2025.05
Morning journal entries from May 2025
Talks About It
2025.05.23
Friday, May 23, 2025
Good morning, The Wonder Fell Way.
O/ Yo-yo-yo.
Here we go.
On with our show...
...
Love. We ought to talk about it.
Seeing as I'm a Poet and it's one of our job expectations, and I'm feeling as true to my work as ever this morning, it's a good time.
"It's his journal. He's a Poet."
- Dedicated Reader
"Is he gay?"
-Clueless Victim of Society
The quick easy answer to that question is no. An emphatic no.
For me, it's always been women.
The more important response is the question both breaks my heart and pisses me off.
In a world of billions, if you're lucky enough to have someone love you in a way you recognize to love back, consider yourself blessed.
Plumbing preferences are political; sex is private intimate partnership.
Two choices make and sustain love, not a society's expectations.
If you're proud to be, 'Gay, Straight, Bi, Pick-a-Prefix,' you're proud to be political and not in love.
Quick fix swipe left, swipe right club floor barroom hook-ups lack intimacy and so lack a chance for love.
If you won't do it sober, you shouldn't do it.
A good rule for everything, most especially sex.
It's a disservice to your body, your compassion, and the dream of what it means to be human.
Poets sing about love because we're all about relationships.
A new relationship of anything to anything else makes a new metaphor.
To make metaphors: Is what the meta is for.
Our whole experience of life is defined by how we pick two objects not usually associated and define a new understanding from the partnership with words to give new meaning to the interactions the pairing creates.
To share these new relationships with words is the work of The Poet.
...
Light rain again today; the grackles are back.
Crows you'd call them if you didn't know much about birds.
But if you look closer a grackle is a rainbow's shine against a night sky.
There are rainbows, and a world stuck in the dark, stuck in our language of love.
But Life has always been about living color and falling in Love is always done best at night.
Politics provide a place for Love to exist in intimacy and safety.
Recognition of a shared dream and not prefixes of plumbing preference define potential love.
Take care, love something on purpose, and make wonderful your wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Balance
2025.05.22
Thursday, May 22, 2025
Good morning, The Wonder Fell Way.
Welcome back. O/
The next installment of The Sunrise.
Brought to you by +he Ghos+.
Good to be read by you again.
Here we go.
On with our show...
...
Today.
The world is all a stage again.
A Muppet show.
Another episode of: Sunshine Valentine's Sunshiny Delights.
"Hit the lights!"
- Sunshine Valentine
What's your genre for the day?
Gloomy grey independent film? Hallmark Channel romance? Holiday Ho-Ho-Ho in May?
It's always a good time to get a gift. Always a good time to give one, too.
Are you giving or taking?
The world is a stage sure, but it's also an algebraic equation.
Both sides equal out.
So when you get something make sure you give something back.
And when you give a gift make sure you receive one back, or the equation goes undone.
Your math teacher, grade point average, and the whole quality of your whole life will suffer if you don't.
Balance!
Jedis and people living genuinely good lives know the necessity of balance.
What about dreams? How do we give and get a dream?
Friendship is a good example.
Your dream of what a friend is meets another's dream of what being a friend means to them and viola! Friendship.
This works in business and romance, in all things too.
The way each object in your life, your home, your car, your phone, your anything, serves your dream of a good life determines the quality of your relationship to it.
Abe and I for instance.
My dream of a dog: loyal, friendly, glad to be alive, with the qualities of a sleepy doormat; Abe returns with enthusiasm.
For me, Abe is a good dog.
His fashion sense, rockin' his bowtie, is an added attribute to my love for him.
What's your dream of a good life?
Do your relationships to the people, places, and things match it?
Maybe they're stepping stones to take you to things that serve you better.
Maybe they're already wonderful.
Say thank you to them today to keep them going.
Thank you Reader for reading. It means so much.
Take care, pay yourself back with what pays you back, and make wonderful your wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Plays a Scale, Cooks Slow-Cook
2025.05.21
Wednesday, May 21, 2025
Good morning, The Wonder Fell Way.
O/ WB.
I suppose it's like a professional violinist who picks up their violin first thing in the morning and plays a scale.
My opening line.
A stretch, a strum, an I love the feel of this...let's go.
On with our show...
...
Soft pale off-white thick bedsheet sky, slow words, stay in bed words.
Wake up words! Dreaming is only half the dance.
The sentences aren't going to write themselves.
Choppy, listy, sentences on the way kind of morning?
Well, I'll keep them descriptive at least, for the gratitude of your attention.
Thanks.
Sound asleep, Abe on the loveseat. Nothing new there.
Perhaps what's remarkable is the lack of the remarkable;
Almost every songbird is a robin this morning.
How are you?
How's your hope?
How's your dream?
Great schemes?
Idle comforts?
Transition Day here, for sure.
Something switched the back-
ground music while you slept.
Swap the soundtrack.
Switch the train-track.
Full steam ahead!
Your dream's the same.
A new path opened.
A clear one.
Change your dance.
Fit the new music.
And go!
On with your show!
Coffee or tea and let it be.
You got this.
Welcome to your life anew.
Do the best you.
You tried and
True dreamer
You!
Encouragement!
Words that lift.
What a gift!
There's a get-it-done focus in the air.
This work, poet's work, artist's work, is done in solitude.
Solitude sings a spectacle in silent places then places it in the crowd.
The writer has to settle for a pat on the back from themselves for payment for sometime.
In our so often fast world, get it done with flash in a flash world, work that requires quiet seems odd; is even frowned upon by some.
But nothing ever truly worthwhile comes from rushing.
Stories that stay and songs that get played over and over again for generations take time.
True success is slow-cooked.
Just thoughts a morning might bring.
Words in a sunrise.
Hopefully a sentence or two found you well,
Brought you a reflection of a better day.
Take care, do your best with what you have today to make a better best for tomorrow, and make wonderful your wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Fat Buddha Goose Chase
2025.05.20
Tuesday, May 20, 2025
Good morning, The Wonder Fell Way.
Happy. \O/
Hello again. O/
It's time to talk happiness.
Here we go.
On with our show...
...
Everybody aims for it, wants it, looks for it, dreams about it... what is it?
What is happiness?
Where is it? What aisle in the grocery store is happy located in?
Do you know?
If you don't know what something is how do you know if you have it?
Some people chase happiness their whole life and have no definition for it.
They might already be happy.
How would they know?
"I know it when I feel it."
- Most People
Good.
Next time you do please take notes and share with the rest of us.
I start with OK when I start to think about happiness.
Which leads me to a word we don't use enough: Glad.
Aware you're okay and knowing it's a good thing, that's glad.
Glad is also the name of a company that makes trash bags.
This is not without irony or utility.
Got junk in your emotional life?
Toss it in a bag of Glad to be alive, then toss that bag out.
You'll be glad you did.
Glad is a sense that life, for you, is better because something happened.
It's tangible.
Happiness is a Fat Buddha Goose Chase.
One of those so important words that have so many different ways to understand they've almost lost meaning.
Words we cling to without common definition or understanding for other than we don't share the same understanding of them.
So important words like happiness, like love, like God.
So misunderstood and vague that we often mash the three together to compound our misunderstanding into a joyful 'Wow none of us knows what anything actually means and boy doesn't it feel good,' experience.
"Find Love, find Happiness... God is Love..."
Huh?
The three most important words to have a working definition for to have a good life, and we jumble-mash them together.
The intent of this post isn't to discuss the existence of God, only to say you best have some idea of your ideas on God if you want to have a good life.
Which brings us back to having some idea of what happiness is if we want to have a good life.
Confused yet?
Happily so?
There's a feeling, a presence, an awareness in moments that Life is worth living for moments like 'this'.
Those this moments are happiness at work. I don't believe they're sustainable. If happiness was something we could experience non-stop, we would have to call it just plain ol' OK.
Everything else would be a disruption.
But happy is always better than OK.
Save happiness for moments.
For me glad to be OK is the best sustainable way of living.
That's the best I've come to how to define a good life: Days spent glad to be okay with occasional feelings of happiness.
A moment spent in a burst of joy is a happy moment.
Abe for no reason at all I can measure, walks out in the yard, spots a squeak toy, and runs! for it, picks it up in his mouth, and runs! in circles with it, tossing it, catching it, stops, drops the toy, looks at me, pants, grabs the toy again and runs! and runs! and runs!
Happiness defined.
Take care, consider what happiness looks like to you, be glad you can and make wonderful your wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
It's a Morning Journal
2025.05.19
Monday, May 19, 2025
Good morning, The Wonderfell Way.
O/ Welcome back and welcome.
Any noobies from Medium, glad to see you.
A standard social media account or two is on the way.
"Look at you all business talk this morning, Ghos+."
- Dedicated Reader
Glad for the readers.
As always, hope you're well.
Here we go.
On with our show.
Which to showcase? Which to share?
I placed a few posts on Medium to bring in some new eyes.
Some Poems, too.
Though I don't write politically motivated poetry, (poetry should direct what's political and not be dictated by it), I used a couple more socially directed pieces to raise interest.
I debated whether to include a piece like The 51st State and decided not to.
Obviously, I believe in its message.
The tone however is not indicative of the majority of my work.
Just that poem.
...
Abe, the rescued Texas hound, lays on the loveseat, watches the sunrising sky light up some tree branch debris the strong winds shake around and wonders if it's A BOP? The neighbor's cat?
No!
It's the reflection of the sky in the blown open neighbor's porch door.
...
"It's a morning journal. He's a poet though, so it's different. There's things people don't talk much about anymore in it. Dreams and Hope and what AI can offer humanity's spirit and imagination and cool pics..."
- Favorite Dedicated Reader
Lots of times it's about writing itself; best to remember what we love when we wake up.
I posted For You on Medium. It's the most indicative poem I have to reflect the spirit of my work and this site.
Perhaps you've read it.
If you enjoyed it you're my kind of person, my reason for sharing, my audience, and if we ever meet an easy friend.
Every morning I'm here; it's a lifetime habit and love.
If you're looking for a new perspective, words of encouragement, a reminder of the power of dreams and the necessity of Imagination, and to remember that the human spirit is the reason for every pixel on every screen; I'm here. O/
The ghost in the machine's expression, and what we can express with it, are the only reasons to have the machine at all.
Take care, thank you for reading, maybe read some more (start with your birthday, I would), and make wonderful your wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Electricity Perhaps
2025.05.18
Sunday, May 18, 2025
Good morning, The Wonder Fell Way.
Boom. Crash. Snap and Bang. Heavy thunderstorm while we slept.
Even Abe flinched at a few strikes.
A rock and roll glow bowling lightshow in the sky.
How are you? O/
Zip-zap game face you got this place set your pace ready for Life?
Today's not your first rodeo.
On with our show...
...
Lights. Camera. Forget the camera. Lose the lights.
Sunshine and a friend's eyes are enough for you.
About an hour before the first bird sings.
A new calm in the air.
Perhaps the lightning set a different charge to the atmosphere.
Perhaps each raindrop fell amped infused on a shock and singe therapy mission.
Perhaps The Earth runs on electricity like a modern home.
Perhaps lightning resets the generator, resets the cycle, stops, breathes and relights the electrical cross-current flow to make everything grow and go go go.
Perhaps black coffee and sugar sugar sugar zip the zap of every map plotted course to a day.
Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.
A word of wonder in this wonderful place.
Stars and stripes and plans for today on my mind.
New steps down a well-plotted path.
I do hope something new finds you and lifts your spirit a fraction or two today.
Some old dream reignites from electric electrodes hopping hope clouds in your mind.
Synaptic shocks wave hello to old dreams made new to re-spark their mission to be made real.
Poetic prose work in this morning journal. ^
Sometimes I write sentences just to see how they sound.
Off to practical things.
I'll be back later to make sentences for you to read another day.
Take care and make wonderful your wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
The Politics of Roses
2025.05.17
Saturday, May 17, 2025
Good morning, The Wonder Fell Way.
Sweet songbirds of Spring.
Hello. O/
Quite a reception of chirps and tweets and whistles this morning.
Maybe a choir woke you up today, too.
I hope you noticed.
Welcome back.
Thanks for reading.
On with our show...
...
Peace on the mind again.
The fight we sometimes call Life doesn't feel like one.
Like a silent victory happened while you slept.
Good morning... peace.
What to write on? What to say?
When The World works with you, what do you say?
O/
That works for me.
Hope The World reflects the same for you, too.
...
Coffee or tea, you and me, words to give sound to a sunrise.
That's what songbirds are for, to give each sunrise a new voice, to tell us what day it is, a daily planner page for Mother Nature.
Flowers and daydreams feed the same natural necessity.
Each rose, daffodil, and chrysanthemum holds its own fantasy, tells its own tale with every colored petal.
Have you noticed as much?
Nature wastes nothing, even Science says so.
So what's the use of the beauty of flowers?
Surely one color blossom is enough to feed any kind of bee.
Why the Crayola box of blooms Mother Nature?
Why the fashion show?
Color means so much more than we know, allow ourselves to see.
Not politically, racially, culturally: Naturally.
Life wants expression.
Our eyes are spectral crystals of blues and browns and greens.
Our skin the color of the dirt that best served the intensity of the sunlight of where our ancestors were born.
We look for differences to categorize when we should see reason to celebrate.
There's a reason a rose is yellow, is white, is red.
There's a reason for your skin more than the flesh can say.
A politics of roses is as absurd as the politics of pigmentation in our Nation.
There's a reason your skin is that shade, and Nature, and I, and roses know it.
It's as simple as simply Life celebrating living.
Vibrance is the language of flowers.
Color in the world is The World's creative expression of the dream called Life.
Color is The Dance of Creation.
I hope you're brave enough to see it.
A box of black and white and gray crayons makes possible only contour prisons for shades of dark and light.
Open your camera app, set the default filter to B+W, shoot the world on your phone screen.
Watch so much nightly news on the same screen and the pictures both look that way for the same reason.
Left aisle, Right aisle; Black and White, Either/Or existences show up there.
While the whole World dances in Color.
Shame on us for limiting our experiences of what's beautiful about us.
If every songbird wore the same color, and sang the same song, I'd go back to bed.
A lifetime listening tells me if that were the case, the birds wouldn't even bother to wake up.
There's wisdom in beauty, divinity in variety, take care, maybe notice it, and make wonderful your wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
Enough Time in the Dark
2025.05.16
Friday, May 16, 2025
Good morning, The Wonderfell Way.
Lots of ways to say hello.
Here's my favorite: O/
Sun's up, Buttercup.
Time to shine.
You're looking good.
You're feeling fine.
Lights up.
Found your flow.
Here we go.
On with our show...
...
I could write about Abe, though he's just a loaf of dog full of breakfast peeking out the window on the loveseat.
There's just so much. You ever feel that way at times?
You try to see the mountain climbed all at once and forget steps make it to the top, not leaps.
Forgetful dreams of leaping earlier this morning.
Though I love sentences, it's a good morning to remember they're built one word at a time.
Like steps up a mountain.
A lot of Wonder Fell now, a lot of days.
This journal is a habit now; it's easy.
There's more writing I do, though.
Monumental prose and precise poetry are epic endeavors one word at a time.
How I spend my days lately.
Nothing much personal.
I'm a ghost even to myself.
Head in dreams to words made.
What's a body for? A spoken word?
Time to comfortably remember.
A couple new paths to reach me will open soon. Enough time in the dark.
My ghostly point is proved even to myself.
All things tech, software, and social media are easy everyday things abandoned. I'm far from shy, and I almost lost myself making a point regarding our true selves.
A link or two will show in a post soon. Familiar ones on nearly every website these days, social media, etc.
I look forward to the company.
Thank you for reading. Take care and make wonderful your wonderful day.