Who is the Cowboy Now?

Three songs from Jeremy Siegrist (of theillalogicalspoon)

WHO IS THE COWBOY NOW?
​
I saw the tears of the oppressed.
They had none to comfort them.
So I said better than this misery 
is to have never entered this history.
Unless you trespass onto 
the life they've stolen from you.

"You come on my property 
I'm bound to get my gun, 
you thought this was a free country, 
but I'ma teach you boy 
these colors don't run!" x 2

"Who's the cowboy now? 
You ain't never been on the range, 
but I saw you down there with your smart phone
Taking pictures of crazy horse.
Who's the cowboy now? 
I'm the one on stolen land (in Jackson, Michigan). 
My only fear is when this all goes down 
the wild things will come and take it back!"

Did you kill the man you who killed you? x 4
I ain't dead yet! x 4

"Every night and every morn 
some to misery are born
Every morn and every night 
some are born to sweet delight
Some are born to sweet delight 
Some are more to endless night" - William Blake

But not this one because I trespass! I trespass!
Alive, alive, alive!


-from the 2008 album, ​experiment #3: remember your creator in the days of your youth
​

MOTHERBEAR

O Lord Motherbear roar again that we may hear
O Lord Motherbear roar again that we may hear
Wild Love, ancient ones say that you defend your cubs
o Lord Motherbear roar again that we may hear the way back to the tree of life
hellhounds on our trail tonight; o Lord Motherbear roar again, let hell be scared

you dwell in the dark though it seems of late deep caves you hibernate
dark night of the sense filled only with solastalgia
faintly hope for synesthesia, growing so hungry
solstice this time has gone too long we ain't strong like stone
if you can't change our woes leave us alone

o for the fortitude of bare trees in February
how long till You heal things? will You still frighten this wind-blown leaf?
how long till spring when we eat nettle greens?
they don't sting half as bad as the wind-chill of Your distant gaze

How long?
You unstrung my bow so a harp i made and i tuned it to these blues of loud mourning

O Lord Motherbear roar again that we may hear
O Lord Motherbear roar again that we may hear
many now are through with You i guess they found out You ain't true
they must have better things to do than pray to nothing
in this world of war it's hard for anyone to find the wild joy we all desire
i know sometimes you have to go your own way
but i've got nowhere else to go and I cannot get over You and i've got nothing better to do

i am not over You...

why were we ever born with this great wound at our core
up against such unfair odds and no time to practice?
out in my praying ground i still call on Your name in moonlight
the midnight dew paints me wet and i sense You are up to something new
i don't believe You are dead yet

How long?
You unstrung my bow so a harp i made and i tuned it to these blues of loud mourning


O Lord Motherbear roar again that we may hear
O Lord Motherbear roar again that we may hear
o Lord Motherbear Thy cubs are under attack! 
Mother, are You there?
Mother, are You there? 
Mother, are You there to defend us and fight back?
the builders of hell march on, we lose our direction
O, Savage Mother God, sing Your song, we'll sing along

i don't forget what i first saw when the woods were old and tall
Your fresh tracks in the mud, Your scratch on the cedar
i've prayed the power of Your paws, my rock, my shelter, Your sharp claws
nevertheless i'll defend my chest until you rip it open
You have the Song of Life, i only have one tree left to climb
(Because they killed all the rest!)
i sit in the upper branches everyday and cry:
"why have you forsaken us?!" i feel that i may fall off soon,
be rushed to town in an ambulance and forget all about You
the branches are so cold and stiff, but a memory makes me tighten my grip
and though i say no to Your silence it's still You i speak with
for now...


-From the 2013 album,  Experiment #4: The Great Wound and The Wild Joy - Part A: Roar Again

TREE OF JOB
​
“Dark was the night
Cold was the ground”
Far off to the forest
We followed the sound.
Found the fen felled then renounced
Only one tree now around
The marooned old man who moans, beholding
Knowing what is going down
Larch on loam here once grown
Now the bones are ground to compose
A house to house the owls
And all whose lamentations loud 
arouse the growls of wildlife
brave by “midnight special” bright
Hear the howls of wolves I think I might--
Guards pump and strum electric light
A-buzzin’ hum, invades the night
Our vision blurred but still we strain
To find the word remaining in the vine
Whose sap is wine
 
Don’t cover my blood
Don’t cover my blood, oh earth
May there be no rest for the cry of my hurt
Turn not away from my face
Turn not away from my face
Of open wounds
 Some have come but would not look
Under the light of moon
They spoke with holy words
Each one was a tooth of a saw submerged
Tearing at my trunk “take it out!” I say
But the blood stays on the blade
The blood stays on the blade
The blood stays on the blade
 
Underneath his branches the warm prophets slept
sound with ease like mounds of leaves
Or pyres of lies and death
The truth and pain icicles hang from Job’s hands
He stays awake, death of the world to demonstrate
In haunted heartwood heavily stays
Honest about the miseries of our age
None can now assume we’ll see a new day
None can now assume we’ll see a new day
 
We acquiesce to this rhythmic agony
Accept the tension with much wrestling in melody
The assimilated optimists how they all agree
Sayin “ain’t they a hopeless lot”
“Nothing our movements would want” “no surely not”
“It’s absurd to spree with morbidity, we’ll flee, and hug our happy thoughts”
 
Then out of the shadows of the forest
The afflicted and the stricken join the chorus
of awe and anger light the spark lain latent
In the assembly of the suffering servant
Assembly of the suffering servant
Assembly of the suffering servant
Begin to dance though hobblin’ and swervin’
 
(Audio: Documentary on Potawatami who were relocated to the great plains from the great lakes.)
 
so now face our flame
you froze frown of pain
This gift lifts snow to mist
sends the spring rain
Mm mm mm mm mm mmm
Come ship of storm our fury forms to
Affirm faith bold, play the horns
We hold these sorrows evident
For the joy before us sent
Mmmmmmmmm
 
Now welcome round our ring to sing
and scream
Warm your strings
your lyre is ripe to raise red fire
Is it sadness?
No! its raging desire and love!
 
Now learn the tale the trees have known
Don’t fear the abyss you’ve been shown
Your groaning will echo the earth’s own
And our urgency will grow
Mmmmm
Soak this thread up in your bones
Juxtaposed with the word
That you heard when we stood and said this is good
it’s the place that we come from
God’s poem to God’s works
And its where we shall return to
For the heart of this earth is good
mmmmm
it is good
mmmmm
it is good
Ooooo
It is good
Ooooo
It is good
 
I believe in the future
we shall suffer more
 
Frawny face reflected in the water in the way
Fall through I’m free to feel new and fey
To a soul sung song, oh washtenong sepee
Baptized in this dirge down deep and dirty
Born new now formed you, thou town glum and gritty
You’re born into blues when you’re born in this city.
 
How goes the world? Not well!
But the kingdom comes! The kingdom comes!
 
And if you cannot hear it hope shouts “No!” unto God’s silence
 
          (the scales of justice were rising and falling)
 
the bells of the apocalypse toll for thee
 
My eyes were closing due to freezing, prison city will not be thawing
         
           (guilty of everything, nearing the ending)
 
the bells of the apocalypse toll for thee
 
The lame shall take the plunder and the wild will reclaim
          
          (O Liberator, Liberate!)
 
the bells of the apocalypse toll for thee
 
Come Thou Spirit sabotage our hearts so technified
 
          (a multitude follows four horses who ride
          to the gates of heaven where a rider cries, “It is Time!”)
 
the bells of the apocalypse toll for Thee
 
 
It is time! It is time! It is time! It is time!
 
It is time!
It is time!
It is time!
It is time!


-From the 2018 album,  experiment #4 The Great Wound and the Wild Joy Part B: Another Log for the Fire

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Jeremy Siegrist

formed theillalogicalspoon in the year 2000. Aside from music he spends his time working on ecological land restoration in the Irish Hills of southern Michigan, foraging for wild edibles, studying local flora and fauna, and helping host community events. In early 2019 he helped start Open Grown School to facilitate outdoor nature education for all ages. Contact him at theillalogicalspoon@gmail.com