Micah Park Biffle

  Step Out! Out, Out from the gloom, The obscure breath of doubt Take stone, break thy yoke, Let trouble fall, let shoulders be lifted, Flow, to the heavens Be but strain no more, Open wide, thy mouth, Let prayer fill thy tongue Be parched no more. Stillness in heart  Though seas roar like lions, And beast snarl among mist, Step,  Out! To mercy of life, Ease, be reborn. Let no shackle of past Be meaning for tear Take hammer,  Fracture the cumbersome Be feet of swift Fill your days with strides, Though dunes widen And heat scorches thy soles. Out, Step out from thy fear, There is another to call To breach, To reach your heart  Though thee be of man, Let not thy eyes of flesh Be the dealings of truth, Wander, In aspect to be whole Be not the coward hidden in cave, A creature curled  Like frightened doe, For he walks beside thee, Like king among his men, A sword of greatness Sways from his belt, Ready, To swing against thy enemies, A presence more bold  T...

 Drown My Heart  Drown this heart! I scream as I plunge it beneath the depth of the ocean. Drown it till it can beat no more! It has no place here. For I am empty of any love, my senses are absent. As absent as breath is to death.  Let a corpse be my existence for the twinge of life I have allowed it to cripple me. But I have given no cane to my soul and no hope to my mind. Let the water suffocate what is left, what shall save me? Nothing, for I have swept myself clean of any desire to stand beneath the stars nor the moon.  Let me vanish from the sunsets. Let me be a shadow of every night and the shade of every morning. For this heart is miserable. It drips of tar, a blackness gripped in the bowels of misery. I bear only contempt for my actions, myself.  I have allowed fear to be my guide and have watched love fade because of it. So close I have been, so close to the warmth of love but, I am dirt flung upon any flame. And so be it, the silence of my...

The Bone Girl     I hear whispers in the night as I lay my head to rest. I assure you I am not ill, I am not mad in the mind or body. Quiet whispers I tell you, tickle gently upon the canals of my ears before each rest at midnight. Like wisps of wind through an empty hall.   But oddly, I fear them not but I am quite gripped in confusion. As if lost in a room of mirrors, I am finding no exit. But I do not allow my lost mind to be wild. I keep my wits about me as I lay myself to rest.       What these whispers say I do not know. They are foreign in tongue, or so I think. I reach out to my doctor, he gives me no advice but to take pills to help me rest. He states, "It may be your lack of well rest. Often the mind will become delusional if not sufficiently resting."   I take his offer of pills and yet, I still hear the somber voices that trickle from the air. I am not mad I tell you, I swear. There is no delusion of m...

 A Father's Dream    I could have quit and all would have been fine. No one would of said I was less than I was. Many told me I should quit, I should step back. That everything I am doing will only end up in flames. Maybe it could have, but it didn't.   For each day I rose before the sun and held my children in my arms. I would look to my wife as I woke. Her beautiful complexion, her gorgeous aurora floating about the room. I could hear her heart beating gently in the calmness of every morning.   And when I look to them, when I look to my children, my wife, I think of all the wonder they have given me. I think of everything my wife has sacrificed to keep our children smiling, laughing as I step out the door every morning taking the risk to change it all.   I think of the terrible times we have had, the times food was more scarce than fuel. I think about the times when we argued over the simplest things because we would rather ignore the dragon a...

A Whole Heart     How do you find the courage to be loved again? To be open to the risk of pain and torment? How does one become whole again in the adventure of love? What must be done to no longer be at the limits of your walls? What must I do?  I think this as I sit alone, picking at the pieces of my heart. Placing them upon a table, motionless. Pieces of something that used to flourish, prosper beneath the gentle cool of the stars. Carefully I prod and poke with the edge of a blade. Investigating the scars, the creases, the cracks. Every inch of every piece.   Hoping to find an answer, a missing link. A remedy of a broken heart. But all I can find are wounds, scabs that have churned grey and blood that ceases to pour. A crust like the earth has settled upon my ventricles. Clotting any chance of breath. My heart is merely a representation of what was.   A sad ensemble of horrific cuts. A collage of regrets covered in the misery of rejection...

   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...

  A Genius Held by Fear Therby is a man of science, of thoughts and genius. Every night he delves into his mind and plucks from it new ideas. He would plant each new idea onto paper. Quickly skimming through his mind like a comb through hair.  Every now and then something would stick. Something would become tangled in his mind. An idea that he would have to fight to pry from his entwined neurons. As they send an encrypted idea from all parts of his mind.  Shooting like a needle pricked upon the finger. On such ideas he would find himself lost from all others things. Lost from his daily errands, meetings, or any such other endeavor he would have. Many times, Therby would forget to arrive for doctor appointments for his treatments.  Treatments for his deteriorating body. He was diagnosed with Bright's Disease. The treatments given were opiates and the occasional blood letting. But Therby preferred finding himself enthralled in solving the idea that would ra...

An Ex and In the Head    A disturbance came from the back room, Alice placed down her book and approached the door to the room. It was a cold evening alone. It was her first night absent with her lover. They had broken off their love due to career choices.  Alice was always the one driven to work till madness of exhaustion over took her. She finds her twenties to be the opportune time to supply herself with a giving future. But her boyfriend did not. Though Alice is alone tonight, it feels no different than she was in a relationship. For she was mostly alone working anyways. Approaching the door, she could hear a rhythmic thud, as if someone is repeatedly stomping their feet upon the ground. Thud, Thud.....Thud, Thud. She placed her ear to the door and carefully listened. But when she did so, the noise ceased. She then lifted her head from the door, the noise started up again. She stepped back with a gentle touch of fright. As she looked to the door with cur...

The Narrow Walls to The Heart  I open up the door and before me stands a giant wall, roughly three-hundred feet tall. Pearl white, smooth like ivory keys of a grand piano. No cracks, no blemishes, just a wall of solid white. I approach with a curious heart. Nearing the wall, a door appears, a red door, only a few inches taller than me. It holds a golden knob with no key hole. With my world as it is, I see no caution not to open it. Everything at this point feels hopeless. My heart feels trapped and I see no end to my suffering. My ribs feel constricted upon my heart and my breathing has become shallow. So, I do what any desperate soul would do, I open the the door. As I do, a bright light shines for a moment. I can't see at first, but I adjust. I step through and there, in front of me is another wall. Another large standing wall, only ten feet from me. No door appears like the first, I immediately turn around to return to the first door, but it has vanished. I am star...

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 ...

Unopened Letters  He struck up a match and lit the candle that sat upon his desk. Upon the candles embrace of the flame he blew out the match and watched the smoke fade. His face shifted in the dancing light, one might say it skewed the truth. He then looked around his small cottage and began to check the doors and windows; ensuring they are sealed shut. His walk is slightly subdued by his lame leg. Injured from an harrowing event; but he dares speak of it. He prefers the ever echoing silence of the memory. Never giving more than a glimpse to others to ignore his disabled leg. After checking his very limited perimeter he walks over to his fire place. He leans over a small pile of logs as he adjusts his leg to adhere to his desired posture. He then grabs a log in one hand and chucks it into the middle of the fire place. He then reaches for another and another, he then alters their position. Allowing them to be more feasible to the igniting of flames. Once the logs are s...

A Child and A Gracious Genie A circle of graves stand near an old home. No one dares approach it for the tale of a witch is told to occupy its walls. Even the nearest road is a mile from it, not a single home is its neighbor. But tonight is an usual night, for tonight; a group of kids become curious. Well, not curious, more in thought of foolish bravery seasoned in the words of a dare. So, of the five, three go into the woods to find the hold house by the graves. As they travel through the dense woods at midnight, they speak softly between each other. Doing their best to display no fear, but each can hear their heart beating fiercely. Every branch that breaks beneath their feet they are consumed with fright. Startled, they cling to one another but quickly separate in an act with false bravery. The deeper they recede into the woods, the more ominous everything becomes. They can hear critters scampering between the trees with each step they take. Suddenly, the moonlight van...

A Courageous Purpose  He was only nineteen, much like those around him; he was lost in what life was and where he should go. High school was over and the doors of life were open. He was overwhelmed at the thought of opportunities; but something in him drove him from the average path. The choice to get a job or to go to college were dreadful thoughts. The idea of being placed once more in a room with a teacher. Listening to what mostly likely would have no interest in his heart nor mind; was agonizing to him. The mere thought of sitting at a small table stacked with books drew a nauseating urge from his gut. Boredom followed beside this nauseous feel. Though he felt no desire for either a job or school, he had to make a choice. His fathered gave him three , go to school, get a job, or move out. All three of those were dreadful angles of thought. Each tied a knot inside his heart, constricting his conscious will to create. But though he be a man of a creative mind....

A Curiosity of Tragedy  Young, and tragedy was is his bitter friend. Hand in hand they walk as they looked to the streets for vigor thoughts of death. Inspiration at the hands of the grotesque and the undesirable compositions of life. He found it strange no one desired to look deeper into what evoked fear and disgust. But strangely he was, much like a doctor is drawn to the speculation of sickness. Even at a young he would find deceased insects and animals and examine them. He would strike poems from their monstrous poise. Those in the surrounding streets found him odd, many would cross the street if they saw him approaching. But he paid them no mind for his thoughts were else where; dancing in the smog of sewers as he looked for new things of death. Scouring trees for rot or rats that had been feasted upon by their own kind. He found these things spectacular, they were something to be marveled. For what brings such an outcome of the living? Why must all come to an ...