Art and the philosophy of life

Archive for the ‘Neon’ Category

PEACE, Love, Rock & Roll…and Neon.

peace sign neon signage

Photo:  Jon Tyson
Unsplash

Here’s a sign that promises something good…Resa, is a pie maker, but lives way to far away for me to rush to her house and sit out in front until she gives me a slice of blueberry. Sigh. A poem, of sorts.

red and white love neon light signage

pie
I love the crust
I eat that first
I just snap the crust
off the back of the slice
and gobble it down
then I eat a bit of the inside
and look for more crust
I love blueberry
with vanilla bean ice cream
that melts over warm pie
cherry would be my second choice
and I suppose
if I were desperate
I’d eat apple
especially the crust
always with ice cream
pie is one of the best things
on this rock
after chocolate
of course
but some pies
actually vie for first place
now and then
just sayin’
warm pie
cold ice cream
blueberries
yum

 

Photo:  Martin de Arriba
Unsplash

Neon…a short story about…rabbits.

blue and orange Newsstand neon signage

“Can I help you?” he asked, taking in her short blonde hair and dark brown eyes.

“I’d like some news,” she said, smiling at him.

“What kind?  Happy, current, future, past, animals, food, sports, outer space, fashion, rabbits, Christmas, cheese…”

“Rabbits.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.  I’m positive,” she said, placing a ten dollar bill on the counter.

“Yesterday, fifteen rabbits went into a 7-11 and took four bags of potato chips, three bunches of carrots and a head of lettuce.  The owner didn’t mind.  He liked rabbits.  He video taped it and it went viral.  The lead rabbit was named…”

“Peter?”

“No.”

“Thumper?”

“His name was…”

“Roger?”

“Sean.”

“Sean?”

“Yes.  He was pure white, with long ears and fuzzy feet.  He said they were having a party and needed the food.  All of the rabbits took things they thought their guests would like.  A rabbit, named, Clarence, paid for everything with acorns.  They left the shop and hopped into the night.  That’s all the rabbit news you get for ten dollars.”

“Thank you.  I enjoyed it very much.”

“I’m glad,” he said. “And you’re welcome.  Rabbit news comes with a free candy bar of your choice.”

She bit her bottom lip and picked up a Tootsie Roll.  Can I have this?” she asked, holding it up.

“Yes, you can definitely have that.”

“Maybe I’ll come back and ask for news about cats.”

“Bring more money,” he sighed.  “There’s a lot of news about cats.”

“Okay,” she said pushing open the heavy door, waving goodbye.

“News about rabbits?” asked the woman, who came out of the back room.

“She’s seven years old and she spends her allowance on news stories.  Her father comes in and thanks me for making her happy.  I give hime the money back and he gives it to her again.  She’s a nice kid.”

“You are so…”

“Don’t say it,” he said, holding up his hand.

“Sweet,” she said, going back into her office.

“ACK!” he said loudly, while straightening the counter and snickering to himself.

 

Photo Damon Lam
Unsplash

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There is no other time but NOW…ever. Neon

blue and white open neon signage

Photo:  Vladislav Bychkov
Unsolash

Wildness in neon…

Free Neon Light Signage Stock Photo

“Excuse me,” she said, climbing onto the counter.  “I want to be wild on the outside too, or does this place only allow inside wildness?”

“It’s a bar, you can come in, no problem.”

“Oh, good,” she sighed, throwing her arms around him.  “If you’re wild inside, that usually means you’re wild on the outside too, unless you’re controlling yourself.  What does wild mean to you?”

“Uh,” he stuttered, ungluing his lips from her sudden kiss.  “Wild means not working for the man. You know, Big Brother.  It means living free and making your own choices and…wow, you’re a good kisser,” he groaned.

“Thanks.  I practice.  A lot.”

“I can see that,” he said, gulping down the drink he had under the counter.

“I think wild means making your own rules and doing your own thing.  It means having fun, not being tied to all the things that are expected of you by society.  All the stupid stuff made up by old white men who hate everyone and everything.  You know,” she said, running her finger over his lips.  Like never having kids, loving a big city, having ten German Shepherds and a parakeet, as well as a million books and…”

“That too,” he said, trying to keep his shirt from being pulled off, over his head.

“Wildness, is all about attitude,. she continued.  “But it’s easier to have an attitude when you live in a country that doesn’t just kill you for stepping out of line.”

“I get it.”

“So actions don’t mean a person is wild, attitudes do.”

“You should put that on a t-shirt,” he said.

She opened her coat and laughed.

“Already did,” he said smiling.  “I want one.  How much are they?”

“How much do you think one’s worth?”

“An Italian dinner, candle light, a Micky D’s twist cone for dessert and…”

“And?”

“A long walk?”

“Mmmm, try agin?”

He pushed her down on the counter and kissed her.

“Better,”  she said.  “But is that all ya got?”

He snickered and kissed her again.  “I’m glad I married you.”

“Me too,” she said.  “I’m starving, it’s nine o’clock.  Let’s get that Italian dinner.”

 

 

Photo:  Sanengineer
Pexels

 

 

 

Neon…a short story about how they met.

text

“I saw your sign,” she said, walking into his small shop.

“Oh.  Yeah,” he muttered, shyly.

“I came in to help you pick up the words.”

“That’s really nice of you.  They’re all over the floor.  See,” he said, looking down.

“Wow.  That’s a lot of words,” she said, starting to pick them up.  “Are you a writer?”

“Poet.”

“Well, get down here and gather up the words.  You can’t write a poem without them.”

“Right,” he said, bending over.

“Did your pen really break by accident?”

“It did.  I press too hard, when I write, and sometimes my pen snaps.  But this is the first time so many words fell out.”

“But aren’t the words inside of you?  I mean words shouldn’t be inside the pen, right?”

He shrugged.  “I often send the words on ahead, while I’m thinking of what I want to write next.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Really?  I thought everyone did that.”

“I don’t think so, and there are more words under that chair,” she said, pointing to his left.

He picked them up then looked around.  “I think we got them all,” he said.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  Next time try not to press so hard on your pen.”

“It just happens.  I get lost in thought and…snap.”

“I get it,” she snickered.  “You’re in the zone.”

“Totally in the zone.”

“Well, have a nice day,” she said, smiling at him.

“Can I take you to lunch?  Right now, I mean.”

“Uh, you don’t have to do that,” she said.

“I know I don’t have to, I want to do it.  We can go across the street to, IT CAN’T GET ANY FRESHER THAN THIS.  It’s a vegetarian cafe, with really good food.”

“Sure,” she said.  “Why not.”

And that was that.  The poet who broke his pen (accidentally) found love, while picking his words up off the floor.  And after a brief period of “getting to know each other,” they lived poetically ever after.

 

Photo:  Maximalfocus
Unsplash

A short story about weirdness…

Free Neon Light Signage on Wall Stock Photo

“You again?” muttered the guy behind the counter.  “You’ve been here before.”

“Yes,” she said.  “You have a good memory.”

“You are uncooperative and weird, that’s why I remember you.”

“I can be both of those things,” she said, truthfully.  “I think everyone can be.”

“What is it this time?” he sighed, staring at her.

“I have drugs and a nuclear weapon.”

“Then you can’t come inside.”

“I already am inside,” she said, looking around.  “You’re inside too.  Surely you know that.”

“This is not inside.  This is the screening area, the place you’re checked before you get to go inside.  This is where we stop people from entering the bar, if they have drugs or nuclear weapons.”

“That’s discrimination against drugs and nuclear weapons.”

“The drugs and weapons didn’t come here by themselves.  YOU brought them, so you cannot go inside, and that’s final.”

“Can the drugs and weapons go in by themselves?”

“What?”

“If I can’t go inside, can they?”

“No.  Of course not,” he said, frowning at her.

“I just want to go inside and dance a little.”

“You could have gone inside if you hadn’t brought drugs and a nuclear weapon with you.  So, go away and try again some other time, when you don’t have those things on your person.”

“Do you want to see them?” she asked.  “The weapon’s not that big.”

“I do not want to see them.  Not for any reason.  Now, please leave this place and don’t come back until you are willing to meet the entrance standards.  And you don’t have a nuclear weapon with you, because they weigh a ton and they are huge.”

“It’s a baby weapon and it’s experimental.”

“Where did you get it?” he asked.

“Amazon.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, running his hand through his hair.  “Amazon doesn’t sell nuclear weapons.”

“Do too,” she said.

“Do not.  Let me see it.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Okay, but remember, you asked,” she said, pulling a small nuclear device out of her backpack.

“That looks like a nuclear device,” he said.  “However, it’s made out of Lego’s.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, shoving her hand back into her back pack.  “Wrong one.  That was the prototype.”

“What kind of drugs do you have?”

She put a bottle of aspirin on the counter.

“These are aspirins,” he said, looking at the half filled bottle.

“I know.  But they are also drugs, purchased at a drugstore.”

She plopped the small nuclear bomb on the counter next to the aspirin.  “There.  That’s the nuclear device.”

He stared at it.  “It looks real.”

“It is real.  I know, because I made it myself.”

“I thought you said you got it on Amazon.”

“I got some of the parts on Amazon.  You’d be surprised what you can make out of the insides of radios and appliances.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s pretty cool, don’t you agree?”

“No.  Not really.  It’s terrifying,” he said.

“Why?”

“It’s a bomb.”

“Just a little one and it can’t go off.  I just wanted to make it, that’s all.  It’s not finished or anything.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes,” she said, holding up her hand.  “The whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me NASA.  The bomb has a gooey chocolate center, so you don’t have to worry.  And, to be perfectly honest,  after meeting you last time I was here, I wanted to see you again.  I thought this was a way to get your attention.”

“You could have just said that in the first place.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Really.”

“Can I have the aspirins back, please?”

“Sure,” he said, accidentally on purpose touching her hand, as she reached for them.

“You want to go out sometime?” she asked, softly.

“I do.”

“No kidding.”

“No kidding,” he said.  “You’re pretty creative, that’s why I remembered you from last time.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  I get off in an hour.  We can go grab something to eat, if you’re hungry.”

“I’ll meet you out in front,” she said, moving toward the door.  I’ll be in the white Corvette.

“You have a Corvette?”

“A couple of them.  It’s no big deal.  We can talk about it when you’re finished working,” she said smiling.

He smiled back, and watched her leave the room.

 

 

Photo:  Christopher Farrugia
Pexels

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Neon and poetry…words

Free Man in Black Jacket Standing in Front of Red and Yellow Led Light Stock Photo

a poem
has gone missing
the only reward
is in reading it
if found
please share

 

Photo:  Levent Simsek
Pexels

The truth…in neon.

pink ice cream LED sign

Photo:  Brendan Church

Unsplash

Neon/tattoo…a wee poem

late at night
in a dark alley
lit only by a neon sign
art is alive
and life goes on

 

Photo:  Ben Iwara
Unsplash

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