Jeff Callaway was born in Athens, Texas on April 24, 1976. He has blond hair and blue eyes and may be a descendant of Daniel Boone. His most recently published chapbook is ‘Satori in Paris, Texas’ (December 2005). Previously published works include, ‘Hotter Than a Four Balled Tomcat’ and ‘Rode Hard and Put Up Wet’. Jeff frequented many poetry open mics in Austin, Texas before being incarcerated on an outstanding warrant from a prior charge of possession of a controlled substance. He is currently doing time in the Bradshaw State Jail in Henderson, Texas.

EDGAR ALLAN POE

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WALT WHITMAN

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CHARLES BUKOWSKI

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KURT VONNEGUT

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JACK KEROUAC

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HUNTER S. THOMPSON

Click image for extracts, sound clips and articles on the book on the NPR website; for sound clips of Kerouac reading and singing his prose, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here.

Click image to read the book on the Online Literature website; to visit the website of the Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here.

Click image to read about the book on the Wikipedia website; to visit the Great Thompson Hunt website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here.

Click image to read about the book on the Kurt Vonnegut Corner website; to visit Vonnegut's official website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here.

Click image to read the article 'Walt Whitman and the Development of Leaves of Grass' on the University of South Carolina website; to visit the Walt Whitman Archive website, click here or for related items on Amazon, click here.

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FORUM

SELECTED POETRY

by
Jeff Callaway

BALLAD

Kara met Kane
one frozen friday night
on Sixth Street in the rain
standing outside of a poolhall
called The Ritz
in wait of a taxi in vain
mixed drinks raced through her brain
like foredoomed freight trains
on a night out with the girls gone insane
with Penny and Jenny and Jane
singing a bluesy refrain
under the Austin, Texas skyline i love
lit all glowing with golden and gray
as life came into focus
the very first time
that Kara laid eyes
on Kane...

to hallucinate
through her mind’s eye
in utter disbelief
the sweetest vision of her future husband
in a white wedding day dream
all of this could be seen
all this marital scenery
with heart shaped candy eruptions
coming right up out of Sixth Street
as Kara conceived
their very own children
like bleached ivory babies
tied to honeymoon balloons
by umbilical strings
with a lifetime of fond memories
as Al Green sings
a two story pink
house with a big red door
and a gold two karat diamond ring
and all of this in just one moment
Kara did magically see
that Kane was the man of her dreams...

back into reality
where he stood outside of a pizza place
just a few feet further down the street
wearing a black leather jacket
and smoking a Swisher Sweet
you could smell the pepperoni
you could smell the anchovies
under the pizzaria awning
drinking a Pepsi
eating thick slices of three cheese
on that drunken misty late friday night
when Kara and Kane
did meet...

skin is symphony
and sugar is sweet
so they made love for six straight weeks
and i swear
you could see it both of their eyes
that never ever in their lives
had they ever felt
oh so alive
and it’s so nice
when life is like a surprise
when love is an effortless sacrifice
you pay the price
sometimes
for the flesh inside the thighs to flush
Kara and Kane became addicted to that rush
to the injection of just a touch
you can never get enough
one night they had sex on a city bus
Kara went wild as Kane blushed
’cause adrenaline is a drug
and so the next night they bought some guns
and just for fun
they robbed a bank
and went on the run
and it’s all big fun
until the Austin Police come
run Kara and Kane run
’cause The Man is going to want some
blood
and when the levee breaks
here comes the
flood...

but first
let me remember her
the way she was
raven haired child of the sun
with creulean eyes
and i can’t lie
even i fantasized
her hyacinth hips hypnotized
her lavender lips never lied
she would’ve made a fine poet’s bride
she was a vixen with verve and her vibrant vibe
she was Venus in a velum of vice
and i’ll never forget what she told me this one night
that everyday is like
the highdive
so you might as well
jump...

north
on Lamar
in Kane’s ‘65 GTO
with the motor roaring and raring to go
they left a blue flame
all the way back to the Colorado
a wake of squad cars, sirens
red and blue lights all a glow
you could here Kara’s .45 Taurus unload
her bullets blazed out the passenger side window
a cop car hit the ditch
another cop car rolled
one cruiser even ran into
a telephone pole
a mushroom cloud of fire explodes
go Kara and Kane go
leave rubber on the road
just like life is the last picture show
around curves
and over hills
over long winding roads
go...

up
atop
majestic
Mount Bonnell
wher mocking birds dwell
as legend tells
of an Amerind princess
and her lover who once fell
from their very own romantic hell
up above a vista view
of such a wide expanse
of both time and land
and from that same mythic peak
so mystic and grand
with gun in hand
Kara and Kane prepared to make
their final stand
even though they knew that
The Man had the upper hand
they still had a plan
and so as long as they had those cops out ran
and as they waited for the police to arrive
they made sweet love on that mountain side
as if they had not a thing to hide
from this cruel world
or that night sky
and as the sirens began to wail and cry nearby
as they stood naked surrounded by sky
on that rocky precipice
Kara gave Kane just one last kiss
at the approach of those
combat booted feet
hand in hand
in one lover’s leap
they did jump
down.

© Jeff Callaway

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HELEN

Helen
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
BUT SHE LOVED ME ANYWAY
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
and METHAMPHETAMINES
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 plane 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

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COAL MINERS

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

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PITT GRILL

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

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NOCTURNAL EMISSIONS

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

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