Micah Park Biffle

Today You Conquer Today, you stand before yourself like any other day. You stand before the reflection of your mistakes. The reflection of the scars that pronounce themselves as if they are all you shall ever be.  Today, you stand beside yourself, split down the middle. Yet intersecting with every moment, sadness and joy. Each fighting to warp the mind, each weaving between the neurons of your thoughts.  Coaxing you to fly or fall.   Today, you are your worst enemy and this day onward. Today, you face yourself unlike any other day. Today, those enemies that shake the walls your your heart, will be slain.   Today, you do not falter to the demons that spread lies with silver. Today, you do not sheath your sword in fear of death. Today, you are your sun, your moon, the stars, the galaxy of which you orbit and command.   Today, you are the voice of reason. Today you shall triumph, for today, though your heart feels as...

A Mountain Tragedy  It's an early morning, the sun has yet to crest over the mountain tops as we drive down from their man made veins. It has just rained, the water is settled upon the dark asphalt with gentle reflections. Ahead of our view is endless trees.  They hug the sides of the streets with great command. They stand silent, expressing a magnitude of brilliance, brilliance nature has built over millions of years. It has been three days since we were last home. The weekend spent in the flesh of the mountains has been amazing.  There is nothing quite like the views that the teeth of the world bare. You feel so small when you reach the top, overlooking the vast expanse of nature. Its bristled hair of green, its pools of tears and clouds of mist resonate deep in the soul.  You know you belong among it, yet there is an unfamiliarity of it. Like a distant cousin you have never met till today. You know your blood is of the same line, yet you know nothing o...

Be Homeless I hear it a lot, that the day sucks, life sucks, or something sucks. I hear people complain as if everyone is out to get them. I hear people complain because something they bought at the store is fifty cents more than what the listing in the stores coupon book said. I hear people complain because they don't have a nice car, or a house. I hear people complain all the time about the lamest things ever. People complaining about situations they put themselves in and then bitch about how they got screwed. People complain about being pulled over when they broke the law.....hint, you broke the law. Worst part is, I used to be one of these people. A mouth full of complaints like a fat kid in cupcake shop. I was rampant about complaining with every breath I had. But today's thought is not about me, it is about those that fill mouths with complaints. It is about thinking deep into something you are not and hope you would never wish to be. It is about catching ...

 The Endeavors shall Reward  Its is easy to fall behind, to let things get away from you. One minute you are ahead and the next, things come crashing down. Now you are in a rubble of stress and trying to compile everything to where you can at least start to organize.   Then, when you start to organize, you realize you have missed a few more things. You fall behind  even more. Anxiety starts to manipulate your thoughts into wild distortions. You now feel even more stressed, for a moment you thought you were almost back in order.   But a wolf came by, while you were busy rebuilding your barnyard only to find that sheep missing from your herd. You find the blood, but no victims. You now panic, as you have lost a piece of your resources. You feel the world around you constrict like a rope tightening around your throat.   The clouds above turn grey, it begins to rain. You become seemingly uncomfortable. You want to break down, to fall apart and l...

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...

Ascending Memories  We ascended with our feet upon the ground. Gathering up our thoughts like broken sticks, placing them in our bags to tell of later. We were silent as we climbed, hand in hand, silence at heart. Wearing red to signify the blood of our fallen hearts.  Our eyes reflected of the dark, as the rain poured with misery as we coated our hearts black. Ivory keys of woeful tunes played as we tried to piece ourselves together. We ascended higher and higher, but the terrain only became worse.  Vines bared thorns as roses of translucent petals hung like fingers of relaxed limbs. A few times our flesh came torn by the prick of thorns. The roses took to our blood, and what was once translucent became red.  Once our altitude was beyond the view of earth, the clouds became thick. Dense like the waters of the ocean. The beat of our blackened hearts grew louder through the density of these dreary clouds. We clasped our hands together, as not to lose one ...

Among T he Graves I walk From the graves I walk, my skin taught, the crows high and the skies bleak. My eyes are weary and so be my heart. The tombs at my feet scream, they plead for me. But I see, nor feel no need to listen. I have contemplated the end and its desire for me. I shed my arms like a tree to the wind. Leave me burdened with no limbs to hoist the heavy weight. Weigh me heavy upon these rotted soils and let me sink. Let me think of all the wretched things I have done, I have become. I wish for no more than to be the feast of crows. For at least, they will have a purpose for my death, my life. There is only stillness in the breath I take. I am walking in the slumber of my head, numb. Count the feathers as they fall, for each is of something I have never told. Buried, my tears are quiet. I look to the sky through the noxious vapors of my voice. What do I see, but the empty toils of what is not to come. My body meager in the urge to press forward. ...

A Path Between Two Hills The deserted path is always my favorite. It's a path few in my town are willing to walk. It is far from the nearest common road and is bound between two large hills, that most would grow tired after the hike up. Yes, the view from the hills is outstanding, its almost a mythical view. The kind you read from a book and wish you could see such a thing. But even with the amazing panorama of beauty from atop the hills. There was something that drew me to explore what lay between them.  I was about sixteen when I took my first adventure down between the hills. My mother rarely let me even go to the top of the hill as a young boy. The hill on our side was the tallest of the two, if I was ever to go up, with my mothers consent that is, it would have to be bright and early, just as the sun was rising.  That way, the journey back, I would be home in time for lunch. Growing up I had always been one to seek adventure and explore the enchanted wo...

Cradle This  Cradle this, What ever it may be to you, hold it. Let its fire rise like the flames of a burning forest. Allow new sediment to settle. To bring new life from the old and propel the dead from the soil. Allow new leaves to breathe and roots to sprout new roses. Let the petals expand into an expanse of endless thought. Where journeys are bountiful and all is encouraged in growth. Being not tempted by the swaying tentacles of the damned. As they are portrayed in the depths of sea by delicate light. Many are driven to their luxurious beauty. Only to find themselves bound to their poison, falling ill in spirit. Calling out woes at the most minuscule of disruption. What ever this may be to you, embrace it. Let yourself dance in its glory, for it is a miracle. For too often we are seamlessly pursuing the perversion of what lies at our feet. Turning our heads to the immediate, while flowers reach out to the far. Stretching to what they shall never have, only to...

To Those With Depression To those that are depressed, I bring you these words and hope they fill the belly of your soul and nourish your heart, Today, may be tougher than the former or maybe not. Maybe, today is like any other day, you struggling  to remove yourself from your bed is but a wishful feat and nothing more. As you are coiled in the monotony of sadness that seeps from you like foul breath; from a desperate evening of melancholy. Maybe, the mere action to place a smile upon your face may feel like lifting the world from your chest. I know these feelings well, I know them as well as I know the color of my eyes. I know when even a sunrise is no more joyful than a slaved day at work. When the world is pressing you into the unimaginable sinking of despair. Where the air is thin but anxious thoughts a rabid. Where colors fade and all you see is grey and the whispers of death sound so sweet. Maybe you have fallen much further than I, where the act of infliction'...

The Dusted Years  The fields went bare, the oceans calm and the air thick with dust. Crops were buried in the depth of earths cough. It appeared as if death had showered its breath upon the once marvelous existence of man. Hunger struck the every belly that walked the lonely paths. Hands that sewed the fields now cry out into the dusted air. Faces ragged of despair and fear, depression sulked the very heart of everything. Men struggled to provide, women lost touch in the nurturing. The world flipped upside. As if the gods were in the mood to shake the earth in the curiosity of experiment. Laughter was little, frowns were in heavy supply and pain was given for free. Children clung to the neck of each breath; as any form of sustenance was only convenient to those in the embrace of bureaucracy. Or those that salvaged their future before it ever arrived. The teething need to survive sprung a leak in the bowels of crime. Many came crawling to its rising stench. Seeing the...

A Scarecrow Soul I know not what is left, nor where I'm trying to go. Everything has become dull, no longer do I glow. I am a dying star that fades between the moon and the sun. Afraid to shine for I feel I have nothing left to grow. A field of empty souls is all I seem to know. I am but a broken vase tossed from the comfort of my shelves. I am shattered, battered by the hands of my own ghetto. Dancing in the dim limbo of dead crows, ergo, I am a feast for death. But thought is still brought, though I wish to breathe nothing. I clamber to be a maestro of the infernal, for there, I feel I have something to follow; an end. My ego sits hung from the hollow halls of my rotted chateau. Plastered like a Fresno I crumble with no caring of my colors. Stretched out, my mind weak, I tread upon a plateau. Flat, empty, stranded in an abyss as I stand in the middle. A scarecrow, a symbol to advert the whispers of light. Drained myself dry of marrow; given to the damned. My soul, n...

There is pain in us all, feel it, express it, grow from it A Man's Traveled Heart The Loathing Of A Monday Its Monday, I pull my sheets from my body with lethargic disappointment. My eyes gradually sinking to the floor to see the hurdled mess I must overcome. My throat dry, my mind in a groggy haze of sleep. And as I slide my feet to the floor the cool care nibbles at my skin. I express my discomfort of the morning with a sigh of resentment. Pressing myself off my bed I stand with a slight slouch of the back. I start to walk, and as I walk I let my eyes tirelessly follow the smudges and scrapes that flourish the wooden floor. It is still somewhat dark in the house. I mind it not as it keeps me in a state of dreamlike existence. As if I have yet to face the reality that is today. But as I enter the bathroom, I am forced to light the torch, instantly I regret its intense glow. Flickering shadows of my tired frame, my silhouette looking of a ghastly ghoul. After resisting...