Carrie Rudzinkski's Dear Stranger

I wasn't familiar with slam poetry until last year when my friend introduced me.  This friend of mine has a great reading voice and wound up winning a poetry recitation contest with this poem.  If you like this style, you should check out other authors such as Taylor Mali or Gerald Jackson.  Try writing your own!  (I wrote one about sweater vests that I'll post soon)

Dear Stranger,
if you hear this and think it could be about you, please don’t stop listening.  I am homeward bound and if I have found you then it must have been meant to be.  Take each word that is more than silence and place it inside parentheses.
You’ll know what to do soon enough.

Dear Stranger,
I used to be told by the boy that was in love with me that I had the talent to keep him on the phone for three hours longer than he’d planned to be.  It wasn’t until I would hang up that I would realize it wasn’t talent, but complete fascination of the sounds of our voices intertwining between two states
and the belief that we were closer than we were that kept us up all night.
He and I were the kind of bad dreams worth having.  Unforgettable with the desire to find out how it would have ended if we hadn’t woken up when we did - I’m not saying I’m still in love with him.
I just don’t believe I would be able to stop myself if I found him all over again.

Dear Stranger,
we were pipelines fumbling chances of locked eyes six inches away from all that we could breathe and I knew I liked it too much because I couldn’t pull my face out of a smile for two weeks.  I keep seeing you in the faces of boys who look nothing like you when I’m riding subways, but it’s been worth it every time for the eighth of a second roller coaster ride my heart gets to go on.  It’s like a chance meeting with Disney World and I don’t even care that the palm trees are bare this time of year in Boston.  I keep having to remind myself that we’re not in love yet, but I’m pulling for the fact that it could, should, might, has to happen so you’ll know my promises are worn on my hands like lifelines.
Permanent.
Pulled out of the sky, I made you into a constellation that spelled “take” so that every girl that laughed at your jokes would know that you laughed at my jokes and I don’t want the best.  I just need what can pull me out of the worst so that we can exist as storm clouds on dry summer nights.
Furious.

Dear Stranger,
I’ve been crossing out the word “sorry” from every dictionary that I could find since the age of ten and I’m not about to stop because I wear my emotions on my sleeve.  Piece me together with patches of three hour timeouts and the three minutes that elapsed before we met.  I’ll keep breathing for you, even when you don’t want me to.

Dear Stranger,
Daylight.
We haven’t met yet.
When we do, our smiles will be so close we’ll believe they’re from the same light source.
And that’s the way I like it.

One of my favorite poems

=] I love this poem by Laura Jackson

Take hands.
There is no love now.
But there are hands.
There is no joining now,
But a joining has been
Of the fastening of fingers
And their opening.
More than the clasp even, the kiss
Speaks loneliness,
How we dwell apart
And how love triumphs in this.

There's some pretty cool slam poetry that I'm really into as well.  I'll post some of that soon.  Share some of what you're into! =D

Love and Freindship [sic]

Patiently… Patiently I sit. 

You chest rises, then falls.  Behind your eyelids, your eyes dance as if lost in some strange world.  I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking don’t let me wake up.  Please, don’t let me out of this world.  And I won’t blame you for the simple fact that I can’t.  I can’t gather my wits enough to figure out why even the most terrifying dream beats this sad reality.  If it weren’t for you, I would sleep forever.   

We should sleep forever.

I wish as your dreams begin to fade.

Scary Story (it's a work in progress and lacks a title)

A heavy thump lands on the thick wooden door. I remain silent, hiding my presence. Another loud thump. The ancient metal doorknob rattles. Chills run down my spine. An eery something floats past the curtained windows. The light darts from the shadow, afraid to be consumed in its darkness.

Just last week old Henry died. Since then, things around here haven't been quite right. A silence fell over the small town; a stillness shadowing every hope. Children cry out in the middle of the night, screaming “There's something staring in through my window!” Bright eyes looking in. Their parents run in but then stand frozen in fear, unable to tell them “It's all just a dream.”

Town Sheriff Damien Alexander told Mayor Lark to hold a meeting out on the green in front of the Mayor's office. The Sheriff looked down onto his scared community and said, “We are approaching our darkest hour. There is something in this town that can only be explained as evil. You've all seen it, heard your children cry, and felt as it passed through you, darkening your every thought. It has tormented us. Threatened us-”

A shriek lit through the air.

All the eyes of the town turned quickly to the tall white Church standing on the edge of the green, directly across from the Mayor's office. A black shadow, or creature, neither human, nor natural, shining eyes peering back out at the crowd, turned and glided into the church. Right through the closed and locked doors.

The town waited, in both fear and silence, and watched.

Old Henry was a quiet man. A gentle, quiet man. He kept to himself in his well-kept cabin that stood beside the Church. Sometimes he would wander across the green singing to himself as the seasonal breeze would wisp his thin, grey hair about. Every Sunday, he could be spotted at Church. He would sit right in front. He could sing every hymn, recite any prayer. He knew everyone in the town and knew every stranger.

On his porch, he would sit every night. With a wood carved pipe in one hand, and a thick leather bound book in the other, he would look out into our town as if he were expecting Death to walk up the sturdy steps to his home and greet him and take him into the beyond.

~

The curtains over the windows breathe in and out. The walls bend in towards the room as unnatural footsteps cross the room. I hold my breath, or rather, I cannot breathe. Fear flows through my body. Boots covered in fresh muck and Earth pass by me, so close that I could reach out and touch them. He stops suddenly.

The rain and wind outside pick up with a terrifying force.

A deep laugh fills the hallow room. Then silence. Nothing. It is as if he vanished into thin air.

Something grabs on to my foot.

~

Discovered by Town Sheriff Damien Alexander on the date of March 25, 1999

Dear Mary Beth

I can feel the darkness creeping in. I can feel it taking over. Consuming my being. It eats away at my soul. Tears angrily and ferociously at my heart. My head. Throbs with a pain so sharp that I cannot hear. I cannot think. I am losing myself to the monster dwelling in the darkest corners of my mind. The untamed beast that scratched and howled, that tore away the hope in my mind.

It has been five days. Five days, I think. I hope. No longer can I feel my breaths circulate down through my lungs. I can only think of the demons that take me over .Take control. Squirming through my once lucid thoughts.

The darkness envelopes around me. Slowly, my mind turns. Ripping my every thought apart and dissecting it into a million misshapen pieces. I am lost.

I am losing the battle and cannot find the strength to continue onward. I cannot find the hope to see the light. I cannot even imagine light. I can only accept this darkness as a sign that I may never escape.

Time is dwindling. Moments forgotten because the oxygen in my lungs cannot find its way to my brain. Because my mind is lost in this angry sea of black and deeper black. Sludge and slime. I am drowning and I don’t even have the courage

to save myself.

Sincerely yours,

Nathaniel Hawkinz

~

Nathaniel Hawkinz was a cheerful man. He had a lovely wife, Mary Beth whom cared deeply for him. When he disappeared, she searched for days. The town warned her against it. If he was the one possessed by whatever darkness had fallen across the town, it was best for her to keep away. It would only hurt her more. 
To be continued.... 

Hostage to the Devil: The Possession and Exorcism of Five Contemporary AmericansThe Dark Sacrament: True Stories of Modern-Day Demon Possession and Exorcism

Happy Father's Day

I was thinking of the perfect present... something that spoke for the ages, while listened for the youth. Something that said “Look through me to see the bigger picture,” rather than “Look at me and take me for what I am.” Something selfless but told your story. I was looking for you.

I gathered my sense, or at least all that was left. Carefully, I poured it into my silk pouch and tied it tight. Letting it fall deep into my pocket, I went out in search of you.

The journey was long, hard, and lonesome. Many a times, I fell and could not find the strength to sit back up for what seemed to be all too long. I just sat and listened, hoping that in the silence, I would hear you. The nothingness echoed through the air as I waited in still madness, speaking only to myself.

Sometimes I would sing, hoping my song would bring you home, whispering the words:

Silent as the dreaming day

restless as the summer's breeze

Listen to me,

and soon you'll be home

But it failed each time while I sat and thought of the reasons why. Why are we down to this? This comforting silence and unknown questions answered by the turn towards the sun. I worry sometimes that I'll never find you at this rate.

As the Summer turned to Fall, and the Fall into Winter, the cold wind prevailed on the frozen Earth. I pulled my covers tight each night, as I thought of where you could be . I mapped out every corner of everywhere, or so it seemed. But whenever I thought I had you, you slipped away into infinity.

One night I prayed. Or attempted at the very least. Down on my knees, I pulled out my silk pouch, containing only the last few bits of that sense I once had. As I rubbed it warm, in between my hands, I thought for centuries. I thought of all the places.

At last, I walked onto the iced over lake and cried out to you. I yelled “Father! Why have you left me here so alone? No longer can I do this on my own! Come back to me Father, I am too young to sit on this throne!”

And like that, you were there. A smile crossed your face as your eyes were all aglow. I reached my hand out for yours and for that moment, we were infinite. As if in that moment, our lives were forever; we were immortal. You hugged me tight and you said, “Do not fear, I am always here.” Then you pulled my hand to your heart and asked “What is it that you feel?”

That was when I realized that

Each moment I searched, you sat and watched from afar. Never was I so alone, because as your heart beats, as will mine. Never for a moment will their rhythms beat out of time.

So there I sat, out on the frozen lake. Time standing still, I thought. I thought and thought about what had taken me this far. Was it the wind? Or curiosity? Or a hope that in my search for you, I might find myself? I do not know, but I know it wasn't a journey traveled alone. As I turned back, I knew I wasn't on my own.  

To Fathers

Dear Dad,

Just in case you ever wonder,

I’m doing alright.

My grades are decent,

   Sean is good,

and hockey is hockey. You know how that goes.

        Well,

I still don’t like that singing teacher. But don’t get the wrong impression.

I’m being good. Quiet. I swear, I don’t say a word unless she speaks to me.

I decided that singing like a man is the only way to please her and it seems to so far.

You know,

it’s weird, Dad.

This life,

this everything.

Sometimes I think it’s great. Everything is just working itself out. But this time, I don’t know.

I will never truly know.

But what if there is more to all of this?

What if I make the wrong choice,

         or fail?

Or fall and can’t find the will to get back up...

Will you lend me your hand?

You once made a promise to me that you would

saying that you will

                       always love me.

                       always hug me.

                       always be on my side.

And you wanted me to know that…

just in case I ever wonder.

I do wonder sometimes,

as I stare out into the depths of space,

       if you mean it.

If you mean each and every word

that you have promised me.

How do you know that you will always be by my side?

What if the distance is too great and I somehow lose touch? What then, will we do? There are so many questions, Dad.

So many that you seem to know the answers to.

And how can you be so sure?

Why can you see this great destiny while all I see is the uncertainty between my shifting toes?

And just in case you ever wonder, I never go a day without you here. Each choice, memory, and each run, you are there. Do you remember... do you remember my first cross country race? I ran so hard but wore myself out by the second lap and yet, you ran next to me the whole time. You told me I could do it. And I did. Look at me now, Dad. Look at how fast I am. How smart, tall, strong, and how much like you I am. And you told me to stand by my convictions and I’m doing just that. 

You told me that I’m a writer and I could write the world into a better place. Maybe that’s what I’ll do. If you believe it, maybe I can.

And just in case you have ever wondered, Dad,

I will always love you.

Love,

Boo

Day Dreams in India

All that I want is to love you

            to hold your hand
    Hear your voice
                       Just know that you're thinking of me
                   or you miss me
But I want you to be happy
           so I can't be selfish

Still,
            I can only wish
            that when my eyes lock onto the North Star
             You know to look to the sky
and our minds won't meet
                   But hey,
              it's worth a try

Because I want to
and I know you do too

Like when we laid on our backs
           out on my trampoline
while the sun shined brilliantly down on us
           and I asked you:
What do you like the most about love?

You said it was the intimacy
                         Knowing that you can always count on me
                          that we can do anything
and how we laugh and joke
         how you tease me
holding me down until our lips meet
                      curl up into a smile
                             then kiss

And I can only think
             these are the moments
             that we'll truly miss