Columbia apology

I wonder if any of my teachers ever pulled my parents to the side and told them they thought something might be wrong with me. I can hardly remember growing up. Bits and pieces. I don’t remember having a speech problem. But I did run into Tom Tababta At the country market and even grown up he teased me. Studdard when I shook his hand and introduced myself. “sssscccooottt Cacaclllaarkk”. I spelled his name wrong UN purpose. Brought back bits and pieces. Being bullied is on my bucket list to write about. But today I’m trying to remember what was so bad David Crenshaw and I planned to run away. Our little kids minds were going to be like tom and huck build a raft and exit from the east end of beautiful Clarklake to where ever our little minds imagined. I can remember being grounded to my bedroom for at least two years. 5th and 6th grade. I was allowed to go to school. I wasn’t grounded for trying to run away but because I was doing badly at school. I was a terrible kid. “I’m Sorry”. David moved to Brooklyn. It became my plan to run away till it was exposed by my mom finding a duffle bag of food I had been stashing for the escape. I don’t remember what was so bad. I think it was being misunderstood. I remember talking with Brian Miller. “My parents wouldn’t get so mad at me if they just understood me”. Could no one understand me cause I wasn’t ticking right? I don’t know. I was always a small kid. So I was picked on and bullied. Maybe that’s why I wanted to run away. You ever just want to crawl under a rock? Some meds might have helped several teachers perform their job. Had the teachers known I was being lodged in my bedroom like a prisoner…. I don’t know.. I am me. I accept responsibility for everyone I’ve picked on. I don’t remember what I did to you “I’m sorry”. Kim Campbell, Brian Cochran, Corey? from Hyde road. Jeff Rhoda I’m sorry. I seen you at the Tibbs Pavilion and you wouldn’t shake my hand. I was rotten to you and You stirred my memory. “I’m sorry”. Not trying to put stuff on my dad. He watched me being bullied he told me “fight back.” If someone gives you shit whip their ass. “If you don’t think you can whip them” “Pick something up and hit'em with it.” I think I bullied on you guys because I could because you were younger. “I’m sorry”. You know you don’t grow out of some things. And as I drove past Michigan international speedway I thought why didn’t I punch Tom tabada right in the face as I shook his hand and he mocked me? He wouldn’t have seen it coming. Kim Campbell, Amy Kellie, and Marcie King I picked on you because crushed on you. “I’m Sorry”. My battery is failing me. Quickly I’m sorry to Mrs. foster. My mind could not do algebra. So I made your class harder on you and my classmates. I’ve never been hauled to the office so fast. I’m sorry! I don’t know that I was ever rotten to my 4th grade teacher Mrs. Robold. I do remember her sitting me down in a chair when all the other kids went out for recess. She sat me down and told me “you are going to have to learn to read”. Fourth grade shouldn’t I have been reading? My dad says he dropped out of school at 12 years old. Says he had slured speech and kids picked on him so bad he just quit going. That was my plan too. I remember how afraid I was in class to be called on to read out loud in class. Thank you Mrs. Robold! I do a little writing now. My kindle video includes four poems
I’ve written and recited by me.
I read scripture at mass, out loud.
I started attending St Mary's nine years ago. I've not been to church in so long I have to apologize to Father Paul and FatherJoe. Mass starts in four minutes.my-disclaimer.html?m=1

The Bucket List

The bucket list

 Is it a real bucket or a real list? I have no life threatening prognosis.

However anxiety builds and I’m compelled to write.  It’s what I feel I have to do.

I can’t explain it.right-write-written.html 

 Here I sit writing my bucket list. On a bucket as I ice fish.

Does it matter what I see or have seen happening in my lifetime?

 I don’t know what’s what or who’s who. But I wish you could all see the way I do.

(Wish the fish would start to bite too).be civilized sooner-or-later-were-all-dying .html 

I use to fish in my dreams or fall asleep thinking of going fishing.

Anymore I don’t dream.  Instead I fall asleep thinking of what I should write.

I have 8 or 9 things I’d like to write about. I don’t know what order they go.

Overwhelmed? Why do I feel I need to write anything?

I can hardly read.  I can read of course……  It just seems I forget

 From the top of the page to the bottom.  Somewhere in the middle I had to read a sentence

3 times to understand what it meant.  So why do I feel like I have an obligation to write.

I feel like I have a story to tell but just like I read I get lost when I write…

My poems are inspired by experience in my life.

It’s my bucket list!

Man I wish these fish would bite.               

hidden-from-reality.html 

              Bob Jenkens