50 SHADES OF RAIN

A dull sky. Rain falling down in perfect vertical lines
uninterrupted by celebratory gunfire shooting vertically into the air
Cold-blooded rain of bullets falling to earth short of kinetic energy
during the liturgy read from the prayer-book by a clergyman.
People killed in the Philippines by falling bullets in the rain.
The body and blood of Christ in the mouths
commemorating the Last Supper.

Dad pounds back a few beers after work. Home, he
pounds on the kitchen table cos dinner’s not served
before beckoning to his wife. Hey, you!
Speculating.
You’re begging to be pounded, aren’t you?
Penetrating.
As she screams into a pillow.
Suffocating.
The little girl’s heart pounds while she stares at warm summer rain
pounding on the window pane.

Envious rain watching us arch and writhe, eavesdropping
pelting rain glistening like lips when I spread for you.
Rain under the sheets grabbed with both hands, dripping.
Thoughts of a sudden burst of vivid sunshine.

Patchy drizzle pregnant with hope. 3,000 per day, they bray,
flee to conquer the sea
Callous rain falling mercilessly on conflicts, persecutions and poverty.
Fat raindrops stinging like mosquitoes. That’s sure bad news,
utters a spokesperson somberly
with the iPhone X in his hand.
Threatening rain whipping asylum seekers in wooden vessels
with pebbles in their pockets. 14 deaths per day
they (almost sadly) say.
Boats wrecked off the coast of Lampedusa, a slaughter of innocents
Europe’s welcoming scorn poured on Les Misérables, a slaughter of survivors.
Indifferent rain hammering relentlessly everywhere they go.

Dark-hued rain stalking
a child suicide bomber, waist encircled by an explosive belt,
and his big brother who never smelled
a pussy. Virgins in his head,
waiting.

A single sunbeam breaking through a thick cloud.
A messenger. So-called.
Text me.
Oh shoot, I forgot my cell again. Age-old
forgetfulness.

Fidgety rain sitting impatiently on a cloud watching a funeral procession for
murder victims
of another school shooting.
Don’t sweat it, shouts Big Daddy. We won’t forget it.
I’m no vulture. But why don’t we celebrate our gun culture a wee bit more
for it’s like horticulture and agriculture.
Substituting, instituting, executing.

A man given a restraining order for punching his wife,
mother of his newborn, in rain-drenched Munich
Savage rain sadistically falling on a prostitute on Bourbon Street
beaten by a pimp with the resurrection cocktail in his hand.

A nonchalant rain of fluffy dandelion seeds along the Danube
blown away high. Make a wish.
I saw dead fish
floating with plastic bottles in a fountain by the Louvre.

Drops of wind-driven water falling from the sky
after a rear-end collision on Highway 17 near Lexington Parkway.
The driver of the fifth ejected from his car. Motionless.
Multiple insurance carriers determining fault.
A boy hit by the thunderbolt
in central Laos when he
saw her dancing barefoot in the torrential rain.
Thunderstorms strike southern England overnight
selfies under the sky dropping icy stones
the size of grapes interrupted by a bolt of lightning. A lucky escape.
Occasional gusts of wind expected in days to come.

Driving through the car wash
splashing and squelching our way through
a sudden downpour of kisses.

An autistic child kicked off a commercial flight
in Belgrade and Portland. A threat in sight followed by a frantic rain of insults.
Mary Poppins forgot her umbrella.

A war veteran soaked to the skin
in a country that doesn’t even begin
to deal with anything, let alone him, soaked to the skin.

The intoxicating earthly scent when rain falls on dry soil.
Stone and fluid flowing in the veins of Greek gods
rain-smelling air, much needed rain in
African and Australian droughts.

Praise rained down on recent grads in
a transition economy changing from central planning
to a free market. Promising rain.
The daunting future, fear moms and dads
waving proudly at their grads.
Rain’s thudding. Hopelessly.

Rain falling on her head like falling in love.
A tap left running.
Rain in my heart. Rain running down my cheeks
on a wet winter’s day when
I thought I lost us.


* Originally published at Morality Park

Author: Blogging_with_Bojana

I'm diggin' Need to grow, have to push Flicking through vinyl and feeding the rush I dig for that one and I open the haunt It's takin' all day from the back to the front I'm diggin' and diggin' You know Sorry baby I'm gone diggin' www.bloggingwithbojana.com

86 thoughts on “50 SHADES OF RAIN”

  1. Had to restate this for your blog:

    I read this over and over. This last time as I was at the lake and More Than This by Roxy Music was playing. Every line took me and would not let me go. I wanted to scream. Curse. Cry. Love. Always changing as you would not let up. Your ferocity is so pure. The depths you plumb are bottomless. You speak of love at the same level, and all of it so honest.

    You are truly a unique writer.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I just copied/pasted what I see. It had to be furious because I’m angry and sad because of my inability to change certain things, certain people, this world, lost and alone, and contrast it with the rawness and purity of true love/passion.
      So happy it affected you in this way. It means I did a good job.

      Liked by 3 people

      1. You did so, so much more than a “good job”. It’s the way you tell us what you see. You become a conduit to all the emotion you feel, and we then feel it ourselves.

        Yes, there are things you can’t affect, but I would bet that you have changed more people than you might know.

        Liked by 2 people

  2. Vivid sunshine
    Drizzling rain
    Toys that kill
    Religions insane
    This life perverse
    And what’s worse
    The promise sublime
    Is the truth out there?
    Forsaken or taken?
    Given time
    Or drowned
    in a child’s tear
    running down the clock
    of a suicide belt
    tied by the hands crime

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Maybe I’ll get the words right- next time. You write beautifully and I stumble in… sending the next installment of yours to my dad. He is looking at maps and telling me what his memory was, which is not a lot (he is quite frail now, old age). But he is reviewing his maps, working on his memories. Your articles are good for him. Thank you. -Kim

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Wow. Wow. Wow. Bojana, this is brilliant and heartbreaking and painfully honest. You are not only talented but so in touch with the agony of this world, as seen here, and that combination has produced something really fucking extraordinary. Holy shit, girl, this is something else.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That challenge we did was so challenging that I went on writing poems from then on. This is the outcome and there will be more. I think it turned into a permanent addiction.
      I wish I hadn’t written it. I wish the world weren’t so screwed. Unfortunately, there will always be a need for such a cry because of how flawed we are.

      Thanks, dear. I appreciate it a lot.

      Like

  4. Very interesting piece of work, makes one think on several venues of ones mind. I am going to reblog this philosophy piece for you. I like the design you laid out. Many will like some parts and yet be upset with other parts, a good concept of getting a person to look at multiple sides of one issue, well done piece.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. A raw, visceral, unedited, here’s-the-fucking-truth-whether-you-like-it-or-not, in your face look at the real world through the unbiased eye of one of the most brilliant writers I have been lucky enough to discover. Truly magical, Bojana

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Good afternoon dear. This poem looks interesting but, alas, I am still recovering from our one month football-binge with my children. Once I get a little better, I solemnly promise to read it. I just had to write a few lines, even I know that I might bother you. Please understand that I just can’t live without you, dear. Thanks to you I realized I need two lives now. One to love you with passion. And the other one… To try to forget you. Un grosso baccione. Arrivederci!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Nice to hear from you dottore and hope you’ll passionately read and comment on it, along with my other posts you missed because of soccer. You were so busy that you even missed my comment on your novel. Good day to you, good night to me.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Please remember that a malware (sent by a fellow blogger who planted a cookie in my computer) took command of my computer for several hours. When I realized what was going on, I had to shut it down and hire a computer specialist to clean it up. Please submit it again.

        Liked by 1 person

  7. Absolutely gut-wrenching! Wow! Amazed and moved – simultaneously!
    Some top notch poetry from you. Will come back to it, time and again.
    (Saw the comment above – Croatia gave away the first two goals, like WTF!)

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s