supercalifredulious is expealidocious

Fighting anxiety
With depression
and stress
all in one breath

With a side of questions
and no answers
Broken down
and bent
Having anxiety for breakfast
See if there's a pill
On the menu
Look for answers
On the specials
Grilled cheese
and split pea soup
For two



Bob Jenkens




I have this immense anxiety I have to do something for the poor people. Be their voice some how? I can't explain it.
I'm a dumb roofer I can roof a house by myself and love doing it. I write does it make me a writer? why do I feel like I have anything to write?
I write my experiences in life only I can't write it as a story. It might be frustrations from my consistent car troubles to love and political/religious opinion.
In the back of my head I'm always writing but I can't get it the way I want so it don't end up on print. Poems are like my notes. are you taking notes? Please do and somehow together we can make sense of this.
I use to be the kid in class who kept his head close to the desk directly behind a fellow class mate trying not to be called on by the teacher to read aloud in class.
I barely graduated high school at Columbia central in Brooklyn. I was 19 years old in prison when I started writing. before I was released I applied to the specs Howard school of broadcast arts. I wanted to be a dj. I wanted to have a loud voice and point out the injustice of our judicial system. I've worked as a morning show host a program director a news director. I don't think sheriff Germond knew I was an ex con when he invited me to his retirement Christmas party or if it would have mattered. What I liked about being a news director was writing facts. Anything on a police report you could report and not be liable to accusations of slander. "It was in the police report". Since then I've discovered police lie. You can't even imagine what reality is if you have any belief our system is just. It gives me anxiety cause I know different and I'm a dumb builder.
so the people who know the truth our politicians do nothing to change it. and our news guys? their automated now paid fiscally to hide the truth.
at some point my fear of standing up in front of class and reading has been conquered. I've never before had something so important to say. Our judicial system will beat up a poor white man just as fast as they'll beat up anyone else. Even the mentally incompetent they don't deserve to be in our prisons after they're bullied by our public defenders (Eric kisser John t glaizer) and a kangaroo court with a revolving door.





http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00IYQZX90susd

will write for food the movie

banana bread

I think what was once only speculated
has become a scary reality!
That hate
Is bread among us.
The song is different
From once what was
A reason
To hate myself
For what I've done
Compared to some it's small
But I hold myself accountable
By depriving my emotions
in knowing relaxation


Bob Jenkens

Early Febuary maybe May

is it justice or just us? (the poor people's)

You've stolen my dreams
You cast me in hell
I whisper aloud
Who am I now
No flesh on my bones
No dreams in my head
In hell all alone
what was that I said
Mean with no feelings
Is this what you think
Well I feel and I cry
It's your thinking that's weak

You play God with my life
a bandit with my dreams
but sleep well in the night
It's you who is mean
Cast him in hell
that's what you said
His dreams I will sell
that Man is dead
In hell you say (Laura Schaller)
and don't even care
In hell I say
I'll see you there!

Bob Jenkens

As we prepare to celebrate the mystery of Christ's love,let us acknowledge our failures and ask the Lord for pardon and strength

I confess to almighty God,
and to you,my brothers and sisters.
that I have sinned through My own fault

In My thoughts and in My words,
in what I have done,
and in what I have failed to do;
and I ask blessed Mary, ever virgin,
all the angels and saints,
and you my brothers and sisters,
to pray for me to the Lord our God.

Lord have mercy

And Grant us your salvation.


Debriefed-at-pearly-gates your-in-Heaven.html

A-letter-from-Scott-to-rest-of-world!

My-disclaimer 

Job related stress

I sometimes wish I we're in a battle
With loud banging gunfire around me
Fighting with all my heart
For some purpose to exspose
and save my life

Explosions echoing through trees and over hills
Wanting to attack the action
Seems to be in the next gorge
Ravishing through thick brush
And then belly down
Slidding down the gorge
to find empty shells
and again echoing gunfire from
over the hills
Only louder this time
My heart pounds to the
Consistant banging
Bang bang bang
Sitting up in pure sweat
clutching the alarm clock
in both hands
No use for the snooze button today
Its back to the battle


Bob Jenkens
PS my Will write for food video has this poem read on it.

Everyday (people are dying UN necessarily )

People are in danger
Everyday
People are hungry
Everyday
People are dying
In some kind of way
 UN necessarily
Everyday
Some are homeless
Some are rich
Some it's sickness
For sum it's a bitch

I look right at it
and wonder why
it has to be this way
Why are there those who prosper
and those who suffer
Everyday
Why is there no happy medium
Why does it have
to remain this way
Everyday?

Bob jenkens

http://fbgfgc.blogspot.com/2016/03/poor-people-for-breakfast.html

struggling writer

I sometimes think it makes their day
to see me struggle.
And sometimes I wonder?
What if I didn't struggle?
What if I were rich?
I'd probably fall over dead.
Hypothesis
The struggle is what I live for
Sometimes I get up
To struggle some more.

Bob Jenkens

Early Febuary maybe May

I'm gonna start over
Like I was just born this morning
A brand new day
Sun is shinning
Birds are singing
A 65 degree spring day

A perfect day to learn to walk again
Freed from this cocoon I've been wrapped up in
I'm gonna start over
When blessings descend
and flourish in warm Sun rays

Take a deep breath
Brush off my shoulders
Reach for the sky and
rise to my feet
Look straight ahead
It's a brand new day


Bob jenkens

I wrote "Early February maybe May" in 2005.

I was going through RCIA at St Mary's at the lakes. I was shoveling snow off the roof of the church. It was early February but it must have been a late January thaw. The sun was out in full power warming and revealing the dark shingles after I moved the snow. Birds were singing and frolicking in the warm sun.

 This poem came together over the short month.

Then when the month ended and snow continued I added "maybe May" to the title.

Will write for food bob jenkens kindle direct publishing