Click the link below to follow, Texas Outlaw Poet, Jeff Callaway’s official YouTube page where you can find a large collection of many of his poem-films…

click here for TEXAS OUTLAW POET YouTube access!

 

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

 

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…

 

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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Purchase RODE HARD & PUT UP WET by Jeff Callaway on Amazon!

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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

 

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!

 

Get A PECK OF PICKLED POEMS today on Amazon!