Micah Park Biffle

 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 ...

 A Father's Dream    I could have quit and all would have been fine. No one would of said I was less than I was. Many told me I should quit, I should step back. That everything I am doing will only end up in flames. Maybe it could have, but it didn't.   For each day I rose before the sun and held my children in my arms. I would look to my wife as I woke. Her beautiful complexion, her gorgeous aurora floating about the room. I could hear her heart beating gently in the calmness of every morning.   And when I look to them, when I look to my children, my wife, I think of all the wonder they have given me. I think of everything my wife has sacrificed to keep our children smiling, laughing as I step out the door every morning taking the risk to change it all.   I think of the terrible times we have had, the times food was more scarce than fuel. I think about the times when we argued over the simplest things because we would rather ignore the dragon a...

He Could Have Quit  Cab is struggling in the race. His heart is beating quicker than the pace at which the rain is falling. The Georgia heat is basking upon his body. Sweat has consumed every thread he is wearing. Behind is the beast of Defeat and its father, Surrender.  His back is aching as the weight he carries increases with pain as he fights to keep stepping forward. The streets continue to incline and decline like a wild waves upon the sea. His eyes are focused to the front. Every ounce in his body wants to quit.   His mind is teetering on reasonable reasons to give up. To let go and fall away into the bliss of sitting down. But he can't, he refuses. He did not come this far to give up. To let sweat, pain, and challenges be the barrier of his dream.  So he fights, he clears his mind to keep going, to not falter and quit. As he keeps pushing, he hears the rumbling of Defeat and Surrender tailing him. Their dark luminous eyes glare over him as Cab kee...

 The Endeavors shall Reward  Its is easy to fall behind, to let things get away from you. One minute you are ahead and the next, things come crashing down. Now you are in a rubble of stress and trying to compile everything to where you can at least start to organize.   Then, when you start to organize, you realize you have missed a few more things. You fall behind  even more. Anxiety starts to manipulate your thoughts into wild distortions. You now feel even more stressed, for a moment you thought you were almost back in order.   But a wolf came by, while you were busy rebuilding your barnyard only to find that sheep missing from your herd. You find the blood, but no victims. You now panic, as you have lost a piece of your resources. You feel the world around you constrict like a rope tightening around your throat.   The clouds above turn grey, it begins to rain. You become seemingly uncomfortable. You want to break down, to fall apart and l...

A Courageous Purpose  He was only nineteen, much like those around him; he was lost in what life was and where he should go. High school was over and the doors of life were open. He was overwhelmed at the thought of opportunities; but something in him drove him from the average path. The choice to get a job or to go to college were dreadful thoughts. The idea of being placed once more in a room with a teacher. Listening to what mostly likely would have no interest in his heart nor mind; was agonizing to him. The mere thought of sitting at a small table stacked with books drew a nauseating urge from his gut. Boredom followed beside this nauseous feel. Though he felt no desire for either a job or school, he had to make a choice. His fathered gave him three , go to school, get a job, or move out. All three of those were dreadful angles of thought. Each tied a knot inside his heart, constricting his conscious will to create. But though he be a man of a creative mind....

Two Steps Back, One Step Forward Forward, only to step back. To fall once again into a prism of frustration. Feeling your skin tighten as if it is not yours. Everything becoming an obstacle, even those you love. Beginning to detest the very grounds you walk upon. The world feels as if you are standing against titans. Waging an endless war just to keep your chest beating. Hoping that tomorrow will be just a little less of hell. That the coals that burn beneath your feet will cool; if only for a moment. At times you feel a frozen tundra would be more welcoming than this blazing horizon. Putting out one fire only to see another rise. Watching as the home you built become charcoal for the devil to brew its feast. Falling back from the two steps forward. So close, arms reach; but as your fingers tips caress the lips of your dreams, everything shatters. Walls come crumbling down, you breathe with inane sense to let it all collapse. To allow the flames to leave no ruins of your...

The Ego of Man This ego, this thing, this voice that pleasures in the destruction of self. It whispers with naive tendencies. It tells you to hide, when you are shy. It speaks that you are to weak, to frail to speak up, that doing so, you will look a fool. That you will become the outcast like a lame child to war. This ego, it inflates the ideals of man. Pleasuring it self with pain, or the eccentric greed of flesh. Telling one to dress in attire to be presentable when one is working to sweat. It tells the fragile ego of a man, to strain himself, though injury may incur. It tells the woman, her hair is one inch too short, one inch too long. No man will adore such a look, change it quick. It tells the woman, that her make up is too much, to little. It tells them to look pretty, though she already is. This ego, it pulls the heart of man, like oceans pulled by the moon. Often it spreads itself like a virus, undetected, recognized as a simple protein of the body. Only later, t...

One More Day I say One more day I say, as tears fall upon my chest. My heart overwhelmed in the stresses of the daily. Scrapping by as bills gnaw at the waist of my heart. I can only hope, that some day, these anxious days shall be behind me. That I will no longer gasp for the air of serenity, for peace of mind. That I will be able to rise from my bed and no longer feel as if I am sunken in a pit of sand. Where days will no longer drag on in the worry of uncertainty, of restless thoughts of, will this be the month I collapse? Will this be where all of what I am becomes nothing more than a pitiful surrendering sack of fragile bones? But one more day I say, as I hold dearest to my pillow. Crying in silence as I fear my weakness to shake will hinder me friendship. That I will be but a spoiled painting one purchases only out of the kindness of their heart. As one would buy from a child.    But one more day I say, as I look to grey clouds that eagerly posture themselve...

Our Overthinking Into Fear Where do you go, what do you do, how do you do it? This I cannot tell you, for we are complex in our overthinking. We bring in thoughts that hinder us, thoughts built upon pretenses. On things we have given life to from the curation of others. We build fears from observations or our quickly fading past.  And as we live by these absurd fears, we only bring our demise early. We become a withering flower to the ever falling sun. Only to become a decayed skeletal of wasteful tears.  And those mornings we wake in the arms of melancholy, or the strangling of our throats from the tedious hands of anxiety. We fondle our thoughts, ourselves, to the glutenous mouth of doubt.  We worry for things that have yet to happen, or have already happened. We bring fear through fiction of what horrors we believe shall transpire. Rather than what beauty may result in the attempt to go beyond our fear. And if we are such magnificent creatures,...

A Soul Which Forsakes Vision  I spin in infliction upon my barren stretch of the smitten lands that once held life with strength. But I have become beaten, my breath no longer an apron to catch the stains of my soul. I have begun the end of the beginning, I have been bitten. The vampire phantom of the broken has come for my salvation. Its palate distinguished for this exact occasion, surely my crimson blood shall be forgiven.  Blood thirsty have I become in my wake of passive caution in the ingestion of toxins. Slay me of my burdens, strain me of tension, bring me addiction to the poisoning of my vision. Leave me blackened as one would be in the annihilation of the sun. Allow me the appeasement of death from the inhalation of the deceased. As if caught in disease of the maddened. Strip me of my muscles of the mental and bring madness to my beacon. I am now up for auction, the highest bidder take my canon. Fire me from your tongue and let me do your bidd...

Capture The Fading and Lose the Moment Capture this moment, not in a frame but in the heart. Let it live like a subtle kiss upon the head. Be gentle in the holding of it. Cherish it, embellish it's existence upon its rising memory. For only once will this happen, only once will this moment be. Time has slipped, there is no going back. There is no sand to hold in your frail hands. Though you may be strong, death is seeping into your veins with each breath. And their is no cure, for life is hard on all, for we all are victims of an end, of time. Hold tight to the traditions between friends, between love. For they are but a symbol for what was once something fresh. Bringing harmony to the passing of time. Creating a well of healthful memories. Do not fret in the loss of passing time. As long as you abide by the desires within, taking action far from the temptations of the instant. You shall find yourself expanded beyond the stars. Ecstasy will entrench your body. F...

Check me out on  Twitter Become The Kingdom You Seek Beat, beat, beat, let your heart rage. Let your blood rush through like a howling flood. Let no dam be formed in the veins of your flesh, for much is set for you to gain. You are a spore of your dreams, cease not to the flames of hell. Let no demon cling to the reaches of your eyes. Be still in the ever wavering oceans. Crash upon your shore, conquer the sickness that wishes to devour the dwellings of your soul. Raise your shield against the dragons, defend against their flaming breath. Your blades purpose is their heart. Rush them in the midst of their exhausted flames. Peel back their scales, drive your blade through their dense ribs, puncture their blackened hearts. Let their impure blood seep from their bowls and die to the oxygen of life. Signal your smoke, let your army rise upon the imprints of your steps. See the horizon before you become your kingdom. Goad the growth of your needs and give in the prosperity of yo...

Take your soul for a ride  A Man's Traveled Heart Death Over Public Speaking  It builds like the suds of soap, but lacks the ability to bring cleanliness. I feel it boiling in my gut, wretchedly pulling at my nerves. Sweat seeps like droplets of rain upon my head. I look into the distance and I see a thousand faces. Bearing with stern eyes, but some stare with no intent to care. But still, I worry with what may be said if my tongue becomes tied. If I trip upon my own thoughts like a drunk. Slurring to the next as I blush with crimson. Worry hurdles itself at my heart, rushing my mind with what I know is foolish thought. But I cling to it for it is what I know, to pause my heart like a victim. To succumb to the horns of fear, and as fear pierces my thoughts and drags me through its muddled darkness. My hands become tremors of my flesh, my eyes become nervous in view. And I clench with the misery of fear. I become a bucket for it fill, to billow over till I c...

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...

Grab a copy of my book  A Man's Traveled Heart A Stranger Among Himself  He sits alone among most the year. Scratching at the roof of his thoughts like a man barred to jail. Marking each day as it passes, hoping that someday all this will go away. That all the misery and suffering that is trapped inside, will fade like winter into the mouth of summer, bitter, but sweet, in the change. And in these passing days and the carving of upon his thoughts. He feels hollow, empty, like a vase meant for flowers. But a vase left to its cavernous body upon too many flaws. Though some hands draw close to it, they peel away with disgust. Almost as if to be repulsed from its design. And this is truly how he feels. And within crowds he is but a stranger, maybe a wave or two from acquaintances are tossed like meaningless words. And then he fades away from the crowd, back to the wall, eyes pressed into the ground like heavy stones. His heart racing upon any who approach, as...

Sacrificing A Kingdom, For an Island of Freedom  So, I am moving from my current place into a much different setting. I have lived in my current dwelling for almost five years. But now, my money, my time, my sanity, and my comfort are being wasted here. I feel stale and feel my soul being burdened with my reluctance for change. My financial situation is on a bit of a crutch, but nothing that can't be fixed with a simple down grade from where I am. For, far too long have I been planting my hard earned money into place that brings more stress than pleasure. The constant statements that exceed my pockets, well beyond what I truly believe should be paid for such living conditions. But, I cannot make improvements with disparaging comments upon my living space. So, I have decided to move in with two of my finest friends. One whom works for company that pays him well. And he is stretched with comfort of financial well being. While, I am skirting the prerequisite for becomi...