pookering gypsy


Original Poetry

you were a lighthouse but now you’re blinding

there is a light i once promised to keep hidden

burning brightly in my chest

that light,  more of a riot than the sun

tries to guide me towards

redemption? salvation? a better life

than this ever-turning wheel of

bitterness & giving up

this exhaustion

this drug addicted insanity –

– doing the same thing over

& over

& over again

expecting new results


my bold light, i have named you Love

carelessly i have claimed you

though you & i & everyone else

know goddamn well You are not

mine to claim.

you have named yourself Gold



& i turn the pages in my mind over & over

trying to understand that which has been

so fucking clearly laid out before me


& i call myself Broken



digging deeper into my chest

to extinguish this light

which never goes out

burning now as a reminder

of what is & what will

never be


on “my favourite place”

i always thought my favourite place might be six feet under green grass, away from the unforgiving world. a place to finally allow myself to rest. somewhere made for me, where no one can tell me how i should feel or try to make me feel guilty for needing them. i’ll still be just as alone, but at least i won’t be able to feel lonely anymore. a place to finally call home.

maybe my favourite place isn’t a place at all. maybe it’s the roads between point a & point b. maybe it’s the space between where i’ve been & where i’m trying to get to. trying to convince myself these miles are “progress” away from suffering, driving me closer to this distant dream called healing. 142,277.7 miles yet i still feel like i’m getting nowhere. 100 mph & i don’t care if a cop pulls me over anymore. i’ll tell him i’m tired of coasting, i have to reach happiness faster than this. he’ll probably think i’m stoned & chances are he’s right. i’ll tell him i’m just trying to feel something. he’ll tell me i’m out of my fucking mind & he’ll be right. but i’ll keep driving.

because freedom sounds so much better than being stuck in a place where i have to pretend. when i run out of gas i’ll roll down my windows & play that Alanis Morissette song as loud as i can. i’ll tell the man at pump five that this is irony. that my four-wheeled saviour has become just as empty as i am. & when that line comes on about meeting the man of your dreams i’ll tell the kids at pump three to love themselves before they try to love anyone else. because a “beautiful” wife cannot break you if you understand that you’re okay without another person. but the song will change & i’ll keep driving.

or maybe i just haven’t found it yet. maybe my favourite place is out there now, waiting for me. somewhere i haven’t had the time or space to reach yet. maybe she’s somewhere i haven’t heard of across the world. or maybe he’s just out of reach, teasing my fingertips with a sighing breath. maybe she’s the quiet weeping willow i used to sit under that i can’t get back. maybe he’s the steady beat i took for granted. maybe i’m running too fast to catch it. maybe my favourite place isn’t predetermined, & it’s the ever changing wind i haven’t quite learned to follow. maybe i’m searching too hard.

maybe my favourite place is hidden between the bars of a score i haven’t studied. maybe it’s the secrets carved into walls i was never allowed to keep. maybe it’s every sunset that has taken my breath away. maybe my favourite place is the slowly burning wick of a candle. maybe it’s buried in a mason jar full of ashes & cigarette butts.

but maybe i’m just lost.



“i guess i must be having fun”

“Home is where I want to be, pick me up and turn me ’round”
“Love me ’til my heart stops, love me ’til I’m dead”

This Must Be the Place where lights are no longer themselves
they are bleeding green, yellow, red, white
disappearing with the highway
small balls of paint smeared
impossible to replicate
impossible to forget
you blink once
three times
yet it’s never enough for them to go back to “normal”

This Must Be the Place where the levee breaks
you can’t Escape the tears
rolling faster than even your four wheels
can’t stop the 90 mph thoughts
reminding you that when He hears this
He thinks of her
but with every familiar note you think of Him
trapped in a locked seatbelt kind of heart break
wondering what it would be like
to be picked up & turned around
by this Man you love so much

This Must Be the Place where your heart beats out of its cage
& you know any moment it could go still
the cry for love unanswered
your heart opening up its wings
knowing He will not be there to wrap around
while you feel like He is home, He will never be
in this Place, it is you & only you
1,000 miles always just out of reach
the hope you had, the light in your eyes
has died
& you realize that you are no longer a lover
& this truly is a Naive Melody

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