b e mccomb: Favorites

Dec 2020 b e mccomb

Francie Lynch

These are images that once were
The tan lines stretching across your shoulders;
Like starlight from some supernova;
Your photos in my albums;
Our shadows beneath bright suns;
Those ghosts have come and gone.

Then love became a memory;
And memory is the ghost
That frightens me the most.

If our sun died, we'd still see it's image for eight minutes. Ghosts. They are everywhere.

#younglove #love #ghosts

Dec 2020 b e mccomb

Invitation to the writing vocation

Dec 2020 b e mccomb

R N Tolliday

Invitation to the writing vocation

Beyond the strain, my pain,
lies a beautiful city.
Shopping malls, lights reflecting off surfaces,
whites of mouths grinning, connected.
Bustle and sound.
Comfort in this, as a youngster.
Unseen by tall, eyes yearning for adventure.
The store is a place for grown-ups, whom I'll be, a millenium away.

There was a world waiting, beyond adulthood.
I'm able to take small grasps…

I love being—at this age younger.
I could run this surface of a shopping mall,
and
always find a new meaning at its end.
And this is life beyond it too.
As I would only venture to see the lengths beyond this, from where I stand in there.

#vocation #childhood #joy

Dec 2020 b e mccomb

THE OLD HOUSE

Dec 2020 b e mccomb

tina kimi

THE OLD HOUSE

there is a familiarity I feel towards that old house.
With broken windows, cracked walls, dusty hallways and
loose boards.I sense it sighing when the wind blows, almost like
it will crumble.

Seeing the old house makes me feel this tag in my heart. so strong that my heart sunk and a deep ache rushes all over. a tear would drop at first and a next. And I always end up crying.

there is familiarity I feel towards that old house by road. and I must take the short cut today.

Nov 2020 b e mccomb

$10 Death

Nov 2020 b e mccomb

SøułSurvivør

$10 Death

Cracks in her eyelids
Sweat on her skin
Her hair is in dreadlocks
Scabs on her shins

Sleep tight little native
Of the land of Nod
The sandman will come to you
He is your god

You scratch with cracked nails
The needles & spoons
Fentynal takes you
To marshmallow moon's

Cracks on your eyelids
The tieoff that binds
The narcolepsy
Closes your blinds

What is your idol?
What's hiding there?
Who are you worshiping
Who answers your prayers?

He waits with arms open
Bright shining knight
Man on the street
The green or the white

Don't be blue, baby
You're struggling for breath
Then you're a statistic

A $10 death.

SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
11/19/2020

Sep 2020 b e mccomb

The insignia of dreams

Sep 2020 b e mccomb

r

The insignia of dreams

Fear is a stingy businessman
who will sell you a plot
for your loved ones, little angels
for your children, copper coins
for their eyes while at night
a million thoughts will appear
at your window clear as day
like someone with a lamp
a sack, a clock and a map
in the darkness black as a bat
a boot, a cap with the insignia
of dreams that die in the palms
of your hands like a wound
that won’t heal and turns green
like a fish, like jade, wet moss
growing on stones above graves.