Micah Park Biffle

   The Harbor Beast    There we stood at the harbor, our weapons drawn. Our hundreds of ships shredded like veal to the tortures of a fork. Screams of men echoed through the thickly laid fog. Every man's heart beat could be heard that day.  Our bayonets branded upon our guns. Others stood with swords drawn, but what good were they? What good were any of us?  The desolation that floated among the harbor waters, was as if the wrath of god had rained down, and it was teaming with horrors. You could hear the screams of men vanish to silence as if death had rose from the water. And the most haunting thing of that day still rests in my head like a scar upon the flesh. One of my men, my own son, aboard the ship I was designated for had swam to the very dock we stood upon. But as I and other men tried to save him, something took him. Something powerful, something beyond our eyes.  In one foul second we lost our grip and he was taken under with ea...

  The Wretched   I hear them knocking on the door, their voices acting in kindness. But I know their intentions their wants. Their need to calm their craving of this false way. They are putrid to our earth, rodents that feast upon the feeble and spread disease of our touch.   I can feel them, their cold empty presence, just as I. But I did not bow to the corruption. The naive lies of their power. And now here we stand, me against them. Me against my own, how odd. How unsightly that we have drove ourselves into this.  Into this chaos all for the sake of their incessant need to be all. To be the deciders of the world. They were once nothing, just as I. We were once the subtle voices in the night that preyed only upon those who wished for such. Who approached us with peace.   But now, now we are vermin loitering the streets with our madness. Our corrupt fever of existence. I can smell them, I can smell them as I smell blood. Their tongues cove...

   A Samurai's Purpose  The world is flooding and none can find shelter. The Titans of Ezerek have breached their cells of punishment. They, or someone has helped them break the magical barrier that has kept them from this world.   Their red eyes beam like far off lasers seeking their target. A darkness has seeped from their chambers and shrouds them in view. They stand at the heights of the tallest buildings. They are destruction and know of no other way.   They are spawns of hell that were born in the battle of who will obtain earth, good or evil? Who ever won the battle is allowed a Ten-thousand year reign without any outside resistance greater than that born of the devils spit or born of heavens breath.   Small demons and other small creatures are granted pasture upon earth as good reigns. But they are not allowed to infest any humans unless they are welcomed. So they must rely on tricks to build their presence. But now, either the devil hi...

   Imagination to Change    High up we take to our imagination, for the world around us is poor. Broken, an apocalyptic spectacle that teeters on the unforgivable. Hundreds of abandoned buildings stand with dark and dreary faces. Broken windows form with jagged edges. Doors hang like  loose nails upon fingers and the walls slowly cave to the unwavering season of winter.   Empty lots of concrete split by the hand of nature. Weeds sprout like appendages reaching desperately for air. Once covered in the crust of  heavy darkness they now breach with a chance of breath.   But how foreign they appear to us, to me and my brother. We have been here our entire lives, in this, dark phantasmal place. This cryptic realm of what we are told is reality. But something we have always felt lingers in our heads, this thought of a better place.    A place where people smile as you pass by. A place where the efforts of man are not st...

  Roman's Love    Out from the thunderous clouds he fell. Flames rage, enveloping his body like fiery winds. He his voiceless, motionless as he falls. Descending to the crust of earth. Falling from stars like a meteor sent for destruction.   Colliding with the earth at a wild speed he is forced through many layers of soil. Stones crumble, dirt flings, and hidden streams of water are revealed. His momentum is ceased after the resistance of earth becomes sufficient.   He now lays dormant in the belly of the earth. Hours go by before he becomes conscience of thought. He awakes in a mad jolt, as if rising from a nightmare. His body beads with sweat as his lethargic mind awakens. He stumbles to his feet looking up at a blue sky.   He looks to his body and feels himself with concern. He focuses his thoughts to where he may be. And how he has arrived in this unknown space. His hazel eyes dart about the cavernous crater his impact has caused.   H...

A Summer Bird's Winter Perch   I watch this lonely bird chirp upon a slopping branch. Its feet wrapped firmly around the thin finger of bark. As I watch, I commiserate its position. Sitting there, alone, singing with no others to listen. Speaking I assume, to itself.   Maybe contemplating its unfortunate circumstance. For the rest had already left for the winter. If I am not mistaken it was only a few days ago that I watched a flurry of birds dart by. Their wings flapping against the brisk wind collectively. Not a single one appeared worried of their journey.   Their shadows crawled quickly across the empty streets during a fall evening. I watched them pass by like a feather floating down stream. I couldn't help but wonder, how long must they fly? What winds must they fight, what elements must they battle against? All must be against them as is every moment in time is against us all?   Yet they fly forth to the heat of earth. Dependent upon their surviva...

Alec and the Unexpected Beast  The ocean is calm, the morning fog settles thick as the tide is receded into the distance. Young Alec is out collecting seashells to bring back to his mother, so she can make decorations for the home. As Alec collects shells, he sees something poking from the earth.  It looks as if a Dorsal fin sticking from what appears to be a shallow pool of water. Alec, with his curiosity he ventures toward the object. On his way he collects shells he thinks his mom will like. He places them gently in a satchel his mother made by hand. Its hand sewn fabric is worn from the many adventures of shell collecting. You can see shells piercing the lining of the satchel.  Alec reaches near the possible dorsal fin. As he approaches he keeps his eyes on it as he places one more shell in the satchel. The cold air becomes more frigid as Alec nears the foreign object. Nearing it, he decides to place down his satchel of shells a couple yards from it. ...

  Ascending Death    With fiery eyes I wake, aching bones and a creaking soul. A lonely moment but I breathe. I hear the voices, they speak. Their soft wisps of conclusion to who I should be. To what I should do. They trample about my head like beasts through jungles.   And in this lonely moment I rage to fight them though my heart be weak. Though the thunderous roars of my voice have become soft, I still stand. I climb this mountain though the plunge could be deadly. These quivering bones are not my enemy.  This drowning heart is not my weakness and this feverish mind is not mine. It has been taken and I shall reclaim it. I have traveled these forsaken roads long enough and my eyes can see. They burn the frozen herds of devils.  Their eyes following like eyes of cats. Keeping watch as I stumble through thickets, sands, glaciers, and worlds of ghastly pain. But I burn through their cold stare with fervor as the taste of life dangles at my tongue....

 Lady Isabella and The Violinist   I see her, her blues eyes casting moonbeams through the dark crowd. I can't resist, her allure is, magnificent. She is a baroque among this shadowed audience, but they are blind to her beauty, her light. Unaware of her elegant presence as she glows between the mingling of others.  Her lips stained with crimson and her pale skin blush with rosy cheeks. I can feel her from across the room as one feels their own hear. I am enraptured by her, the moment I found her, saw her. Infatuated with this mystery woman of refinement, I make my way through the crowd with careful urgency while holding my drink.   I see she holds no champagne of her own, a waitress is near by as I cross through the blind audience. I grasp a full glass from the waitress tray with ease, a fluid confidence takes me. Maybe it is the melody of the piano that softly plays among the mumbling of the party.  Or maybe, it is her. Maybe she knows she has...

 A Wanderer  Guitar in hand and nowhere to go. This dusty road is barren and the sun is high. My body aches to rest but I am a wanderer of my music. I am in search of my muse, the siren that will call me. Leading me to my death, but not before exposing me bare to the wonders that hide within me.   My feet are sore, my boots are wearing thin. My beard is holding this dusty air and my throat is parched. It has been three days and I know not which way I should walk. Each path has appeared similar, dark, dusty, and desolate.   There have been no signs, no lights to signal a turn, a stop, or a cautious disposition. What have I done? Am I but another poor musician taken to the madness of his music? Never to find the glory that will give breath, life to my words, my songs?   Wait, what is that, that in the distance, between the waving waves of heat and the gritty plumes of dust? I see a light, a beaming light of red  in the distance. It is faint, but ...