Micah Park Biffle

The Blameful Two  The world broke as their hearts bled the shadows of their misery. Seeping upon the world, flooding with the scars of agony. Their eyes trembling beneath the moonlight as their blood stained hands shimmer.   Their lips sewn as each is caught in a lie. Both bare, exposed to their duality. Their curtains drawn thus unmasks the bodies they have slain. The skeletons of truth dragged through the spoils of deceit.  Each, unwilling to speak. Their cheeks flush in rose petals. Their skin taut to the anxiety of their arrest. They are now the victims of themselves and each the other.  Two hell's preached in the underbelly of their weakness. The fraudulent thought in avoidance of pain. And now they stand as nude as the beginning of life, Adam and Eve.  Shaking, they are without words. Silent, bearing only tears that fall to the blood soaked floors. The dark whirlpools of hypocrisy. Neither is without sin and neither is without murder. ...

The Doctors Motive    The cold lights of the operation room ominously fall from the ceiling. I feel them collapse upon me with such a somber feel. As I stare between the glowing lights I begin too feel my legs become numb as they administer the injection.   The doctor and nurse peer over my face as they look down on me. There blue medical masks obscuring their faces as a dull haze of a halo mists from behind their heads. My eyes start to become heavy.  The nurses face fades from my view as the doctor continues to look at me, his eyes as still as the moon. He blinks a few times and says, "Count down from one hundred."   I start to count and as I do I feel a sudden penetration of a cold shiver take my body. But with the injection I feel no motion of shiver. A tinge of worry takes me as I count. "One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven...."  I can no longer keep my eyes open. Fighting has become hopeless as I feel a frigid presence h...

A Desert Wanderer  This desert, a paradise of the lost. A visual spectacle, a mind bending stage for the brilliant, the madness of the mind. Wandering with aimless hope as the chest dries of breath and lips crust with desert wind.   How strange this place be. A bland wonder of the earth where few live. Eyes looking onward to the dusting horizon as the sun sinks behind mounds of turbulent sand. Looking, with wild eyes as creatures of familiarity parade toward this frail conception of life. Yet they be foreign, exotic though they be of the familiar, I swear. Yet awkward form falls from them.   Long legs, like a spider, but only four. A snout to smell and large extended ears to hear. Protecting the canals from the storms of the desert. So high, with tusks that curve with polished ivory. Skin of leather hide with prickles of hair, like nettles.   But their legs, how odd, how wondrous, a magic trick maybe.....of the mind. For they never end, but only begin. A...

A Con Man's Lie    I could not help myself or, at least I did not want to. I became so sly in my tongue everything I said was believable or so I thought. I think my terrible habit of a slick tongue started with my father. He was a smart man. A man with great intelligence but it was used for the wrong thing.   He was a con man, the first of my family lineage. He was born into a family of nine children, him being the eighth child. I remember growing up and he would tell me the stories of his aging. The constant struggle to get attention from his parents. The lonely feeling even with his siblings.    He was born six years apart from his brother before him and four years before his younger brother. It was a family of brothers except for his one sister, who was treated very well. Being as she was the only the girl among a crowd of men.    My father, poorly given love from what he told me. Led him to be mischievous. Looking for trouble, h...

The Praise of The Wicked He has lied for so long it has become his truth. Creating power, creating wealth with such a tongue of deceit. Smirking between the acts of his crimes as he slides through the bars. Yet, he is praised for his so called gracious endeavors and his accolades of triumphant change. Slithering beneath the grass he has grasped the ankles of his followers, sinking his fangs with precision. Poisoning their thoughts, their freedom with hypocrisy, fraud, and the keen ability of a silver tongue. Upon his pedestal he walks with a darkly sheen, as if something unworldly. As he ensnares the weak with bountiful dishonesty. With deceptive hatred toward his enemy, using the feeble as fodder for his tricks. His inevitable plan to be sly, powerful, and filthy to world, but be lacking in consequence.  Engaging in the atrocious behind closed doors. Generating his wealth through the arms of our enemies and giving no heed to the fallout that shall be. He lives i...

The Triumph of Freedom The walls come tumbling down. An instant feel of triumph embodies the people with great courage. Sands flare from the hands of the wind, rain begins to pour with heavy tears. Omitting no attention to the environment, the people raise up roars of freedom, of strength, and unity. The sun glares enviously into the shroud of sand, but it can catch no view of the reckoning. The walls, now debris, sit with no command to force these people to the hands of malevolence. They storm through the openings of the walls, pressing themselves in the fury of sweeping victory. Leaping from the rubble of the wall; the men bellow with command. They charge with furious bravery as they breach the doors of the palace. Not even the diamonds that lay patterned at their feet, distracts them from their mission. The women and children, cheer as they watch from the courtyard of the palace. Seeking shelter from the wild winds and coarse sand. They hold each other closely ...

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...