DEDICATION
To the one who believed in me, turned my life around and remained with me for ever
Refer Art of Songs one.
DEDICATION
To the one who believed in me, turned my life around and remained with me for ever
Refer Art of Songs one.
PREFACE
Our life's journey is more lyrical than we might realise.
It wasn't until I began reviewing the lyrics and songs for this volume that I realised how journey stories reflect our souls and are manifested through our thoughts, words and actions.
The lead up to the year 2000 had been an extraordinary journey from the time of my birth in Hamilton, New Zealand. The environment and circumstances in which we are nurtured have lasting effects, as does the DNA we inherit. From age three I had received supernatural healing after contracting meningitis and being unable to walk for six weeks. Although my mother had a miscarriage in that time, her prayers I believe, enabled me to not only walk again, but go on to be a top athlete in school and in provincial representation. I also had inherited my father's athleticism. My spare time was spent either honing my athleticism or drawing, while my sister Lois read to me. I was a slow reader and struggled academically, but knew I had to achieve, if I was to get anywhere in life. It wasn't until my late teens that I discovered I had unilateral vision that had been the possible cause for my reading difficulty.
It was at high school that I fell in love with poetry and began to write. In writing I found syllables, phrases and expressions had rhythmical patterns that, depending on the context, produced tunes in my head. I shared these with friends who were interested in folk music and obliged me by singing and playing the songs I had written. I was encouraged to continue writing songs when singing two of these with one of my musician friends when we won a regional talent quest.
Having spent most of my adult life writing, singing and recording, I had neglected my ability to illustrate and was somewhat surprised when I found I had not lost the gift. Putting the art to my songs has given me great joy expressing the visual with the audio. The songs selected in this volume cover the first 30 years of my married life and teaching profession leading up to the Millennium. The transformation of who I was before, became most apparent as my earlier poems and songs had been melancholic and reflective. Volume 3 expresses not only thoughts and passion, but also the finding of true love and purpose. The title could have read “Heart of Songs”.
I pray and trust the content of the art work and lyrics presented in this volume gives you the same joy and enlightenment that inspired me through the spirit of creativity released at the time. I hope that as you look at the illustrations and read the words a tune will form in your heart and mind that connects you to the eternal determinants of life itself.
Gary James Parker
Where there's peace and love
I will find you there
Calming the angry sea
Forgiving its despair
Gently swaying into my life
Like branches in the wind
Gone's the pain from my mind
Calm's the joy that love brings
Peace and freedom
Poured from your heart
These are the graces of life
Where there's peace and love
I will find you there
Consoling the bitter wind
Stroking its tossed hair
Softly speaking
Into my ear
Like sun melting the snow
Gone's the pain from my mind
Calm's the joy that love brings
Peace and freedom
Poured from your hear
These are the graces of life
I had been married 2 years and was teaching in Ngaruawahia. I heard a student playing D to Dsus on guitar and fell in love with the sound. It inspired me to put the tune to the poem I had written for my beautiful wife, Geraldine, whose face, name and soul I had fallen deeply in love with. I've since learnt the key of D is the key of the Spirit.
The picture insert I drew, from memory, in my courting years.
Radiator broke down a country road
We were lookin' for a ride
Feelin' as empty as the darkness
With no cars in sight
A sullen grey moon leadin' the way
Suddenly went out
Turned out its light in the middle of the night
When we were needin' it most
Tell me, where did you go
Tell me 'cause I'm no one man show
You took my harmony and song
Left me to sing the blues alone
Tell me, where did you go
Saw the aura of a distant township
Reflecting in the sky
You said that we would make it
If we increased our stride
With a damp mist stretching across our faces
We had found new life
Suddenly the lights went out
Leaving us cold outside
Tell me where did you go.........
Felt the melting of the heavy sky falling to our feet
Hoping to find a light somewhere
Where we could warm our need
Beyond the darkness
A beacon broke through
From a farmhouse light
Started to run to that neon sun
When it suddenly went out
Tell me where did you go..........
I entered the song in a local radio station “Write a Song For Elton John Contest” (Lyrics only). Elton was touring New Zealand at the time. I didn't know who he was back in 1972, but nevertheless won the contest which Elton judged.
The lyrics are based on a hitch-hiking experience I had on two separate occasions with mates who disappeared dramatically from my life. One ran away to join Scientology with his sister and the other was taken into custody for stealing vehicle parts. At no stage did any of them reveal this side of themselves to me.
Trans-city folk tell me where are you going'
I meet you at the junction of your lives
You rode on in on the fastest rail
And the plane you were catchin' has gone
You are grounded in the morning of your life
Surrounded in the fog of despair
Reaching out for comforts that aren't there
You keep on lookin', you keep on looking for
You're lookin' for the promised land
The totalizers closed you can't change what you're getting'
And your horse is the favourite of them all
So share your winnings with those who're around you
And if you lose you're not lost at all.
You keep chasing the elusive butterfly
When you catch it, you are still not satisfied
'Cause there's more to life than what meets the eye
You keep on lookin', you keep on looking for
You're lookin' for the promised land
If Christ was here now I am sure he'd tell you
Haven't you better to do
Than stand in despair waitin' for a fare
Get doin' what needs doin' while you're here
With your hands in the pockets of your mind
You're searchin' for the winnings you can't find
'Cause they're left with the heart you left behind
The initial concept to the song was written on the way to school when commuting from Hamilton the Ngaruawahia in the mid-seventies. The last chorus was written 40 years later when I decided to record and release it through Spotify. It became my most successful release and was recorded professionally. It was later called “ Looking for the Promised Land” as unknown to me Bruce Springsteen had written one with the same title in 1976 having been influenced by one with the same title by Chuck Berry in 1965.
*Available on Spotify ( Under cyberdour pseudonym)
Don't you put your love on me
'Cause I'm not the one you really see
I'll leave you for someone new
I was born to be a rollin' stone
I know it's happened many times before
But I don't want it for you this time
I think you're more than I deserve
I was born to be a rollin' stone
Woh woh woh woh woh
I will hurt you
Desert you
And leave you for someone else
Don't build your hopes on me
' Cause I'll only break them down you'll see
And leave you holding broken dreams
I was born to be a rollin' stone
Woh woh woh woh woh
I was born to be a rollin' stone
I was born to be a rollin' stone
Shout at me mumma
Shout at me mumma
I'm only tryin' to move the house away
Well you bought me a tip truck
And I love it very much
But there's nothin' I can find
To put inside it
So I'm tryin' to move the house away
In my tip truck, in my tip truck
Shout at me mumma
Shout at me mumma
I'm only tryin' to move the house away
You told me go play outside
But the road is much too wide
'Cause someone's sealed the grass
I use to play on
So I'm tryin' to move the house away
In my tip truck, in my tip truck
Shout at me mumma
Shout at me mumma
I'm only tryin' to move the house away
In my tip truck, in my tip truck
I was influenced by Cat Steven's song “Where Do The Children Play” at the time of writing the lyrics to this song. His words were prophetic and I believe we had something deeply in common. Like myself he also had a convent upbringing.
Trembling bird in gentle hands
Spread your wings and fly
Take the peace given you
And spread it 'cross the sky
For you fly from hands of love
That picked you up when you were down
Now sing your praises to the heavens
And the world rejoice in what you found
Destroy not the senses
Let them be
To hear and see your wonderous deeds
Oh Francesco pray for me
Francesco pray for me
Thoughtful eyes with outstretched hands
Safely guides the blind
Across the dark and narrow streets
Where golden fields expand
Through the velvet strands of grass
That float beneath the sunlit skies
Now walk with arms stretched to the wind
And praise the Lord on high
Naked feet on sun-baked earth
Feel the ground roll by
Leave the print of man's love
Following in your stride
You threw aside your sword and shield
That struck the faceless foe
And fought the battle for those lost
Rejected and alone.
The 1972 movie “Brother Sun, Sister Moon” by Franco Zeffirelli had a great impact on me in my formative years. Everything it stood for, including the beautiful Tuscany landscape and customs of the time was everything I felt belonged within my DNA. It wasn't unti recently that I discovered I was related to a founding member of the Carmelite order in Britain, St Simon Stock. The penny dropped.
Wind wrapping cloth 'round your hips
Gravity working against your step
You looked so beautiful
That your name must have been nature
Sand pushing up 'tween your toes
Sunlight chased by the wind through your hair
You looked so beautiful
That your name must have been nature
Like stepping out of a daydream
And finding a swan is a princess
You came to me like moonlight shines 'cross water
For I felt your breath on my face
Warmth melting snow was your touch
Soft and smooth was your kiss of love
You looked so beautiful
That your name must have been nature
And all the beauty that surrounds you
Stooped and held us in its arms
You looked so beautiful
Your name must have been nature
Aesthetic realism is contained within the oneness of spirit, body, mind and soul at peace with the universe.
I feel the wind wrapped around me
I see the distant motion of wings
I see the sky stretched out before me
I surrender myself to the wind
Take me high hang glider
Let me fly higher
Take me where your wind blows
Sailing like a cloud in the breeze
I hear the flap of sails above me
I feel the weightlessness of air
I see the matchbox world below me
I know I'm one with the world
Soaring the uncharted blueness
Wingtips shattering sunlight
I am master of my freedom
Touching the soul of new life
Circling higher than an eagle
See me swoop and slowly glide
Bridging the dreams of ambitions
Riding 'cross another sun rise
Although I pursued high jump and pole vault in my athletic career, I never got to hang-glide. I do have a nephew who is a balloon pilot however and my Father frequently had dreams in which he was flying (not in a plane). Something ethereal is definitely in my DNA as I seek connection with the universe and cosmos in general.
You make my day
Every time that I see you
Even though I just pass y0u by
You make my day
But when you're not there
All the colours of the world disappear
And that feeling that was high
Seems to fall from the sky
Like rain on a holiday
You make my day
From where I see you waiting
For the bus that takes you to your job
You make my day
But when you're not there....
You make my day - I'd like to stop and talk for a while
You make my day - seem like it's built on a smile
You make my day want to run
away forever and be with you
You make my day
I'd like to be the driver
And pick you up in my own bus
I'd take you on a journey
Where the road never ends
And our days would be forever made
But when you're not there....
You make my day - I'd like to stop and talk for a while …
The beautiful woman I married had been one such as these.
Come to me now crystal woman
With your hair flying free
Dressed in a gown of muslin
You look as fragile as the leaves
Easily taken by the breeze
Look into your crystal mind
There are answers you must find
But not all answers are that kind
No not all answers are that kind
Golden mornings fill your days
Keep the sun behind you
When you play
Where you play
Don't let the sun blind your eyes
Be prepared for what's in sight
Look into your crystal mind........
Green is the forest you leave behind
Green is your life next to mine
I'm from the woods of another time
You are from the younger kind
Let me show you the way
Crystal woman see what's in store
Stay away from the tavern door
They'll bring you down with idle talk
Drink you under the table
Leave you broken on the floor
Look into your crystal mind......
The transition from innocence into young adulthood is fraught with much danger, possibly more so for girls whose innocence and curiosity are severely challenged by the worldly.
We saw the hills, the sky and the sea
One in a misty shade of blue
We shared each day like it was our own
With something always new to do
We were just travellin' on
Doin' things we always wanted to
Livin' and lovin' all that we saw
And I grew to love more of you
Holidays, in a special way they mean much more
Come what may on a holiday
We notice more of what was there before
And we sang as we drove
And the dust in our clothes brought us something new to do
So we shook out the dust to the freedom of the wind
And we learned to live and love again
People we met seemed tired and shy
So we tried to touch them with a smile
We shared with them
Our thoughts and our cares
And left them laughin' for a while
We were just travellin on....
I noticed your skin change from pale to brown
Where the sun had fallen in love with you
We lived the joy
That we both shared
And time was the sun and the moon.
We were still newly married and exploring horizons in a world that had not sealed all roads. Life was and still is an adventure, but more so when young and everything is new.
At age 4 my granddaughter Isabella, wrote a lyric that encapsulated precisely what is when speech is limited. She wrote “everything, everywhere is so ‘Oh, oh, oh”. And it was.
I can hear the hound dogs
Calling me back home
I can see my old man
Preparing the land for corn
Got to get back to where I come from
To where the sweet smelling grasses grow
Got to get back, got to get back
Got to get back, got to get back
Pavement life's too hard
For a boy bought up ‘n farm yards
Shared an apartment with some guys from
Broken Hills
Had their party but they left me
With the bill
Got in a fight in a bar room
Tryin’ to help some guy along
Got to get back, got to get back
Got to get back, got to get back
Pavement life's too hard
For a boy bought up ‘n farm yards
Well the girls seemed to be alright
But were too commercialised
Got to get back, got to get back
Got to get back, got to get back
Pavement life's too hard
For a boy bought up ‘n farm yards
I was influenced by Bernie Taupin’s lyrics and songs by Creedence Clear Water Revival at the time I wrote this song. I later found Taupin had a Catholic rural upbringing in England and to an extent believed I did also as I was raised in a developing state housing division on the outskirts of Hamilton. Rural life has more appeal to me than does urban. I believed the song had much potential, I just needed a band and the break to present it.
I was influenced by Bernie Taupin’s lyrics and songs by Creedence Clear Water Revival at the time I wrote this song. I later found Taupin had a Catholic rural upbringing in England and to an extent believed I did also as I was raised in a developing state housing division on the outskirts of Hamilton. Rural life has more appeal to me than does urban. I believed the song had much potential, I just needed a band and the break to present it.