Micah Park Biffle

   Imagination to Change    High up we take to our imagination, for the world around us is poor. Broken, an apocalyptic spectacle that teeters on the unforgivable. Hundreds of abandoned buildings stand with dark and dreary faces. Broken windows form with jagged edges. Doors hang like  loose nails upon fingers and the walls slowly cave to the unwavering season of winter.   Empty lots of concrete split by the hand of nature. Weeds sprout like appendages reaching desperately for air. Once covered in the crust of  heavy darkness they now breach with a chance of breath.   But how foreign they appear to us, to me and my brother. We have been here our entire lives, in this, dark phantasmal place. This cryptic realm of what we are told is reality. But something we have always felt lingers in our heads, this thought of a better place.    A place where people smile as you pass by. A place where the efforts of man are not st...

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...

A Boy's Shadow    It's a cold winter morning, before the sun has risen. Snow covers all inches of the neighboring surroundings. The sky is engulfed in dark feathery clouds. The air is silent as the soft trickling of snow obscures with beauty.   On this cold winter morning, a young boy, the age of thirteen wakes from his slumber. From his dream of dragons and wizards. He opens his eyes slowly, gathering himself into reality. Like picking the last few pieces of a puzzle.    Awake, he sits up in his bed, as he does, something strange rushes through his body. He loses his ability to breath, but only for a moment. His skin flushes pale as he loses breath. What ever passed through him. It felt as if it was a dark presence, something ghastly.  The boy, feels his body regain control, his lungs fill with air. A sigh of relief overcomes his chest. But as he sits, he ponders the presence he just felt. He then remember such a moment, one as exact as this; bu...

Vanity Streets  I took my hand to the steering wheel and shoved my foot to the accelerator. The world around me became a blur. I felt the force of my engine press me back into my seat. Everything in my body tingled, a great sense of satisfaction covered my body.  The speed, the power, almost uncontrollable. I looked ahead of me, dead eye to the horizon, with no chance of looking back. I wanted nothing to do with he city behind me. As I sped down the highway, I took a glimpse in my rear view mirror.  I could see the city lights dwindle, I smiled as it was finally my time to leave. My tires left a mark, something for it to remind me by. Something, to show I care nothing about that city. It has become a hell hole of memories and foolish trends.  I loath everything about it. Everyday I could feel the weight of bullshit the people in that city permeated. It was like humidity sticking to your skin. No matter what you did, the moment you stepped outside, you we...

A Murdered Love of War Three hundred and sixty-five days since she held him in her arms. Her whole body swept up in anxious fright and joy. She thinks to herself, "Will he remember me? Will he still love me?" She throws on her best dress and lipstick; looks herself in the mirror and says, " I am gonna go the hair salon and strike myself the hair of an angel!" Still looking herself in the mirror she twirls around with a large smile, "Oh my, I can feel my heart beating against my chest." She smiles and lets out a small giggle. She stops twirling and slides her hands down her sides, over her hips to make sure the dress forms perfectly to her body. She then places a hat upon her head to hide her wild hair before it is touched by her stylist Mary. She quickly steps over to her closet, picks up her red heels and she rushes out her room and down the stairs. She reaches the bottom of the stairs and places on her heels. While struggling to keep her ...

Click here for more my book A Man's Traveled Heart Curtains Of Deceit  The curtains rose and music played. The crowd swelled with anticipation and stood in a quick fever of applause. The scene before them was magical;  masks, magicians, singers, and dancers, packed the stage with such enchantment. It was a spectacle of such marvel, flames and lights waltzed with such brilliance. The mashing of such mystical performance could almost be tasted. It had a sense of living, as if what was being watched was more than what was being seen. Like a droplet of illusion had been placed upon the tongue. The breeze of phenomenon occupied the eyes of the audience. Not a single moment of dissatisfaction tainted their posture, they were enthralled beyond the absolute. Cheers roared, tears poured with pure elation of satisfaction to the wonder before them. Some, even joined in the dances from the seats of their view. Holding hands, minding no tale of deceit from any they danced besi...