Dear reader,

it’d be so much

sweeter to me

if you’d be

a believer

a rhyme receiver

a grammar greeter

an attentive reader

and even a bringer

of listeners to poetry readings

to make my soul smile

to make my spirit sneeze

i need someone

who really listens to these

lines of poetry that i bleed

for that is what i long

for that is what i need

for that would be

a friend to me

in need

indeed

a dreamer

cheer up sleepy dreamer

like a leaping lemur

i’d be a sailor

of somnolent seas

as freely you

read free

my lines by design

have come clean

and come wild

and i’ve traveled many miles

to live in exile

and be reviled

for only to speak

here now to thee

so lay a good ear on me

and please

dear reader

read on

read loudly

read longingly

read long

all these my sadly

sweetly unsung

ever so softly

suffer unto me

songs

which vow

to never say so long

but only to safely say

that it feels so good

to be alive today

and to laugh

and to love

and to be in love

with you and you only

to say hey

i’m also lonely

so won’t you please

come out and join me tonight

to watch the panties

come off like a light

and to long longer

as the both of us hunger for

the butt-naked lunch…

© Jeff Callaway 2011

Click here to buy HENDERSON COUNTY BLUES by Jeff Callaway!

 

 

speed kills

but Dale Earnhardt Jr.

does it for thrills

and he does it on all four wheels

with balls of steel

he goes through all five gears

as his tires squeal

into turn two he steers

and the rubber he peels

reads Goodyear

but the car that he drives says

Budweiser is the King of Beers

as he faces 500 laps with

no fear

the power of 800 horses

wrings competitors tears

and adds one more win

to his fabulous career

’cause he’s a champion

chasing the cup

to the sound of the crowds cheers

but all 8 pistons firing

is all that he can hear

lap after lap

until the checkered flag appears

or Daytona burns

’cause he’s got some points

that he’s got to earn

and all the other race car drivers

got a lesson to learn

from Dale

and all of his fans

got different stories to tell

about how number 8

drives like a bat out of hell

in a red Chevrolet

and you can ask

any of the drivers

and I’m sure they’d say

that when the green flag goes up

Dale Earnhardt Jr.’s racing to win

the Nextel Cup!

© Jeff Callaway 2006

Click here to buy A PECK OF PICKLED POEMS by Jeff Callaway!

Click here for the official website of racecar driver Dale Earnhardt Jr!

 

 

the greatest poems

are never written down

but lonely and forgotten

before a pen can be found

the greatest poems never find the ink

in the time it takes you to think

slowly with time they fade

and face the guillotine

of jilted poems and unrequited lovers

or glued to my own vague memory

of what could’ve been

if only i’d had a pen

and the recollection to keep repeating

what it was i was trying to say…

 

the greatest poems are girls who pour Dewar’s on the rocks

down their breasts with a splash of water

as i drink it off…

 

the greatest poems lick the ink from the tip of my idea…

 

the greatest poems of all

get drunk from the bottle

straight no chaser

no requiem for a dream

no teen queen Chinese angels on the silver screen

no Hollywood Homecoming Queens

leaping side to side in ecstasy

or just beautiful girls who once gave me their phone numbers

or girls back in high school who kissed me

and later became strippers

midnight sirens to madness

mad drunker bar room brawls

bras, panties, imported beer…

 

the greatest poems of all

who put my drinks on their tab

and heavenly broads who brought me elixirs

which i did drink down into myself

the likes of absinthe sugar laudanum

or i read the Rhyme Of The Ancient Mariner

mad at midnight

typing poems furiously

towards glory or mayhem or maybe

for nothing at all

or maybe just for

the greatest poems of all…

 

so here here to the greatest poems of all…

 

to bikini contests

to Bikini Kill

to Bukowski

to Rimbaud and other roughnecks

to the wet t-shirts at Cedar Isle

and to the Cedar Creek Lake rememberers

who still remember all

of the greatest poems of all…

 

to Siberian Huskies named Marley

who lived in Dallas, Texas with Dirty Phil

and to Dirty Phil

to pain and pills and poems

to words that slide into lyrical oblivion

sometimes these can be the greatest poems of all times

dare i say the better poems that can rise

from poets here today

like drunken ramblings

drunken one nighters

far beyond driven drunk drivers and Dracula

no more drama

but more hot actresses

sexy angel poetess

prostitutes

politics

to the Texas Outlaw Press

and to all of the greatest poems of all…

 

to Polly to Pam to the paranormal…

 

to the ghosts of the greatest poems of all…

 

to the ghouls

to the Grim Reaper

to death

and it’s poetic casting call to us all…

 

i’d like to give a shout out

to the gangsters of the ghettos of Grand Prairie

to the hypodermic hipsters of Plano

who never made it

never got to hear the greatest poems of all…

 

to poems that got kicked out of Magnolia

for chunking saltshakers

fat jokes

plastic chairs

who never sweat the petty shit but always pet the sweaty shit

from shinola to shangri-la

from 26th and San Gabriel

to the angel Gabriel

from trumpets to cherubim…

 

to these crazy insane hot American chicks

who love poets, poems and palm pilots…

 

to an Austin Poetry Renaissance or to purgatory…

 

how ’bout another round of drinks

to the greatest poets

and poems of all…

© Jeff Callaway 2005

Click here to buy PARTY FOULS & OTHER ATROCITIES by Jeff Callaway!

 

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. Its the quiet 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 writhings 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 through 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 day in 2000 Jeff Callaway was arrested

for contraband on a lonely & lush stretch of Hwy 175

outside of Athens, TX. 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 what profundity they

can awaken to 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 longest time in State 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. It was on

route to reading amongst fellow Texas Poets at Forest Fest

in La Mesa, Texas that 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 untold 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 five chapbooks; Hotter than a Four Balled Tomcat, Rode Hard and Put up Wet, Satori in Paris Texas, On the Outskirts of Madness and Behind the Eightball. Party Fouls and Other Atrocities is the first compilation of  voyant poems that peer, frolic and weep into the darker side of life in Henderson County. Many revel in sublime 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 the incarnate of this

lands bounty and schisms, beauty and horrors, glory and

hypocrisies. So as you embark, get ready to get low, get

high and cry out the“barbaric yawp”into the East Texas night.

 

– John-Paxton Gremillion (Texas Outlaw Press Co-Founder)

Click here to buy PARTY FOULS & OTHER ATROCITIES by Jeff Callaway!

 

every time

that i mosey on

back down home

to a southern place in my heart

that i can feel in my bones

i know

Cedar Creek Lake is in my blood

with a (903) area code

and so

whenever i feel

a little lost and low i know

just where to go

to break bread with my family and

friends

to soothe my soul

and then King and i go get drunk and

stoned

on the back road

in the old yellow El Camino

with honey roasted blunts

and a few six packs of El Pacifico

and we just let go

when a Merle Haggard song comes

on the radio

and we’re off

and theres only one place i know

in Malakoff

where the guys and girls can go

to get their rocks off

but you better walk the line

or a bouncer might knock your block off

and if you’re looking for a woman

to blow your socks off

i know just where you can find her

go east on Highway 31

to the honky tonk called

Coal Mines…

and here’s another

reminder

just to help you find her

there’s a big bright neon sign

out front

so you cant miss it

just part your dualy in the gravel

parking lot

and pay five dollars at the entrance

to find King and i

inside

on barstools

drinking ice cold Guinness

and having hell ‘o fun in

hillbilly bliss

is part of our martini existence

it’s half Martian / half Texas

with a lemon twist and

we’re in business

so let me buy you a drink

i insist

the possibilities are endless…

at Coal Miners

i wake to the daisy chain of a cowgirls kiss

at Coal Miners

i bask in the drunken sorcery of a redneck bliss

at Coal Miners

i swallow all the hello shots i can take

at Coal Miners

i found the alcohol portal to

Cedar Creek Lake…

and i scoot my boots and my booty shakes

like both dance floors are a

Texas earthquake…

at Coal Miners

© Jeff Callaway 2005

Click here to buy Party Fouls & Other Atrocities by Texas Outlaw Poet Jeff Callaway!

Texas Outlaw Poet, Jeff Callaway, performs his poem Coal Miner’s on EXSE showcase for PAC TV Austin on YouTube.

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…

© Jeff Callaway 2005

Click here to buy Rode Hard & Put Up Wet by Texas Outlaw Poet Jeff Callaway!

so after

a hot night of drinking

cold cold brews

and Texas two-steppin’

with the Henderson County who’s who

the redneck reunion

of the Coal Miners crew

resumes

in the mom-and-pop

atmosphere

of an old greasy spoon

deep in the heart of Athens, Texas

for some southern fried soul food

and the psychobilly grooves

that the jukebox exudes

the tunes bloom

in special orange blossoms of

sound that you can feel

when you’re drunk at 4AM

having coffee

at the Pitt Grill

 

endless

pots of java

you can drink until

you get your fill

to help you sober up

so you can drive home

without getting killed

and when all the bars are closed

Pitt Grill is completely filled

with conversation between close friends

they really can be such a thrill

when one wiseman once said to me

sometimes “conversations kill”

but chicken friend steak, country gravy

and 3 eggs now that’s a good meal

and when its all for just $3.99

now isn’t that a deal

for real

the grease must be

enlightening

when we’re dining

under the fluorescent lighting

formica tabletops and saltshakers

seem so inviting

plus after you clean your plate

you can smoke cigarettes

inside and

that’s surprising

like back in the good old days

now isn’t this exciting

and that reminds me

of America

the home of the free

the toothless waitress on speed

ask me if i’d like more sugar or more cream

and i tell them

yes

and can i also get another

order of the hash browns

scattered

smothered

and covered…

 

© Jeff Callaway 2006

Click here to buy Party Fouls & Other Atrocities by Texas Outlaw Poet Jeff Callaway!

she

sat there in the smoky room

where the poets loomed in the gloom

and the coffee brewed

as time seemed to

stand still

I knew that she was real

or that she was like

a wonderful white rose

just waiting to bloom

in Spring

or even right there in front of me

where I noticed how her bones caught

shadows of light

from beneath her skin

that I wanted to be inside

and soon

I longed to touch her

with my long velvet tongue

my hands

calloused and wet

with words

with ink there of

that burned

into the page that was her

with long blonde tresses

and spectacles

all spectacular she

was just like she was

the moon

that I could feel her

pull like I was the ocean

my swoon and my sway

as she sat there silently

scrawling romantic electric words

with her doll like hands

creamy and ceramic

into her black leather notebook

where she kept her poems and things

she seemed just like a cat

with her litters of light

as I took the stage

to read

I watched for her responses

to each

of my bombastic elastic words

that I bombarded

upon her ear lobes

until she became shell shocked

and pulled her kites, her eyes

from the page

to glance up at me

with her eyes

her eyes like lights

that shown up on the stage

where I stood lonely

and longed for her to join me there

but she just smiled…

COPYRIGHT © 2006 JEFF CALLAWAY

Click here to buy A Peck Of Pickled Poems on Amazon!

Texas Outlaw Poet, Jeff Callaway, will have a new piece, titled “Mickey’s 40 oz. to Freedom,” included in the upcoming 211 Gallery show, Weird & Wonderful, on Saturday, April 1 at 4 PM – 7 PM. Please come out and see this newest addition to his many multimedia renderings of beer-bottles to be viewed there at the gallery, as well as all the top notch art and artists of our beloved East Texas area! The event is included in conjunction with the Celebrating the Texan festivities taking place in the town center of historic Athens, Texas that day! Jeff Callaway will also have many copies of some of his best poetry collections available for sale at $5 per book on display near the Texas Outlaw Poet Art-Space towards the rear of the gallery! Hope to see you all there in support of the arts and local art and artists! –Texas Outlaw Press

Click here to buy Texas Outlaw Poet books on Amazon!

WEIRD & WONDERFUL ART & WINE BLOCK PARTY

“211 Art Gallery is hosting it’s biannual block party for the Weird & Wonderful Art and Wine Walk. This year we’re excited to house 3 of the finest Wineries around East Texas, including: 3 P’s in a Vine, Castle Oaks and White Fox.”

“Browse our 30 plus artists, and enjoy the music of Andrews/Mizell. Featuring Bad 2 da Bone BBQ, Double Barrel Desserts, Milk & Honey Meadows & LulaRoe by Linda Odle.”

“Purchase your wristband at the front of 211 Gallery for $10 to enjoy the flavors of East Texas.”

“We’re excited to be working in conjunction with the 2nd Annual Celebrating the Texan.”

-211 Gallery, 211 N. Palestine, Athens, TX.

WEIRD & WONDERFUL EVENT ON FACEBOOK!

 

NAOMI, a poem film by Texas Outlaw Poet, Jeff Callaway, based on his poem of the same name. Narration by Jeff Callaway, music by The Sentinals and The Kresents. All footage and music bits are public domain. Poetry is copyright Jeff Callaway. Get your copy of one of Texas Outlaw Poet’s books available on Amazon! Click Here for Jeff Callaway’s Author Page on Amazon!