Texas Outlaw Press presents a poem film by Texas Outlaw Poet Jeff Callaway titled “CUDDLE PUDDLE” based on his poem of the same name from his underground cult classic collection “Party Fouls & Other Atrocities” available on Amazon!


HELEN by Jeff Callaway 

was the most beautiful woman
on Cedar Creak Lake
and she made my heartache
when i thought of all the slow and tender love
that her and i could make
and the lifetimes i would like to take
to make it in
my Helen who was heaven-sent
an angel who fell to the earth
(and took up residence)
to show to me what true love meant
and with a little persistence
i had her convinced
to go out with me on our first date
and it was then when we found
this true love was our fate
and that as lovers
we were both first rate
and that we shared that sacred bond
my Helen was a good good blonde
Goddess on the pedestal i put her upon
juicy and delicious
Aphrodite was an apple
with no clothes on
my guilty pleasure just to look upon
her long long legs that
(for days) just went on and on
and on with satin skin of bronze
or in her Janis Joplin tee
with the knees of her jeans gone
my Helen made me feel like a rock-n-roll song
and made a bonfire in her bed
to burn all night long
(for me) and from that moment on
it was on…

but then soon
i would be
too far gone
back then
back in the days
i was doing myself wrong
i bang my gong
an anonymous automaton
with syringes for arms
almost too weak to go on upon
my crucifix needle so forlorn
track marks to adorn
a soul now born to scorn
her love was UNCONDITIONAL
she loved me in her very own special way
and so one day (she looked up to me) and so
she looked right at me just to say
that she would like to try it too
and that she would pay
and from my dead broke tragic abyss
(i said okay) and with just one kiss
sealed our fate
and that was the very day
that she became my dark lady…

and she was my shady lady
and when i look back now
my regret is raging and it plagues me
and there is nothing i can say
i can only blame me
nothing can save me
i can only hate me
for all of the bitter memories
for all of her lost dreams to dependency
a license to ill to infinity
for those five doomed years of crazy
that she stayed with me
fighting to breathe in our habitual Hades
shooting COCAINE and HEROIN
as i watched my life
and my love
go down in flames with me
drowning in a chemical sea
where the devil’s tongue is waves of sex and drugs
and death and love is licking me
this junky’s life isn’t easy
believe me
you reap when you plant the seed
but in Helen i harvested
a hellishly haunted dream
one blackened bad bad memory
of that macabre night that i will always remember
of that cold gray gothic night in early December
the needle still hung in her arm that had once held me close
i found her lying there dead in our bed
blue with an overdose.

© Jeff Callaway



by Jeff Callaway

these eyes

they had never seen

someone so special

so smoking-  hot

as she

was heaven made…


she came  out of the sky
one spectacular day

in a splendid array

like her mint

chocolate eyes

did breathe

in immensities

her eternal beauty

with intensity

upon every scene

she’d ever seen…


I mean only

God could create

such a masterpiece…
she was just like a dream

slick and cinnamon and sweet

with soft pink lips

I thought I’d only ever

kiss in my dreams…


but I did in reality…
red hot

she’s got

silken sheets of skin

where I wish

my hands had been

wandering free

all along…


all over her body

long and lean

put up on a pedestal
so pristine

she was like a virgin

she was an angel

with a halo  and wings

when I was just fifteen

and she was fourteen…


just two cool kids

from Henderson County

Malakoff, Texas USA…

and we made sweet love

for the very first time

on that white hot August day

back in 1991…


we lost our virginity

as life’s rich pageant

played on her cd player  in the sun…


laying in leaves of grass

sprawled in sheets

was so much more

memorable  and fun…


of course as is

want to happen

I awoke one day

and she was gone…


but in that one moment

in time
she was mine

and I was hers…


and we were one…


and she was…


my  Henderson County Girl.




by Jeff Callaway

I spent

My whole life

Rocking and rolling

Cocked and loaded like

Nothing ever lasts

And I grew up way too fast

But I’ve had a few laughs At last

I’ve stayed away from my past

I’ve strayed away from my roots

And I’ve played the outlaw

A time or two you know

Trouble for me was

Nothing new

Just something to do

And it’s no excuse

I guess I never knew

All I had to lose I guess

I was born with them

Henderson County Blues…
I was born

With my neck in a noose

Baptized myself in this

Bottles of booze

With blues

But Mama didn’t raise no brute

I guess you could say

I never gave no hoot

And by the time I was nine

I’d learned to shoot

My Daddy bought me my .22

And by 22
I’d run off with the loot

Traded my rattlesnake skins in

For combat boots

A ten-gallon hat in

For bleaching my roots

I filled the tank up

I let the clutch out

Like I was death proof

Through Cedar Creek Lake

I have boomed

And I’ve zoomed

And I always knew that I was doomed

Ever since the warrant

Was issued

And my reputation grew

I’ve had a bad case of them

Henderson County Blues…

By high noon

I’ve dug the underground

I’ve paid my dues

I left the cops with

Hardly any clues

Their pursuit of me

I would elude while

Their hatreds for me

Grew and grew

From the first day

I made the front page of

The Athens Daily Review

I knew that Huntsville had

Some time for me to do

I got to pay the price for these

Henderson County Blues…
Which includes
Some methamphetamine

And a trash bag of shrooms

A decade of heroin abuse

Mixed with a shot of cocaine

With some shades of grey and some may say

I’ve gone a bit insane

In my membrane

I’m an old drinker and tweaker

Of speeder freak lake fame

The Texas Outlaw Poet

Is my name

And I’m here

Just to tell you the truth

Just to share the news

I know I’m going to die

Tonight with my

Henderson County Blues…

Henderson County Blues

Hurts like hell

Henderson county Blues

My hopeless tale…




Prologue: On a summer’s day if you head east from Waco on Highway 31 you’ll notice a change when you get near the Trinity River. The open skied landscape of blackland cotton fields and mesquite trees turns into a land of proud tall oaks that hem the horizon. By the time you reach Malakoff, a grander cathedral of life surrounds and its lush abundance offers the promise of Eden’s embrace. But when the sun sets, the summer heat swells from the ground and closes your attention from Eden’s promise to just the beads of sweat rolling down your skin. The hopeful proud branches to the sun bleed into a black silhouette cage against the dying light.  Confidence withers and the light dies. Its replaced with a particular fear and loneliness that to this day I can only attribute to this area, but perhaps is common to all hot wooded horizonless places, a desperate feeling only partially washed away by music, inebriation & passion. You’ve entered an East Texas night. When the civilized white columns of the Baptist church and Courthouse shine less bright, other forces creep up from the rolling muddy waters of the Trinity and in from the whispering stoic pines around the Neches.  It’s the gentle hum of registers in Caney City when Henderson County is buying their beer and liquor. It’s the boisterous and seditious rancor of a bar-b-que joint in Moore’s Station or a lakeside bar in Gun Barrel City. It’s the defiant and reckless whiskey fueled Saturday night at Coal Miners, the debauched drug fueled dalliances at Tyler’s Time Out Club or the drunken fistfights in dark fields around bonfires. It’s the quite wind and starry night along a forgotten backroad. And then the sun rises. From this clamor betwixt light and dark the blood and sinew of Jeff Callaway and his poets soul was born.

ORIGINS OF PARTY FOULS: Jeff’s spirit encapsulates both the hope and the doubt of this place in East Texas. Jeff’s mother was a schoolteacher and in high school he both played football and was the senior class vice president. But while he thrived in the above ground world of social clubs and strode in the life of an all-American, the pull of the dark wilds captivated his poet’s heart like a siren song. The mystery of the dark and nostalgic loneliness underneath the surface of the everyday was too enticing not to dive into. Around him he found the writings of Ginsberg’s Howl swirling not off the streets of New York in 1955 but off the blacktop backroads of East Texas in 1995. The drink, the drugs, and wild spirited friends were all willing participants to his existential explorations into the infinities of raindrops and hot embraces.  In bars and forgotten corners too many heroes and madmen lived amongst one another with stories untold. Tearing though Beat writings and by connection Rimbaud 19th century poetry and letters, he took these words to heart: I say it is necessary to be a voyant, make oneself a voyant. The Poet makes himself a voyant by a long, immense and rational derangement of all the senses. All the forms of love, suffering, and madness. He searches himself. He exhausts all poisons in himself and keeps only their quintessences. He is responsible for humanity, for animals even. He will have to make his inventions smelt, touched, and heard. A language must be found. – Rimbaud 1871 Jeff dove deeply into Rimbaud’s voyant and the road to Party Fouls and Other Atrocities was begun. On a warm spring night in 2000 Jeff Callaway was arrested for contraband on a lonely & lush stretch of Hwy 175 outside of Athens, Texas. His feet still wet with dew. He was 23. The prohibited possessions he carried are common in the fertile fields of East Texas, spread like manna amongst lightly forested cow pastures, Psilocybin mushrooms. The simplicity of this fungi belie their potential to delight, to dazzle and to madden. They can both broaden and bewitch the mind but one cannot ignore the profundity and peace they can awaken in a searching soul. For this fungus transgression Jeff was immediately wedded by jail and probation to the hard times of Cedar Creek Lake’s backwaters for the remainder of his youth and eventually hard time in the Texas penitentiary system. Before his last and longest time in prison came due, Jeff skipped out on his court date and escaped to Austin, Texas’s cosmopolitan oasis, to ply the ears of the receptive with his hard wrought words. He found mentorship with fellow poets, came to parting terms with his addictions and found listeners amongst the city’s eclectic rabble. He also found his voice and his language. In 2005 on route to a reading amongst fellow Texas Poets at Forest Fest in La Mesa the law caught up to him outside of San Angelo. Jeff was now a redeemed man drug back into his past for his crimes of possession. But this time Jeff’s feet were dry and he went back in with his eyes wide open. In prison he honed and rewrote his poems, many from memory and perfected his delivery to his fellow inmates. He wrote new poems of East Texas and new poems of Austin. To his cellmate he became “The Poet”. Those that listened were stunned that something as antique as poetry could give voice to the celebrations and tragedies from their anonymous paths. His dark and light poems gave unspoken and unsanctified experiences a value in a land where the sufferance of silence rages king. Texas Outlaw Press was started by Jeff and myself during his first time in the TDCJ system and went into full gear during his last and longest stint in prison, the summer of 2005. We published 5 chapbooks and one compilation, Hotter than a Four Balled Tomcat, Rode Hard and Put up Wet, Satori in Paris Texas, On the Outskirts of Madness and Behind the Eight-ball. Party Fouls and Other Atrocities is the first compilation and contains Jeff’s voyant poems that peer, frolic and weep into the darker side of life in Henderson County. Many revel in the sublime of friendship,  raucous camaraderie and ecstatic love. Scattered in are a couple of ribald and inglorious poems about Austin’s environs. Party Fouls and Other Atrocities is an incarnate collection of bounty & schisms, beauty & horrors, and glory & hypocrisies. So as you embark, get ready to get low, get high and cry out the giant “yawp” into the East Texas night. – John-Paxton Gremillion (Co-Founder)










Jeff Callaway was born in Athens, Texas in 1976. Since then he has attempted to tour every bar and every jail-house in this great state. Fortunately he shares his experiences through his edgy southern poetry that can be as sultry as Texas itself. Jeff has written five chapbooks and two full-length volumes, all published by Austin publisher Texas Outlaw Press. He has appeared at countless open mics and performed many spoken word events since 2003. He recently had his first art show of original work at the Hal Samples Space Gallery in Deep Ellum, displaying his many multi-media renderings of beer bottles. He currently resides in Dallas, Texas where he continues to perform, write, paint, live and love.
Texas Outlaw Press was founded when my good friend Jeff Callaway was sent to prison for the non-violent offense of possession of psilocybin mushrooms. Together we founded the Press to publish chapbooks for readings both while Jeff was in and when he got out of the penitentiary system. The legacy of our inception is our on-going interest in working with artist who have had to suffer the indignities and injustices of the hypocritical drug laws in Texas and the U.S. In the coming years we hope to shape the Press into a helpful resource for artists trapped in the Texas prison system for non-violent drug possession. We are also interested in collaborating with Texas’s artist and political communities to bring further awareness to the injustices of Marijuana Prohibition and the harms to people’s lives caused by incarcerating non-violent drug offenders. Ultimately we would like to help educate citizens and voters about the negative consequences of current drug laws and the benefits of treatment vs. incarceration in regards to serious addiction issues. At the same time we’d like to offer a rewarding forum for self-expression to those negatively impacted by those laws and to our readers and listeners. -John-Paxton (Co-Founder)
“It is my personal opinion that Burroughs, Kerouac & Rimbaud never died. A highly advanced alien civilization abducted them, extracted their DNA, & genetically engineered “Texas Outlaw Poet” Jeff Callaway. His first collection of poems, “Party Fouls”, is a harrowing road-trip through the fragmented Texas psyche of an artist who has truly survived a “season in hell”. Callaway’s “graduate degree” in poetry was earned in the bloodcurdling corridors of Huntsville State Prison. Like Jack Henry Abbott, Paul Verlaine & other “outsider artists” before him — Callaway has brought his “prison ink lessons” and a life spent-on-the-margins into gut-wrenching redemptive cinematic glory. I don’t read poetry. And I read Callaway’s electric collection in one sitting.” -C.M. Talkington

On February 7, 2015, Texas Outlaw Poet, Jeff Callaway, performed an amazing set of stand up poetry that rocked and shocked the audience of the Going Green Opening Reception at the 211 Gallery in Athens. Texas. With music by DJ Smack, Poems include The Greatest Poems Of All, Pitt Grill and Hungry Ghost!


Howdy y’all! Texas Outlaw Poet here! Just wanted to let everyone know that I will be in attendance on April 1, 2017 for the Celebrating The Texan event in Athens, Texas. I have been told that I will be introducing a film in the film festival or something or other, as well as doing photography and film for the event that day. I have just recieved a large shipment of many copies of all 8 of my Texas Outlaw Press books including my newest lovesong to where I grew up, Henderson County Blues! If anyone is interested in picking up some copies, I will be selling all titles at a discounted price of $5 for the local audience that day. I will also have copies on hand at the 211 Gallery from that day on. Hope to see y’all out there that day having a blast #CelebratingTheTexan and supporting local arts and artists!