Words are lovers that never love;
Oblivious to the feelings they relate;
For they may seem real and “tried and true”
Yet only in conveying a counterfeit
In me and in you.
Words are lovers that words hold back,
The gatekeepers of freedom,
Enemy of passion,
Hater of too
Any thought that is
Words are a constricted construct
That conveys civil discourse
In spite of truth,
It’s no wonder why artists seek love
From an oft-void psychopathic troth.
Whose truth lies in the subjectivity
Of slathered-on lies
No matter how great the artist,
Artistic vision often dies
For meaning is felt in seeing
Because such love, fantasy,
Or whatever we achieve to see
Can never be
An ill-attempted imitation of me
Earl Yarington was a professor and social worker. He taught literature and writing for nearly 20 years. As a social worker, Earl focused on human sexuality and child sexual abuse prevention by working with those at risk which included those with sex offenses, pedophilic disorder, dual diagnoses and other comorbid factors. Earl now writes literary fiction, poetry and non-fiction and often incorporates difficult subjects in his work.
He drives buses for a living.