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A warm welcome to all of you.

Over the years life has had its twists and turns with me. I never thought I would ever end up in the work I’m doing today, or even take the time to sit and write a book of poetry. But hey… ain’t life grand! Times change and so do we. Here I am at the ripe old age of 60 and have finally put most of my demons to rest. Along with that has come three wonderful books of poetry “Pinacolada Child”, "There's Always August" and my newest and third book of poetry "Absorbed By The Sun". Also, now available (see top tab) "Reflections In Glass".

The greatest influence in my life (as far as poetry is concerned) has been Richard Brautigan. If you never picked up any of his works, please do yourself a favor and get any one of his wonderful writings. My favorite being “The Pill vs. the Springhill Mine Disaster”. But really… anyone will do.

So… upward & onward.

Welcome!

Me.. 1980 in Osaka Japan

Great sites for Richard Brautigan

http://www.riza.com/richard/

http://www.poetry-nut.com/brautigan.htm

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To Purchase "There's Always August"

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C. J. Krieger (New York State Licensed Massage Therapist #010313), was introduced to the art of Kiatsu (Qi Style pressure point Massage) by Koichi Kashawaya. In 1977 he attended Naropa Institute in Boulder Colorado taking courses in the integration of Eastern and Western styles of massage. During 1979, 1980 and 1981 C. J. traveled to Osaka, Japan where he pursued his training at the Nihon Ammado in Anma and various Qi style techniques. Moving to New York City, C. J. attended The Swedish Institute in order to acquire his New York State Licensing.

C. J. was inducted into the WORLD MARTIAL ARTS “HALL OF FAME” (1994) for his Contributions to the Martial Arts, and the EASTERN INTERNATIONAL MARTIAL ARTS “HALL OF FAME” (1998 and 1999) for his Lifetime Accomplishments in Aiki-Jujutsu and articles on Martial Arts. In April of 2000 he was again inducted into the EUROPEAN WORLD MARTIAL ARTS LEAGUE “HALL OF FAME” in Frankfurt Germany as the Aiki-Jujutsu Grand Master of the Year. His commitment to the integration of body, mind and spirit comes as a result of over 38 years of practice in the art of Shizen-Ryu Aiki-Jujutsu. This body, mind and spirit philosophy has been continued with his approach to the art of Massage Therapy.

In August of 1998, C.J. was selected as the Massage Therapist for Race Across America “RAAM” (A 3000 mile non-stop bicycle race from Irvine California to Savannah Ga.) to accompany and assist the New York Team.

In February of 1999, C.J. was featured in "Time Out New York" as one of New York's finest resident massage experts.

Over the years C. J.’s ability in the area of Computer Research has helped him, his associates and Institutions (in the Massage profession) find information pertaining to applications of Massage techniques in relation to specific injuries and illnesses. This has assisted in the use of proper techniques to help accelerate client recuperation.

History:

A Quantity For Love

How many love poems

Must I write

Before my beloved

Finds me

Miles Away

They went into the shower
He closed his eyes
Seeing the warm water
Roll down the curves of her body
His hand tracing her softness
With thoughts of love
His excitement rising
Waiting for the moment
When both would be dry
And their hands would gently
Find the hidden secrets
Of the other
They went into the shower
With thoughts of the other
In homes miles away

PINACOLADA CHILD

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Blackout

It was a typical Woodstock blackout

All homes east

Appeared like an ebony backdrop

Against a plutonian sky

The once familiar door of my home

Dissolved into a mysterious portal

I continually found myself

Exclaiming profanities

While my nose found walls

I’d previously ignored

My cats lovingly came

To assist me tripping several times

As my nose and rug collaborated

Meanwhile my dog didn’t bark

DEDICATED TO:

Babs Moley &

Joyce Beymer
With love

And ESPECIALLY

My Grandfather Joseph

Who I have missed since the age of 9

August is summer fully ripe and about to fall, the seasonal fulcrum, with one lush foot planted in the heat of July and the other russet tinged by September frost. August is a seasonal benediction. It is the soothing balm for Spring disappointments. It is the recognition that all good things come surely to an end. It is the turning point, the last call before winter settles in, and it holds the sum of all those warm days past and all the cold days ahead in every juicy bite of fruit plucked warm from the vine.

“There's Always August” holds that same promise inherent in every succulent word. Well seasoned enough to greet life's disappointments and failures with as much passion as the triumphs, C. J. Krieger’s work is as rich and sweet as a mid August harvest. He has home grown his compassionate philosophies into a collection of poetry that is a virtual feast for the heart and mind.

Best enjoyed with a tomato fresh from the garden...

Sandra Erickson

There's Always August

Abracadabra

She often gives herself
To others freely
Each time thinking
It will make her
More beautiful

Covered By Uncle Sam

Uniforms
Hat
Boots
Belt
Shelter
Food
Rifles
Bullets
Oh yes… let’s not forget

Coffins

Cecil (CJ) Krieger

I can be reached at the following address and email:

C. J. Krieger

P.O. Box 294

45 Elks Park Road

West Hurley, NY 12491

cjkrieger@ureach.com

Contact:

Gone

It was easy to see where
Night fell into the bedroom window
She haphazardly threw her clothes
On whatever furniture was around
The sound of a shower
Then the smell of powder
That followed her from the bathroom
To the old bed in the corner
Setting the clock for tomorrow
She eased herself in to a bed
Much too large for one
And covering herself in darkness
Within the coolness of the sheets
Her fingers touched the emptiness
Where I once had been

Tasty Samples

Hot Cocoa

The water slithered off the road
Like a snake seeking shelter from the sun
My clothes flooded with water
Clinging to my skin made a slow journey
The rain feeling more like flies
Pelted cold against my face
It was only a short distance
From my house to the store
A distance I normally covered quickly
Now seemed never-ending
The small store grew
As I closed the distance
And shortly loomed over me
Walking through the door
The water puddled on the floor
While I stood
Trying to remember why I came
Turning about I began once more
To walk back home
With one thought in mind... Hot cocoa

Teflon Cloud

You are so beautiful
Won’t you stick around?

Annulment

I began to stop seeing her
When she told me
About her Bowie knife collection
And her occasional bouts with P.M.S.

Absorbed By The Sun

I Saw The Night Mysterious

Once when young

I saw the night mysterious

With moon and stars and lights in flight

It made me very curious

I thought the moon

So all alone

Amidst the stars that brightly shone

Reflected light that made me feel

Delirious

Until I realized

The feeling wasn’t serious

But as I sit

I must admit

What lies ahead I can’t predict

When daylight fades

And dark shades fall on us

I still can see the night mysterious

Mornings With You

Like a warm cup of coffee

With a touch of cream

On a cold Catskill morning

Skin the texture of a silk stocking

And a smile

That could bring a tree

Into full bloom

Even in the dead of winter

I think of you

From time to time

In the early hours of dawn

And wonder

Do you remember?

Music by: C. J. Krieger

"Variations On A Theme"

Single Accoustic (TAMA) Guitar


	Where I Live 45 Elks Park Road west hurley, NY 12491

Additions And Updates Coming Soon

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Bikini Waxed Smile

Hey you

With the smile of an angel

And your devilish intentions

Are you going to let me in

To your happy hunting ground

Or do you just plan

To make me look all night

At your beautiful

Bikini waxed smile

Breakfast Breasts

Come sleep with me tonight

It’s much too late to leave

All the taxis have gone home

The horses died so long ago

Moreover the blanket was made for two

And this pillow knows your name

Besides I love the way

Your perfect breasts look at breakfast

Faucet Eyes

Your eyes are dripping

Like a broken faucet

And I can’t find

The right wrench

To fix

Your faucet eyes

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"There's Always August"

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On the banks of the Bond

Down by a place called lily-pond

Stood a young man

By a Cat Napper tree

And his face though in stone

Is best described as grinning long

Due to a bottle

He had thrown in the sea

Now the words that he wrote

Were scribbled down in fountain pen

Lost with his ship,

He was left there to be

But the years as they will

Cast this bottle on the shore

And so to the world

Came this message from he

I have been long alone

Thrown upon this paradise

All that I might

Ever need’s here for me

Shipwrecked Jack McKay

She looked up and she said

Fear not your wishes have been heard

Look to the east

By the tall tattooed tree

So the sailor sat down

His eyes exploring every surf

Casting like nets

Through the waves in the sea

On a day that was clear

He saw an angel growing tall

Coming to find him

And set his soul free

Now today all his friends

Sit round in toast to Jack McKay

Lost in a storm

Off the coast of Tripoli

On the day of his birth

They raise a cup and dry their eyes

And bid him fair winds

Where ever he might be

Still the touch of a hand

Is what I’m yearning most of all

A small chance of love

And some sweet company

Now a tear left the eye

And fell upon a blue tailed sprite

Pulling her shell

On the sands by his knee

Pieces Of Themselves

So small

With sleepy eyes

That kept puckering

Over and over

So perfect

Tiny fingers

That could barely

Hold a thumb

So happy

The two parents

Looking down

On the pieces of themselves

This One is for Ben & Jenny

It’s a long way from the town of Woodstock, New York to the drought-stricken hills and valleys of Bendigo in southern Australia. But literature, and particularly poetry, has a way of bridging vast distances and making the most unlikely connections possible.

I was introduced to the writing of C.J. Krieger through our common love of Richard Brautigan; in my opinion one of the most unique writers, thinkers and dreamers of the 20th century (and judging from CJ’s work, it’s a belief we share).

CJ’s writing is impossible to pigeonhole. Like Brautigan, his poetry has a strong narrative drive, pushing the boundaries between verse and story, blurring the boundaries of the real and surreal. And he’s not afraid to be laugh-out-loud funny – to trade on the double entendre or create moments of absurd slapstick. A breath of fresh air in a literary form that so often feeds on misery, loneliness and despair.

But there is poignancy to CJ’s poetry. It comes from his economy of words and a perfect balance of humor and pathos. He captures the finest details of human relationships without prescription or prejudice; with honest sentiment but never sentimentality. In these little explosions of understanding and insight the ordinary becomes extraordinarily beautiful.

The essence of Absorbed by the Sun is contained in CJ’s poem “When It All Comes Together”

To look at him

You would never know

It was the fragments of his life

That made him whole

The American poet and activist Muriel Rukeyser famously said that “the world is made up of stories, not atoms”. The small fragments that make up this book not only make C.J. Krieger whole, but spark recognition in all of us. They are our stories too. Like me, you might find yourself thinking, I could have written that. Or, more likely, I wish I’d written that.

So, it’s time to dive in. There are no prerequisites – no instructions – for reading CJ’s poetry. It is equally as good in broad daylight or in moonlight, in the bathroom or in the bedroom, in the garden or up a tree. Take them with coffee or wine, on fine days or windy days, on an empty stomach or with a full heart. They’re yours now. Enjoy.

John Holton, Author

Bendigo, Australia

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"Absorbed By The Sun"

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Additions And Updates Coming Soon

The essence of Absorbed by the Sun is contained in CJ’s poem “When It All Comes Together”

To look at him

You would never know

It was the fragments of his life

That made him whole

John Holton, Author

Bendigo, Australia

The Fall Of Winter

The ice fell from the clouds

Coating and bouncing off the highway

From time to time

The car shifted going down the road

As if the wheels had a mind of their own

Turning off the radio

To help concentrate on my driving

The hail sounded all about

Tic, tic, ticking with varying constant beats

All about and against the window

As the wipers frantically tried

To keep up with the cold frozen rain

The lights

Searching down the icy highway

Sparkled off the falling hail

Giving them the appearance

Of dancing diamonds

This was winters last hoorah

A final stab at keeping spring at bay

A failed charge

Like the light brigade

And I

Was mesmerized

Steering down this gem infested highway

With a front row seat

To the beauty of driving through

The fall of winter

Much Too Beautiful

She never looks both ways

When she crosses the street

She’s much too beautiful

And never has to wait for help

When she walks into a store

She’s much too beautiful

She never worries about dates

There is always someone beside her

Because she’s much too beautiful

But when she is alone

By herself

She wonders about love

True love

And if anyone can see

Beneath the surface

Beyond the beauty

Sometimes wanting

All that beauty

To go far, far away

Must Be Autumn

There was not a bird in the sky

They had all fallen

Into the top

Of a large red oak tree

On the northeast side of the meadow

Each one singing

Louder than the next

Until all the leaves shattered

And fell

Must be autumn

A Prisoner Of Choice

She has taken herself

Off the open market

And made herself available

To the wealthy at private auctions

Wearing only the finest

In silks and satins and sparkling diamonds

And though everything she wears is new

She herself is a hand me down

Shared for the price of Tiffany bracelet

Or an Oscar de la Renta dress

Longing for happiness

Praying that someone might keep her

Never seeing that she is kept

Come See Who Came To

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