Are you writing a book?

I'm not! Not really. you might say living the book,  Not to be mistaken for a fairy tale.
I write poems inspired by my every day living. I know they sound dark truthfully
there hasn't been a lot of sunshine in my life. I published my first kindle book
"will write for food" just weeks before I was evicted from my home two years ago. My son Gavin is on the cover.
 The book consists of some of my favorite poems. Poems Like "Hidden from reality" that I wrote while I was in prison. The story of the publication would be the real story. I kind of do that throughout my blog
when I finally figure out how the pieces  go people will wonder why I waited to break them out.
why did I struggle and struggle and wait to the end to flourish? Isn't that what a flower does?
Only kidding I really expect to die right after Gods blessings rain down on me.
I published "what colors humanity" in January 2015 my dog sparky waggs is on the cover. I work as a roofer but I fight this over whelming anxiety everyday to help humanity come to reason. Thing is I can't seem to get along with my own family. I don't mean to disagree and I've told myself I need to fix myself first. My mom and sisters my daughter my son and I my dad my sisters my mom....Zoe! I don't know where to start a lot like my book. So I write it's what I do.
I need to take every poem and tell you write where I was when I wrote it for example:
I wrote "Hidden from reality" it was 1990 I was waiting for a visit from my mom. I was in Waterloo Michigan in a prison camp. I had been in prison 3 years at this point all over Michigan and mom is still coming to see me on the weekends. It was a foggy morning I had my Sony Walkman on listening to the radio Tom petty free falling was playing. Inmate numbers and names are coming from loud speakers mounted on top the Constantine fence.Fog so thick you almost can't see the top of the fence. I kept circling the yard waiting for my prison number to come over the PA to let me know mom was there. In the center of the yard was I really hear?
The fog is so thick it's like I'm in a cloud. Before she arrived I had to go in and write it down. I took it out to her on the visit and explained to her
I wrote this poem about you mom. She read it and looked at me and said "hows this about me"? I explained to her
"your the fog".
Hidden from reality...        

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Today it’s all foggy,
It’s what you might say is a limited sight distance.
I can barely see the ground,
As I walk with my head hanging down.
I’ve been in prison for what seems to be all eternity.
Tom Petty’s free falling is playing on the radio,
But all I see is cold brick walls and Constantine.
I walk into the center of the yard and like the earth I turn
On an imaginary axis.
Nothing is all I can see.
The fog is so thick has it set me free?
I’m not really here I’m floating in a cloud
I’m thinking to myself but it’s so quiet I seem loud
Throughout all this time I’ve been through allot
If only the fog would stay in this spot
It’s almost over, If only you would stay
Let me see the stars at night
but hide me from the day.

Bob Jenkens
I'm sorry mom I Love you!
Kimmy are you writing a book? I love you!