them from the ground. To leave them behind the walls of fear. Only to have them tickle the senses of life, from time to time. To have them whisper like frightened children from the torment of monsters beneath their bed.  Thoughts bring much joy and much pain, but one who traps them like foul rodents. Will never find them to be joyous. They will only pout with black tongues and tears of tar. Sticking to a na...

Fallen To Society  It starts out grand, glorious, magical, with a slight hint of reality. All things are new, all things transpire in extraordinary breath. Our eyes gleam with excitement with each passing day. Till we no longer can remain in shuttering struggle to stay awake. Even the stars are miraculous, bleeding with a stupendous view. Leaving not a moment for us to think the world is otherwise.  Our innocents compliments our curiosity, though we may find ourselves behind a pointed finger of anger. Only to end up with a smile so splendid, those that care, but must punish, can no longer remain riddled with temper. We charm our way with pleasant laughter and doughy eyes. We find our hearts to brim with happiness, with most ambitious dreams. And when we learn to speak, though limited it may be. We become an adventure of why. Seeking answers though we may have no sense. Only to antagonize the elders to feel the limits of their patience. And unknowingly, we become m...

Check me out on  Facebook Nostalgia Is But A Brute A breeze passes with gentle intentions. An aroma pursues the breeze with nostalgia, lifting me to a memory long ago. I knead it like dough, though I know I should let it go. For it is but a memory that floods with woe. It is an echo, left to the hollow lands of my mind, never to regrow. For those lands are the shattered, the broken, the lands that left me narrow in sight. Pecking at my soul like dead flesh for a crow. And though it may be a beautiful and birght, its drips of sorrow and lies with tragedy. And in this memory of this blissfully painful scent. I tiptoe, upon a scenario, I swore to never bring breath, as if I owe. And nostalgia, is but a false euphoria, a placebo. Leading one to a rodeo of emotional harrow, clambering to elegance, like the notes of a crippled piano. But I am foolish upon this memory, for I chamber it to my life like romance, call it my Romeo. And in it I die, I fall bleak to the o...

No Dream Left to The Trap Of Fear  Here, beneath this shadow of this tree she finds solace. Its branches bare as fall sets in, as the cold air arrests her lungs with a strange delight. Bird's sing with gentle chirps as she looks upon the view before her. A thousand feet scurry from one block to the next. Her heart quivering in fear for what is to come next of this unfortunate step. But her smile remains, strong, and unchanged. Her body is filled with peace, though her mind wishes to flood with anxiety. And anxiety, which she feels affectionately. For she knows wholly the tax these scurrying hundreds pay. As it burdens the air as they hurry with bland faces to meet the ticking of a clock, rushing with animosity for another's dream. Exchanging their soul for another's time. Waiting with each passing day as the hours add up to show value of their soul. And in this unpleasant view and the distilling of anxiety in the air. She closes her eyes and begins to weep. ...

Forsake ourselves. The moon is true beneath the stars, But the falling of the season will follow. Hearts will gather in pain whether sun or rain. There is no place of earth that holds an infinite peace. But the ever changing of our souls. The expansion like the blooming rose in the start of spring. The dew that settles upon each gentle blade of grass A story to be told and a story to behold. There is no place that will forever give you happiness, It is a constant battle but a battle that is worth more than the metals of earth. There is no power, be it God, the universe, or those we love, That will forsake us. For we lead ourselves to be forsaken. We give in to a single tear and each after, We fall for our own tricks but play them like a joker. Placing cards up our sleeves to play on others to hide our pain. Hiding within the frosted grounds of winters tears as if  we are dead, We crystallize our hearts with each lie We die with ...

A Monstrous Machine and A Simple Habit  I wish to turn something dull into something magnificent. I wish to turn the mere actions of one into something transcendent to the senses. Actions one does from the mere sake of habit: The sound of water flows from a single point. Fingers from an early morning rise find themselves delve into the flowing water. The water rushes upon the fingers like a flood. With no anticipation to stop the water falls in perfect harmony upon the skin. Caressing the flesh as it is resisted to stay. Falling quickly to the basin of its now new home.  As water rushes the fingers adjust to the rising temperature of the tempered water. As the water rises in heat. The fingers are removed from beneath the translucent life, the fingers glide back from the pouring of water. Gently the fingers clasp upon glass, raising it from a cold, silent, ivory surface.  The air is brisk, silently collective with the smells morning dew and the crisp f...

A Blissful Rhyme To Leave You In Control Of Your Mind  Listen to the silence, the cool crisp sounds that scurry through the quiet realm of an idle mind. Listen deep, listen well. Find within, the scattering of thoughts and focus upon that which whispers to you with audacious lips. Listen to whats speaks with strong but graceful tones. Listen to what lifts the shrouding chaos from the soul. Cut off from the mundane, the plain, the constant badgering of lives everyday things. For you deserve a moment and forever, to keep your mind in place with peaceful grace. Let yourself slide into bliss, let this take you from the strains of the lame and feel yourself glide like a cloud across the sky. Bury the unwanted scavengers that call out with vicious teeth. Leave them to their own doings and nefarious beliefs. Let them bleed from you like water from earth.  Find no place for the ill to set sail upon your thoughts in this moment. Calm your seas with a kiss of bri...

A Dark Path and Three Drunk Fools  Down the narrow path lies a red light, a light that flickers and shines only at night. With a carved sign that's says "no trespassing or you will die." No feet of the villagers near by, have ever dared to peer to the other side. For there is too much fear and imagination to stride.   They talk of those whom may have died upon being crucified and left to dry. To hang damnified for the horrible things they did with villagers to be sacrificed. Even stories of an ugly man who was ostracized for his looks and left to die. To be recluse and sing his tunes. Some say if you listen close enough, you can her him play the organ, with a man name Hyde.  Some speak of a child whom's spirit floats about that of the other-side, who died on a carnival ride. Though this path is hidden on a mountain side, near a village few have seen with a naked eye. This path resides world wide. Though these stories have little evidence to be cla...

Could there ever be a me and you?  If there could be, it would be magnificent. It would be something to behold upon the world, we would be bold. Bold in our hearts for each other, bold in our adventures of happiness and tragedy, bold in our actions for each other. We would rise like sparks from the heavens and never fade. Always giving light when the world seems to implode with misery. Leaving trails of brightly grown roses composed with streams of sublime grace. Creating a maze of stars within our kiss, losing all sense of time and existence. Feeling only our lips, our love, and the rhythm of our hearts. Feeling perfect harmony as our souls collide like thunderous skies as we bring life to love. Giving birth to something intangible. Something that turns the coldest days into the warmest moments. We would be something grand. We would be something so grandiose an orchestra would render our souls. Our days would be filled with laughter that would stretch our smiles so ...

A Scientific Lie  Sam_Journal_Entry_365_June_2166_25_1300 We now live above the earth, above where we were once born. The government has forced our very existence to be separated from the flowers, from the soils of our planet. Only a special group, the SST's, Special Supply Teams, are allowed to go down to earth, beneath the clouds. They go to gather supplies for our now floating world. We float above the clouds in domes, in self weather generated cities and landscapes. We know the weather before it ever arrives, no disasters come, no droughts, no struggle to keep things in order. As citizens though, we are not allowed to grow, nor plant our own seeds. We must purchase specialty seeds from local government owned shops. They say they are organic and naturally found from earth. But they grow unexpectedly fast. They say the plants grow in a steady fast pace due to the great weather conditions. But still I find this to be odd. For my father’s tells me ...

Mukilteo Beach, WA 2014 In The Tears of The Former I can't be strengthened in one who dwells in tears of the former. For no roots take hold in soils that are ill. No flowers bloom in the bitter tundra of pity. I have lent my heart to those who have found addiction in the forgotten, in the false bliss of yesteryear. And I have felt much pain in the lending of my heart upon their endless pursuit to grasp what is no longer. Like a weight chained to my flesh, they were a burden with each step. No words could conquer their fortified soul, a soul caped in nostalgia. For in the former they deemed those times as the better. But no flower goes without the withering of seasons. The shedding of pedals is always to come. As painful as winter may be, no strength can come of holding to winter. For in the coldness you will find the illusion of depression without the seeking of shelter. For what may have worked in summer, may no work in winter. The tending of new roofs may be needed,...

This Is Just A Rhyme There comes a time when wine becomes more thought after than last night. When its flavor becomes prey to the savoring of tongues. In relishing its fine presence that leaves the pallet feeling divine. Like the embracing of mountain tops dusted in the roots of alpine. But baselines of instrumental times, leaves the mind out right in a beautiful cry. Like waves against the coastline, the perfect symphony can leave one in a sense of blissful decline. Finding an animalistic incline. Rejecting the congested swine that divides and hides inside. Separating the soul from the mind. We align with that which we find to follow our line. Our line that presses us in grapevine. We entwine our minds with values and thoughts that complete our headline. But we live on deadlines, finding paper to pen, but let us not pretend. As though we live with a paycheck in mind, that we don't wish to be dead. Striving to reach the top but living in a madness of a bullpen. Competing wi...

The Adventures of The Toughest Kid  Do not let your imagination go to waste James is a young boy, no older than 14, he is full of life and full of imagination. He never lets a day go by without an amazing adventure with his friends or even just himself. Adventures with Pirates, Vikings, or even Treasure Hunters. What ever the adventure be, James takes his imagination to the top. Exceeding any limits of the ordinary. He creates the most magnificent adventures anyone could dream. Adventures that can be treasured for years to come and still be as if it were told for the first time.  Adventures with monster that make the skin tingle with fright, or monsters that make you laugh from their foolish ways. James never leaves a single detail out. His imagination is endless, it's a wild ride that leaves any heart racing. James has never had a day where his imagination went to waste. Ghouls, ghosts, and zombies lurk behind every corner. Warriors with mighty strength stand hidde...

Time I am , tick-tock a never stopping clock.  Hurry hurry there is much to worry. Your eyes may be blurry but life is a flurry, I cannot pause but I put crowds in awes.  I am A figment of imagination a creation of mans examination. I am taxation, salvation, frustration, celebration, complication, expiration, but no one ever speaks of my innovation. I should be sacred, but I am spent as if I cannot be wasted. Some day your time will be exasperated, learn to invest. So it best to never quit and stop being so stressed. For there is no reason to worry, if others will be impressed. But live to spend me, so you may be blessed. For in the end you will have nothing left, no second, third, or fourth try. But do not cry, for this is everyone's life and I do not lie. Now smile and stay while , I got your perfect style, its ninety-nine and senile. I tick, I tock, I never stop. I'm known as a clock but also a watch. The spinning of hands is always my plan. Be cautious the way you spend,...

Dear Future family, I do not know who you will be or how we will meet. But what I do know, is that I will meet you. That I will care for you with the deepest conviction. I know the struggles of life and I know the hardship that can come with love and family. I know that nothing will be perfect but, in my eyes you will be. You will be the perfect example of what life can bring of what life should be. Life filled with those you love and moments of grace never wasted. Life filled with the laughter of joy and tears of happiness as we watch times change and us grow. You will be my everything and my anything. You will be the reason I rise in the morning and smile, the reason I push myself past my limits to better improve our lives and myself. To give us the freedom to be a family twenty-four-seven. Not just a family on the weekends when we have days off from school, work, business, or whatever it may be. We will be each others enhancements of ourselves, we will be the light that shine...

This is a story plucked from my first book. It is one of my favorites that was inspired by a story a friend of mine had told about himself growing up. I thought you my like to see how my writings has changed from a year ago till now. Maybe you see no change, maybe you do. Let me know! And Thank you for reading!  His legs stretch just inches from the fire as it dances like Gypsies in celebration. Playing shadows across his face while his eyes prey upon the words in the book he holds in his tense eager hands. He holds the book so tight the blood ceases to make its way to his fingertips. Like ghosts his fingers shine between the shadows the fire molds, not once does he look up from his book or loosen his grip. As shadows play smiles and games across his face, across his body, across the entire area from which the flames embrace. The wind casts a mighty hand through the trees and the empty space that lie open between nature and flesh. The man never takes a second glance fro...