Micah Park Biffle

I have been writting poetry on medium, does anyone still wish me to write short stories on here? 

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 Curiosity of Tragedy  Young, and tragedy was is his bitter friend. Hand in hand they walk as they looked to the streets for vigor thoughts of death. Inspiration at the hands of the grotesque and the undesirable compositions of life. He found it strange no one desired to look deeper into what evoked fear and disgust. But strangely he was, much like a doctor is drawn to the speculation of sickness. Even at a young he would find deceased insects and animals and examine them. He would strike poems from their monstrous poise. Those in the surrounding streets found him odd, many would cross the street if they saw him approaching. But he paid them no mind for his thoughts were else where; dancing in the smog of sewers as he looked for new things of death. Scouring trees for rot or rats that had been feasted upon by their own kind. He found these things spectacular, they were something to be marveled. For what brings such an outcome of the living? Why must all come to an ...

A Corruption Of Wealth  And as your ivory tower grows like twisted weeds from hardened grounds, you become distant. Your tongue holds disdain for the world below. The clouds barely cling to the walls of your tower. You hold an outrageous, pretentious, and noxious view of what walks at the foot of the earth. Your teeth have become stained in hollow truths, growing your wealth like the greed of a vile king. Filling your belly beside the utmost corrupt. Placing yourself as if you are god, billions you pour into your designs as you place a false crown upon your head. Plotting with devious intentions to will thpeople to your whim. Daunting becomes your fantasy of life, your appetite, insatiable.  You laugh as the feeble ones underneath plead for a better existence. But you lack any sympathy, you have crowded your soul in power, in riches. And so many are blind as you steer the powers that be. For you hide well behind your treasures of your horrid opulence. For few know...

Present your soul with a gift A Man's Traveled Heart The Victim Of Sheep In an instant it was gone, all of it. The wolf had sank its teeth into what breath was left. And I, helpless to the scene before me. I watched in horror as the sound of flesh was pierced by pearled teeth, eyes glaring from darkness. All was taken, all was forsaken. My heart became ill but I could set no motion into existence. For it was not I whom became the victim of the sheep. I was not the one whom'd screamed for freedom but lived in feign. Acting to be a scarecrow of sorrow, left alone in the fields of misery. For I pulled myself from the withering corn and led myself to the open grains of wheat. And as blood gushed from paling flesh, it spilled in rhythm from the mouth of the wolf. And the teeth held strong, as the sheep squirmed with little resistance. But no panic came from me, for some fall victim to their own annihilation. Following the trail of paralyzed. Listening too closely to their...

Facebook A Spineless Beast  You spineless beast, you coward. Bleeding your words from behind curtains of lies. Traveling with baggage that burden you, much uneasy to each train you ride. But much could whisked away to the emptiness and never spoken of again. But you dribble your tasteless tongue with pity. Covering your lips in dark plaster, a substance you created. Drawing upon whomever will listen, whomever will coddle you with showers of pity. Filth ridden are you, disgust is what you paint. But you care not, you are an addiction in yourself, in your own false righteous pleas. Cawing like a crow upon a thin branch. Scouring for trash, for any sustenance that be ill to your gut. So that you may roll in complaints and become a creature of suffering. Aching in the sight of others, echoing in your oh so terrible existence. Appealing to those who pour with empathy, who's pores live for the seeping of helping others, though those they help may be treacherous in action. Y...

Depression Tips Its Hat Here I am, in a strange world, a place untouched by me. My thoughts squander on the edge of lonely. Soaking up the this odd air around me. My heart feeble in its rhythm, depression walks in, tipping its hat with a smile. I grin, as I know him well, but never wish him to stay. He sits now, at the foot of my soul, waiting, just for that inch. That unprotected second I fall to his dull whimsical show. Playing lullabies I thought were laid to rest long ago. But this place, this strange place untouched by me. Reeks of the familiar, reeks of left over crumbs of my suffering. And I try, I try, I swear I am trying. Keeping the hunger at bay, the hunger to envelope this appetite to crumble. To set fire what minutes ago was happiness. What a gallant smile stretched across my face in excitement just moments ago. But somewhere, somehow, from there to here. It disappeared, it became a ghost to my presence. No, leave me be, I say, as depression tries to worm its...

A Love I Plead To Be Free Of There is no room for you anymore. These memories I wish no longer to store, I am sick of being dragged as if I am a corpse. A dead man for your pleasure to horde. To only speak to me when you are bored. I no longer wish to be a part of your dreadful story, let me soar. Let me find the better part of me though it may cut to my core. We are but a endless tragedy, a massacre, a war. Let me morn no more what we could not have. Your lips tainted, left me sore. Your heart became mine, though you never opened the door. And I waited with much patience as I tried to restore, acting to be a savior. But nothing could be done, you wore armor, and I had no encore. I could take no more, finding myself in a drugstore. Buying cheap spirits to leave me feeling no more. I deplore, let me be, let me roar, still you cling to me. Our memories I want no more. You linger at the back of my mind, you gnaw, I bleed, I scream, but cannot get free. Chains I have given you...

Find me on  Facebook Our Forgotten Books Wall to wall, this room holds memories, not just of me, but of others as well. Its nostalgic perfume brims of good times, of bad times. Alive is this place, as words can mend and words can soar. Brilliance, hidden behind each cover, patiently waiting to be unraveled. To be heard, to be read, to become the thought of another. This place, this dwindling place, where many search only when professors profess academia upon the halls. When grades are met in standard of ones knowledge to paper. But this place, though slowly forgotten. Thrives among many though they be few. Like the stem of dandelion, hundreds spread, upon a single room. In this place, all senses come to life. The aroma of old pages, of new pages, drift in comfort to the mind. The touch of books, of words, silent, blended, rough, smooth. Rippled with wrinkles of excessive lectures, or obsession to discover. Each row, each shelf, holding a billion thoughts, a billion d...

Facebook Some Must Fall To Hell Some must reach the depths of their hell before finding themselves. Before realizing the gift that is life. Some must fill the burning of brimstone beneath their hearts and the piercing of their soul before leaping into the actions of it. Some become so damned in their own skin they feel as if all hope is drained. That hell has consumed all breath and all that lay before them is misery and darkness. But in this vacancy of hope, many find faith. Many find the beaming light that sits atop their mountains of freedom. Looking up with discern but feeling the grace that bleeds from these lights. And in the flowing of misery, they take their first step. They lift their heavy soul and reach just a little further. And though their mountains towering in their presence. A sliver of promise falls into their heart and integrates into its rhythm. A promise of life, a promise that there is more to them than their suffering. That the shadows that follow...

A Man's Traveled Heart My Words Of Christmas The first snow, the bleaching of soil with gentle flakes. The swirling of rich aromas drift in the season of this moment. Music flourishes to the design of today. Memories float like the falling of snow, but sticking like a taste. Forgotten, but only till one comes upon it again. Smiles, cheerful sentiments, the ever sentimental decorating of it all. The thumping of young hearts rushing through homes. Splurging in the imagination of what has been given. As the matured converse in the fond memories of it. Laughing in the taste of spirits, the embracing of today. Chest nuts roast in complimentary trace of eggnog and roast. As laughter dances in the exhaustion of voice. But no memory becomes forgotten in this day. The sun shines in a gentle tone behind the powered sky. The breath of winter settles briskly upon nature as birds chirp in the silence of the cold. Nature, settled in white, brings a whole new life. Caked with thoug...

A Void Of Darkness  I woke drenched in sweat, my eyes wide with fear. I turned to the mirror at the edge of my bed and my eyes were black. Looking as if two pearls had replaced where my eyes once were.  My chest began to feel heavy, it ached, it felt as a knife was prying my heart from my ribs. And I has held my hands to my chest while trying to catch my breath, what was already dark, became darker. My room became a shelter for the deepest shades of black. Not even shadows of my own self could be seen. My blinds became a solid wall, no light found its way into any corners of my room. The door became a black void. I could feel a cold breeze come drifting from it. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Goosebumps crowded my skin, and my breath became visible. My mind rushed in this unexplained phenonmenon. Everything about me, was not me, my skin turned pale as snow. I felt as if I was dying, as if something was taking my body. And just as I was about to rush fr...

Find me on  Twitter The Selfishness Of Man Three heads emerged from the clouds, and as the boy looked up he placed no fear upon his face. He stood with fortitude, ready for what ever may come of this. His blade at hand, his brow covered in sweat. Below him, as he stood on the bridge before these three heads. A great battle lay beneath him, a battle that has raged for thousands of years. Even though this boy stands at the top of clouds, the rumbling of the battle could be heard. It cracked liked thunder beneath his feet, even the pounding of his own heart was drowned by the thunderous fight. And as he stood, looking at these heads that wear great crowns of stone and gold. Their eyes mighty in brilliance as they reflect like gems upon the sun. He yelled out, what he wished for his people, for himself. And for a still moment, the heads stared with no response. The boy clenched tighter around his blade, readying himself for battle. But the heads began to talk. All spoke wi...

Find me on  Twitter You Shall Never See  You have not seen the candle that burns through the night. The wax that melts as it wishes to escape the flames. But no matter, for I will find a new candle and I will set it ablaze. I will close my window, my door, and I will place pages at my hands. I shall strike the pages before me, as does a painter to their canvass. Finding harmony in a single light among the night. Creating blisters upon flesh from endless nights, though fatigue had found me every day. And the wish to fall away from it all, never to wake. You never shall see my tiresome eyes flounder about the lines before me. Finding difficulty in even the creation of a letter. But I do not falter to the exhaustion of my body. For my soul is what drives me, it drives me to the heavens. Beating loud in the night, spreading its wings to soar above the clouds. But you shall never see this, for all this is done behind the walls of my home. Behind the tinkering of my ...

Don't forget to take your soul on a ride A Man's Traveled Heart A Ballerina's Dream Come True  She was told to stop, she was told she would amount to nothing. That she is but a flimsy child withering to her imagination. A foolish heart with only a hand for disappointment.  And these words, these thoughts played like a song on repeat. Only thirteen and the world seemed to rage against her. It felt as if the world had built a wall she was never destined to climb. Even her own friends seemed to join in in the thoughts of her faults. Of creating a gossip of distortion of who this girl was.  Thorns is what this world is she thought, thorns is all it has. The budding of roses is never to be. They are cut the moment they try to spring to the sun. Only to be brought to the ground and trampled upon like dirt. Crushed with every passing moment, soon, to no longer be a rose. But a crumbled dream among the rest of the world.  She found no love in her dream, in...

Buried In The Pains Of The Broken  Petal by petal the roses fall and she feels as if she is one. As if she is falling to the coldness of winters tongue. Waiting for the world to thaw, so that she may feel once again. The hollowness of her heart is strangely heavy for how numb she is. Gravity seems to be envious, pulling her deeper to the sunken void of her soul. Leaving her feeling as if time wishes her to vanish to the spilling of its sands. But why would these two wish her demise, for she is but burdened with pain? Wilting in tears as her heart has become two. Separating from itself like the crumbling of a cliff, collapsing to the wide mouth of the oceans. Sinking to the buried parts of her mind, to the shadows that scuttle about like insects. Feeding off the dead, she becomes abled to their words. Drifting in a strange haze of coldness. A misted cloud finds her alone, crying in misery. And in the mist, whispers a voice, an empty voice. But in her packed ears of th...

A Simple Letter To My Love  Dear future love, Who ever you may be, I pray for your safe passage. Not only to the finding of my heart, but to the struggles of life. Through all things that wish to bring harm upon you, before, during, and after me. For I know the devil has no place of rest. I will be the utmost spectacle of perfection for you. Even if that means having to watch the sappiest shows and dramas I may find sour to my eyes. I will hold doors open for you, not because you are weak. But because you deserve the graces of a gentleman. I will be but the sunrise when your heart is heavy. I will lift it from the swamps of anguish and condensate upon your heart like dew upon morning grass. Bringing nutrients to the veins of your soul as we hold each other in the tough times, and the simple times. I will laugh when you do something dumb, as I hope you will do to me. As we are humans, and laughter upon stupidity, is the best lesson to see that mistakes are curable....

Hope you enjoy the read.  Death Grows In Addiction To Misery  He sits alone as his fingers guide with frighting perfection across each key. His window drawn open, the wind, in its cold presence. Brings his breath visible to the eye, but he ignores the frigid presence of nature. His eyes fixated to the ivory keys at hand. His senses lost in the beauty of notes that show no trembling from the cold. Not even he, finds himself freezing to the lips of winter. His heart, he feels it weeping with hollow wishes. His soul, falling like stone to the chasm of his empty chest. But as winters whispers its way into his home. His skin becomes colder with each passing note. But still, he pays no mind to the changing of his flesh. His breath now lingers in the air for a moment long enough to envision shapes. Shapes like one does in the afternoon sky upon the clouds. His eyes grow heavy as he plays furiously in the moment. Rain begins to pour, it rushes into his home, slowly it f...

A Dream of Love (A story from my up and coming book) The Bleeding Of Words   Oh! Where must one go to hold love. To keep it forever, never, having to set it free. ------------------------------------------------------ Where will my heart lead me, as I hold on to this misery? I can barely remember what it is like to feel. What it is like to find something beyond the pains of heartache. Beyond the walls, I have constructed. Nothing feels the same, nothing tastes the same. The world has become bland in all thoughts, views, and sounds. Note even the air holds any sustenance to my life. I feel bare and empty as any attempt to feel wisps over me. I feel as if the earth is nothing more than deserted endless hearts bleeding for more than their past. More than the pain that lingers behind their chest like an itch to the back of the throat. I look at the sun in mid evenings eye, as it casts shadows as strangers walk by. The trees pose skeleton to the cold fall. My ...

Follow me on  Facebook Love Had Passed In The Night We pass by in the night. No longer meeting with lips and composing songs or our souls. We had met in a despicable time, where my heart was dipped in the residue of animosity. And charred with the flames of suffering. I had dwelled for far too long in my own undoing. Drinking with selfish intent to drown my pain.  But like an illness, one cannot be cured by standing in the cold. And that is what I did, I stood, frozen in the cold. Twisting words like wire, creating a framework of my own lies. And foolishly I died, I let my soul collapse under the weight of my pity. As I hung from a cliff with angered patience, to be saved by another, when the ground was beneath my feet.  What a fool was I, playing tricks in my own mind. When seeing you, should have set me free, gave me hope in the darkest of nights. For your eyes captured perfection, your skin, smooth and golden like molasses. Your lips, sculpted upon y...