s./j. goldner

Rookie (March 2nd,1984 / USA)

Mad to Love, Mad to Hate


It’s almost midnight on a Tuesday.
he sits on his bed and thinks of what he’s gonna say—
half a case of beer bottles scattered around in diligent dismay.

he’s not a coward.
he’s just lonely.

so much pain runs through his veins;
the scars on his wrists prove his humility
for when he lost his lover, the life he’d built, and part of his family.

confident in his wits—
he picks up the phone and dials the digits;
reciting them by heart he’s feeling inspired, clever, and wise—
regretfully remembering how he’s always had them memorized.

he's mad to love
she's mad to hate.
he wants to create
she wants to annihilate.

she’s not lonely.
she’s just a coward.

so much fear runs through her veins;
the scars on her wrists prove her vanity
for when she turned in her life ungratefully.

laying back-down on her bed—
she’s thinking of all the better men she’s scored;
her phone rings and she’s caught in her deplore.

he pours his heart out before he can think:
racing thoughts dipped in mental ink.
he whispers words reserved for a lovers’ dance
and begs her to give him half-a-fucking-chance;
for he believes he’s only half-the-man now—
despite the newly dug furrows in his brow.

I must be crazed to deny him;
no girl in her sane mind would let this tension unwind.

unraveling like a mummy from the grave—
he lets honesty and candor flood the airwaves.

you see it’s been a year since they've talked;
she said she’d already accepted that he’d pass her by.
she doesn’t believe in come-back-around’s:
you’ve got one shot with one person till you’re dead in the ground.

he’s exhausted now—
the last of the beer syllables have endowed.
every emotion displayed on his face
he feels worn in the way you feel after running a 3 mi race.

she’s on the other end wishing he’d begin again—
but of arrogance or defense—
instead she responds,
“I don’t want to be responsible for your depression;
I have enough on my chest by way of confession.”

she feels like hell
he feels like heaven
cause he knows he’s a creator
and she’s a destroyer.

he's mad to love
she's mad to hate.
take it twice
and reverberate.


11/2005

Submitted: Saturday, May 06, 2006
Edited: Sunday, October 01, 2006

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Comments about this poem (Mad to Love, Mad to Hate by s./j. goldner )

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  • Rookie - 0 Points Chuck Audette (5/26/2006 3:08:00 PM)

    I like the juxtaposition, the mirror imagery you've used to show these two personalities. -chuck (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Will Barber (5/20/2006 1:13:00 AM)

    Crazy for crying, crazy for trying. This is a very intense poem - the words flay the reader's mind. The Greeks used to have a hymn to Aphrodite - they prayed she wouldn't visit them, so they wouldn't go mad. This is really - I'd say excellent, but my mind is still reeling. It must be excellent to cause that! (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 984 Points Kee Thampi (5/18/2006 2:57:00 AM)

    he's mad to love
    she's mad to hate.
    he wants to create
    she wants to annihilate.

    she’s not lonely.
    she’s just a coward.

    so much fear runs through her veins;
    the scars on her wrists prove her vanity
    for when she turned in her life ungratefully.

    laying back-down on her bed—
    she’s thinking of all the better men she’s scored
    her phone rings and she’s caught in her deplore.

    he pours his heart out before he can think:
    racing thoughts dipped in mental ink.
    he whispers words reserved for a lovers’ dance
    and begs
    If I write anything unfaithful to this good poem, I may be a coward,
    The way you write in ease and makes words like a lovable way, never to forget to love it again and again, Susan (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - -1 Points Maxim Muyu (5/8/2006 12:53:00 AM)

    I loved the way you thought and way you wrote, the two character's that link each with an idea and the conflict is the thought of real experience.maxim muyu
    best wishes (Report) Reply

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