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

 

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

 

dollar drafts
on Monday night
at the Hole In The Wall
after fallen light
after i read my poetry at The Hideout
i head out
through drunken Austin streets to drink
at my home away from home
and i chase the little skirts
these desserts to which i’m known
i’ve grown to love their taste and to make them my own
in a sea of cigarette butts
and lipstick lies
which link me to jukeboxes, junkies
and Jessica’s thighs …

i’m welcome in this house of social disorder
and neon signs…

dyed black hair
milky white thighs
alcoholic fantasies disguise
the shine of dollar pints
and wanton sinful eyes…

the coldest jager in town
reminds me of Alaska…

so i wink instead of ask her
she grabs my ass as i walk by
these college girls have no need to lie
and poets have so much to say
and both of us possess the need
to get drunk and get laid…

so Waldo pour us up another drink
and i’ll make another toast to make us think
and sink into dirty bar room dreams
my Jim Beam logic cannot convey…

the Hole In The Wall makes me feel so fine
the Hole In The Wall has inspired these lines
the Hole In The Wall no cover anytime
the Hole In The Wall where i spend my dimes
and find my dames…

the Hole In The Wall is its name…

the Austin Chronicles sexiest bartenders remain…

at the Hole In The Wall…

my casting call…

to debauchery!

(2004)

Austin, Texas

Hole In The Wall Arcade & Restaurant Austin, TX!!!

PURCHASE TEXAS OUTLAW POET BOOKS ON AMAZON!

 

 

 

 

welcome
to
the grim hotel
a hot spot to stop
on your way to
HELL
for the path of excess is
a broken road that leads
to death
or jail
or maybe to both
for one can never tell
but as for me
i’m just another guest in this
grim
gray
hotel
i’m just another ghost
rapt in a chemical spell
and this is just my tale
i must tell about how i fell
so far and so hard
i’m just another prisoner of war
in my own country’s drug war
where The Man is The Czar
i’m just another number in A1-dorm
with OFFENDER
printed on my card
my only offense a sack o ice in shards
with white rocks to seduce me
into needles that reduce me
into this too dark park
where i kick start my heart
but i don’t have to lie to kick it
or
drug to perfect my ART
for some lessons in life for some are so hard
so hard for the bard
when the man holds the cards
and so old and so cold
out there on the rec. yard
Larry McMurtry says the earth is mostly
just a bone yard
but like i told you
i’m mostly lost and lonely
all these tired dour hours dire
the poet make words a maelstrom of fire
from haunted victims in the eye
of addictions stormy desire
spring forth
POEMS IN RAZOR WIRE
with yet another lesson learned
as slowly the wheels of justice turn
and as the world turns
if you play with fire you just might get burned
but i must share all these words
and the heart in the words
these words are birds
and they fly above the razor wire
my guardian angel is a mockingbird
justice is a mockery
and this prison is
a grim hotel

(2005)

Bradshaw State Jail

Henderson, TX.

BUY FROM BEHIND THE EIGHT-BALL BY JEFF CALLAWAY ON AMAZON!

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

 

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

 

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

 

EMPTY BOTTLES

howdy y’all
my name is Jeff
and I’m an alcoholic
ya see
I been drinking
now ever since
the age of fifteen
when a green eyed girl
from a trailer park
in Tyler, Texas
decided to teach me
a few things
about what love means
and how love is mean
she broke my heart
she tore it out
by the seams
but before she did
she taught me to make love
she taught me to drink everything
from Jack Daniels to Moosehead
and into her pink
and I been doing it
again to myself
ever since I can think
and everything I could see
I started drinking from the bottle
then the bottle started
drinking from me
and just fifteen years later
I find myself drunk
passed out on Venice Beach
two friends and I drank three gallons
of Jim Beam with A&W’s cream soda
and we woke up in Arizona
and so the story goes
on and on and on
there’s a demon in my bottle baby
I find myself so gone
there’s a demon in my bottle
who’s needed exorcism so long
and so here’s to
my drunkard song
let me sing it
read it
all night long
empty bottles
empty cans
somehow now
I’ve become a man
screaming please remember me
and all of my empty bottles
full of memories…

BUY HENDERSON COUNTY BLUES ON AMAZON!