Micah Park Biffle

A New Kid A New Challenge  This is the sixth house in past two years. Things are always changing and my roots are never settled. I am young, so much of my world is based around my friends. It's difficult at this point to even want to make friends.  I remain in this constant status of hovering, of always keeping my roots just above ground. I allow them to hold to the top of the soil. Just enough to keep me sustained during the cold nights alone. This allows me to never completely settle upon any one place, allowing me to detach in a moments notice. I make friends, but I don't get too close. It's hard sometimes not too, you find some great friends and you want to become best friends, but you know you could be moving at any time. Some places, unfortunately never allow me to make friends. I show up as the new kid and am instantly placed as an outcast. Some schools are harsher than others, I realize this now. But it is challenging to always be the new kid, to always ...

My Life At the Edge   My life's on edge, a vertical swing. I see the stars from which I cling, staring to the ground and wonder how it will feel, when I fall, I'm sure it will sting. All the while my heart sits at edge, slipping, I sing. Allowing a fantasy to be, pretending there is nothing that is aching.  My bones creak as the shadows creep. Coldness flows upon each step and I shiver as I weep. I have yet to feel clean, no matter the wash, I wish to glow. Always asking, why me, why the sudden stop of what made me happy? I bend with twists and turns as life is what ever it will be.  I turned my tongue from complaints, to high aim. Adding new strings to my instrument as my soul sits in its sling. Pondering a new place to live, to breathe, to be. But there is no escaping, breaching what leaves us both babbling at the edge.  No more terrible aiding of sour lips. No more firing from the hips, yet here I am blocked by what ever is behind this mist. I mis...

The Existence of Life   Have you ever truly looked to the existence of life? Have you seen the the vastness that exists between each molecule, each color? If you have, then you know what it is to weep. To cry at the beauty before you. To see the miracle of a painted horizon as the sun simmers to rest. You have seen the smile of a new born as you pass by it's mother. And in seeing such a graceful creature be brought into this beautiful world. Your heart warms at the sight its smile. If you have truly embraced life, then you know eruption of all senses. The colliding of skin upon  fingers, lips locked in love. Though these things may have broken you, you still find beauty in them. You find the rain to be gracious in its giving of nourishment to our surroundings, to us. You have enjoyed the aroma of winters cold touch as well as the fragrance of spring after the falling of rain. You have placed your eyes upon a rainbow, not out of a glance, but out of admiration. ...

Escape The Masses  Escape the masses, reverberate your soul. Impale the sheep that you once were, hang its head from the spear of your triumph. Show the world you no longer bear the armor of wool. But now, bear the teeth of a wolf, the heart of a lion, and the fortitude of a hero. No more idle breaths, you now raise yourself from the depths of your living grave. No longer will you walk with your head turned to the ground. You now walk freely from the herd, your shadow no longer haunts. You have sheered the weakness from you and now carry courage. Be valiant  in your efforts. Be not a berserker in your actions, frothing at the mouth with rash thought. But be as if a Valkyrie, wings spread, blade drawn, and heart pure in the battle to protect. To fight that which wishes to bring harm. Do not hush the beating of your heart, let it reign on your lands like the call of the horn. Bury the old and grow the new. Find yourself cleansed of the bitterness that tainted your...

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  Twitter A Thorn In A Letter  There is a letter that sits atop my heart, but is hidden in a drawer. A letter of love that was stained with my tears upon a broken heart and drying veins. I wrote with passion though we were nothing more than thorns to flesh. But each thorn holds a rose, does it not? But we never planted our roots in the same garden. My fear soured what could have been, leading us, never to bloom. And in the shadows of my whiskey filled nights. Where my heart would slumber and my tears would bleed. I found myself, with ink in hand spilling words of regret, of romance, fantasy, and rage. And along this letter came a weeping heart, holding a tainted bud that grew ill before the summer. Only to wilt upon futile attempts to make us whole. But winter came, suffocating any hope for a dream. Bringing a frozen tundra of empty mountains that grew stale to the eye. They became hidden in the dismal view of my pocketed heart. Locked away in a box ...

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...

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 ...

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...

-I Am But A Broken Heart- It is nothing more than the desire to feel love, to have love. To embrace its lips upon mine only to smile from the savory bliss it gives. But I am a heart, a broken a heart. A heart that has fallen to the emptiness of pain. I am a heart that finds calmness in solitude but aching in idleness.  We are created to love, to pump the extraordinary, to make what is impossible, possible. But I am broken, broken in two indifference's that find strange amusement in the scarring of love. Giving no relief from the reminiscence of the bloodied former. I am but a shell of heart, screaming for the hand of love. But no throat resounds. No hands come to stitch, no voice comes to sooth the rapids of my veins. For all is locked behind the melancholy gate. I bleed like the rushing of rain. I no longer beat the vibrant feel of life, but pump the thick salted tar of sorrow. I am a desolate heart, caged behind hollow ribs, vibrating with echoes of love lost. No longer do ...

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...

Nights were far from elated. Arguments were our forte, it was our nightly thing. Like reruns of your least favorite show, playing your least favorite episode over and over. Yea, that was us, every night for three months straight. Either I did something wrong or I didn't do enough. I can still feel the animosity clouding the house. Our arguments haunted the very walls of our home and engraved themselves our foundation. The heat from the arguments you could feel rise from floor just before the first words were shouted. Our home was a nightly battleground and I always left with my head cut from my shoulders.  See, I had been laid off from work for six months. Those six months I stayed home and cared for our child. At first it was great; my wife could work and she did not have to worry about me working late and having to watch our daughter for the rest of the night. Things seemed to fit well together then. But, after about the third month, I started to struggle and she could see t...