They may not call it
rising into love
but with you
it sure felt like floating

There once was a witch
who lived in the woods.
She went to the towns
and sold all her goods.

She had her own garden
and animals to spare.
She showed off her crystals
and never hid her prayers.

The townsfolk looked on
with growing distaste
as she sold her goods,
they want her erased.

So they gather their torches
with pitchforks and hounds.
They march to her house
and defile her grounds.

The crows all fly fast
to warn her they yell.
They give her the time
to cast her big spell.

When the townsfolk arrive,
they can't believe their eyes.
As the house started to rise,
they let out startled cries.

Now, she lives among the clouds.
Where she alone was always roused
by the chirping birds and crows
high up in her floating house.

I’m floating somewhere,
Here and there,
Or in between your,
Thoughts.

I wish I could touch the sky
Be up there, flying up high
To be like a cloud someday
Floating away, away

I wish I could get rid of the lies
Live free like a butterfly
To be a bird, living astray
Floating away, away

I wish I could erase the past
To come hug the peace at last
To somehow find bliss today
Floating away, away

I wish heaven would open the door
Forget the memories from before
The paradise to which I stray
Floating away, away

I wish we live a world of joy
Banish the darkness that we destroy
Come what may, come what may,
For we’re floating away, away

— OrcasTogether

My palms in my pockets jingle
the keys to my cave as I make
my way to wherever I’m going.
My legs propel me, and my feet
dodge cast-off gum and dog dung.

And on my head rests a fishbowl.

An extra load on my skull,
but I don’t mind. I rather
like this bowl. It gives me
a barrier, and though thin,
the glass has yet to crack.

I hear my voice resound,
bouncing around the tiny
space, and I smell my breath,
minty fresh and foggy, and
through the fog the world and
its creatures are phantoms.

When I’m addressed, it’s like
floating in frigid freshwater
as they call for me from
the sheet of ice above.
They suspect I’ve lost
my soul in the fishbowl,
yet as year after year
goes by, I feel just fine.

I am an astronaut taking
a space walk, drifting around
and watching the universe
unfold under a sheet of glass.

And when I close my eyes,
I am in a womb, or a coffin,
and I often can’t tell the
difference, nor find much
of a reason to tell.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow

the severity of the broken minds lays out in the street
in the streets covered in outrageous and unfair drama
drama drawn from within
within the information floating about in the heads of the media
off with their heads is the call from the watchers
off with their heads

Brian Hill - 2020 # 112

i can feel it happening
the change all around
my feet once steady on the ground
are floating away again
i am looking for something to hold
but i’m just too far gone truth to be told
where will i end up
no one knows for a fact
i hope a little piece of me will remain intact