Byline: Lords of Tomorrow

Buford Youthward

You aren't always what you do.

You become undone upon entry.

Diving with manta rays isn't always meaningful.

Trying to discover what's better, falling in love with images or with imagination. I single out and focus time.

Long winded conversations, cries, crisis. These are our moments. The minutia, the minute. We live our lives on a line.

There's a line on a legend and a legend on the line. The clock ticks. Decisions are insisted.

The lords of tomorrow require the flesh of today. So grab your stick and get with it. Ferocity is created when there's an obstacle in front of your meal ticket.

Minimum wage begets minimum effort but maximizing my mental wherewithal puts my progress into perspective.

Macaroni and cheese, fruity pebbles, corn dogs and pizza may or may not be the diet of kings but every time I turn up the sweet ravioli rockers on the radio, that's all I ever get.

The music is never as good as the message. When music becomes too good it goes beyond messaging. Meaning in the medium is pure.

It takes some age, some maturity to understand certain things, beyond experience or behavior sometimes it's the rote rotation of logging in the hours.

Observance and absurdity often figure in the trigger.

There's a spirit in the air allowing politics to trump strategy. No fear, no greed can delight as much as gun duels, fist fights and swing dances. We always imagine the reality of the reality.

Before this sentence, before this life, after all moments, it's the deep parts we dwell upon and allow the images to be our undoing.

Questioning if you are what you do.

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