Micah Park Biffle

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 ...

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...

The Madness of A Needle and Thread Needle and thread, needle and thread. He takes the needle stitching pieces like madness. Suiting his desire to be a shadow of himself. His lack of esteem has driven him to the far woods past the Willow Ravine. Where no dare to step, for evil sleeps among the rotting trees. His eyes as pitch as the darkness that dwells in the woods. He speaks among himself as if he is not alone. His home is but a vacant shelter made of stone; the former residence to the one whom was never known. Its now brittle architecture stands like crooked spoiled teeth. Eroding with each passing wind.  His heart anxious, pulsating like a symphony of wild violins, strumming as if disaster hangs at his neck. His skin, a pasty ivory, for sun no longer settles upon his flesh. He paces his mind with horrific tendencies as he strings himself a desperate shell of his departed self. His grotesque need to tether the limbs of what he is not; only voids his appetite t...

A Ticking Clock In War Three minutes and twenty seconds, the clock is ticking! Survival is at the fore front his mind, his veins, rushing rivers of blood. His eyes constrict to the goal at hand. Gun fire resonates through the village like wild thunder; as it rains down on the now burning and motionless convoy. Screams and explosions take flight to the dusted sky. The moon beams with a crimson radiance. Hill stops stand silhouetted in the foreground. Nothing is completely coherent in the moment. His thoughts collide in a wild fight to keep himself alive, he has only himself. Communications have ceased do to debris from an explosion hitting his radio. His chest on a constant rate to feed his lungs air. His bodied pulsating to the rhythm of his adrenaline charged heart. Bullets whisk by; only a few feet above his head. He watches the rounds buzz past him as they pop with an all too familiar snap. Watching, he takes a chance to see what threat he is against. Stuck behind a s...

The Cover Up And A king  In a fit of rage he strikes him down; clashing him with his golden cup. His eyes lathered in deep fury, his flesh poised in the pulse of adrenaline praised anger. His jaw clenched so tight, a headache rises. But is quickly masked by his fumigating mania.  And there he stands, silent in temper, grasping his golden cup in a clasp of death. And now, at his feet lies his king. And with his body surging in violence, he wastes no time and in haste he drops his cup and begins to drag the body. Slightly heavier than he, he struggles to first gain momentum to carry the murdered body of his king. But upon gaining foot, he pulls the body up the few steps that lay before the throne, and places his dead king upon it. And in his now panicked hysteria as adrenaline has dissipated. He does his best to make the king look as if he has passed out from too many wines. But the kings body begins to turn pale, so he places the kings garments to cover his hands ...

A Void Of Darkness  I woke drenched in sweat, my eyes wide with fear. I turned to the mirror at the edge of my bed and my eyes were black. Looking as if two pearls had replaced where my eyes once were.  My chest began to feel heavy, it ached, it felt as a knife was prying my heart from my ribs. And I has held my hands to my chest while trying to catch my breath, what was already dark, became darker. My room became a shelter for the deepest shades of black. Not even shadows of my own self could be seen. My blinds became a solid wall, no light found its way into any corners of my room. The door became a black void. I could feel a cold breeze come drifting from it. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Goosebumps crowded my skin, and my breath became visible. My mind rushed in this unexplained phenonmenon. Everything about me, was not me, my skin turned pale as snow. I felt as if I was dying, as if something was taking my body. And just as I was about to rush fr...

Still looking for a Christmas gift? A Man's Traveled Heart She Took No Pity From Cancer  Today, she can smile, she can laugh, she can open her eyes at last. She can feel the sensation of life once again. She can dance to the music she grew up to. She can now smell the brisk air that hovers in the hand of fall. She can enjoy the colors that sweep the earth like a wild brush left with no intent to stop. She can once again feel alive in the presence of herself. No longer does she lay dormant to the aches of sickness. To the loathing pains of remedy, to needle and flesh. No more curling of the gut and the rejection of medicine. She can sit with eyes poured in tears of joy, not misery. No more does death ladle her it in its wings. Grinning with rotted teeth and a tongue of black. No more inhaling the stench of this cold building, of frosted souls that lay only wishing for death. No more does she find herself haunted in the breath of dying. Of withering to the...

A Man's Traveled Heart Lust Is But A Vampire At a late night ball, on the highest mountain top, upon a small range of cascades. There was a woman, a woman of fantasmic beauty. She donned such charm, that it seemed to hypnotize those around her, like mindless insects to light. She wore a red dress, with hair of the darkest ebony tone. Her eyes were silhouetted in a haze of purple. Her skin, as pale as a shinning moon, her lips, decorated in blood red. Her perfume had a spice only men could understand. A scent, that left their hearts racing like a poor chap for heroin. Though, this ball filled the chambers of the hosts home. Not a single soul knew who she was. But upon her presence all those who laid eyes upon her froze. Not a single infliction of emotion spurred from their faces. They stared in awe of her beauty in an almost thoughtless pursuit. As if she was a god walking among men. Even the women embraced her sight, but not in the fiendish way of men. Those men, wh...

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...

follow me on  Facebook The Lust For Riches  The waves crash with furious might, the winds howl with a raging voice. Clouds crowd the skies, sparking with brilliantly lights. Not a single gap in the sky can be seen for miles. The horizon lay hidden behind the crashing waves. An ominous feel grips the air as sailors do their best to direct the ship. But natures forces, have become ever inpatient in swallowing the ship. Men are tossed over board like splinters pulled from flesh. The captain, with his patched covered eye and grim face. Stands his ground with every intent to survive the storm. His voice bellows with command as his men follow. But the hope to survive, is fading like the eye of lighthouse in a misty morning. Many of the captains men have become crazed in fear. The hand of nature has drawn them to a weakened state. Their faith in themselves has dwindled like the sun to this storm. Though, their captain stands ready to die till his last breath....

This Is My End  This could be my end, my end where my breath ceases to weave with the wonders of life. This could be where my words no longer linger in the depths of my heart. Where my shadows finally find the bitter nuggets of my regret, and devour them with thrill. I have many regrets, and though they haunt, I have found them to muse my words. To bring extraordinary thought to mind. Creating immense designs with the architecture of the soul. Building immortality between the lines of language. This, may be the moment I become ash and am whisked away to the heavens. To see everything or nothing, so be it the wish of God.  And where I end, upon my fall to earth, either in the pleasure of life, or in the misery of my own undoing. Either end, I have kissed the lips of life and danced with the wings of death. I have felt suffering and I lived happiness. I have found love, and I have lost it. I have drank in the spirit of life and been glutton in the spirit of man. A...

Become The Angel You Pray For  Fly fly fly! Fly till your wings can hold you no more. And when you fall, fall with grace, fall knowing you will fly again. Rest your wings upon the clouds of faith. Hold dear your heart to your dreams. Glide across the open oceans of your life and catch the waves head on. Sail bravely against the storms though you may break. And upon breaking, you shall find new ships, new wings, new winds to sail. For nothing new is found in the mundane, in the wreckage of the old. Spark your heart with a kiss for the unexpected, the unknown. Bleed your soul of the old, of the used and stitch what remains with the grace to lift you. You are the ideal being to create your dreams. To build a solid ship that will turn waves of cruel ruin, into gentle ripples of a puddle . Split your oceans in two with the mere faith that you have within yourself, and with that which is intangible. Be the lighting that strikes, but do not strike out of fear. Strike out ...

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...

The World Has Fallen Today  The world fell apart this morning, the music that once played upon my heart has grown silent. The world is still, but I am moving. I watch with sympathy and tears as this world tears apart. I see flowers strangled by violent hands from merely having petals of different shades. I see tongues twist from the hardest soils only to poison the innocent. I feel myself floating, lost in this chaos as I struggle to lend a hand. As I praise the goodness I see. As I spread kind words to those around me and stand against the corruption of heart. I praise the goodness with prayer, with love, with an open heart and a blade. A blade set to cut the rotted tongues from our soils. I praise goodness as I watch the floods that sweep through villages like visible plague. But I see hands reaching deep into the illness, deep into the disease and pull free the weak. Though their hands may become ill and they may pass from this life to the next. I watch in ho...

Rush, rush, rush, hurry, hurry, hurry. Our daily lives, so much in such short time. Jobs, errands, bills, relationships, assignment, due dates, dead deadlines. All this piles up and you're sweating from the stress. Everything feels like it will all come crumbling in. Your chest is suffocated with anxiety, your throat dry from the lack of hydration. Too busy to even notice you haven't ate all day. And for what? What is there to gain when busy is all you are and passion is lost? Imagination drain and action is used up on someone or something else. The eyes of a passerby and you think, "I bet they are having a better time than me." Its seems like when you catch up on one thing, its the next, exhausted by end day and you let that little voice. That tiny voice that tells you to relax, you listen to it. You relax, only to start everything all over again tomorrow. What is left when you have gave every hour to someone else, to something else? You think about w...

What is left of a warrior after war, when all the the dust has settled and the bodies have been collected? A desolate landscape awaits most. Some find nothing beyond the blade, beyond the screams of battle. Some are torn between now and then, like the tortures of lost love. Falling ill to shadows and the coldness of the mind. Fort Warden, WA Shallow motions of empty thought carry along side many. Searching for meaning beyond the whims of instinct. Beyond the ideal skill of a predator. Too many become lost with no hope but the kiss of death. Whispering to the hateful wishes of demons. As they lie with terrible eyes, leading the lost to the end of a rope or the piercing of flesh. There is no safe passage for a warrior after war. Hell they have crossed and hell they must traverse. Numbness masks their souls as they find their way. Will they survive is all left to the warrior. And survival is what they know, but many know not the horrors that await them alone.  Many do not lo...

I cant be without you, I have found myself lost in thought. Lost in the missing of you, in agony of never hearing your voice. Remember those mornings we would wake, you would smile and I would smile back? We would exchange a kiss as if it was our last. Everything, felt as if it was in place. The world became an adventure, talking brought us excitement. We found joy in the smallest things. Like laying by the fire beneath blankets and talking about our past. Learning about all the stupid quirks we had as we end up falling asleep. We had so much together. Don't Forget to  Subscribe   But now, now I am broken, shattered by the thought of never holding your hand while we walk beneath the moon. I cry, never being able to sing to you, though my voice is terrible. I will never see the sparkle in your eyes just before you laugh, before we kiss. There was magic between us, something that could never be explained. You were music to my ears and paradise to my eyes. You were th...

-Life Block- I do not know where to go where to take my thoughts my flow  A barren river has a deeper soul   I have dream't but cannot see  like ghosts in day light my words are unseen  my fingers steady but my heart quakes  I don't know if I'll ever be awake my mind teeters on the swirling of a loose feather  I search with great intent among the coldest weather but every forest every path,  I come up empty handed, is this the devils wrath The dripping of words is usually my move  But the morning light has me a skewed My empty pockets without wage  ravages my thoughts like demons unholy rampage  I have no other no spark  My muse I have torn apart What am I but just a man  I am nothing special nothing grand  For true words would never be lost  I am ill to my thoughts, exhaust  Finding distraction and reason to sleep  But nightmares quill me dee...

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...