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...

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...

A Poetic Thought A dime a dozen, a smile. The attraction of the unexpected, the never sought out. Wandering the pastures of an open heart. Leading with no concrete expectation. Breathing in the salted air as waves gently crash. Passing the fading past as if it is but only a foot print to be drowned. Listening with calm ears, following with eyes of magnificent curiosity as the seagull passes above. Calling out to the sea in search of others. Spreading wings to guide even in the coldest of days. Storms bolster with arrogance. Wavering a tantrum of rage, eventually calming in the wake of empty praise. Scars of the rash, but a remedy can be; plucked from the burdens of the chest. Shared in the commons of suffering. Letting no ill memory be the waking of thought. Standing steady even in the rush of agony. Allow no avalanche of tragedy to condense the purpose of life. Bleed from only the mistakes, the failures. Burrowing hills, reaching the peaks of mountains. Creating an abundan...