Cynical Snowflakes Land Burning Souls and Other Poems – Neil Eustache

By Neil Eustache


something I recorded about 14yrs or so ago

was living in a camper then (I built a house since)

it was really windy and about -25 outside

so what else to do….

they were recorded on a hand held tape recorder mixed onto a radio
tape recorder and then finally recorded onto a digital format

a few years after recording

Cynical snowflakes land burning souls

One brother believes he’ll find the other dead
And the other wishes it
As the father
Only thinks for himself

We need a new music
For this kind of understanding
Cause the same old
Isn’t working any more

Racist dreams
And the three legged horse will teach us
Leper masturbations

This new year will bring about
Cigarettes more booze
Plans to show our gods
That we can be vengeful and clear

Oh yea had I forgot that this has happened before
In a Russians delusions about love and hate

It’s so clear
Watching the most beautiful
Bomb and kill each other
We all need something to believe in

More than olive faced genocided ghosts
Trying to find an exit out this
Winter cold breeze of lay offs
Biblical insanity and orange fields

I would love it that someone could explain why…
We continue to do this to each other
Is it cause we killed nature and now
Have nothing better to do

Cynical snowflakes land burning souls
Hope will come soon
So get the cross ready children
To nail that dumbass back up again

Sin and poverty always make the best music

Do you have to look at me that way…

Treat me like a dinosaur
Send this like a miracle
I have been deluded
Mind if I forget for a moment
About the love
About the now

Cause their thinking again
About bringing him back
To corrupt
To bend spoons

Take my pain away
These pills aren’t working

Can our silence bring about
Less self importance
More indifference
I can taste that bad feeling

That flash back of prayer
Do you have to look at me that way…
As if I was the one who
Created this myth of longevity
Hold me I need to burn something

This is supposed to
not make any sense

If it wasn’t for the blue jay’s carcass
Rotten against the roots of that hushem bush

This tangled web of cross talking
messages sent to the anti matter of our collective

If you have found the key
To betterment
Won’t you package it
And sell along the roadside

Like carvers do
truck stop workers
and insane middle classed Indians on speed

this is supposed to
not make any sense
blood quantum
a black hole

about 100 kms from here
is the centre of the universe
and another family is trying
to pick up the pieces
of an teenaged boys skull

life is just like that
real and beautiful

Comments from old site:

Submitted by Anonymous (not verified) on Sun, 01/03/2010 – 20:15.

the sound piece is really great