I happened to be watching the daily news this morning and these poems and songs came to mind. I said to my wife; “Do you remember the game we use to play called, ‘Follow The Leader’? It is probably unknown to today’s children. Hopefully they will choose the right leader to follow. His name, by the way, is Jesus. I also hope that they have the right things to believe in. Poems, Prayers and Promises by John Denver
I just learned today that the best creative drummer and song writer; Neil Peart, of Rush, died January 7, 2020 of brain cancer (Glioblastoma). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neil_Peart#Death One of the best Progressive Rock bands, Rush, with only three members. “Losing It” The dancer slows her frantic pace In pain and desperation Her aching limbs and downcast face Aglow with perspiration Stiff as wire, her lungs on fire With just the briefest pause The flooding through her memory The echoes of old applause She limps across the floor And closes her bedroom door... The writer stares with glassy eyes Defies the empty page His beard is white, his face is lined And streaked with tears of rage Thirty years ago, how the words would flow With passion and precision But now his mind is dark and dulled By sickness and indecision And he stares out the kitchen door Where the sun will rise no more... Some are born to move the world To live their fantasies But most of us just dream about The things we'd like to be Sadder still to watch it die Than never to have known it For you, the blind who once could see The bell tolls for thee... The bell tolls for . . . . For you, the blind who once could see The bell tolls for thee... The bell tolls for . . . .
Ive always liked this song...I scrolled down and read some comments on it..and had a good laugh....some one had said “ this is so unfair, every time I see a beautiful woman and start taking my clothes off I get arrested, and he gets 58 million likes” ...hahahah...and now for the song
Fire Fight Australia...Daryl Braithwaite. I went to one of his concerts years ago....about 100 years ago I reckon..
Okay let’s try again and if this still doesn’t work I’ll try to find one that does as this is too good not to see Johnny Farnham and Mitch tambo....Farnham is known to be a very gracious performer with no ego...this is one of his big hits
On July 16, 1981, Harry Chapin died. The famed singer-songwriter was killed in a car accident on the Long Island Expressway. He was only 38 years old. He was taken by police helicopter to Nassau County Medical Center where doctors tried for 30 minutes to revive him, but he was pronounced dead at 1:05PM. The following song written and performed by Harry Chapin is based on the tower shooting at the University of Texas, on August 1, 1966. It is written from the sniper's point of view. "Sniper” It is an early Monday morning. The sun is becoming bright on the land. No one is watching as he comes a walking. Two bulky suitcases hang from his hands. He heads towards the tower that stands in the campus. He goes through the door, he starts up the stairs. The sound of his footsteps, the sound of his breathing, The sound of the silence when no one was there. I didn't really know him. He was kind of strange. Always sort of sat there. He never seemed to change. He reached the catwalk. He put down his burden. The four sided clock began to chime. Seven AM, the day is beginning. So much to do and so little time. He looks at the city where no one had known him. He looks at the sky where no one looks down. He looks at his life and what it has shown him. He looks for his shadow it cannot be found. He was such a moody child, very hard to touch. Even as a baby he never smiled too much. No no.No no. You bug me, she said. Your ugly, she said. Please hug me, I said. But she just sat there With the same flat stare That she saves for me alone When I'm home. When I'm home. Take me home. He laid out the rifles, he loaded the shotgun, He stacked up the cartridges along the wall. He knew he would need them for his conversation. If it went as it he planned, then he might use them all. He said Listen you people I've got a question You won't pay attention but I'll ask anyhow. I found a way that will get me an answer. Been waiting to ask you 'till now. Right now ! Am I ? I am a lover whose never been kissed. Am I ? I am a fighter whose not made a fist. Am I ? If I'm alive then there's so much I've missed. How do I know I exist ? Are you listening to me ? Are you listening to me ? Am I ? The first words he spoke took the town by surprise. One got Mrs. Gibbons above her right eye. It blew her through the window wedged her against the door. Reality poured from her face, staining the floor. He was kind of creepy, Sort of a dunce. I met him at the corner bar. I only dated the poor boy once, That's all. Just once, that was all. Bill Whedon was questioned as stepped from his car. Tom Scott ran across the street but he never got that far. The police were there in minutes, they set up baricades. He spoke right on over them in a half-mile circle. In a dumb struck city his pointed questions were sprayed. He knocked over Danny Tyson as he ran towards the noise. Just about then the answers started comming. Sweet, sweet joy. Thudding in the clock face, whining off the walls, Reaching up to where he sat there, answering calls. Thirty-seven people got his message so far. Yes, he was reaching them right were they are. They set up an assault team. They asked for volunteers. They had to go and get him, that much was clear. And the word spread about him on the radios and TV's. In appropriately sober tone they asked "Who can it be ?" He was a very dull boy, very taciturn. Not much of a joiner, he did not want to learn. No no.No no. They're coming to get me, they don't want to let me Stay in the bright light too long. It's getting on noon now, it's goin to be soon now. But oh, what a wonderful sound ! Mama, won't you nurse me ? Rain me down the sweet milk of your kindness. Mama, it's getting worse for me. Won't you please make me warm and mindless ? Mama, yes you have cursed me. I never will forgive you for your blindness. I hate you! The wires are all humming for me. And I can hear them coming for me. Soon they'll be here, but there's nothing to fear. Not any more though they've blasted the door. As the copter dropped the gas he shouted " Who cares ?" . They could hear him laughing as they started up the stairs. As they stormed out on the catwalk, blinking at the sun, With their final fusillade his answer had come. Am I ? There is no way that you can hide me. Am I ? Though you have put your fire inside me. Am I ? You've given me my answer can't you see ? I was ! I am ! And now I Will Be I WILL BE !!!
Yes it was..in another version of that same event Farnham introduced him and the fellow playing the digeridoo and Mitch Tambo all separately...Burt I couldn’t get that up for some reason..there is a clip over here with Brian May playing his guitar with a koala hugging him,,,
Matthew Wittaker Jazz Pianist 18 yrs old ( Blind from birth ) given less than 50% chance of living. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matthew_Whitaker_(pianist) Tranquility
Here's one I sent to all my daughters. They all cried along with me. Kane Brown - For My Daughter (Lyrics)
“Everything in this world is music if you can hear it.” Mitch Albom, His Book, "Finding Chika". “Shout joyfully to Jehovah, all the land. Worship Jehovah with gladness; come before His face with joyful singing.” ( Psa 100:1-2 LITV ) Make A Joyful Noise (David Crowder Band)
Well, well, well!! Copy Right Violation!! Good! It wasn't worth watching in the first place. Who ever did the sound didn't do his job. I watched the whole concert on Public Television. It sucked. When Adam Lambert tried to do the job of Freddy Mercury, he failed miserably. There will never be another Freddy!!