So tired of lookin
Lookin for answers I can’t find
You tell me nothing
Nothing to say

So tired of walkin
Walkin so far behind
You sell me everything
You throw my way

So tired of cookin
Cookin with thoughts so kind
Might as well be nothing
That comes my way

Don’t know anything
But that’s something

Don’t know everything
But I know something
And that’s nothing special
At all

I know one true thing
And that is something
That’s nothing special
At all

Don’t know nothing special
Only one thing
And that’s something special
To know

Believe in everything
Cause I know nothing
And that’s everything
To know

The only one true thing
To know is nothing
And that’s the most special
Of all

I know everything
And that is nothing
And that’s the only thing
There is
To know

Want me to rape you?
I wanna tell you that it seems insane
Want me to scrape you?
I wanna smell you like when you just came

Like when you came
Like when you said you’d always feel the same
I know you came
Back when you said you wanna feel the shame

Come on and tell me why
Why did you shatter the big blue skies?
Why won’t you let me try?
Why don’t you look into my blue eyes?

Come and show me why
Why don’t you show me your big disguise?
Why did you let it die?
Why won’t you give it a thousand tries?

You’re gonna kill me
You’re gonna say that you’re still confused
You’re gonna spill me
You’re gonna say that you’re being used

Why don’t you take away
Everything I never made you say
Why don’t you break away
All of the things that you say today

And it’s so long
So long
So long
So long

[chorus]
I’ve already had the perfect lover
Nobody in this world above her
Nowhere to look to find another
She was the one to replace my mother

Keep your eyes away
Cause you’re not gonna find me.
Nothing that you say
That will never remind me
Of every single day
Cause she left ‘em behind me.
You’ll never find a way
Ain’t no chain that can bind me

That’s so long
So long
So long
So long

[chorus]
I’ve already had the perfect lover
Nobody in this world above her
Nowhere to look to find another
She was the one to replace my mother

Move yourself along
Cause I know what your face meant.
When you told me that I’m wrong
When I cried in your basement
It ain’t because I’m strong
You just ain’t no replacement
So listen to this song

Cause it’s so long
So long
So long
So long

[chorus]
I’ve already had the perfect lover
Nobody in this world above her
Nowhere to look to find another
She was the one to replace my mother

There will come a day
If she cannot replace me
That she will come my way
When she feels she can face me
For this I only pray
That my lover will chase me

For so long
So long
So long
So long

I’ll have to make this my home
I’ll have to be home alone
I’ll have to sing this song alone
I’ll have to cut this to the bone

I’ll have to leave your thoughts unknown
Where the winter winds have blown
I’ll have to pull the weeds unshown
I’ll have to drop the seeds unsewn

I’ll have to do this on my own
I have to catch you alone
I’ll have to do this alone
I’ll have to love you all alone

I’ll have to let you do
And see you through
And let you go alone

I’ll have to leave you alone
I’ll have to leave you on the phone

-Hallucinatti

The Rise of the Artist

	So, with the encroachment of modern industry (and economic supremecy) on not only our 

landscapes and fair lands, but on our very PSYCHE, it is no wonder that an incredibly large per-

centage of this world's babies being born are predisposed to becoming artists of some sort. 

	As a culture, we have seen the artist's role in society reign from village leader to 

village idiot. The use of art has ranged from creating symbols to relate experiences from one 

human to the next, to the creation of symbols for the purpose of conveying inner thoughts, ideas and 

meaning from one to another-- or from one to many. 

	The tribal Shaman was the survival leader to the tribe. The Shaman was religious/phylo-

sophical leader. At a time when early humans were stepping from being automatic creatures of 

habit, ruled by internal schizotypal hallucinations implanted by the singing of the Shaman in 

the form of instructions for the survival of the tribe, to becoming self-aware creatures of pre-

meditated action, art was absolutely imperative to the success of relaying survival instructions 

to more individuals than could fit into the "lodge" or "holy den" around the Shaman. The symbols 

of pigment on cave walls, the symbols of carvings in stone, the symbols of plant ink on paper, 

even BLOOD (for the more intense messages) were used to help relay the Shamanic message to the 

few surrounding the Shaman. In turn, those few would take the messages to the people of the sur-

rounding area (the village) and they could be sung out in strings of hallucinatory meaning, to be 

repeated habitually by the listener in a hallucinatory mantra of auto/meditated transitory ob-

session. Just like when you can't get a McDonald's jingle out of your head, except more like, "Keep

digging, keep planting, keep on walking, I need water for survival, long live the GOD...etc."

	That's right, the intense reason for the creative, musical, hallucinatory habits of the hu-

man mind has been reduced to selling hamburgers.

	For centuries, the role of the artist as shaman; artist as the King's muse; artist as 

public servant, has been eroded into an obscure form hidden beneith the ground of economic growth 

and political propogandaeic rhetoric designed to control the thoughts and minds of the masses for 

the purpose of the survival of the systems in place that control the flow of currency, rather than 

for the purpose of the survival of the society as a whole-- rather than for the prosperity of the 

flow of the chi (or inner vitality) of the individual.

	All of this erosion is resulting in the creation of mountains of creative forces, thrust-

ing into the eroded, featureless landscape of highway billboards and car insurance jingles. Just 

as the birth of the Rocky Mountains was a cataclysmic eruption, so will be the rise of the artist 

as Shaman.

	The visionaries are coming, and their children are delivering.

	You had better pay attention, and use compassion when the contemporary shit hits the fan, 

because their will be (and already is) much resistance to the individual creative urges that 

everyone is experiencing, and few are acting upon.

	When the irrational starts to make more sense than the sensible, it is time for a re-

versal of the flow of inevitability, and the catastrophic winds of change to blow the minds 

off of the shoulders of the elder children in ruling positions.

	If you can decipher these words, and sing the song within, then you will begin to ascend 

above all sin. Sing your soul. Paint your mind. Sculpt your body. Be yourself.

	Watch for the bleeding hearts and the artists to make their stand. Roger Waters is...

Hallucinatti

I now fly whenever I want to…(7 out ten times at least)…I lie awake while my body is fully asleep and listen to total and complete awareness around me (sometimes even moving objects around the room in some weird Stephen King style state of mind)…listen to occurring thoughts and even conversations taking place around the Universe…I live other lifetimes…I compress time indefinitely, dreaming long epic dreams in proven spans of times occurring in less than five minutes, some even as short as a second or two…I receive answers to pressing questions from my higher self…I commune with my higher self more uninhibitedly than ever in my life…I can invent incredible things in my dreams, and I can consciously influence that process to bring those inventions out into the awakening world…I have even played unbelievable guitar or piano or saxophone in my dreams, I really feel the difference the dream experiences have made for me when playing or learning more on those instruments…

Sleeping in deep conscious awareness is the only way to fly…but it works.

Then I discovered the aborigine…

And the didgeridoo…

The line has begun to fade…

I dream while awake…

The distant voices…

Calling through time

Through twisted destinies

Missed vicissitudes of crystal chimes

I fall beneath the lines committing crimes collecting rhymes

Seeing mystic dancers silhouetted on the setting sun’s horizon

A future is risin’ to answer and wizen

These instants of chances

That fall on the mind

Like petals of steel…

From roses that feel…

In thin screams of real…

I sleep and dream surreal…
So, needless to say, I have an interesting time of it. It is tricky, sometimes, to engage in the waking world and communicate in a way that will be accepted or understood at all. Leaving people behind is completely pointless. One man should not be the only one that slips away from the crowd. The crowd is free to fly and not ask why. The man can stay engaged while high in the sky and can cry in the eye but sigh at the lie, laughing all the while.

This is all necessary for survival—or at least the revival—of the infant we used to be. The infant that used to see. The one that started to be me. You’ll see…

Hallucinatti

September Musical Sky Casals
(On the day she was born, as she lay sleeping in the hopital bed with her mother, I stood and reflected on the days events as I stared out of the window. I had the music of Mozart in my head at the time, and the sky looked just like a symphony with swirling crazy clouds. It was September.)

River Wolfe Montana Casals
(His mother had visions of a red river rushing around her about the time he was conceived and I thought he looked just like a little wolf when he was born [almost named him Wolfgang] and I thought he was something strong like a mountain but “Mountain” seemed silly and one of the midwives said that Montana [pronounced Montanya] meant mountainous in spanish.  Casals is a family name from Catalonia, Spain, so Montanya it was!)

Ananda Cosmos Solaris Casals
(The kid did a somersault onto the bed and into the midwife’s hands when he popped out of his mom and made everyone incredibly bubbly with laughter so Ananda (meaning ‘full of bliss’ in Hindu) was it. And something very deep behind his eyes and behind his mind and behind my whole universe was coming through him but it seemed to be very at home (like from our region of the cosmos) so the blissful cosmos from the center of our sun he became.  [Incidentally, 'Solaris' was a completely made up name on my part. Polaris is the north star, or the star at the center of our sky. So I thought Solaris described the center of our sun!  But low and behold a truck came out called the solaris like the next year!! What the heck!?  And then some MOVIE!? Sheez! Turns out the ficken movie was a frickin book a long frickin time ago! Sheesh!])

Mahogany Wood Rain Leaf Casals
(Born 3 months early, tiny little thing…reminded me of a little leaf that fell off of a great big tree and it was our job to try to catch it before it hit the ground…it was terrifying.  Mahogany Leaf was first, then as we went on the roller coaster of him getting better and then worse then better, etc., His strength gave him the name Wood. As I chanted  to him for weeks on end, the word rain seemed to pop up unconsciously a lot, so without denying that, four weeks after he was born, his name was complete.)

“A tiny leaf falls
From a great big ancient tree–
A hand reaches out
To catch it–
Wood flows like rain…”