Casey Hallas Art


When something bad happens, it changes you. You can’t be who you wanted to be…or who you felt you were supposed to be. It’s a battle in the mind. I wanted to do something I couldn’t do. It was elusive, just out of reach. I had potential, I was on a path. As is happens, I ran into a patch of trouble. I got side-tracked. It hurts, because, there were other people who got hurt as well. The people I was connected to. I lost control. Well, I wanted to use my potential to help. The battle in the mind is disbelief. I can’t believe I got cast down like that. I got stepped on, mixed up, silenced. I lost people…because I couldn’t say what I wanted to say. It’s a tough pill to swallow. Oh god, not again. But, that is what happened. There were people who stood in the fire. Very, very few. But there were people who weathered the storm for short bursts. Those are the people who saved me. Someone held me – we held each other, for a month. And then I lost her. Someone broke for me and I broke for her. I got kicked in the face and then I lost her. Someone spoke to me, I spoke to her. Then my mind and words were mixed up and I lost her. The blame comes down on you, but what about the people came at me? Something happened. You get knocked down and they think they have you. It’s not for their edification that I write. In Chicago, Sam Saunders helped me stand on my feet again. We walked with the crack-sellers and I saw dignity. These kids were survivors. On the streets, the kinds of attacks that took me down are repaid in violence. I learned about strength and retribution. I missed out on those connections, the ones I earned. But here I am. What does a man do when he’s fully on his feet again. Those people I loved, are they whole and open to see me? Everyone has a life. I lost part of mine – I had it taken away. But, you’ll see. You’ll see what I did when you weren’t watching. I like the street. I like the hustlers, I like divine justice. I like the poetry of courage and broken minds. Shhhh. Quiet. Shhhh. There is 911. There it is, the internet. There it is, new media. There it is, New York, San Francisco. Talk, talk, talk. I did something classical. I did something remarkable. I did it old-school. You just saw a part of me. So, if you care – well, pay attention. This isn’t a promise. This is a prayer. Listen to me. Listen.

Posted in: Rants, Text

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