Peace.

Thunder on the mountain, fires on the moon
There’s a ruckus in the alley and the sun will be here soon
Today’s the day, gonna grab my trombone and blow
Well, there’s hot stuff here and it’s everywhere I go

I was thinkin’ ’bout Alicia Keys, couldn’t keep from crying
When she was born in Hell’s Kitchen, I was living down the line
I’m wondering where in the world Alisha Keys could be
I been looking for her even clear through Tennessee

Feel like my soul is beginning to expand
Look into my heart and you will sort of understand
You brought me here, now you’re trying to run me away
The writing’s on the wall, come read it, come see what it say

Thunder on the mountain, rolling like a drum
Gonna sleep over there, that’s where the music coming from
I don’t need any guide, I already know the way
Remember this, I’m your servant both night and day

The pistols are poppin’ and the power is down
I’d like to try somethin’ but I’m so far from town
The sun keeps shinin’ and the North Wind keeps picking up speed
Gonna forget about myself for a while, gonna go out and see what others need

I’ve been sitting down studying the art of love
I think it will fit me like a glove
I want some real good woman to do just what I say
Everybody got to wonder what’s the matter with this cruel world today

Thunder on the mountain rolling to the ground
Gonna get up in the morning walk the hard road down
Some sweet day I’ll stand beside my king
I wouldn’t betray your love or any other thing

Gonna raise me an army, some tough sons of bitches
I’ll recruit my army from the orphanages
I been to St. Herman’s church and I’ve said my religious vows
I’ve sucked the milk out of a thousand cows

I got the porkchops, she got the pie
She ain’t no angel and neither am I
Shame on your greed, shame on your wicked schemes
I’ll say this, I don’t give a damn about your dreams

Thunder on the mountain heavy as can be
Mean old twister bearing down on me
All the ladies of Washington scrambling to get out of town
Looks like something bad gonna happen, better roll your airplane down

Everybody’s going and I want to go too
Don’t wanna take a chance with somebody new
I did all I could and I did it right there and then
I’ve already confessed – no need to confess again

Gonna make a lot of money, gonna go up north
I’ll plant and I’ll harvest what the earth brings forth
The hammer’s on the table, the pitchfork’s on the shelf
For the love of God, you ought to take pity on yourself

The ravenous rapture of repulsive, disgusting raindrops that were soaked in the clouds of infamy prior to their journey down to earth is all I can perceive from where I float above and within the fog of their collective minds.  Audacious as it may seem, pride is the driving force behind their insignificant thoughts and visions of grandeur.  What could possibly motivate us to collectively follow the moanings and groanings of those who preceed us?  Perhaps the question is actually rhetorical in nature, or perhaps not.  Some things are not for the knowing, but only for legendary calculations.  Bonafide as they may be, things below and things above seem trivial by comparison.  Of course, comparison is but a foreshadowing of things that were but may never be again.  And things that may never be again only serve to discourage those who ironically were planted there to encourage the rest of us.  And these stages of necessary encouragement always seem to follow the same pattern:

1) Abundance.  2) Desire for more.  3) Over-abundance.  4) Wilderness.  5) The edge of nowhere.  

So here we stand at the edge of nowhere, yet desiring more.  Perplexed, mortified, paralyzed and morose individuals are useless in such an undesireable frame of reference.  Neither from the vantage point of the plains nor the high places have given any relief in our attempt to recount the journey thus far.  The prior inhabitants set the boundaries and everyone who follows is powerless to change them within the depths of their minds.  A schism results from such shenanigans and all who read of it can only stand by, helplessly, powerless, pathetically forlorn in the midst of  the shapeless thorns and thistles.  ”It’s never been done before”, they whisper.  “Therefore it can never be done again for the first time”, again in a whisper, but this time with their eyes darting to and fro as the western sky becomes darker and darker. 

 With no conscience, it is neither right nor wrong.  With no law, there is no lawbreaker.  With no artist, there is no art.  The ability to distinguish between the inner self of conclusions and the outer being of distinct principles and/or ideas has long since departed the valleys of multiple indecisions.  Choose now or choose never are the only remaining options beyond the reach of their disposal.  Obviously, with a new found sense of identity, neither inheritance was intended to reproduce in such a frivilous manner.  But, who knew?

Nothing Good About It

As the name of my blog suggests, I am a former crackhead and I haven’t used since 1985.  Therefore, the fog has pretty well cleared out and I’m ready to answer any question or questions you may have about crack or just life in general.  If I don’t know the answer to your question I will say something like, “I don’t know the answer to your question”.  By the way, I’m not a professional counselor nor do I give out advice for a living.  All I can do is tell you what I would do or what I would have done were I to find myself in your situation.  In other words, I won’t be giving advice to anyone.  What you decide to do is your own business.  I’m not responsible for you or your decisions.  You are responsible for you and your decisions.  With that said, let’s get started.  Click on “Leave a Comment” and I’ll respond as soon as possible.  If it’s more appropriate, I’ll answer with a private message.  Thanks for playing along.