Christopher cole's Blog – December 2008 Archive (8)

I spent my entire life trying to figure that one out. I once attempted a poem to investigate this gnawing urge to comprehend human existence.



HUMAN CONDITION



Salubrious slime thinly coated.



Through foul excrement trudgingly devoted.



Insatiable tube through which passes,



Endless sludge the culture of the masses.



Sightless organ fragile membrane directing,



Against hard darkness unrelenting.



Outwardly… Continue

In August of this year I returned to Woodstock on the 39th anniversary of my arrival in 1969. I brought with me a copy of my book and a St Christopher's Medal that a… Continue

Life’s long road…



In my youth my soul did die,

Denied love from those that mattered.

Tough and callous I would not cry,

My dreams they all were scattered.



When I realized I was alone,

My spirit hardened like a stone.

Into this maze I was thrown,

Against reality splattered.



For a lifetime I did travel,

Down dusty roads full of gravel.

Yet along the way I did meet,

Other travelers on the street.

With tales of… Continue

You Called to Me...



You called to me and I followed

Crawling toward you on linoleum floors

Down long corridors and open doors

Tripping along moss grown pathways

Crunching the rocks of dusty roadways

Rolling down paved asphalt highways

Down lyrical and poetic mindways

Never quite able to meet your embrace

Though you lingered at the rest stops

Waited patiently at the hilltops

Within reach as I stumbled along

Distracted down dead… Continue

As I am swept through the lush overgrown farmland surrounding New Hope, Pennsylvania, I can’t help but reflect upon Woodstock, New York, where I spent a great part of my youth. Indeed I am one of the 500,000 who attended the Woodstock Festival held in Bethel in the summer of 1969. That event literally changed my life. I had a motorcycle back then also. I rode it to the festival where I got stuck in traffic. A girl hopped onto the back of my machine. She has remained my wife for thirty-eight… Continue

I was ten years old, the eldest of eight children. I grew up poor in the richest county in America in the fifties.(Westchester, NY). My early childhood was filled with the pain of psychological and physical abuse. My earliest memories are recalled in black and white images like in an old newsreel. I was continually told I was stupid, I would not amount to anything, not strong enough, not man enough. I was too sensitive for the harsh realities which I encountered. When they slaughtered a pet… Continue

wrote this poem several years ago:





Changing Times



I drove to Tarrytown today

One hundred miles from where I now stay.

A relative I went there to retrieve

In order to share with us, our Christmas Eve.



The Tappan Zee Bridge lead to my old home

On the distant hill the Mary Mount Dome.

To the right the old gothic castle still looms

A symbol of hope a symbol of gloom.



We… Continue

I came to Woodstock to Die in 1969 - an angel saved my life....

I knew it would happen. It's 3:am in the morning and I can't sleep. I'm thinking about the trip I made back to Bethel NY in August 2008, to the site of the original Woodstock Festival. I had arrived here once before in 1969, now 39 years later I embraced the same woman then a girl who had saved my life. I had arrived upon the shores of White Lake way back then, on an old junker… Continue