when
times get tough
and bad things
happen
my lover and me
love the sound
of our skin
slapping
together
beat by beat
to one rhythm
overlapping
in time
we find
healing
with both our hearts
kneeling
on bended knees
eating
each others skin
is so revealing
peeling away
every sweet
layer
to the bone
with softest moans
melting the night
while fingers roam
feeling at home
all over us
all a glow
until
both of us
know
everything
is gonna be
alright everything
and now we see
love is all
we’ll ever need
and sex is a feast
so i’ll serve the beef
whenever life
seems so mean
my baby and me
hear a dinner bell ring
and again
and again
it’s time to feed
it’s time to eat
the butt-naked lunch
bon appetit!!!

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it was in
a gray October of
one long gone year
we both fell in love
way back
when we were both so young
back when i was sunburned
and she was the sun
and she was
the love of my life
she was an angel from above
she was to be my wife
and with a little bit of luck
we would make sweet
love love love
run amok
we supped wine from a loving cup
like two licorice libertines love struck
when something was up
and she was my first
and i was hers
back in that gray October i spoke of
back when her autumn arrhythmias would cause me to erupt
when she was my marigold
she was my macramé angel
softest skin i’ve ever known
will ever know?
so her skin was a field of snow
and her emerald eyes were a million stories left untold
her saffron curls
of golden swirls the ozone
when i was with her i was home
and i love this babe to the bone
but now she’s gone
and she left this world
and all she’d ever known
just like that old Hank William’s song
she’s long gone
she’s long gone
and i am so
alone.

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RIP MY LOVE!

SURF SONG by Jeff Callaway

I wish I could surf.

I want to ride the crest

of the bluest wave

the sea will be my brother

oh surf would me save

oh see me out

on the endless sea

only the waves

my surfboard

and me.

I come in with the tide.

I wash up on shore.

I stand on the beach

with my surfboard.

the ocean and I

as one My Lord.

I shake my curly blonde locks

in the wind

all wet with

the stuff of the sea

within.

if you didn’t look too close

you’d think I had fins.

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NOCTURNAL EMISSIONS by Jeff Callaway

my

alabaster princess

of Atlantis prances

into oblivion

kissing me with her ocean

and breathing in heavy animation

a promenade

of sensual acumen, aplomb

a parade

inside the lover’s aquarium

where there is algebra in our footsteps

and a masquerade

of opulent beauty

in the caress of her

fingertips

all icy

patterns on my bare skin

to the bone

so we drop the linen

in the kitchen

towards an apex of explosions

or a crushing weightlessness

taking us towards our graves

or mine

gravely

in the grave digger’s serenade

her tongue of waves of fire

is like life is the alphabet of death

and her teeth are like tombstones

that spell out orgies

in her mouth

where i immerse myself

mercilessly

in the rain her hair is also fire

orange and golden curls

that swirl

secret side inside secret

swirl she is a cupcake

in her creamy skin, an ivory

death wish bone china cabinet

and i am the rain

upon her sweaty bed

with its no sheets, a bare bedlam

and i am the child she is torturing

in the dungeon

with butterflies

nurturing tsunamis in my stomach

as i reside within the walls

of her

wet soft pinkness

© Jeff Callaway

 

 

TO: JOHN FOGERTY

the crickets chirp

an old Creedence tune

like Bad Moon-

Rising or Born On The Bayou

the water moccasins sing too

through

poison devil tongues

of Satan’s tooth

to

hiss the song right on through

their mouths agape and cotton fanged

the moonlight serenade

alligators and crocodiles promenade

to Have You Ever Seen The Rain

their ivory wide smiles for miles

seem to say

yes

to the bullfrogs bopping

the slimy toads hopping

this Green River is never stopping

with snapping turtles surfing

on logs meant for the chopping

so just Keep On Chooglin’

up to the big Bad Moon

Rising

above John Fogerty’s phantasy zoo

where his creatures in Mississippi mud

sing the blues

in the breeze

just cause

I saw it on TV

the footprints of the Boggy Creek

monster

mad in marshy marmalade mud

this Blue Moon Swamp is a musical masterpiece

to flood

the silhouettes of cypress trees

as the dark shadows bud

and bloom

to the lead guitar grooves

and the lead singer’s croons soothe too

his music sets the mood

while lily pads float soliloquies to

the rowdy river

that mirrors

the mystical sky in deep blue

to ooby dooby ooby dooby ooby dooby too

like Willie and The Poor boys do

when the marshmallow clouds thunder and boom

and rain down on birds of prey

but the whooping crane plays

like my ding a ling shakes like a big rattlesnake

and he smiles

with a catfish in his slender throat

and a hungry death wish hope

as the great horned owl

watches all suspicious eyed

hoot hoot hooting!

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stoned

and de-throned

left out on the back porch 

all alone

on the outskirts of madness

it’s weird Wednesday

psychedellia

guys running around in trench coats

with sunglasses on

strange things happening

on the neighbor’s lawn

a girl’s voice mumbling in my ear

no it’s a bird

3am cocaine nightmares

rats in the kitchen

bats in the belfry

it’s dawn and i’m still awake

the madness ensues

on the outskirts of madness

things are strange outside

these people staring at me

through the cracks in the blinds

must want me to see all these strange things

i’m telling you it’s strange

did someone just knock at the door?

no, really lock the door please, i’m scared

Devil is in the barn

dog don’t want to go out and play

the wind is crying it’s a dark day

i’m skitzin’ on the windows

at the games the light

and the shadows play

and the games that one’s ears play

on that third day

when i think someone is here

but their really in the neighbor’s driveway

i stare at these windows for days

with nothing to say…

 

but welcome to Speeder Freak Lake

welcome to the outskirts of madness

welcome to a season in hell

that is my sadness …

 

as well as my sanctuary…

 

gin and tonics

at the Jubilee House

are not enough

to ease the calm

from the love that i lost

they only feed my qualms

about day two with no pot

as i sit up here at the college

and rot

with my lonesome nose in my notebook

i squat

and scrawl my secret words

the passerby might never have heard

but only stare at me

through my wild word sea

like lost little hush puppies read

in wonder

as i wonder why

the beautiful girls they just walk on by

and they don’t even

notice me

just because i seem

like some weird luke warm book worm to them

and not the MAN that i truly am

as even more

random folks stroll on by

an old man hobbling horse legged in old worn boots

smoking on a yellowed cigarette through broken teeth

killing ants on the park bench the pain of a sting is

just wishing someone would

notice me

like some kind of finder of lost things

like someone to bring out the beauty with me

to dust off the dust off of these

past relationships

just like a flagship

or an old friend

or a long strange road trip to come in

waves of firework and cathartic good times

that finally

read me

between these

lines

and so yes i will

drink me some more wine

spo dee o dee drinkin’ wine

from the bottle of burgundy in my backpack

of rhyme

with no Swatch Watch on my wrist

to tell me the time

and no weed dealer to sell me a dime

as i sit here

stuck in concrete like

community college is a crime

and i’m

craving the caresses

and the freshness of freshmen

and the sexy solar plexus

of this sophomore from South Texas

who’s been playing with my emotions

and not my erections

like playing hide and go seek

too good for so long

and

1 Mississippi

2 Mississippi

3 Mississippi

she’s gone

but then she’s back again

sitting on a bench reading a book called Zen

And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance when

i kiss her and watch heart palpitations begin

as dumb preppy boys stumble by

and coo and clap

and she puts her arms around me

and sits in my lap!

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when

i drink down

this witch’s brew

of wormwood

this devilish elixir

that sets free within me

these words in me to feed

this poet in me who runs rampantly

crawling out of my woodwork like a termite

to search for something erotic

i’m nothing shocking

short of hallucinations hypnotic

my psychotropic eyes

my dropped wide jaws

with my bloodcurdling screams and applause

i’m feeding all of these faces who

are judging me

from somewhere other than themselves they plead

in beet red to dwell in hell

with eyes ghost glazed

the bells bells bells

as motion through motion they’ve failed

to live through their meager days

but my licorice sweet absinthe can take away

all of those pains

and i am the poet

i am the pimp of the perverse

and there is a darkness that lives

inside of every man

in tiny spots

or in larger splotches

i’m like a word painter with Van Gogh’s ear

to hear that blood is a gift of melancholy made

to course through my veins to feed

the force-field of this tainted blood

this liquid wickedness would prove true

this devil’s drink of which i have consumed

if only to say

i’m pro consumption

i’m pro sensation

i’m pro erection

i’m a convection engine aching

for your sex like a man possessed

writhing and screaming

for the soft embrace of my demon lover

my succubus bartending blonde bombshell from hell

but i’m not the man to bring home to mommy

and i am the absinthe poet laureate of Zen

with zeal i did seal the deal

i did ingest this dark essence

in silent sadness sackcloth moon

to feel eternally enshrouded

in these tales from the cryptic creeping

skeleton doom

swimming in these green balloons

a pagan king

i would assume

the brother to my sister the moon

existing in this wicked liquidness

to bliss

on the day of my doom

entombed

hand in hand

a zombie bride for my corpse groom

under a pagan moon in the nude

sprawled out in my wicker witches bed

where i indulge myself to taste her flesh

as she binds my hands to her buxom breasts

then turns and smiles and blows me a kiss

and then

she places her hands on the apex

of my phallus feeling

to offer her holy sacrament semen

and i die and i die and i die every day

again and again and again and again

when there is nowhere to hide

besides inside

myself

and it kills me to hope

anything will be left

of me

the pagan king

in my death shroud of black i pray

in my death shroud all night i rave

in my death shroud i drink green dreams

in my death shroud i exalt i sing

in my death shroud pagan king

to my absinthe queen!

 

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Poem film by Texas Outlaw Poet Jeff Callaway based on his poem of the same name. Please LIKE COMMENT and SHARE y’all dig!

 

RODE HARD AND PUT UP WET by Jeff Callaway

i’ve been rode hard

and put up wet a many a night

by dirty gin martinis

by fine moonshine

by the crucifix neon signs

of the bible belt of East Texas

where the liquor is always thicker

in one of those wet counties

and it always seems to find me quicker

over on the other side of the tracks

but back to what i was saying

i’ve been rode hard and put up wet

a many a night…

 

i’ve seen the likes of mystics

madmen

six naked men on bikes

in downtown San Francisco

i’ve seen the likes of speedfreak succubus angels

creeping like snakes inside my beer bottles

listening to Radiohead, reggae

redneck romantics

who had also been rode hard and put up wet

i’ve written poems which i’ve put away

until nowand poems i put to you

today…

 

i’ve seen the rain

from a trainfrom a Greyhound window

from a plane

i’ve seen the night inked in a blanket of fog

and i’ve sat and admired the moon from a hollow log

i’ve rolled my bones and joints

through cellar doors

through the Celis Brewery

through the celestial stars over California beaches

i love to eat the sweetest little peaches

i’ve read at Big Sur

i’ve loved English teachers

i love the sea

i love this poem that rages in me

i’ve combed the seashores

i’ve slept on floors

i’ve been locked behind bars and i’ve been free

i’ve been in a horrible mad raging sea

i’ve slept under the trees

i’ve watched evil TV’s

and i’ve seen

the sunrise the sunset

and all of these wonderful people i’ve met

who have also beenrode hard and put wet…

 

i’ve been drunk and just went to bed

i’ve been underfed

i’ve had sex drenched in sweat and i’ve bled

i’ve thought for sure that i was dead

i’ve thought for sure the sun would not rise again

and i’ve made friends and i’ve made love

i’ve cried and prayed to the lord up above

i’ve felt and held in the beds of my lover

sendless nights of soft flesh

wrapped in covers

under Texas skies

beside cheerleader’s thighs

in smoky rooms

the scent of northern lights

and i’ve made love on through the night

and into the day

but what i really wanted to say

was i’ve been rode hard and put up wet

a many a night…

 

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