Neon Soul Quotes

I recall certain moments, let us call them icebergs in paradise, when after having had my fill of her –after fabulous, insane exertions that left me limp and azure-barred–I would gather her in my arms with, at last, a mute moan of human tenderness (her skin glistening in the neon light coming from the paved court through the slits in the blind, her soot-black lashes matted, her grave gray eyes more vacant than ever–for all the world a little patient still in the confusion of a drug after a major operation)–and the tenderness would deepen to shame and despair, and I would lull and rock my lone light Lolita in my marble arms, and moan in her warm hair, and caress her at random and mutely ask her blessing, and at the peak of this human agonized selfless tenderness (with my soul actually hanging around her naked body and ready to repent), all at once, ironically, horribly, lust would swell again–and 'oh, no,' Lolita would say with a sigh to heaven, and the next moment the tenderness and the azure–all would be shattered.

I can barely believe that she’s mine. That she’s made me hers as surely as if she’d tattooed her name on my very soul.

I showed up rich while feeling poor I didn’t knock but they opened the door Throwing stones, they pierce my eye Leave tiny cracks all down my spine We were royalty without a throne Our castle didn’t feel like home Echoes of “I love you” in the halls Our words absorbed into the walls I checked us in so we couldn’t leave Thought maybe time would make me believe If I took us back to the starting line We’d never cross the finish line My hands may not be red But my heart, it feels the bleed If my soul had a neon sign It would read No Vacancy If my soul had a neon sign It would read No Vacancy

The Neon God is a plague, a global pandemic brought to bear by our hatred and greed. Because of Him, we have lost our soul, our free will, our humanity.

I kept waiting for the part where I’d finally know who I was — some flashing, neon moment of relief, but it never came.

Too much. Too fast. Too intense. The glass soul falls to the ground and shatters into a thousand words. The invisible boy becomes visible, and all of a sudden, his emotions blast neon.

That's the funny thing about music. Part of the magic, I quess. Sometimes it replenishes me, like I'm feeding off its energy and it fills me. And other times, it pulls at my pain, weaves its way through the strands of my soul and wrecks it".

Mistakes are water. Grow your lessons from them.

We created Him, yes. The Neon God is our mess. Our digital hive-mind. Our A.I.,’ said Aurora, watching the man absent-mindedly gape at the ceiling. ‘We built Him to manage our finances, our logistics, our armies, our wealth distribution…. and… and He went crazy. 'Because we filled Him with crappy commercials and stopped maintaining His morals. He’s only like this because of us, all of us. It’s His Algorithm – the one you wrote, the one you keep feeding to Him – we need to watch out for. That’s the Neon God’s soul. That’s His Justice.

A part of one’s soul remains asleep until one has loved an animal.” -Shenita Etwaroo

if it feels forced, free it.

Hiki Komori stirred Aurora away from the orgy and handed her a clean napkin. ‘Sorry about them. It’s the Rhapsody. To them, the real world is something akin to a cardboard reality.’ ‘Why do it at all?’ she pouted, trying to wipe her shoe with the napkin. ‘Why take the damn drug?’ ‘To escape their mortality, naturally. The great curtain call frightens them, so they avoid the applause. More so, they perform badly, spitting their lines out in spite. They are embittered and hungry and will no doubt eat your child. 'Yes, the soul of humanity will end in two days. But we’ve buried its body fifty decades before, wouldn’t you think? Come, Miss Aurora,’ he beckoned, ‘the lair of the Dragon runs deeper still.

I remembered the wild girl every time I saw her soul in the neon pastel sky.

Although the body of each living creature may be different, the soul remains the same.” -Shenita Etwaroo

That it’s what makes room for the universes inside you, all the endless inbent fractals of connection and symphonies of different voices, the infinities you can never show another soul. And you think it makes you a fraud, the tiny fraction anyone else ever sees? Of course you’re a fraud, of course what people see is never you. And of course you know it’s only a part. Who wouldn’t? It’s called free will, Sherlock. But at the same time it’s why it feels so good to break down and cry in front of others, or to laugh, or speak in tongues, or chant in Bengali- it’s not English anymore, it’s not getting squeezed through any hole.

The truth is you already know what it’s like. You already know the difference between the size and speed of everything that flashes through you and the tiny inadequate bit of it all you can ever let anyone know. As though inside you is this enormous room full of what seems like everything in the whole universe at one time or another and yet the only parts that get out have to somehow squeeze out through one of those tiny keyholes you see under the knob in older doors. As if we are all trying to see each other through these tiny keyholes. But it does have a knob, the door can open. But not in the way you think. But what if you could? Think for a second — what if all the infinitely dense and shifting worlds of stuff inside you every moment of your life turned out now to be somehow fully open and expressible afterward, after what you think of as you has died, because what if afterward now each moment itself is an infinite sea or span or passage of time in which to express it or convey it, and you don’t even need any organized English, you can as they say open the door and be in anyone else’s room in all your own multiform forms and ideas and facets? Because listen — we don’t have much time, here’s where Lily Cache slopes slightly down and the banks start getting steep, and you can just make out the outlines of the unlit sign for the farmstand that’s never open anymore, the last sign before the bridge — so listen: What exactly do you think you are? The millions and trillions of thoughts, memories, juxtapositions — even crazy ones like this, you’re thinking — that flash through your head and disappear? Some sum or remainder of these? Your history? Do you know how long it’s been since I told you I was a fraud? Do you remember you were looking at the respicem watch hanging from the rearview and seeing the time, 9:17? What are you looking at right now? Coincidence? What if no time has passed at all?* The truth is you’ve already heard this. That this is what it’s like. That it’s what makes room for the universes inside you, all the endless inbent fractals of connection and symphonies of different voices, the infinities you can never show another soul. And you think it makes you a fraud, the tiny fraction anyone else ever sees? Of course you’re a fraud, of course what people see is never you. And of course you know this, and of course you try to manage what part they see if you know it’s only a part. Who wouldn’t? It’s called free will, Sherlock. But at the same time it’s why it feels so good to break down and cry in front of others, or to laugh, or speak in tongues, or chant in Bengali — it’s not English anymore, it’s not getting squeezed through any hole. So cry all you want, I won’t tell anybody.

I want this with every shadowy part of my soul that I work so hard to keep locked down. There’s no room in the public narrative of the sweet, sunny, biddable woman for the things I find myself craving in the dark of night.

THE ANTHEM OF HOPE Tiny footprints in mud, metal scraps among thistles Child who ambles barefooted through humanity’s war An Elderflower in mud, landmines hidden in bristles Blood clings to your feet, your wee hands stiff and sore You who walk among trenches, midst our filth and our gore Box of crayons in hand, your tears tumble like crystals Gentle, scared little boy, at the heel of Hope Valley, The grassy heel of Hope Valley. And the bombs fall-fall-fall Down the slopes of Hope Valley Bayonets cut-cut-cut Through the ranks of Hope Valley Napalm clouds burn-burn-burn All who fight in Hope Valley, All who fall in Hope Valley. Bullets fly past your shoulder, fireflies light the sky Child who digs through the trenches for his long sleeping father You plant a kiss on his forehead, and you whisper goodbye Vain corpses, brave soldiers, offered as cannon fodder Nothing is left but a wall; near its pallor you gather Crayon ready, you draw: the memory of a lie Kind, sad little boy, sketching your dream of Hope Valley Your little dream of Hope Valley. Missiles fly-fly-fly Over the fields of Hope Valley Carabines shoot-shoot-shoot The brave souls of Hope Valley And the tanks shell-shell-shell Those who toiled for Hope Valley, Those who died for Hope Valley. In the light of gunfire, the little child draws the valley Every trench is a creek; every bloodstain a flower No battlefield, but a garden with large fields ripe with barley Ideations of peace in his dark, final hour And so the child drew his future, on the wall of that tower Memories of times past; your tiny village lush alley Great, brave little boy, the future hope of Hope Valley The only hope of Hope Valley. And the grass grows-grows-grows On the knolls of Hope Valley Daffodils bloom-bloom-bloom Across the hills of Hope Valley The midday sun shines-shines-shines On the folk of Hope Valley On the dead of Hope Valley From his Aerodyne fleet The soldier faces the carnage Uttering words to the fallen He commends their great courage Across a wrecked, tower wall A child’s hand limns the valley And this drawing speaks volumes Words of hope, not of bally He wipes his tears and marvels The miracle of Hope Valley The only miracle of Hope Valley And the grass grows-grows-grows Midst all the dead of Hope Valley Daffodils bloom-bloom-bloom For all the dead of Hope Valley The evening sun sets-sets-sets On the miracle of Hope Valley The only miracle of Hope Valley (lyrics to "the Anthem of Hope", a fictional song featured in Louise Blackwick's Neon Science-Fiction novel "5 Stars".

Read. You should read Bukowski and Ferlinghetti, read Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton, and listen to Coltrane, Nina Simone, Hank Williams, Loretta Lynn, Son House, Robert Johnson, Howlin’ Wolf, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Miles Davis, Lou Reed, Nick Drake, Bobbie Gentry, George Jones, Jimmy Reed, Odetta, Funkadelic, and Woody Guthrie. Drive across America. Ride trains. Fly to countries beyond your comfort zone. Try different things. Join hands across the water. Different foods. New tasks. Different menus and tastes. Talk with the guy who’s working in construction on your block, who’s working on the highway you’re traveling on. Speak with your neighbors. Get to know them. Practice civil disobedience. Try new resistance. Be part of the solution, not the problem. Don’t litter the earth, it’s the only one you have, learn to love her. Care for her. Learn another language. Trust your friends with kindness. You will need them one day. You will need earth one day. Do not fear death. There are worse things than death. Do not fear the reaper. Lie in the sunshine but from time to time let the neon light your way. ZZ Top, Jefferson Airplane, Spirit. Get a haircut. Dye your hair pink or blue. Do it for you. Wear eyeliner. Your eyes are the windows to your soul. Show them off. Wear a feather in your cap. Run around like the Mad Hatter. Perhaps he had the answer. Visit the desert. Go to the zoo. Go to a county fair. Ride the Ferris wheel. Ride a horse. Pet a pig. Ride a donkey. Protest against war. Put a peace symbol on your automobile. Drive a Volkswagen. Slow down for skateboarders. They might have the answers. Eat gingerbread men. Pray to the moon and the stars. God is out there somewhere. Don’t worry. You’ll find out where soon enough. Dance. Even if you don’t know how to dance. Read The Four Agreements. Read the Bible. Read the Bhagavad Gita. Join nothing. It won’t help. No games, no church, no religion, no yellow-brick road, no way to Oz. Wear beads. Watch a caterpillar in the sun.

I guess this is a prayer to the unsettled arc of mortality, the hoist and shuffle of this uncertain moment, our lives like bulbs flaring and going out as the city's seven million souls--ah, but that's another argument--click out their bedside lamps and curl toward whatever approximation of warmth they have found, while the music plays on in the streets below, the neon humming, the ambulances wailing the sudden shocked song of the living.

I recall certain moments, let us call them icebergs in paradise, when after having had my fill of her—after fabulous, insane exertions that left me limp and azure-barred—I would gather her in my arms with, at last, a mute moan of human tenderness (her skin glistening in the neon light coming from the paved court through the slits in the blind, her soot-black lashes matted, her grave gray eyes more vacant than ever—for all the world a little patient still in the confusion of a drug after a major operation)—and the tenderness would deepen to shame and despair, and I would lull and rock my lone light Lolita in my marble arms, and moan in her warm hair, and caress her at random and mutely ask her blessing, and at the peak of this human agonized selfless tenderness (with my soul actually hanging around her naked body and ready to repent), all at once, ironically, horribly, lust would swell again—and “oh, no” Lolita would say with a sigh to heaven, and the next moment the tenderness and the azure—all would be shattered

The PEOPLE, SCHOOL, EVERYONE, and EVERYTHING is so FAKE AND GAY.' 'I shrieked, at the top of my voice fingers outspread and frozen in fear, unlike ever before in my young life; being the gentle, sweet, and shy girl that I am.' 'Besides always too timid to have a voice, to stand up for me, and forced not to, by masters.' Amidst my thoughts racing ridiculously, 'I feel that it is all just another way for the 'SOCIETY' to make me feel inferior, they think, they are so 'SUPERIOR' to me, and who I am to them.' 'Nonetheless, every day of my life, I have felt like I have been drowning in a pool, with weights attached to my ankles.' 'Like, of course, there is no way for me to escape the chains that are holding me down.' 'The one and only person, that holds the key to my freedom: WILL NEVER LET ME GO! It's like there is within me, and has been deep inside me!' 'I now live in this small dull town for too damn long. It is an UNSYMPATHETIC, obscure, lonely, totally depressed, and depressing place, for any teenage girl to be, most definitely if you're a girl like me.' 'All these streets surrounding me are covered with filth, and born in the hills of middle western Pennsylvania mentalities of slow-talking and deep heritages, and beliefs, that don't operate me as a soul lost and lingering within the streets and halls.' 'My old town was ultimately left behind when the municipality neighboring made the alterations to the main roads; just to save five minutes of commuting, through this countryside village. Now my town sits on one side of that highway.' 'Just like a dead carcass to the rest of the world, which rushes by. What is sullen about this is that it is a historic town, with some immeasurable old monuments, and landmarks.' 'However, the others I see downright neglect what is here, just like me, it seems. Other than me, no one cares. Yet I care about all the little things.' 'I am so attached to all these trivial things as if they are a part of me. It disheartens me to see anything go away from me.' 'It's a community where the litter blows and bisects the road, like the tumble-wheats of the yore of times past.' 'Furthermore, if you do not look where you are going, you will fall in our trip, in one of the many potholes or heaved up bumps in the pavement, or have an evacuated structure masonry descending on your head.' 'Merely one foolproof way of simplifying the appearance of this ghost town.' 'There are still some reminders of the glory days when you glance around.' 'Like the town clock, that is evaporated black that has chipped enamel; it seems that it is always missing a few light bulbs.' 'The timepiece only has time pointing hands on the one side, and it nevermore shows the right time of day.' 'The same can be assumed for the neon signs on the mom-and-pop shops, which flicker at night as if they're in agonizing PAIN.' 'Why? To me is a question that is asked frequently.' 'It is all over negligence!' 'I get the sense and feeling most of the time, as they must prepare when looking around here at night.' 'The streetlamps do not all work, as they should. The glass in them is cracked.' 'The parking meters are always jammed, or just completely broken off their posts altogether.' 'The same can be said, for the town sign that titles this area. It is not even here anymore, as it should be now moved to the town square or shortage of a park.

Christian Faith For me, being a Christian is all about true love. The Gospel of John instructs us, “Dear Friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.” I believe that first we need to love ourselves, even when we are told that we do not deserve love. Then we need to love others, especially those who have not been treated with love. And of course, we need to love Jesus. Love for Jesus can be the foundation for living a good life, a life full of compassion and joy. Loving Jesus is where I believe a Christian life starts, because that love spreads all around, to people, animals, and the world. Animal Rights During my life so far, animals have brought me joy and comfort when I thought that I would never find happiness. My bunny Neon taught me so much about unconditional love. This experience showed me that animals have souls deserving of love just as much as humans, and they can be some of the purest examples of God’s love on Earth. I believe we can all show animals the compassion and love they deserve by choosing products that are fur-free and cruelty-free and by eating a vegan diet. Even people who aren’t prepared to commit to a vegan lifestyle can make thoughtful everyday choices that reduce needless cruelty against animals. Human Rights I have myself been a victim of abuse, so I know how hopeless life can seem to those in dark situations. However, I also know how much of a difference a small ray of light can make. My goal in life now is to shine that ray of light onto as many people in need as possible. As an advocate for human rights, I aim to raise awareness and help others who are suffering. From volunteering for organizations, to simply looking out for a neighbor or friend, we can all make a difference in helping others. Human rights of freedom and safety belong to each of us, and we all have a responsibility to support people who are the most vulnerable.

Wrinkles appeared and disappeared as he squinted his eyes and relaxed them, like someone peering into a strobe light, police car-top beacon, flashing neon beer sign.

Oh you, the drizzle that falls at dawn. The cold that bites the bones. The light that hangs under the thick blanket. You, the hope of the rising sun. The beauty that rolls like dewdrops over the leaves, more brilliant than jewels. How can my heart not be captivated by your cheerfulness when welcoming the morning? The blossoming petals of the flowers, the dainty stems of the roses blowing in the wind. Enchanted by your crisp laughter, by your personal warmth that shines from deep within. How could I not fall for your graceful, understated beauty? How you spread happiness in ways I don't understand. You vibrate the strings of hope in my weary soul. And you make me think of you, day and night. You lull my restless sleep by reflecting your dazzling light like the neon lights across the street. Your smile is imagined in my dreams like a kite flying in the blue sky in my childhood longing. You stir my heart like a boat tossing on the waves. Waiting for the tide to take me home. Do not break my hope to reach your shores. Let me walk on your soft sand. Take shelter under your umbrella that covers me from the sun's scorching heat. You accept me into your small and simple yet well-organized cottage full of flowers. You welcomed me joyfully at your solid teak door. And you will take care of me no longer as a stranger in your clean home but as my own. In love blossomed by waiting, praying and hoping. In the consolation of the heart in order to realize the eternal dreams.

HonkyTonk Love [Verse] I saw you lookin' over, with that sunshine smile, Your eyes were sayin' somethin', you've been here for a while. In this honky-tonk light, I can see it clear, You're lookin' for some country, so baby, come near. [Verse 2] Boots are tappin' on the sawdust floor tonight, Guitars strummin' sweetly in the neon light. Bartender’s pourin' drinks, the band's playin' our song, So don't be shy, darlin', just come along. [Chorus] In this honky-tonk love, where cowboys dream, Stars above us light up that western scene. We'll two-step through the night, hearts on fire, In this honky-tonk love, feelin' that desire. [Verse 3] You've been hurt before, I can see it in your eyes, But with every broken heart, a new love can arise. Take my hand and trust me, we'll sway with the tune, Two lonely souls findin' love beneath the Texas moon. [Chorus] In this honky-tonk love, where cowboys dream, Stars above us light up that western scene. We'll two-step through the night, hearts on fire, In this honky-tonk love, feelin' that desire. [Bridge] Life ain't easy, it's a wild, wild ride, But tonight we got each other, there's nothin' to hide. In this honky-tonk haze, let the music play, We'll forget our troubles, dance 'em all away.

Cowboy's Neon Dream"** Stompin' through the city with my boots and hat, Got that country soul, no denying that. The skyline's bright but it can't outshine, The cowboy spirit that's min [Verse] Stompin' through the city with my boots and hat, Got that country soul, no denying that. The skyline's bright but it can't outshine, The cowboy spirit that's mine, all mine. [Verse 2] In the honky-tonk, I found my scene, Where neon lights ignite my cowboy dream. Steel guitars and fiddles fill the air, A country heart in a world that’s rare. [Chorus] City lights try to take my joy, But they can't shake this cowboy's ploy. Underneath the urban gleam, I'm livin' a cowboy's neon dream. [Verse 3] From the high-rise windows to the crowded bars, I ride the concrete range, chasing stars. Through the winding streets where dreams collide, I wear my country pride, deep inside. [Bridge] Even when the city's loud, My spirit stays unbowed. With every step, I hold the line, This urban cowboy’s life is fine. [Chorus] City lights try to take my joy, But they can't shake this cowboy's ploy. Underneath the urban gleam, I'm livin' a cowboy's neon dream.

Someone's Missing" Someone's telling the toll to me I'm cut and I'm weeping like a rubber tree But i don't care who's left behind Lost revelations that I'll never find In the long hall pipes are whispering Blues prepared for anti-christening Somewhere there's an honest soul To mirror teeth where neon lures troll And what's extinct might come alive A purple smoke in some internal shrine With a long sigh let the hissing in Stones deformed by gentle kissing and All the closed eyes start to glisten But it feels like someone's missing Yeah it feels like someone's missing

Along the streets thats lead away from the apartment he can never see anything through the concrete and the brick and neon but he knows that buried within it are grotesque, twisted souls forever trying the manners that will convince themselves the possess Quality, learning strange poses of style and glamour vended by dream magazines and other mass media, and paid for by the vendors of substance. He thinks of them at night alone with their advertised glamorous shoes and stockings and underclothes off, staring through the sooty windows at the grotesque shells revealed beyond them, when the poses weaken and the truth creeps in, the only truth that exists here, crying to heaven, God, there is nothing here but dead neon and cement and brick.

Cowboy's Neon Dream"** Stompin' through the city with my boots and hat, Got that country soul, no denying that. The skyline's bright but it can't outshine, The cowboy spirit that's mine, all mine. 'Cause I'm a cowboy, from dusk till dawn, Two-steppin' to life's sweet song. With whiskey smooth and city lights gleam, I'm living out this cowboy's neon dream. Every step I take's got that two-step flair, From the honky-tonks to the open air. I've got the rhythm of the wild, wild west, In this modern world, I'm still the best. Got my cowgirl by my side, so fine, Together we shine, her hand in mine. We're the duo that steals the scene, In this cowboy's neon dream. Yeah, I'm a cowboy, ain't no scheme, Dancing through life, chasing the dream. With a glass of whiskey and the skyline's beam, I'm two-steppin' in this cowboy's neon dream. Let's raise a toast, to the night's bright seam, Where every cowboy and cowgirl finds their theme. In the two-step beat and the city's stream, We're living large in this cowboy's neon dream.

**"Rise Above"** (Verse 1) Neon lights and pickup trucks, I'm moving fast, kicking up dust. Life's a game, sometimes it's rough, but I've got dreams, they're enough. (Pre-Chorus) They say I'm just a small-town kid, chasing stars, on the grid. But I've got fire in my soul, I'm on a roll, I'm in control. (Chorus) 'Cause I'm stronger than that, I'm the comeback kid, With every breakdown, I've got more to give. I'll turn the whispers into my soundtrack, Watch me shine, 'cause I'm stronger than that. (Verse 2) I've seen the highs, I've felt the lows, but here I stand, ready to go. With every word they throw my way, I'll build my castle, I'll make my play. (Pre-Chorus) So let 'em talk, let 'em spin their tales, I'm rising up, I will not fail. With every rumor, I'll just laugh, I'm unbreakable, I'm stronger than that. (Chorus) Yeah, I'm stronger than that, I've got the heart of a lion, Turning setbacks into moments to rely on. I'll light up the stage, no holding back, I'm the headline act, 'cause I'm stronger than that. (Bridge) Sometimes life's a storm, a relentless attack, But I'm the eye of the hurricane, I've got my own back. With a smile on my face, I'll tip my hat, I'm not just surviving, I'm stronger than that. (Chorus) I'm stronger than that, I'm the hero in my story, Turning pain into power, into glory. I'll take the stage, this is where I'm at, Singing loud and proud, I'm stronger than that. (Outro) So here's to the fighters, the dreamers in black, We're all in this together, we're on the right track. With every chord, we'll combat, The noise of the world, 'cause we're stronger than that.

American Rocker” I was born in the land of the brave, where the eagles soar and roam, With the roar of the rivers and the whisper of the wind, in the place I call my home. My heart beats to the rhythm of the drums, and the guitars strumming wild, In the land of the free, I stand with pride, an everlasting American child. 'Cause I'm American, through and through, My soul's painted in red, white, and blue. I rock to the core, with freedom's sound, In the USA, where my roots are found. From the neon lights of the bustling cities to the quiet country roads, I've seen the beauty of the starlit skies and where the mighty Mississippi flows. I've danced in the rain and I've faced the sun, with a spirit that won't be tamed, In every note I play, in every word I say, I'm American, unashamed. We're the land of the dreamers, the home of the brave, Our anthem rings true, for the free and the saved. We'll rock this country, from dusk till dawn, With the power of the word, and the strength to carry on. 'Cause I'm American, through and through, My soul's painted in red, white, and blue. I rock to the core, with freedom's sound, In the USA, where my roots are found. So let the guitars wail, let the drums beat hard, As we sing our song, under the stripes and stars. We're American rockers, with a story to tell, In the land we love, where our hearts dwell.

(Verse 1) In the glow of a **dawn's early light**, With the dew on the grass, shining so bright, A cup of coffee, a **gentle breeze**, These little things, oh how they please. (Chorus) **Grab your hat and dance in the rain,** **Kick off your boots, forget the pain,** **Laugh with friends, under the sun's reign,** **Life's a sweet ride, hop on the train!** **Raise your glass to the stars above,** **Sing with heart, push and shove,** **Every little moment, fit like a glove,** **It's the simple things that we love!** (Verse 2) A **dog's wagging tail**, a **porch swing's sway**, The **colors of flowers** that brighten the day, A **song on the radio** that takes you back, To the **sweet old memories** that never lack. (Bridge) **Lights down low, we're just starting up,** **Fill up the tank, let's raise our cup,** **To the moments that feel like a live wire,** **Simple sparks igniting our fire.** **Sync to the beat of the city's pulse,** **Every little win, every single result,** **We're living loud in the here and now,** **In the simple life, we take our bow.** (Verse 3) **Under the wide-open sky so blue,** **Life's painting scenes, each one anew,** **A simple hello, a wave goodbye,** **In these little things, our dreams fly high.** **With every sunrise, we start again,** **Finding joy in the whisper of the wind,** **A hearty laugh, a warm embrace,** **In the simple life, we find our grace.** (Chorus) **Turn it up, let the bass line roll,** **Simple life's got that rock 'n' roll soul,** **Snap your fingers, tap your feet,** **Living for the moment, life's so sweet.** **Catch the vibe, let it take control,** **These little things are how we roll,** **From the heartland to the city's grip,** **It's the simple life that makes us flip.** (Verse 4) **The jukebox plays a tune that's bittersweet,** **Echoing tales of love and deceit,** **But in the neon glow, we find our truth,** **In simple things, we reclaim our youth.** **A twist of fate, a turn of the key,** **Life's full of surprises, as we can see,** **A chance encounter, a new beginning,** **In the simple life, we keep on winning.**

Forgive Me, Lord [Verse] Lord, I've been lost for a long, long time, Done things I'm ashamed of, crossed that line. Down those dusty back roads, runnin' wild, Haunted by a past that’s cruel and vile. [Verse 2] Whiskey and women, they stole my soul, Late night bar fights took their toll. In the glow of neon, sin’s easy to see, Prayin' for the dawn to set me free. [Chorus] Forgive me, Lord, I'm on my knees, Fightin' these demons, beggin' please. I've walked in shadows, lived in sin, Hope someday Your light will let me in. [Verse 3] I’ve lied to my mama, broke her heart, Tore our family clean apart. With calloused hands and a heavy heart, I seek redemption, need a new start. [Verse 4] I hear Your whispers, a distant call, Feel Your presence through it all. In the church pews, under the steeple, Yearnin' to be one of Your people. [Chorus] Forgive me, Lord, I'm on my knees, Fightin' these demons, beggin' please. I've walked in shadows, lived in sin, Hope someday Your light will let me in.

Lonely Road of Faith [Verse] I see you standing there, a smile that could light up the night Your eyes are calling me, but I know it wouldn’t be right Cause I got one at home who loves me, waiting by the fireside It's a lonely road of faith, that's kept me on the righteous side [Verse 2] Whiskey on my breath, the neon lights, they start to fade The jukebox playing songs of lovers lost and a debt to be paid But her love's a lighthouse, guiding me through this rough tide It's a lonely road of faith, where temptation and truth collide [Chorus] Oh, this heart might wander, but it knows where it belongs A wandering outlaw, but her love keeps me strong Lonely road of faith, where I'm tempted every night But I got one at home who loves me, and she's my guiding light [Verse 3] Wild times and smoky bars, they offer me a fleeting thrill But the thought of her touch keeps me steady, against my will In the dark of night, it's her voice that whispers clear On this lonely road of faith, her love's the one I hold dear [Bridge] The rebel in me fights, for the freedom of my soul But her love's a gentle tether, keeping me whole Every mile that I travel, it's her face that I see On this lonely road of faith, her love will set me free [Chorus] Oh, this heart might wander, but it knows where it belongs A wandering outlaw, but her love keeps me strong Lonely road of faith, where I'm tempted every night But I got one at home who loves me, and she's my guiding light

Someone's Double Shot [Verse] In a little town where the gravel roads sway, There's a lonely heart yearning for yesterday. You've got a feeling that you don't belong, But honey, you've been strong all along. [Verse 2] Down at the diner where the neon lights hum, You sip your coffee, but no smile's ever come. Remember, darlin', when the nights grow cold, You're not just a story that's been left untold. [Chorus] You may not be everyone's cup of tea, But someone's craving you like whiskey. With a little bit of fire and a splash of soul, You're the warmth that makes the cold nights whole. [Verse 3] On your darkest days, when shadows close in, Don't let the doubt gather under your skin. Somewhere out there, someone's searchin' for you, Like a melody waitin' for a tune. [Verse 4] It ain't easy when you're walkin' alone, But the strongest roots come from the toughest stones. So hold your head high, and let your heart speak, You're the strength in the humble and the meek. [Chorus] You may not be everyone's cup of tea, But someone's craving you like whiskey. With a little bit of fire and a splash of soul, You're the warmth that makes the cold nights whole.

Yes, it is." Impossible to keep the bitterness out of my tone. "She's very good at doing her job, but she isn't doing it out of the charity of her soul. She's chasing power and prestige. The feeling of enough is always over the next horizon [...] She loves me, but it's secondary to everything else.

All souls needs communion, even the old and bitter ones. These, most of all.

In the neon-lit arteries of existence, splice our souls, entwined in weak flesh and this glitched tapestry of reality. A poetic dance unfolds—a symphony of connection, transcending the binary code, echoing in the opera of our intertwined destinies.

That [the moment before suicide is] what makes room for the universes inside you, all the endless inbent fractals of connection and symphonies of different voices, the infinities you can never show another soul. And you think it makes you a fraud, the tiny fraction anyone else ever sees? Of course you're a fraud, of course what people see is never you. And of course you know this, and of course you try and manage what part they see if you know it's only a part. Who wouldn't? It's called free will, Sherlock. But at the same time it's why it feels so good to break down and cry in front of others, or to laugh, or speak in tongues, or chant in Bengali-- it's not English anymore, it's not getting squeezed through any hole. So cry all you want, I won't tell anybody. But it wouldn't have made you a fraud to change your mind. It would be sad to do it because you think you somehow have to. -From the short story Good Old Neon

That [the moment before suicide is] what makes room for the universes inside you, all the endless inbent fractals of connection and symphonies of different voices, the infinities you can never show another soul. And you think it makes you a fraud, the tiny fraction anyone else ever sees? Of course you're a fraud, of course what people see is never you. And of course you know this, and of course you try and manage what part they see if you know it's only a part. Who wouldn't? It's called free will, Sherlock. But at the same time it's why it feels so good to break down and cry in front of others, or to laugh, or speak in tongues, or chant in Bengali-- it's not English anymore, it's not getting squeezed through any hole. So cry all you want, I won't tell anybody. But it wouldn't have made you a fraud to change your mind. It would be sad to do it because you think you somehow have to.

Speechless (From Eyes That Never Saw Skies) You sit in a dark room Imagining all the list of things you would do for revenge. This is how we bring the love back. You wake at night When you think everyone is quiet. You look at yourself through the broken windscreen; Life imitates art. You love yourself when you are speechless, The ceiling fan swirls around in annoyance. There’s nothing as painful as being a stranger in your own dreams. Even the neon lights you see when you shut your eyes Don’t want to see you anymore. You are speechless, Everyone around you is trying to murder someone. But you walk like you’re invisible, Strapped to memories of some foolish old man Who drinks champagne to a dying soul. You look at yourself again and mutter to yourself You cannot be a stranger anymore. Even ghosts have set themselves free from boredom. And when you go back to your room, It’s you and the annoying ceiling fan again. Dear self, Don’t you worry child, We will fight and win another day. Dear luck, Find me too like you find others. Dedicated to Kellie Elizabeth Jones

They wore full-coverage raid suits, thick-filtered helmets, their gloves embellished with a ridge of claw-like, upturned hooks along each knuckle, all emblazoned with the logo of Atlas—Greek Titan of Endurance—shouldering the world in a neon blue silhouette.

If I died in a freak accident while hurrying through Shibuya's notorious "scramble" intersection, where thousands of pedestrians crossed from all directions at once when the WALK light shifted to green, I hoped whoever performed my funeral service would know I died satisfied. Shibuya felt like being in the center of the vertical world, with tall buildings flashing advertisements, neon lights, and level after level of stores and restaurants visible through glass windows. So many people, so hurried, so much to look at and experience. Fashionista women wearing skinny pants with stiletto pumps riding bikes down crowded sidewalks. Harajuku girls with pink hair and crazy outfits. Loud izakaya bars where men's conversations and laughter spilled onto the street, and women walking by wearing kimonos with white socks tucked into flip-flops. Young people strutting around dressed in kosupure ("cosplay," Nik translated) outfits from their favorite anime, like it was Halloween every day here. TOO MUCH FUN. I didn't want to die, but if I did, I would tell the souls I met in the afterlife: Don't feel bad about my premature end. I saw it all in my short time down in the upworld of Tokyo.

if it feels forced, free it.

One day, soon, the oddness of the seemingly universal belief of human in other animals’ slavery will be palpable. Then, we will be worthier of sharing this planet with them because we will have discovered our souls.” -Shenita Etwaroo

Later, I sat down drunk on the corner of Carondelet and Canal Streets, listening for the rumble of the streetcar that would take me back uptown to my apartment, watching the evening sun bleed from the streets, the city shifting into night, when it truly became New Orleans: the music, the constant festival, the smell of late evening dinners pouring out, layering the beer-soaked streets, prostitutes, clubs with DJs, rowdy gay bars, dirty strip clubs, the insane out for a walk, college students vomiting in trash cans, daiquiri bars lit up like supermarkets, washing-machine-sized mixers built into the wall spinning every color of daiquiri, lone trumpet players, grown women crying, clawing at men in suits, portrait painters, spangers (spare change beggars), gutter punks with dogs, kids tap-dancing with spinning bike wheels on their heads, the golden cowboy frozen on a milk crate, his golden gun pointed at a child in the crowd, fortune-tellers, psycho preachers, mumblers, fighters, rock-faced college boys out for a date rape, club chicks wearing silver miniskirts, horse-drawn carriages, plastic cups piling against the high curbs of Bourbon Street, jazz music pressing up against rock-and-roll cover bands, murderers, scam artists, hippies selling anything, magic shows and people on unicycles, flying cockroaches the size of pocket rockets, rats without fear, men in drag, business execs wandering drunk in packs, deciding not to tell their wives, sluts sucking dick on open balconies, cops on horseback looking down blouses, cars wading across the river of drunks on Bourbon Street, the people screaming at them, pouring drinks on the hood, putting their asses to the window, whole bars of people laughing, shot girls with test tubes of neon-colored booze, bouncers dragging skinny white boys out by their necks, college girls rubbing each other’s backs after vomiting tequila, T-shirts, drinks sold in a green two-foot tube with a small souvenir grenade in the bottom, people stumbling, tripping, falling, laughing on the sidewalk in the filth, laughing too hard to stand back up, thin rivers of piss leaking out from corners, brides with dirty dresses, men in G-strings, mangy dogs, balloon animals, camcorders, twenty-four-hour 3-4-1, free admission, amateur night, black-eyed strippers, drunk bicyclers, clouds of termites like brown mist surrounding streetlamps, ventriloquists, bikers, people sitting on mailboxes, coffee with chicory, soul singers, the shoeless, the drunks, the blissful, the ignorant, the beaten, the assholes, the cheaters, the douche bags, the comedians, the holy, the broken, the affluent, the beggars, the forgotten, and the soft spring air pregnant with every scent created by such a town.

I see the shomrim, the community guardians, pull up at the house next door in their armored jackets with the neon logo on the back, stepping off motorized bikes. Three bearded men drag a young black teenager by his hands, and I can see he hangs heavily between them. “That boy can’t be older than fourteen!” says Bubby, looking down at the captured culprit. “For what does he have to steal, so he can be in a gang? Ach, so sad, from so young they are already trouble.” The shomrim members crowd around the quivering boy. I watch them kick him mercilessly until he is sobbing and wailing, “I din’t do nuttin’, I swear! I din’t do nuttin’!” He cries out his one defense, over and over, begging for mercy. The men beat him for what seems like forever. “You think you can come in here and do what you want? Impress your friends? Where are your friends now, huh?” they ask mockingly. “You think you can bring your filthy kind into this neighborhood? Oh no, not here. No, we won’t call the police, but we’ll take care of you like no one else can, you understand?” “Yes, yes, I understand . . .,” the boy wails. “Let me go, please, I din’t do nuttin’!” “If we catch one of you here ever again, we’ll kill you, you hear? We’ll kill you! You tell your little friends that, you tell them never to come near us again or we will rain hell down on their black souls.” They step back, and the young man lifts himself up and flees into the night. The shomrim get back on their bikes, brushing off their shiny jackets. Within fifteen minutes, the street is as silent as death again. I feel sick. Bubby pulls her head back in from the window. “Ah mazel,” she says, “so lucky we are to have our own police force, when the real police can’t catch a nut when it falls from a tree. We have no one to depend on, Devoraleh,” she says, looking at me, “except our own. Don’t forget that.” I chastise myself once again for feeling compassion at the inappropriate time. For the teenager I should not feel pity, because he is the enemy. I should feel bad for poor Mrs. Deutsch, who got the fright of her life and lost all her precious silver heirlooms. I know this, and yet I wipe shameful tears from my cheek. Luckily no one can see them in the dark.

Because there is a certain type of person in this world, a type that has something black inside of their soul.