Micah Park Biffle

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...

A Spy and His Love I hear her screaming from the other side of the door. Everything in my body is fighting to get to her, to keep her alive. Even if that means the sacrifice of my own life. My adrenaline exceeding what I have ever felt before. This moment is clear, smooth, with what my intent shall be. My mind indulged in rage, but my heart concealed in the allegiance to my love. I bear all this upon myself, it never should have came to this. Everything was perfect; perfect, till my simple slip up. I got carried away in the comfort of our life and never saw it coming. I should have, for the information of my last mission was never exposed to me upon completion. Whether the enemy was deceased or not, was never disclosed formally to me. I was in such a rush to walk away I was blind sided by lies. My own in command had fell into some hot water with the enemy. For what ever selfish reason, they saw the only way out, the only way to tie up all the ends, was to get rid of me. ...

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....

Do We Know Happiness  The deeper I dig into this conscience, the darker the world becomes. Prickling with dismal allegories, and I can't help but feel as if there is no true happiness. That this word, "happiness," is but a false manipulation of the mind in the masses to carry out malicious intent.  To feed the society a spoonful of an abstract meaning, which I find to be unattainable. Even if one finds themselves in the embrace of "happiness," foolish acts are made. Arbitrary decisions drag out an in almost sadistic undertaking by the ego in an almost manic state. Rising one up only to drop them further, to press them into crises when anything fails. "Happiness;" what truly is it when we give it a name, a name to something that cannot be explained in words? No matter how many words we use to explain it, we often respond with, "I can't explain it, I just feel it." By no means am I saying one cannot be happy, that they shouldn...

Math Ain't So Bad; Maybe it's God? Where does time flow? Beneath our feet, in the depth of our lungs? oh, I know, in the creation of math! Damn you math, your intricacies of design. To turn theory into reality and something that does not exist into something we all obey. How I dread the application of your existence. You never allow open answers, only direct. An honest approach you could say; never hiding a lie nor truth. Allowing things to be exact, calling out mistakes of theories. Even those that had once stood the test of time. Oh, how irritable that must be; to have slayed away to create an idea of science so grand, it seemed impossible to disprove. Only to have math coming walking by in its top hat and call out your flaw. Disapproval is painful, but at least math won't leave you heart broken. Holding lies and sticking by your side only to find out it has been cheating on you with music. Oh wait, there is math in that too, damn. Is there anything you ...

The Splitting of Earth The horn of the heavens rang out with a mighty bellow. The earth began to shake, every mouth of fire spewed with rage. The gods stared with bereavement of what must be done. Horror stood with a frothing mouth of carnage. The earth began to split into two, screams of suffering clouded the air. Mountain tops crumbled at the sight of the heavens. Devouring everything in their path; no creature nor village was left in safe passage. The ground began to boil, flesh became victims of shrilling heat. Mothers watched as daughters became ravaged by flames; as deafening screams of torment resounded in the ears of the mothers. Fathers observed with grieving souls as sons were crushed by falling stone. No soul was safe; the heavens rumbled with mighty roars. The sky opened with a blinding light, Angels came rushing from the stars. Gods came charging like eagles as clouds of white stormed the horizon; and as they rushed down to the splitting earth, up came the ...

Before The Bell Frantically I start to dig. I can hear scratches surface from beneath.The moon is settled high, glowing in a pearl essence of blue. The air is thick with the sultry of pine, the fog dense, wolves cling to the outer rims of the woods. My heart is petrified at the situation at hand. I do not know what has me caused for such concern nor the itch to have taken such a route home. A full moon always seems to create a curious angst within me. Sleep is never my fellow company on such a night. As I dig, I begin feel a dampness cling to my skin. It is like a cool sweat, my hands are becoming exhausted. But what ever lies beneath this earth seems to have something to say. The sound of scratches become more methodically frantic; as does my digging. The howls of the wolves fill the crisp air with an ominous mood. The hairs on my neck stand, goosebumps crowd my flesh. I begin to talk to what ever it is that is buried beneath these abandoned grounds. "I'm going ...

You Don't Die Today It's morbid, this existence, well, at least it can be. Moving forward at a snails pace, hoping for a by product of such motion. But you begin to feel still, as if a wall stands before you. You push, and push, and push; but with one more push you break free. You find yourself running so fast it feels as if nothing can stop you. Then again, you are taken by a sudden arrest. You fall to a grave of despair, leading to the undertaking of climbing. Grabbing hold of the loose soil only to gain no foot. Your mind weary, your heart stale. You see wraiths obscure the light from above. Their looking down, smiling, you reach for them. They say no words, but you know, you know their eyes deceive you. But they place down their hands as if to aid.  All you plead for is escape; but you are the breeder of these phantoms, these ghouls. Still, you reach for them. Upon the taking of your hand; pulling you from the grave. They already conspired to treat you to the...

Waking To Magic I woke to magic, to stars falling, to the moon rushing with water, and the trees singing. I stood still for only a moment, before I felt my heart leap. It struck my ribs; pulling me forward. I took a step, and as I did, the world around me became animated. The scenery entwined like a dream.  Colors flew from my fingers like beams of light. Cliff sides swayed like grass in the wind. I reached out, I touched the moon. The water upon it's rugged terrain felt cool. I cupped it in my hands and I drank it. Upon the touching of my lips, my tongue, I became clouded in sorrow. But I could feel joy speak from these enchanted waters as well. As the water rushed down my throat; tears emptied from my eyes in silence. I knelt to the ground placing my hand upon the grass. As I did, it suddenly wrapped around my hand, but with a gentle displacement. It was as if it could feel my agony, like it knew my pain. I carefully pulled my hand from the grass and glided it ...

The Sirens are Ringing  (Warning, graphic depictions below) The sirens are ringing, the loud speakers in the city are playing a single message on repeat. Though the voice that speaks from the static is calm, it holds an ominous tone. It states: "We are in a state of emergency; the city is under direst. Seek immediate shelter, lock your doors, windows, and if possible board them up. If you have weapons of any kind, arm yourself with them immediately. We are under attack; the police are managing what their capabilities allow. If you are alone, and/or among the streets, please seek shelter now, do not force entry of any kind. As all citizens are on a state of alert, which may lead to accidental death in defense if forcing your way into entry. Be sure to announce your intentions and show that you are of no harm. If you see any emergency response teams, please announce your presence as well and show no ill intent. They will support you if they are readily available. ...

Our Failed Sails  We spent late nights, with the journey of conversation. Spilling our thoughts to wild fantasies of our imagination. Casting ideas of beings beyond our earth, thoughts that stars are stories yet to be told. We felt our hearts beat in synchronicity with each kiss, each moment.  Our eyes, flared to the wonders of our souls. Gems we called them, as they glimmered in the reflection of our smiles. Our lips caressed each other, concealing our skin the admiration of loving intoxication. We found ourselves lost in the bliss of each other’s spirit. Like addicts to drugs, we could never get enough. Always wanting more, but never, greedy in the need of the other. Our fingers laced, waltzing in the dust of the midnight sky. Wandering the late streets, making silly faces beneath the lights of First AVE. Summers were our best, adventure was found at every turn. Seeking the breath taking, views that leaves one grateful for the mere ability to see.  ...

My fading Words I don't know where these words will bring me. I know not if they shall ever be more than scribbles upon a canvass. I know nothing of what they shall ever be, I merely spill what I feel and move on. But what I do know, is these words are what gives me hope, faith, and resilience to my ever dissolving body. My words may be only echoes that shall only be spoken till death has claimed me. My words may become like that of a forgotten book to the halls of a library. Covered in dust, bridged in the empty silence. As these thoughts cross me like a stream upon my skin. I begin to worry, for my lineage is at threat of the fading winds of my lungs. I am dreadful of what shall come of me, as these days are only quickening their pace. I see myself age with each passing day as does fruit. My words, mimicking my decaying breath. Slowly becoming nothing more than vaped and in-congruent sentences. Held in the underlining of my misery, pleading in the secretive archives ...

The Angst of Success and Popularity There is this angst to complete it now. To bring forth the riches that others posses. To force ones self into the putrid greed of material. To breathe in the vile waves of the rotten and live in the physical. I am saddened by this wish of existence. This existence to find one in the overwhelming need to present ones self as if to be a king or queen. But know nothing of how to delegate their actions, their emotions. They hold dear to show fashion, that supposedly makes them tingle, makes them smile. But dreary is the possessor of the concrete, the possessor who lives for nothing other, than the popularity of self. Shadows rot the cavities of their soul, but they speak of it not. They latch image, an image that is baked in the sugars of man. Only to be swallowed by the naive, the young, the reckless. The teachers of wisdom, the elders of experience, and ears to listen, have been plucked. Few gardens grow the willingness to be patient, to l...

Darling, Love Again Darling cry no more, for he deserves no tears of yours. Though agony may have found place in your heart, the wonders of love still await you. A man of loyalty, of constant faith awaits your hand. Be still, be patient, but while you wait. Become consumed in your existence. Find where you belong within, search no storms outside of yourself. Cry if you must, but cry to grow, swing in the branches of life. Be gentle to your soul, but become not the most agreeable in the room. Be steady in the awaking of your heart. For many waves shall wish to drown you, be not worried for shore. For much food swims beneath you, be skillful in the survival of your desires. Cease not the reaching of your goals and settle in fear of the spinning hands. There is no wrong in wishing for love, for living for what binds us. For what creates a growing earth. And though upon your journey, your streets may be empty. Hugged in barren trees and a somber haze, carry on. For there is mag...

Want more?  YouTube A Letter Of Love I call to you my love, from the highest tower from the highest point. Not even the moon is out of my reach. My heart swells with love for you, to feel your lips against my lonely soul. To perch ourselves in the dead of night among the stars. To gasp at the sight of your body and behold what lies within. To savor you like ripe fruit, freshly plucked in detailed accord upon a summer breeze. To taste you in the bitter fall, to dance with you by a blazing flame beneath the falling snow. I wish us to gaze into empty blue skies, to lay with fingers laced, whispering our affections.  To beseech your heart beneath the wings of cupid. To sheathe your finger in the forever. To birth what ever desires you may yearn for. To hold you to the sun and let you sip upon its warmth as we guide ourselves through this wilderness of love.  I pray for us to never go without the thought of the other. Even through the waves of anger, to ...

Tears For A Beautifully Wretched World These tears, pull them from my eyes. Pluck them as if they are roses, but be careful their thorns. Do not mix blood with their innocence. For it is I who has held them for far too long. Stowing them away as if useless. Neglected have they been, burdening my eyes with sorrow. Heavy, in the sweet scent of rain have they become. But I cannot release them on my own. Pull back the lids of my eyes and pry them from where I have chained them. Do not fear the pain you shall cause, for much, is old. If you must, plug the canals of your ears if my screams will bring horror upon your listening. Long has this pain waited to be heard. No longer to be shuddered by my attempts to keep it silent. Do not fear the agony from each nail you shall draw from my eyes. Rusted they may be, from the misery that has soiled them. Causing sickness to my view, I, becoming ill set on believing the disease that has immured my happiness. I have become a casket for the d...

Rapture Your Soul  A splendid rapture of the soul can lead one to become well. To cleanse the envious toils of the heart and mind. Rinse clean the absolute disgust the recedes in the darkest crevasses that one fears to reach. We carry cobwebs that need to be brushed. But we fear them, as they look of webs. A dwelling for eight legs and venom. Ignore them do we, fearful watching as the wind sways them delicately. Clean them? But what if a creature lives within them, ready to kill what life we have left? Well so be it, at least an attempted to become healthy in spirit gave you hope to become something new. Clinging to filth is nostalgic, memories riddle the old. We hold dearly as we angst they may be useful later on.  But when has a cluttered heart of antiques led one to be profound in themselves? By all means keep the scars of lessons, but do not hold tight to what only brings burden. Scratch the regret from the mind and polish it for something greater. ...

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. ...

Living In The Shadows The shallowness of reading what already was. Capturing tears upon words, following trails of ink. Leaving no sign of new. Scratching pen across the happenings of past. Writing to close to fires, melting the light.  Shadow's billow upon pages, shadowing the now. Tear's clouding thought, madness ensues. What filth grimes the nails. Clawing for something to free, but too late. The walls are built the hell is lit and the heart is bleak. Eyes widen to the darkness, seeing no words to create. Holding ill to the unreachable, the no longer present. Fulfilling in desire, but holding deep to misery. Bleeding are the lips, for speaking in the shadows there lies pity. And screams will not be heard. For no ears but the designers will be present. Crying to the vacant lot of split white canvass. But fear holds to the aurora of what could be. Now no hope is to be held, little is to be done. For only the creator has the key.  Falling in disease to n...

   A Man's Traveled Heart                                                                There Is No Boredom  This earth is no placed to be fixed, no place to be at a single point. Ah, the wonders that lie ahead. A nomad must a heart be. To truly embrace the eclectic sanctuary that is the ever expanding universe. Spinning us around and around a hundreds of times a year. Creating a connection to something that could boil us an instant if we drew too close. Frightful is this and if caught in a sudden stop, we would fling from the comfort of our grounds and we would burn like the stars.  This danger excites the heart. It pierces the simplicity of boredom when one finds the utmost danger in the utmost simplistic scenarios. And from those minut thoughts of tickling fear of adrenaline, blossoms knew gro...