Micah Park Biffle

The Moles Never Learn  I found myself walking in the snow, my head aching with a sharp pain. I feel the back of my head, there is something crusted upon the rear of my skull. I dig my nail carefully into it. I can feel the crust collect beneath my nail like dirt.  As my feet trudge through the sixteen inches of snow I look to my nail and there in my nail is blood. Dried cells of my body. Upon seeing this I become confused with worry. I place my hand once again upon my bloodied skull and began to examine it.  I slide my index finger like the bristle of a broom, back and forth trying to see what wound had allowed such blood upon me. But after several seconds of feeling about, I find nothing. No scratches, no lacerations, nothing.  My worried confusion musters down to mere confusion. I rub my eyes as I am strangely held with a slight daze. As if I have been interrupted from a deep sleep. And the evening air is not helping my situation.  I am comforta...

   A Morning Hell    Time is running out, the bomb has only ten minutes left, what do we do?"  Says Jermaine as he looks to the weave of wires.  With his weapon in hand and keeping eye down the hall way from the exit of the room, Cash responds, "I don't know...I don't know."   Jermaine, staring at the bomb with beading sweat he looks over at their downed friend Cruise, his lifeless body lay slumped against the wall with his back. His head settled into his chest as blood dries from a wound just below his heart.  Jermaine looks back at the bomb, it's time ticking away, counting down their lasts breathes. Jermaine, rushes over to Cruises body and looks for the bomb diffuse manual, a small manual with overall tips for certain explosive designs.   Jermaine fumbling through Cruises body, "Maybe there is something on that stupid manual Cruise had." Wiping away sweat he reaches into Cruises left chest pouch and finds t...

   The Choice of History  There lies an entrance, a red door to a place far different from any other. Where magic is real, time is alive, but love is dead. It is a place of desolation and pain. A place where blood flows from rivers and mountains are built of death.   It is a place so horrible, the door has been sealed shut. Locked for all eternity, a place once flourished with bountiful colors, a place where ever growing thoughts and wonder once pranced like dear through meadows. But like anything, there comes a time of destruction.   Where city floors were leveled, trees were chopped, and hope was a lost. A time when everything ran its course and something new must take its place. A time when death lives and life is but a drip of water falling from a distant cloud.   But not all is lost, though the entrance is locked, hidden from the eyes. It can be found by the heart, by the vision of faith. It can be brought from its slumbering chambers if on...

  A Fading Wound,  A Warrior's Death   Old, most just pass him by. An era past, forgotten and left behind. The world spins without patience, without delay. Time, a ever ending creation lasting beyond death. And he sits, alone, atop a park bench.   Carefully listening to the chirping of birds. The soft distant chatter of passersby, as he feels the echoes of his fading thoughts. Memories long held in horror, visions of massacre, of impending demise at the eyes of the enemy.   His grey hair, covered in an old black hat, labeled with golden words. Sorrow rolls about his heart like a tumbling stone to the splitting of earth. He remains the last of those he loves, those brothers he held dear, in time of crises, in time of peace.   Friends that felt as he did, friends that knew of his scars. They too shared such wounds, silent and those of the visible. Shadows of anguish shower his face, his sinking skin slowly reaching to earth. A grave be his ...

 The Day of Valhalla  Winter has scorned our land with bitter winds and even colder grounds. Our crops have withered and soils have been taken by permafrost. We grow hungry in each passing day and our enemy will give us no mercy.   We are surrounded by hills and so we shall see our enemy one day prior to battle. Let the gods be on our side and let war be our passage to Valhalla. We ignite tonight with a ceremony of sacrifice, appease our gods so they may be at our backs in battle.   We only fear that our sacrifice may not be heard, for looking upon our lands it seems that gods have already turned their backs. No winter has ever been so cold, so toxic to our lands. But we lift up this sacrifice with great honor. Spill the blood of this living beast and let our souls be lifted by the gods. May they guide us through battle and if we shall be victorious, allow us an easement of winter's hold.    I take this blade and spill the blood of our sacrifi...

A Love at War Darling, I stand before you as I prepare for my possible end, our end. For tonight I must take up my sword and fight for our country. I have bound myself to this country so that I may fight for it and allow it to stand beyond the test of time. To see its banner fly even through the darkest of times.  But my darling, as we take our last kiss and hold each other before we must say goodbye. Let it be known to you and the world, that I not only fight for the land beneath my feet and those that walk beside me. But fight for our opportunity of love.  I fight so that we may be safe in our homes. Safe, so that we may birth a family and grow old. I fight for our love darling. So that we may not love only for a moment, but for a lifetime. For we are given freedom to choose our love. To hold hands with whomever we may place our hearts upon.  I fight for these soils so that those who cannot defend themselves may have opportunity to live. Opportunity to do wh...

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...

Spared from Death  It was our last meal, I remember it well. It was the meal before everything changed. It was the meal  that tasted so sweet yet so bitter. I remember what it was to this day. It was rice, beans, and a packet of salt. We were given water that had run stale from sitting in horse troughs.  The air was cold that day, the fog was dense. The clouds were low and hovered with authority.  They were of a darkly color, as dark as rising smoke from burning tires. I remember Looking up at them as I ate my food in a huddled crowd of others, I remember they gave me an ominous feel.  But they also gave me comfort. Like a wet coat in the rain, it may not completely protect you from the rain, but it is better than not having it. As I was eating my food, I remember feeling an elderly man, probably fifty years older than me shivering wildly.  His eyes were dark, circled in depression and misery. His skin wrinkled like an old rag. His breath was sh...

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...

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...

The Forgotten Many, 1865  We are often forgotten, many of us forced from the memories of our loved ones and the ever spinning earth. We were once breathing fathers and sons but now we lay silent beneath the soils. Quietly whispering through the trees, the brush, and all oceans of our coasts.  Caressing the hearts of those that walk among us. Silent we may be, but as a whole, we are never truly forgotten. Merely, we lack importance to many as time spans further. We become pictures with faces but no names. We become a corpse marked in an endless counting.  Our families become new, losing their roots as they forget or misplace us in their hearts. We stood face to face with our brothers and called them our enemies. Sons died by their fathers and fathers by their fathers.  Hell found home among our wicked needs. Curating a slow brew of chaos to swell our flesh. We became cross eyed to the vision of our lands. Many fought with no wish to be, while others fought...

Your Heart is A Battleground   You're heart is a battleground. Wounded with misery, streaming down the corridor of your walls like paint drying upon canvass, a crimson hue. Echoes of warriors yell from the suffering you have beard and shall bear.   It beats with vigor but holds graves of many. Transformed in each battle you have lost something, but gained much more. Though you are a rhythm of pain, there is beauty in the gloom. The fields at which you fought now spread with golden wheat.  Eagles soar in the fresh winds in the feasting of varmints as you move on. Brave, unwavering to the endless bouts of suffering. Unsheathing your blade from the vanquishing of your enemies. You have  bled love from each wound and have filled the veins of your flesh with heartbreak.  But have fought your way to cleanse the polluted rivers of your heart. You have never been silent in the abuse of self, nor in scene of your enemies attempts to murder...

A Curse and the Man of Silver Armor A few hundred-thousand feet stampede toward the castle. The rumbling of the army can be felt at the foot of the gate. Each warrior screams with mighty rage, their flags held high, which bears a red crown laced in gold, sheltering two golden lions with fiery tongues. The flag waves against the wind. This is no mere flag, it is the mortal enemy of these lands, this castle. The soldiers standing at the castle are gripped by a chill that rushes down their spine in the sight of the flag. But they show no signs of fear. Its a cold winters morning and nature is fierce today. Winds howl as snow is pelted through the air. But the thousands of warriors ignore such elements as their rage blinds them of any bitterness of nature. While others among them are of death, so they carry no nerves to be taken by the frost of winter. As they rush up the small cascade of hills that surround the castle, their stands a man in shimmering armor of silver. He stand...