My face isn't carved in a mountain. I've never been struck by lightning.
I've never saved a crying baby from a burning house fire nor have I over come my misfortunes in life to acquire a name for myself. I consider myself a writer although all I've written is only pieces of torn limbs of my distraught existence. (a bunch of poems)
I'm gonna start over
Like I was just born This morning
A brand new day
The sun is shining
Birds are singing
A 65 degree spring day
A perfect day to learn to walk again
Freed from this cocoon
I've been rapped 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 this in 2005 I was sitting in my truck at St Mary's at the lakes. I was going through R.I.C.A with the Catholic church.
Several times I've read the piece and wondered what about March and April?
May 1st is going to be starting over at a lot of things.
I'm being held hostage
Against my own fear
Of last hopes
Please leave
The girl of my dreams
In a small piece of clothing
On top of a bear skin rug
In front of a crackling fire
In a cabin somewhere
Far from civilization
P.s not a real bear skin rug
That's cruel.
Bob Jenkens
I've always told myself if the end of the world seemed eminent. I would just go hide out with a woman and die with a smile on my face. Back to work tomorrow.
I walked into the bathroom and immediately noticed feet sticking out from under the stall.
I knew who it was by his shoes. Should I hurry and leave? Why is he on the floor? I don't see any blood. I looked around and this might be as empty as I've seen the unit. This was my third day here.
I used my thumb nail to turn the thing on the stall door.
I opened the door cautiously. what the hell he has a garbage bag over his head. I rip the bag off his head in reaction time. Blue eyes are starring at the ceiling not even blinking. He's got his mouth and nose packed full of toilet paper. Wow he must have came in here and tried to kill his self when they called "chow".
I didn't want to touch him. In quarantine they tested us inspected us and told us story's.... Aids, hepatitis.
It doesn't look like he's breathing. Am I supposed to just ignore this? Like I said it's my third day here. On my first day I seen a stabbing while waiting for"chow".
I acted as non shalont as I could so other inmates wouldn't notice. The c/o on duty had the same last name as me.
"Did you do your rounds yet?" I asked him.
"I was gonna let next shift get them" c/o Clark replied.
"Well their gonna freak out when they find a dead guy in the bathroom" I said to him. He laughed at first then his face changed to panic when he realized I was serious.........
That was 33 years ago I remember more vividly then I'd like. It gives me a theory on Epstein. Epstein didn't kill his self you can't even kill yourself in prison. I watched them put that inmate on a gurdy and then shackle him up unconscious. I'm talking handcuffs, belly chains and ankle bracelets before they took him from the prison. They even drove the ambulance into the Sally port and searched under it with miorrs to make sure there wasn't an inmate trying to escape by sticking his self to a hot muffler.
I don't remember his name... His girlfriend friend had left him so he decided life wasn't worth living. The prison saved his bed for him. They took his sheets off his plastic roll up mattress put his chair on his bed.
Nursed him back to health and brought him back.
Of course now he was so medicated you couldn't talk to him. He couldn't defend his self he's an easy target for all the prison villains. Maybe I shouldn't have opened that stall that day.
I'm here to say Epstein did not kill his self!
I wrote this poem"hidden from reality" while I was incarcerated. I paced the yard on a foggy morning waiting for the PA to blow out my prison number because I had a visit.
I always had something to write on and while I walked the yard I wrote it. I took it out on my visit and I showed it to my mom. "I wrote a poem about you" she read it and asked me "how's this about me"? "Your the fog mom".
I don't know how I could have done this without you I love you.
I wish I could run away and hide
And only show myself when I write
Under a rock
Or from the mountain side
I wish I may
I wish I might
have the wish
I dream tonight
It's something my dad use to say
I called him out on it once
You know that don't make sense
What does it mean?
You're too young he said
Some day it will make sense.
You can't win for losing
You're right dad
I see it now
But you know what's weird?
It gives me this immense desire
To publish a book 📖
How's a book going to help?
God works in mysterious ways.
You can't win for not trying
Just saying.... /sooner-or-later-were-all-dieing-living.html?m=1
I met Amber at church. She was 26 and I was 40 something. I know I didn't want her to know where I lived or my age.
She didn't seam to mind I lived in a trailer park when she found out. I don't look my age if she asks what will I say? I was prepared to lie. Shave off ten years.
I would hate to give her a reason not to like me. She is absolutely beautiful!
Dislike me because I'm older? Ok I am.
Dislike me because I'm a liar? I'm not.
Amber never ask my age like it doesn't matter.
I am who I am.
People are going to say alot Amber....
And you'll hear lots of who I am
I am the man you think I am
I love you 💋 xoxoxoxo!
Amber found out my age in 2017 when she did my taxes. I didn't even remember that I used to worry about telling her my age. (If she should ask).
She looked at my papers
Then looked back at me. "Your only 3 years younger than my dad".
I love you Amber!
Can we put my past to don't ask don't tell?
I'll come out of this shell.
You'll see
What I've been hiding from
And what you mean to me.
