Micah Park Biffle

A Weary Traveler and their Words    Where to travel with this weary heart? I take up my art of broken dreams the seamless lines of darkness crowding my vision into blankness. A shroud of shadows singing so proud the hallows of the empty hollow halls. The void of my heart, tearing the delicate parts.  Where to take this lonely heart? The mountains are cold, the valleys are low and my heart is even deeper. Sinking further into the distance, a star fading to existence as wolves prowl between the howls of the wind. A sin I live in, a torment of grief, of cascading pleads.  Hands bleed as a I hold this ax, cutting down trees. Making a home that shall fit me. But alone it is difficult and in time gives no residual. And alone these eyes see two perspectives. Two objectives of my miserable perception.  Joyful and dark, each with their own end, their own start. A stark terror of fear, rejection of joy, of a happy poise. As whispers of hopeful ploys, ladled i...

  Mirror Hill    Today, I take myself to the edge of Mirror Hill. It has been a long day, a day where I feel lost, dropped from my path and left to wander with idle wrath. Fighting to keep myself from breaking into million different parts. Only to end up as a broken as a doll on a shelf praying for the aging girl to pick me up. But times change and I must accept that I am no longer the hot toy of today. So I must work, change, find myself a better me, a better way, adapt to that which will give me praise.  And here I am, ink and page, sitting atop Mirror Hill, where it leaps to the bounds of the clouds and is found to be the place of quiet sounds and inspiration. Do not get mixed that this shall be thoughts of rhymes, I merely took trap to my own often annoying scheme to rhyme.   So let us begin, let us drive our eyes into the thoughts of my aging bones and fading mind.   There secretes this bitter taste of lemons from this open view. I s...

Fall Gloom Beauty of Gray    Death has come upon our summer days. Slain are the days of warm mornings and nights of a cool breeze. We are now upon the lips of fall, slowly consumed till we are in the bitter embrace of winter.  The once open skies are now the victims of the dreary. The frigid gasp of October and the sinking eyes of November. We are now unkindly taken by darkness before our eyes open. The grey skies glaze our souls in the dim.  Our hearts become heavy as the drizzle of sorrowed clouds weep upon our streets. Our steps become cautious as we keep weary to pools of rain. Quickly can our days become uncomfortable as the steady weeping of the sky gives no hope of silence.  But in these bleak and colorless months, there is much between the grey; the cold and frozen. There are colors that only fall can birth. Oranges that cripple a leaf but bring sight to a dying season. There are moments so close to those we love, that summer cringes in jealo...

Do you Live on Exacts?  Today I had a thought, something that really struck my thinking. We are constantly in the vortex of what we think should happen. We often disappoint ourselves because things did not go our way or were somehow taken from us.  We look to things in the world as exacts. We see colors right, we see blue or white. We know one hundred percent what color they are. We see a building, we know it is a building. We pick up a book, we know there is a beginning and an end.  There are boundless exacts in our world, in the physical world that is. But there are no exacts in our lives, in our actions, in the daily process of every second. We can plan way ahead, we can take every precaution possible. To gain the results we want.  But no matter what we do, we may not get the exact results. We often place the expectation of ourselves and others as exacts. We often set ourselves up for constant disappointment and failure. Failure in the sense that we d...

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 ...

  She Weeps  Oh and she weeps. She weeps among the stars and the sadness in her eyes. She looks in her reflection and she is burdened. She sees only the darkness that runs along her skin like scales. But she finds no season to shed it.  She is ambushed in her tears. Cornered by the splitting of her thoughts. She is encumbered by noise, by the bristles of her mind. Pricked with each passing second as she tries to allude to something else. To anger, to hope, to anxiety, to coldness, or the hollow halls of the numb.  To anything but this miserable feeling of existence. Feeling useless in the breaking of her world. Watching as villains swarm her cosmos like the flames of hell. Oh she weeps in terror as her makeup cracks upon her face. Disgusted, she turns away. Looking to the far spaces between the vast expanse of space. Her eyes delicate, like fractured glass of an old church. She stares into the void of the empty black. Seeing only the lonely sparks that ar...

They are Watching, do you See? They are watching, seeing us through the lens of our own homes. They have nestled in the lines of contracts. Legal agreements we are either too lazy to read or understand little of. They are only expanding their reach. Knowing our words before we type them, say them. Recording conversations in silence as we play music from their design. We are sheep among a pack of wolves. They reach for the endless power of greed. Seeking new ways to generate the wealth they need no more. They salivate for the ability to control. To slither into the cameras of our technology. We ignore them, for we would rather be willfully blind than call them out. Than make a stand for our privacy. For it is easier to be told what do to, become slaves of our own suffering, than build character to breed strength and fight.  Our conversations are now as sacred as pile of dog shit in the grass. And they shall guide us to where we shall eat, sleep, and work. They are guid...

   My Execution of Love Do as you wish, this heart is a traveler of darkness. Scars have found home upon my heart like termites to rotting foundation. Day by day my heart slowly crumbles, it is nothing without you. Without us.   I am catatonic to love. Frozen in the position of melancholy. A possession of dark clouds have gathered in my mind. I wear a cloak of obsession, an obsession to drown this catastrophic wound.   My floors are covered in lust as I pounce from lips to lips. Seducing the hearts as bleak as mine. But no matter the sedation, I can hear you, feel you. My eyes are green, envious of your ease to cope; to find another.   I have shriveled to bone, to dust. Place me in your hand and I will be blown to the faintest wind. Wild images of darkness shade my thoughts. But if I had the chance to tell you of these, would you even care or would you do as you did when you left?   Walking in blankness as if nothing had meaning. It hurt, our...

 What is Your Why? Before you begin on a journey of discovery, before you start down the path of your heart. Ask, what is your reason for such an attempt? Why step into the passion of your heart? What do you want from it? Glory? Fame? Wealth? Freedom? Health? Love? All the above?   These are questions I believe all should ask themselves before they leap from their edge and spread their wings. For one needs a destination and that destination is the why. Without a why, you are surely to fly above the clouds only to end up falling, crashing to earth in a blaze of exhaustion.   I am not saying you shall fly forever the moment you find your why. For there may be many why's you find before you find the one that holds to you. The one that truly sparks you to start and never stop. I have fallen many times from my why's before ever landing on the one that has kept me going.   I have risen as a phoenix many a times. I have watched my wings crumble beneath ...

Do you Water your Seed?    Plant a seed in the heart, a seed of good intention. Each day, water that seed. Water it with good intention. Whether that intention be a smile to a stranger. A hug with a friend or a burst of laughter shared or in the presence of self.   But good intentions are not without struggle. For often in our road of healthy intentions comes distractions. We forget our intentions for the day, in the moment we are flooded with rain or are in a drought.   But here is thing, we control our weather. We control how these storms flood us or how these deserts dry out our hearts. We are the gods of our stars, our skies. What we wish to see in our stars and feel in our storms, is our choice.   As much as it is a choice to listen to music or watch a movie. Some, must fight harder, some are in constant waves of dreadful pain. Some are held to the grips of depression and some are held to manic swings.   But in my days and in my meetin...

Are we  of God and Devil?  What if, we are but pieces of god? Our soul be of the heavens and our flesh be of hell. What if we are but pawns of opposition to each side? In constant struggle to appease them. Each wanting us, all of us.  The heavens cheering for our soul and hell cheering for our flesh. Hell, waiting with mouths wide with teeth sharpened and coals burning. Waiting to make us an army of its devout creatures of temptation, greed, jealousy and hate.  As heaven weeps for us in our faults and prays we lead with our soul. Waiting for us to consume the waters of our heart. Hoping we choose wings over the walking of our feet.  What if, in our death, whichever side we acted more generously upon, we are given to that which we devoured more? What if, in death our souls can rise to heaven or become tied to our flesh forever? Forever chained to the misery of agony of pain as we are stretched from limb to limb in the pleasures of the devil.  W...

 Life Is Life is, a beautiful sunset. Life is a sunrise cresting over an ebbing tide. Flooding the once hidden sands to be seen by our delicate eyes. Life is waking with a smile, finding reason to rise even during the storms. Life is a gift, and we must spend it, share it wisely.  Life is our only life, life is the silent moments with those we love. The moments we jump into puddles of laughter and wet our souls with a loving appetite. Life is our beating heart, the blood rushing through our veins without a thought.  Life is, complicated, but only if you make it so. Life is, do able, but only if you work it to be. Life is an opportunity, one against ten to the two-million-six-hundred and eighty-five-thousandth power. That is a chance of almost zero.  Life is, a miracle, a chance to be what no other creature can be, you, and what ever dreams you wish to build. Life is, creativity, creating yourself: learning, trying, doing, failing, and getting back up. Lif...

These Marshes Bring no Peace  I thought I was safe here, far from everyone and everything I know. I am alone, I cast myself from the horrid reaches of memories. Crowded between marshes and rivers, a place only I know of. Yet, here I am, shrouded in stress, in misery.  But I have all things I need. I have my home, food, water, and shelter. I have peace, I have the silence of the night so that I may think. Yet, I am still haunted, haunted by visions of what was. Mistakes streak my dreams like a filth covered window of neglect.  I hear voices of former loves whisper in the soft silence of nature. The frogs belch of memories, calling out names, out agony. The crickets, rubbing their legs together spread shadows of doubt upon myself during the humid heat of the night.  I have no mirrors in my home. Why? For I feel a reflection of myself will only drag me back to what I miss. I dare not even look to the waters of the marsh except in the night. For there is not ...

My Field of Withering Roses   It has grown dim, everything is turning to shades of bland hues. Absence of color shrouds my thinking. My eyes no longer see the beauty that once cascaded my vision. I am alone, walking quietly through a field of withering roses.  The sky is white, the ground is dark. My own flesh is toned with color of stones. I feel heavy, restless as I feel myself sink to the desperate empty calls of my heart.  I thought by now, I would transcend past my stresses, my anxiety. I thought, I would be the one to bear the answers to the broken, to the bitter of my friends, my family.  But, I am still but a ghost in the halls of time. Ticking away slowly as I pride myself in my work but see no return for hope. Seeing no light to shine upon the freedom of my constant tension of mind. Straining my heart with burdens I am falling.  Tripping over the slow pace of change. I preach often of patience but my steps are becoming greatly demand...

A Man Productive Man A constant teething of stress always bides my heart. As rigid thoughts of insufficiency crowd my mind. I become strung out like an animal hide to the high sun. Dehydrated of peace, of any serenity if I ever had any. I am a coastline of desolation as I always fear I have not done enough. Sopped in the downpour of sadness as I feel no closer to my accomplishments with every passing day. I am tough to my very second of each hour, of each minute. I may smile as I pass by, but guilt throngs my heart. Like a room two sizes too small for a hundred souls. Shoulder to shoulder my guilt aligns with my happiness, my serenity. Slowly pressing it out as I wake each morning. Becoming of victim of my own thoughts. Pressing myself to do better, but even when I do, it does not feel to be enough. I could write a million words a day and still feel insufficient in my endeavors. Rarely will you catch me not thinking of my next step, my next word, my next story. I create ne...

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...

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 ...

Vivid Darkness  The black roses grow, Though the world is bleak, buried beneath this vivid snow. The cold is dreary, it pawns the old. Shivering the soul in travels among the bold. Seeking for reason to unfold but fright brings concern when one with-holds. Keeping buds from being exposed in harsh realities told. A sight of fearful eyes gaze in the empty rolls of the sold Weary in breath for they have given up control. Looking for reason to continue to scold. For rigid has their stem become. Crooked and holed, like translucent souls, invisible to all. But pain exists in the thresh of it all. Ruptured hearts fall like rain drops of clouds that hang tall A drizzle of hope is open but the darkness becomes its anvil. Weighted it cries, a cracked skull and it becomes dull. Vanishing to the awful the angled skew of nonsensical babble. Leaving tongues spread in a hull of deception as weaving breaths of the miserable confess. But concede with little honesty. They a...

Do You Feel Me Changing  I am falling, can you feel that? The cold and awkward feel of being transformed. I am drifting into something I can't explain. I am feeling a void of myself, I am feeling, of something else. Voices plague the fractures of my mind. Courting a temptress of lies, trying to walk me down a path of exposed wounds. Cattled are my scars, grouped in the abandoned stairwell of my heart. I am suffocated by this unwanted extension of myself. The pain, at which has no name. Strange echoes speak in the distance as I wake. Alive I feel, but am I something else, someone else? I hear them, I now speak with them. Before, it was just me, alone inside my head. Now I am clustered with many. Formed in the malpractice of my own mind, but not at my hand. Confused, yet I believe, I constrict my thoughts to their wishes. Most of those whom I know, are now mere shadows of my life. Family has become a fleeting picture. Arguments collide in the halls of my home. Tears ...

Your Dream, Fight For it  Do not run from your dreams no matter what. Do not, do not.....become the pale victim of others thoughts. Don't fall to their testing of your weakness, the bitter cold is what they feel. They only wish the same for you. But I warn you, when you reach your dream, that is when the true test of you comes into play. For getting to the dream is a struggle, but to maintain it, keep it. Is even more difficult than building it. For even a skyscraper when built, can fall to the opening of the earth. You must hold your dream as you hold your heart, protected beneath the foundation of your love. Of the ribs that bear protection against ailments. Yet, open, beating, feeling, giving to the world a piece of you. Sharing your dream so that others may see it.  So that others may understand they too can achieve such goals.  Maintain your dream, work on it daily, hourly. With every thought you must manifest it as if it's falling away. That y...